#and i was having trouble figuring out how in the world the kiss worked so i used a sailor moon screenshot to help me out

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[candylix]

blow my mind | bang chan

Pairing • Chan x GN!Reader Summary • You have a test today and you haven't studied at all, but you're not worried. Why? Because you have the ability to read minds, and you'll be sitting next to the smartest guy in class. Unfortunately, his thoughts have strayed from the test and into very dirty territory. Genre • college au, smut, fluff WC • 1.7k Content • no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina, mind reading, dirty thoughts about: hand holding 🥰, public sex, fingering, dry humping, unprotected piv penetration, orgasm denial. Indented paragraphs indicate what's happening in his mind and not real life.

Ethically, reading minds is a very dubious subject. As far as you know, you're the only person in the world with supernatural abilities. No one would ever know you're reading their mind, but you have high enough standards for yourself to only use your mind reading capabilities in emergencies.

This was an emergency.

You have a test today, and didn't study. But, you do have a plan. You are going to sit beside one of your classmates and cheat.

You walk into the lecture hall, and scan the room. The class is arranged with tier seating and long tables, and as you work your eyes around the room, you spot him at the very top. You've had a few projects with Chan before, so you know how intelligent he is. You've talked a lot more over the course of the semester, so it wouldn't be weird to sit beside him.

"Ready for the test?" you ask, approaching the table he's sitting at.

He looks up at you and smiles.

"I hope so, I've been cramming all night for this. You?"

"Nope." You grin and give him a thumbs up, pulling out the chair next to him and taking a seat.

"Glad to see you're confident," he laughs.

The rest of the class trudges in, and the test begins.

First thing you write is your name. Easy enough.

You concentrate on Chan, and peer into his mind. He's reading the first question, and after a few minutes of words formulating in his brain, he writes down an answer. You always found it interesting to see how different people think, and Chan's thoughts are muddied as he tries to answer the questions. But when he figures out an answer, everything comes into total focus.

You rewrite his answers on your paper, making sure to use different words. As much as you dislike doing it, this isn't your first time cheating on a test like this, so you know how to not get caught.

A particularly tricky question is next, and you can see his thoughts wander from the test, to the class, to... you. You see yourself in his imagination.

He's daydreaming. This is not good, you need him to focus on the test.

You think about tuning into someone else's mind, but you're captured by what he imagines.

He reaches out his hand, gently placing it over yours. He squeezes it lightly.

You have to look at your hand to make sure it wasn't real. His imagination is extremely vivid. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, which turns out to be Chan shaking his head. Just like that, the image disappears and he's back to thinking about the question.

What was that?

You don't have time to ponder what that could mean when he starts writing down his answer, and you have to quickly catch up to him before he stops thinking about it.

The next question also seems to be giving him trouble, because he stops to think about it for a long time. Eventually, he drifts off into another daydream. He imagines the classroom again, and himself scooting his chair next to you. The version of you in his imagination rests your head on his shoulder. It's very cute, all things considered.

Then it dawns on you. He has a crush on you.

Well isn't that just adorable. It would be cuter if he would just get back to the test before you both fail.

He turns his head to look at you, resting peacefully on his shoulder. He smiles and leans in to kiss you.

Your fingers instinctively brush your lips. It's not rare for people to have vivid sensory imaginations, but you almost never get a tactile experience from your power. He must be imagining the feeling of touching you, enough that you feel it through him.

If only he had Aphantasia, and not the worlds strongest imagination. You don't think either of you will be passing this test.

He moves his hand from on top of yours to caressing your thigh. Then, it moves closer to the waistband of your pants-

You cough loudly, breaking his focus. The image disappears in an instant. You see the muddied words coming back, and he's finally thinking about the test again.

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks. Was he imagining what you think he was imagining?

He has been stuck on this question for a while, so you probably wont find anyone else in class who's still working on it. And even if you could, you'd have to check the minds of the entire class. You're stuck peeping in Chan's mind if you want to possibly pass the test.

It's feels a bit strange to be the subject of Chan's romantic fantasies, but not in a bad way. He's handsome, kind, smart, funny in an awkward kind of way that you've always found charming...

You've never thought about him that way before. But knowing how he feels, you'll definitely be thinking about him now.

You realize you're starting to drift off the same way Chan was, and go back to concentrating on your cheating scheme.

Luckily, he's focused on the right subject now, and he flies through the answers. He's almost too fast, and you have to leave some answers half done in order to keep pace. Hopefully you'll still get half a mark for those ones.

You're on the last question now. He takes some time to read and reread the question, and when he starts to think of an answer, he goes back and reads the question one more time. You're worried, the tricky questions are when he starts to nod off.

He rests his head on his hand and his mind wanders back to his imagination. At this point, you think you should just try to answer the question yourself, but your mind freezes when he continues where he left off.

His hand moves up your thigh, and between your legs. He rubs you over the fabric of your pants, but the friction is enough to feel your core start to pulse. You start moaning involuntarily, and Chan smirks to himself. 'Quiet, we're still in class' he whispers. He pretends to keep writing with one hand, while the other slips into your pants. You're not wearing underwear, so he can easily move his fingers to circle your clit. You cover your mouth with your fist to stifle a moan. The pace is slow, but you're able to pretend to be working while he works his fingers. You find yourself mindlessly rocking into him. He increases his speed, and you feel your orgasm building while you try to suppress another moan. Your head leans back as you buck into his hand, and you feel yourself about to- Suddenly, his fingers stop. Your core is still throbbing, but he takes his hand out of your pants. You look at him pleadingly, and he pats his lap for you to sit on. You look around the classroom. Everyone is too focused on their tests to notice you getting up. You stand to straddle him, and before you can sit down, he unbuttons your pants and pulls them down. If anyone turned around to look, they would see him groping your ass. He guides you down to sit on his lap, and you feel his bulge prodding against your folds. "Finish yourself on me," he whispers. You try to turn your head to see if anyone's watching, but he stops you. "Just look at me. Don't worry about anyone else." Nervously, you rub yourself on his bulge, and even under the fabric you can feel how hard he is. When you feel your orgasm building up again, you forget about the possibility of anyone seeing and hump him harder. His clothed dick against your bare cunt clouds your mind, and you try to get as much friction against him as you can. You buck into him faster, and you feel him getting harder as he starts to rock against you. You feel yourself about to cum again, but he lifts you up onto the desk and lays you on your back. "Chan, please," you whine. You can't take this anymore, and you rub your legs together to feel any sort of release. He pulls your legs apart, opening your soaking wet pussy to the world. Before you can even complain, his pants are down, and his massive cock is throbbing against your entrance. He easily slides himself into you, and you feel him moving up your walls. He fills you up completely, staying there for a moment before pulling out and slamming himself right back in. He rams into you, hitting your sweet spot. His hand is back on your clit, rubbing circles while he continues his ruthless pace with his cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core. He slams into you faster and faster as he chases his own high, losing control as his body acts on instinct. You're almost at your limit, and you feel your orgasm about to peak-

"Time's up everyone! Turn in your tests," the professor announces to the class.

You feel your core pulsing as you snap back to reality. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest, and you realize none of that was real, despite it being incredibly vivid. Somehow, you lost yourself in his fantasy.

You look over to Chan, and notice his erection as he quickly writes something down for the last question. You look back to your own test, and see the empty space where you should've wrote your answer. You have no idea what to write. You don't even remember what the question was.

All you remember was Chan pounding into you at a brutal pace.

You look back to Chan as he stands, and when he makes eye contact, his cheeks turn red and he looks away. He hurriedly stuffs all his things into his bag and speed walks down the steps.

If you want to pass this class, you can never sit next to him again. You definitely should never read his mind again.

However... you do want to know what else he's thinking about when you're near him.

And you really want to know what he's like outside of his imagination.

EPILOGUE:

Two weeks later, your test scores are posted to the schools website. You click on the link to see how you did. As it loads in, you wait with baited breath.

You failed the test.

A/N: I hope someone went to look up what Aphantasia was, and suddenly everything made sense in their life when they realized they have it. And they have to live their life knowing that an incredibly important part of their worldview and way of thinking was discovered by reading a kpop x reader smut fic.

read part two here!

[jungwondazed]

18+ only. / desperate passionate sex with jungwon

he comes onto you in the middle of the night, catching you off guard as you were just about to fall asleep.

"j-jungwon i don't- understand" you breathe out the words in between the breaks he pulls from your lips, leaning back in to kiss you harder than the previous.

there are moments, not often, when he gets this way and it is something you ponder every time he works his mouth deep into yours. he kisses you like it was the first time, the last time. jungwon is making out like he has something to confess, that there's too much on his mind to speak in words, that giving it to you like this is the best way for him to say anything.

you kiss him back regardless of the questions racing through your head. this isn't a kiss he initiates because he was simply turned on, there was a certain desperation behind his movements that makes you lean into his body, to connect with him in the way he needs.

his moans are long, drawn out, as if there was nothing else that mattered in the world but the pleasure you two share with each other.

with his mouth still attached to yours he pulls off your thin pajama set, lips slowly working down your neck, to your collarbones, and then your chest. your head falls back from the overwhelming sensation of his warm and soft tongue, fingers digging in his hair, pulling at it gently as he stimulates your entire body.

you know jungwon a bit too well. when he's horny, he initiates sex in his snarky teasing manner that always has you high and bothered. but when you find yourself tending to his needs, softening your touches, letting him have at you as a natural reaction to his desperation, you're more than aware that the sex he wants is far from just the physicality, jungwon was craving for a deep emotional connection and sometimes this was the best he could go about it.

he comes off confident, carrying himself like he had it all figured out. but throughout your time with him, you've learned that there is a small part deep down that seeks for validation and comfort, searching in places he can't necessarily figure out himself.

he breaks the kiss to peel his thin white sleep shirt off, immediately finding your lips again when he tosses it to the side. he wraps his arm under your waist to press your stomach close to his, pulling off his pajama bottoms and lining himself into you. you gasp as he sinks in slow, struggling a whine that's stuck between his throat and mouth.

jungwon's moans are full of longing and desperation, and your heart aches feeling him so troubled from such desire.

"i'm r-right h-here, jungwon" you whimper out between his thrusts, and he groans into your neck as a response.

"i'm yours, however y-you want me."

he fits good inside you, it's hard to form the right words to tell him how you truly feel. but despite your poor articulation of emotions to words, he reacts in a way that lets you know he's taking in everything you're saying and doing. he thrusts into you deeper and harder, bringing both his arms to wrap around your entire body, holding you so tight as if any less of a grip would have your falling right through his fingers, as if he was too capable of losing you.

[tbaluver]

Hiii! Can you make general Sylus HCs?? Fluff ones though! YOURE LIKE A BREATH OF FRESH AIR OMG LIKEEEE THE FLUFF MAKES MY HEART SIMPLY M E L T !

Sylus Headcanons- Love And DeepSpace

a/n: omg anon you're so sweet thank you so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ i hope you'll like this and i hope this is okay!! <3

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy! <3

genre: fluff fluff

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

General Headcanons ˎˊ˗

This man is big everywhere. If you have or seen the memory of Within Reach you know what I'm talking about. Since he has quite a large build in height and muscle, he probably has trouble finding clothing in his size in store. Sleeves would be too short or pants would be too tight so often he would have to get them tailored but it's fine because he has all the money in the world.

This man is 6'2. Since he's tall, mirrors can cut off your head or usually shower heads are mounted too low so he would have to crouch down often. But later on he took down any small mirrors and adjusted the shower to his height for his liking.

Would try to eat a healthy balance meal 3 times a day unless work got in the way. He also probably has the best skincare routine ever. He would have cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer, and different types of sunscreens for morning or even at night.

In Tender Curve, he mentions he's there to feed a cat. Whenever he has the time he'll leave cat food outside for any strays. He has no time to take care of any pets and also Mephisto would squawk at him nonstop with jealously.

He probably thought he would never sing in his life until Luke and Kieran 'pestered' him to try it out in the karaoke room. He thought why not he had nothing else to do. He would lose track of time due to Luke and Kieran cheering him on. So if being the Onychinus's Leader never works out he figures he can be an idol in the future.

The type to accept any business as long as it's near your location whether it work or you have things to do in that area. How would he know your location? You would have your location posted on your moments and sometimes Luke and Kieran talk about you a lot. He would use any business matter to talk to you and ask if you can help him with any errands.

Relationship Headcanons ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Sometimes he'll let Mephisto spy on you and update him on what you like to eat so he can learn how to cook it for you when he doesn't have the personal chef around. He likes trying new recipes and you are always there to try them or help him make it. Would love it when you would hug him behind while he's in the kitchen cooking or the other way around.

Not super big on PDA especially in the N109 zone but will do gestures like his hand on your lower back or his arm around your waist. But in private he would be a lot more affectionate. In the car, he loves having one of his hands intertwined with yours as it rests on your lap while his other hand is on the wheel. Lots of forehead kisses. Sometimes would tease you because of your height difference and make you try to reach him to kiss him on his lips. Eventually he'll crouch down to kiss you after watching you struggle.

If anything were to upset you, he'll always be there to listen and to comfort you. He'll hold your hand or wrap and arm around your waist, rubbing soothing small circles reassuring you on whatever the issue is or helping you find a solution to whatever the problem is. If it was anyone that bothered you, they might want to sleep with one eye open.

He's also kinda silly. When you walk in his bathroom while he's shaving, he'll put some of the cream on your nose because he thinks your reaction would be funny.

Would always have an outfit to have for you to match with him in a business meeting. But if you wanted a different outfit he would find something to match with you that way everyone knows that you two are together.

He's extremely thoughtful. He remembers even the smallest details you have mentioned to him. He'll always find the perfect gift to give you on anniversaries or birthdays.

What's his becomes yours. You want his clothes even though they might be too big for you? Take the whole closet. He'll find his clothing in your fitting quite adorable actually. He'll even give you keys to his armory, he has many so choose whatever you want. He even let's you have Luke and Kieran as your henchmen too as long as he gets to have them back for work.

[casuallyanidiot]

Imagine Being stuck in the novel of a Yandere author...

Kina a soft continuation of this post.

You get hit by a truck and end up in a story! Fortunately you're not the villainess destined to die a horrible fate. In fact, you get the luxury of being the main character and getting the hopeful happy end. Unfortunately, you don't recognize any of the plot points or the names of anything.

That part of it sucks, but you figure you could just follow how you assumed the story would go.

But you find it strange how much the male lead looks like that creepy guy from your work. There's a weird pit in your stomach when he sung your praises, and you can't help but recoil a bit in disgust when he kisses your hand. You know that it's your role in this story to end up with this guy, but geez he's so weird. If the two of you weren't in some weird historical fantasy world, you were sure that he would constantly be glued to your side.

Then you realize that, oh, hey you don't actually have to stick in the direction the plot of this world is trying to lead you in.

You find that the Northern Duke is quite cute, actually, and though he isn't as detailed as some of the other characters that were probably focused on more in the novel, he's still sweet enough. So, when the Male lead proposes to you, you politely reject him and run off to be with your new lover.

But when you arrive at the Duke's estate, you find that he's... the male lead?!

"You're not- how are you here?!" You say with narrowed eyes. The male lead merely smiles at you, if not a little confused. "My love? What are you talking about? Am I not your beloved Duke?" He laughs and spread his arms wide as if to embrace you. His skin feels colder than before for some reason, though you try to brush it off.

Your life in his estate was extremely strange from then on. It was like no one else could tell that the Duke had been replaced. He looked and acted completely different from before, and when you asked the staff about it, they looked at you as if you were the crazy one. They suggested that perhaps the two men were more alike than you initially thought, and that you should focus instead on settling into your role as his happy, unquestioning spouse. You tried not to frown, but with the way their eyes glazed over anytime you began to ask too many questions, you didn't think it mattered if they saw or not.

Your new fiancé was rather clingy. Annoyingly so. You had been trying to stand his lecherous touches and less than innocent advances for weeks now, to believe that perhaps you were crazy and had somehow mistaken the Duke and the Male lead for each other like everyone said you had. That it was just some byproduct of getting reincarnated.

But then you ended up speaking to a gardener.

She was obviously just a background character, one that probably wasn't even meant to be mentioned in the pages of this novel. She didn't even have a face, and her voice was disjointed and soft. When she spoke, her words echoed in the back of your brain as if she wasn't even meant to speak.

"The lord? He's been acting strange ever since you arrived here my lady," She said. You had to blink to make sure you heard her. To make sure she was actually there. "And his face doesn't look quite right. I'm glad you noticed, my lady. Someone has to."

When you sought her out the next day, she had disappeared without a trace.

You decided that whatever was happening with the estate, the Duke and his servants, was far too strange for you to ignore. Perhaps you had strayed far too much from the original plot and setting of the novel. Either way, it wasn't worth all the trouble. Not when the very thing you sought to avoid with the male lead seemed to follow you. Not when the world seemed to be shifting to try and keep you in the plot.

Wherever you went from then on, You would keep seeing the male lead appear. But it was the same as with the Duke. A character that was unique in appearance and personality would suddenly morph into him. And no one would notice. It was like it was completely normal to have dozens of copies of the same man occupying different names and roles.

You feel insane, like you've broken something in the world.

It's one night where you finally snap and stab one of the weird versions of the male lead where you find out the truth. You're panting and covered in blood, a knife gripped in your shaking hand. There's a manic relief that grasps you right then and there. Because, these characters aren't actually alive. They can't be. Not when they all have the same exact face and voice, smiling at you with empty eyes and words that don't feel like anyone would actually say them if this weren't a book.

You let out a sob of relief that for once you're not being reminded of the man who lurked around the corners of your pervious life. He made your skin crawl with the constant muttering under his breath, with the way he watched you. You did not want to see him in these, awful, awful mockeries of real people.

All you want to do, is have a happily ever after in this stupid novel.

Your eyes go wide and you let out a noise that's halfway between a sob and a laugh. The figure shambles up, seemingly unaffected by the wound in it's side. The face of the male lead, no, of that awful wannabe author, stares back at you without a care in the world.

"Did you get it out of your system? [Name]?" It asks you with a polite smile that doesn't reach the eyes and a tilt to the head.

You collapse to the ground, whimpering as the figure approaches you and pats you on the head. It said your name. Not the main character's name, your name from the real world. You swallow thickly as the puppet of a character kneels down with stilted motions. It's like every little movement is being directly controlled right now. As if it's being written right before your eyes.

"Are you ready to behave now?" It asks like you're some scared pet, and not a living, breathing thing that's being played with like a doll.

Your lips tremble as you nod. You feel something in your mind shatter as you realize that the happy ending written for this world was definitely not intended for you.

[baldval]

heyy! You dont have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable it is a little darker…

can i request overlords finding out that reader selfharms? Like they knew she was unstable but they didnt think that much

thank you!!!

BEING COMFORTED BY HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: alastor, vox, velvette, valentino, lucifer, adam

warnings: sad reader, slightly ooc adam (that man is so hard to write omg)

a/n: ik i said i'm comfortable w darker asks, i just don't really feel ok w writing about such heavy/negative topics (especially sh), but don't worry anon, should've added that mb. anyways, i give you hazbin characters comforting reader in return 🫶🫶

ALASTOR:

ᯓ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᯓ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᯓ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᯓ he sees your pouty face when you get home

ᯓ “hey, darling, come look,” he says

ᯓ he’d been at work when you’d left

ᯓ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᯓ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᯓ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᯓ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᯓ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᯓ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᯓ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᯓ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᯓ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᯓ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᯓ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

VOX:

ᯓ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᯓ he just knows what you need

ᯓ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᯓ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᯓ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᯓ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᯓ “hi, vox.”

ᯓ he peppers your face in kisses

ᯓ “feeling off?” he asks

ᯓ you nod

ᯓ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᯓ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᯓ so you tell him everything

ᯓ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᯓ just for you

ᯓ anything for you

VELVETTE:

ᯓ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᯓ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᯓ you tell her everything

ᯓ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᯓ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᯓ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᯓ you very happily oblige

ᯓ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᯓ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᯓ you’ve never felt more loved

ᯓ she murmurs about how your aniversary is coming up

ᯓ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty

ᯓ you don’t really know how you got here

ᯓ but you’re not upset

ᯓ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᯓ you don’t even remember why you were upset

VALENTINO:

ᯓ he feels what you feel

ᯓ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᯓ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᯓ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᯓ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᯓ that manages to get you to laugh

ᯓ he smiles at your smiling

ᯓ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᯓ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᯓ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᯓ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᯓ “why’re you upset?”

ᯓ “oh, it’s nothing, val.”

ᯓ “bullshit.”

ᯓ you spill

ᯓ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᯓ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᯓ he kisses all up your neck

ᯓ “but we don’t have to think about that at all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up as many lives as you need.”

ᯓ you laugh, making him laugh

ᯓ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

LUCIFER:

ᯓ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᯓ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᯓ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᯓ “everything okay?”

ᯓ “rough day…”

ᯓ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᯓ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᯓ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᯓ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᯓ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᯓ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᯓ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᯓ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᯓ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᯓ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᯓ he does his best to give you a solution

ᯓ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your house for the next week

ADAM:

ᯓ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᯓ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᯓ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᯓ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᯓ you shrug

ᯓ “wanna talk about it?”

ᯓ you tell him everything

ᯓ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᯓ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᯓ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᯓ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᯓ he wants to help you, even if he doesn't make it obvious

ᯓ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᯓ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᯓ you both talk nonstop

ᯓ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᯓ just things that remind him of you

ᯓ and a bracelet, too

ᯓ he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᯓ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᯓ ever

ᯓ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᯓ but you’re not

ᯓ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

[xoxosimp]

On Your Wrist

Synopsis: You and Bucky are in the early stages of your relationship, and he has some trouble getting the perfect gift for you.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: soft mob bucky is a warning, mention of sex, Bucky’s petname for reader is “light”, mediocre writing 

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble LMAO but my brain said nawp. This is HEAVILY inspired by Young Sheldon and the song “ Loveeeeeee song” by Rihanna 

~~~~

Love was a phenomenon that didn't come easy for Bucky Barnes to understand. 

He didn't understand why he was so wrapped up in all things you. The way you laughed, your sweet smile, how you managed to hypnotize him with just a look in your pretty eyes; if he could drown in you, he would. 

Bucky’s world was nothing but materialistic. The more dirty money he made , the more cars, watches, and houses he grew to love. The women he used to spend his time with loved all of those things, too. But no dollar amount could begin to describe the love James Buchanan Barnes has for you. 

It was almost silly how fast Bucky fell in love with you. He found himself doing things he would have never done before falling in love with you. He would make breakfast for you even though he has a private chef. The benefit of being the head of a criminal organization was people waited for him. So there was no meeting he couldn't postpone, all if it meant Bucky could spend more time with you. 

You were his light in his dark world. Before being with you, his purpose was to lead. To kill. You gavee his life meaning he’d never thought he would experience. If you were an angel, he was the devil that would bow to you and repent.

Diamonds and gold were no stranger to Bucky, but the six-figure tennis bracelet he had in his pocket made his hands damp with sweat. You and Bucky were still early in your relationship where he wanted to impress you. And diamonds are very impressive.

He was leaning against his Maserati, waiting for you to get off work so he could take you to dinner, for no other reason than it was Tuesday and he loved you (not that he’s told you yet).

Love was a phenomenon that stopped time whenever you looked at Bucky. It was a look of love and adoration, that nothing else existed except for you and him. It was a look that was shared between soulmates. 

You say goodbye to your coworker and greet Bucky with a hug. He tilted your chin so you could kiss him. If it was Bucky’s choice, he’d have your lips on his all fucking day. You pulled away and smiled at him. “ How was your day, Jamie?”

“ Better now that I’m with you, light”. 

You wrapped your hands around his waist. “ Where are we going for dinner?”

“I was thinking May’s?” he suggested.

“ Oh thank gosh,” you sighed, “ I have been craving fries all day.”

He chuckled and led to the passenger side to open the door for you. “ I have something for you first, light.”

“ Is it chocolate?” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

Bucky took the box from his pocket and gave it to you. Your face lighted up but dims. He can't distinguish the look on your face, whether it’s unhappiness or anger, the smile you wore doesn't quite reach your eyes.

“It’s-It’s beautiful Bucky,” you managed to stutter out. 

He raised an eyebrow to communicate a “But?. “It’s too much.”

Bucky was a little taken aback. The women he used to surround himself with would have taken it without hesitation. Some would say it was not enough. “ Nothing is too much for you,light,” he said firmly.

“ I could never give you something to equate to-to this-”

“ And you don't have to,” he interrupted softly, “ I wanted to get something for you, so I did,” he shrugged. 

He saw you gulp and close the box. “ You got something for me that costs more than a house,” you said. 

“That’s not the only reason you’re rejecting my gift, light,” he stated matter of factly.

“It’s not my style,” you mumbled. “ Are you mad?”

Bucky cupped your cheek and you leaned into his warmth, “ Well I’m not ecstatic that you rejected my gift, but I’m glad you feel safe enough to tell me .”

“But if you say I can't take you out for dinner, then I’ll be really sad, doll.” That pulled a chuckle out of you.

Bucky opened the car door for you to sit. “ I’d hate to see you sad, Jamie,” you stated. 

“It’s too much,” your words replayed in the back of Bucky’s mind.

As much as he’d love to hear those words spilling from your lips when he’s fucking you deep into his mattress, this was a sign he needed to hold back a little. As much as he wanted to impress you, he didn't want to scare you off. 

I can tone it back, Bucky said to himself.

~~~~~

After coming back from a work meeting, you found a box with your name on it. The only logical answer is that it’s from Bucky. Any secret admirers you could have had were too afraid of Bucky Barnes to profess their love.

You sighed as you opened the box, waiting for a more expensive gift than the last one. If he was bothered by your rejection, he didn't show it. Dinner with him was as lovely as it always was.

You weren't insecure that your boyfriend made more money than you, because as cliche as it was, it’s the thought that counts. 

In the box was a small string bracelet, decorated with blue and black beads. In the center were three white beads with the letters “JBB”.

Your smile was so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. You reached for your phone to send Bucky a thank you text, but a deep voice startled you.

“ I like to see my light smile,” Bucky stood on the other side of your desk.

“ What are you doing here?” you giggled as you made your way over to embrace him. 

“Thought I’d take you out for lunch,” he said casually, then placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Thank you for the bracelet, Jay,” you said as he took the bracelet and put it on your wrist, straightening the beads. 

“ Anything for you, light” Bucky mumbled as he kissed the inside of your wrist. 

Hopefully the next diamond he gives you, he’ll put it on your ring finger. Cross his fingers you won't reject that one.

~~~~~~

the bracelet in question

Part Two

[mydearlybeloathed]

“brazen” ft. zoro

Zoro rolled over when you were five feet away from his hammock, shrouded in the midday darkness he’d sought in the storage room. It’s no wonder he jerked up and nearly fell out. “Shit, don’t do that!”

Everyone else worked through various activities around the ship, the sweltering heat making some deck work miserable, but the whole crew contented themselves to a slow day at sea. Yet, you stood here, eyes slightly wide and stare greatly troubled. Zoro leaned up in his hammock, swaying it gently, and flitted his eyes all over you. You weren’t harmed by the look of you, so it had to be something different. 

Zoro was good at dealing with physical things. Like swords, wounds, and annoying cooks. You presented a challenge; you brought him immaterial emotions and ideas, rewriting the way he viewed the world till he was somehow visibly softer. Nami pointed it out to you one low-lit night, noticing how Zoro didn’t bite back at Sanji as much—he knew it upset you when he did.

So he parted his lips and closed them sharply, unsure what to do with you. From the way you stood frozen just out of arms reach, breathing carefully caught, he figured you were much the same. Zoro blinked away sleep and rubbed at his jaw. 

“Something wrong?”

Instantly, you recoiled, laughing. “Nah. Sorry I woke you, I didn’t see you’re asleep.”

Now he knew for certain you were lying. You and Zoro had been on that crew together long enough for you to know his shitty sleep schedule. He cocked his head. “Wanna try again?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re very brazen, you know.”

“And you came here for a reason,” Zoro turned it around, not bothering to ask whatever brazen meant. Later he’d skim the dictionary he’d bought just to keep up with your vast vocabulary. “So, what is it?”

Cold closed off your expression from him, foot inching backward, tiny murmurs of stupid slipping between your lips. Zoro huffed and lunged out for you, his hand catching the cloth of your shirt and yanking you back to him. You yelped, teetering on your toes, twisting around to catch yourself—your right hand hit Zoro’s chest and your left dipped into the hammock, your legs crossed and twisty. Zoro still gripped your shirt, inhale sharp and touch featherlight. 

“I know I’m… brazen,” he grunted. “But you can talk to me. You always have talked to me, so what’s the matter now?”

Chest tight, a dull ache spread from your heart to your arms and legs, up your neck and welling in your eyes. You let slip a shallow breath, a single look enough to express yourself to him. Zoro’s arms reached around your torso, righting you before hooking a hand under your thigh and heaving you into the hammock with him. You couldn’t focus on the awkward position of being on his lap, not when Zoro’s specific kind of unspoken comfort met you readily.

You slipped into his embrace flawlessly, as though you’d lain clutching him in a hammock a thousand times. His hand drew circles on your back, his eyes wide and afraid—tears started to dampen his chest, and he didn’t care at all about that, but Zoro did care about you.

And right now you needed silent comfort, and that he could give you, if nothing else. Zoro never spoke a word, hearing how your labored breathing slowed to something akin to regulated. When you felt ready, you raised your head from being buried in his chest and told him what ailed you. Zoro hung on every single word. 

“It feels superficial to say,” Zoro whispered, reaching to swipe a strand of hair out of your face. “But I think it’ll be okay. Maybe not now, but eventually.”

Relaxed with your legs resting between both of his, your hands folded atop his chest and your chin settled there, you nodded softly. You met his gaze suddenly, gathering your nerve to lean up and press a tender, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth. You pulled back enough to say, “Thank you.”

Zoro’s hand raked into your hair and drew you back in, capturing your lips against his in the hope that all his yearning, devotion, and appreciation could become tangible in your hands. He dealt with physical things, and you dealed in the unspoken; yet that stark divide felt bridged then and there in that little hammock.

[emacrow]

So you know the movie Ponyo

What I'm really trying to ask is do you know the mother and the father are like a little thing where the mother looks like an epic Sea Goddess cuz she is and he looks like a sad sickly old man

I'm just imagine that Klarion and Danny

Like Danny looks like an epic beautiful star Death god powerful in the way he moves but it's subtle like he's slowly comforting you to death

And Klarion looks like a crazy witch boy with a cat who look like he's out right feral and about to throw a pipe bomb at you just because he can

I'm just imagining what happens is Young/Dark Justice is worried about Klarion he's been gone for a while and they're wondering what he's planning I imagine they're surprised when they see him with a Lazarus pit

It's a specially surprising when electric entity sticks their head out of the Lazarus pit and starts talking to Klarion as the JLD and YJL hide there waiting for Klarion into demand help our power they watch this being completely start flirting with Klarion

I imagine Klarion and Danny's conversation going like this

Danny: Hello there my amazing chaos what have you came to talk to me about this time

He puts his hands up to pick up Klarion and bring him closer to his face

Klarion: It's that stupid Doctor Fate it's like he doesn't understand too much balance can ruin the order of the world I might love chaos but that would cause a chaos I couldn't even control

Klarion sits down and Danny's hands rubbing his head on one of Danny's fingers as comfort

Danny: Oh my love I could always talk to him and get him to try slow it down a bit if that's what you need

Danny's face turns into one of concern as he says that slowly starting to move around in the bigger than normal Lazarus pit that Klarion found for him

Klarion: No starlight me and Teekl have that old fart handled how about you tell me about your day instead did you find any more stars how is the balance between life and death doing for you

Danny puts him back down as a twinkle goes in to his eyes as he lays down in Lazarus water slowly starting to swim around as he say

Danny: oh Klarion life and death has been amazing and there's a new Star nursery that I found out there it's just wonderful

After Danny says that he pauses for a moment and presents to go underneath the water he comes out looking smaller with white hair and still wearing the same clothing he was wearing when he was larger surprising Klarion by grabbing his hands

Danny: oh Klarion my dear I have an idea how about we let Dr.Fate have what he wants for once in his miserable life let him have order without the balance that he needs that should show him that he needs you should it not

Klarion takes a second to think through It after he does he grabs Danny's hands right back

Klarion: that's an amazing idea Danny I'll stay with you in the infinite realms let's see how Dr Fate work without chaos helping him keep the balance

After that Danny kisses Klarion on the cheek using the the Lazarus pits to take him and Klarion to somewhere called the infinite realms

I'm sorry this is my first time really writing out Klarion I don't know how to write out characters that well I hope it was good that is what I really like is YJ and JLD was just reacting to this conversation since like the plan was listen and find information

You bet damn right that Dr Fate would have trouble keeping the balance, and would probably have the justice league trying to find Klarion because he thinks he up to something but in reality Klarion is in the middle of deep space, playing around with the stars as Danny is molding and feeding the baby star nursery to build a new universe in the making.

Dani is probably with him doing looping loops playing with star dust while Dan beat up any asteroids that had bad bacteria and let some of the good meteorites in that has good bacteria, and frozen water inside of them.

By the the time Justice league figured it out, probably the Green lantern, Hal. He probably gobsmacked and godsmacked straight back where he came form accidentally by Danny's star fueled cape.

[cordeliawhohung]

a dad!simon scenario that @ghostslillady planted in my head awhile back that i can't stop thinking about and figured i'd share with you guys <3

dad!simon gives you twin boys and they are an utter handful. from the very moment they're born, they're getting into trouble, but it's nothing simon can't handle. it's not uncommon to see him holding both boys at once, as they fit perfectly in his arms. and god, you almost give him another child the first time you see him do this. the way he does it so effortlessly, how he quietly mumbles his thoughts to them as he goes about his day, turns you on in a way you don't think you could ever admit to him.

dad!simon insists on putting the boys into football the moment they're old enough. at first you were worried about them getting hurt, as they're toddlers after all, but when you see them running around on the field, their cleats slightly too big and their shin guards slipping with every step, you can't help but coo about how adorable they are.

dad!simon, on the other hand, doesn't coo at them. he's shouting, cheering, clapping his hands every time one of them scores a goal. you're certain he intimidates the other parents, but no one dares to tell him to quiet it down. every time they win a game, simon lifts both boys onto his shoulders and parades them around the field until their stomachs hurt from giggling so hard. no matter if they win or lose, he always treats the whole family to dinner or lunch after the games, because hard work should always be rewarded <3

dad!simon is a smart man, but the new methods of doing simple elementary level math dumbfounds this man. "why do all those fancy steps?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed. "it's how the teacher showed us," one of them responds. "goddamn waste of paper, that way," he curses. you make sure to have a talk with him about how often he uses "foul language" around the boys. you're honestly surprised their first words weren't "fuck" or "shit."

dad!simon gets you pregnant again by the time the boys turn four, and honestly you were surprised it didn't happen sooner. this pregnancy is much easier to deal with as it's not twins, and the two of you are pleased to find out its a girl. when she's born, simon holds her like she's the most precious thing in the world, and your boys are just as gentle with her. taking turns holding her with your supervision, placing kisses on top of her head just like they saw their daddy do.

dad!simon and you go to every single one of her dance recitals the moment she's old enough to be enrolled. she stumbles across the stage with the grace of a newborn fawn, and yet simon and the boys are clapping and whistling the loudest out of anyone in the crowd. he buys her flowers, which the boys end up stealing in order to give to her themselves.

dad!simon gave your boys his height, and they make sure to bring it up at any possible opportunity. always putting things too high up on the shelves, or leaning their elbows on top of your head. they've also picked up on simon's dry humor, and dinner time conversation is usually filled with a myriad of terrible puns and anti-jokes that leaves you rubbing your face and groaning. it only gets worse when your daughter joins in.

dad!simon and you worry a little bit about your kids as they get old enough to date. especially your daughter, who's too kind and sweet for her own good. so when the two of you get called to the school one day because the boys got into a fist fight with some other kid, neither of you were exactly surprised. figuring they had been fighting over some girl, you were taken aback to hear that they threw punches because of something someone said about their sister. "he called her a cunt because she wouldn't go out with him!" one of them exclaims, causing the teacher to gasp at such a vile word. "no one calls our sister that and gets away with it," the other one finishes. that was all simon needed to hear in order to excuse their behavior. he buys them the new video game they've been begging you get them as a prize. "good behavior should be rewarded," he says to you with a slight smirk.

dad!simon doesn't tone down his affection when you're around the kids. of course he's not doing anything grossly inappropriate, but he doesn't hide the quick kisses he gives you, and he's always surprising you with hugs from behind while you're chatting with the kids or making dinner. always giving you gifts, to his beautiful wife who gave him such an amazing family. and this rubs off on your children. the boys always treat their partners with the utmost respect, and your daughter knows not to take any shit from anyone who would make her feel smaller for being a girl.

dad!simon and you watch as your children grow up into amazing people, taking the world head on by themselves. he forever thanks you for giving him everything he could have ever asked for, something he thought would be forever out of his reach. and there's something a little bittersweet about the fact that they're no longer living at home with you, having become full grown adults with their own lives to live, but the cycle begins all over again by the time your first grandchild is born <3

[mncxbe]

#FIENDISH

𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝒄𝒘: alcohol consumption, titjob, cum eating (denji being down bad), public☆ activites☆, smut mdni

Denji knew you were trouble from the first moment he laid eyes on you. you were sitting across from him at the low table in the bar, huddled up between two other devil hunters from your division. with your pretty face and gorgeous figure, you were absolutely to die for. Denji found himself staring at your cleavage multiple times that evening, his gaze shyly trailing off when you met his eyes and gave him that sweet smile of yours. despite being a fiend, you seemed to be on good terms with your colleagues, chatting and laughing away like you didn't have a worry in the world– and Denji was infatuated.

he's always been weak for pretty girls like you, so with each mug of beer he downed, Denji found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. he grinned dumbly, listening to you telling stories from your missions like your voice was music to his ears. you were so goddamn charming and interesting. honestly, it was just a matter of time until the two of you ended up in a bathroom stall, sloppily making out.

"Shit–" you huffed out, almost losing your balance as you pressed him further against the wall. it was a tight fit and your bodies were pressed tightly against one another but neither of you could care less. Denji leaned in to kiss you again, his hand finding support on the sidewall and he could feel the old, yellowing paint chipping under his palm. but all he cared about was the feeling of your mouth on his, teeth clashing as you kissed him messily, unashamedly, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip and god it was so hot his knees almost gave out.

you could feel the growing erection in his pants pressing up against your navel, a sly smile tugging at your lips. "needy, aren't you?" you hummed, tilting your head to the side to lick a stripe of his neck as you dipped your hand in his pants and Denji shuddered. "fuck, yea. please touch me"

giving his dick a few strokes, you smiled to yourself when you noticed how much precum he was leaking. you took a wild guess and assumed Denji was a virgin. hell, this was most likely the first time he was ever intimate with a woman considering how worked up he was after a few kisses– you could feel his entire body shaking as you worked your hand up and down his shaft. "hold on, Denji. i wanna try something" you hummed, gently pressing down on his hips, making him fall back onto the toilet seat cover. hastly getting down on your knees, you unbuckled the blond's belt and shuffled his pants and underwear down mid-thigh. his dick slapped against his abdomen, its tip glossy with precum and you eyed him hungrily.

Denji's face flushed red when he saw you sliding down the straps of your top and bra. "what are you doing?" he asked cautiosly and you smiled up at him from between his legs. "you kept staring at my tits all night. i thought you'd like to see them" taking his hand in yours, you guided Denji's palm to your chest and he cupped your breast, gently kneading the flesh.

his breath caught in his throat, eyes shooting open as he played with your boobs. it was incredible, they were so soft and pretty, basically spilling our from your now unclipped bra as you took off your clothes. once your chest was bare Denji swiped his thumb over your nipple, making you shudder in pleasure. he was in awe, gazing down at your chest with those glossy, lustful eyes, just like a puppy eyeing down its favourite toy.

"lean back, okay?" you giggled, pushing his back against the grimy toilet tank as you shifted closer to him and pressed your boobs together. Denji watched with keen eyes as you scooped his dick between your tits, moving them up and down his length. a content sigh fell from his lips at the feeling; you were so warm and snug. it definitely felt ten times better than when he was using his own hand.

"does it feel good?" you asked in a honeyed voice and the blond nodded. "yea, don't stop" with a gentle hand, Denji brushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind your pointed ear. you looked like one of those elves from the movies that he saw on billboards around town.

it didn't take long for the blond to feel his orgasm building up. the heat of your skin mixed with the clammy air in the stall made his head spin, his breath growing shallow as he got closer to his high. with needy hands, he fumbled to get a hold of your breasts and huffed out an apology "'m sorry Y/N think i'm gonna cum soon. you feel so warm and ah fuck—"

without a warning, Denji's dick twitched, milky cum spilling on your tits and you did your best to keep it from dripping down onto your clothes. fuck, he really came a lot and so fast. embarrassmet was etched onto his features as he looked around for some tissues. lucky him, there were none. of course there was no toilet paper, this was the bathroom of a run-down pub in Tokyo.

you couldn't help but smile as you looked up at him– he was cute when he was worked up like that. motioning him to lean closer to you, you pressed your breasts together. "come clean me up, Denji"

his brain barely registered your command. it was as if he short-circuited. the cum dripped down your chest and you spread it along your breasts, making your skin shine in the dim light of the stall. he didn't hesitate to take your fingers into his mouth when you held them out to him, tongue swirling around your digits to collect his seed. though he cringed at the taste, the blond licked your fingers clean before moving to your chest, tracing his tongue along your breasts. the heat of his mouth against your skin made you almost delirious, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as you bit down on your lip and laced your fingers in Denji's hair, pulling him closer. the momentum made you stumble back and you ended up sitting on the bathroom floor with your back pressed against the wooden door, the blond's mouth still latched onto your tits.

it felt oddly intimate, having this guy you met just hours ago lick your chest clean of his cum. he mumbled praises against your skin, running his hands up and down the sides of your body like you were made out of porcelain "you're so pretty" he smiled, sucking on your soft flesh and you let out a needy sigh, gently pushing him away. Denji looked taken aback for a moment, scared that he did something wrong but you quickly soothed his worries with a peck on the lips.

"i think we should go back to the others. i bet they're wondering if something happened to us"

"yea, sure. you're right" he smiled, helping you up to your feet and rubbing the remnants of saliva off your chest with the sleeve of his shirt. you quickly got dressed up, helping him arrange his disheveled clothes and clean himself up before returning to the others.

despite your initial concern, no one seemed to notice you've been absent for that long. they were too caught up in conversation. still, as you sat back down at the table, one of the girls gave you a worried look. "are you guys okay?"

"yea, Denji felt sick and threw up, but he's okay now. you know what drinking for the first time is like" you clarified, straight up lying to your colleague's face but she accepted your answer with a nod.

"well, i'm glad you're okay now" she adressed the blond but he was too busy staring into his lap to register her words. when he looked back up he caught you eyes from across the table and gave you a weak smile. that was surely a night he'd never forget.

[lee-laurent]

Crushin' - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn's crush on Brock's sister starts to cause some issues

wc: 7.8k

content: fluff, angst, kissing, grinding, mentions of sex but no smut, friends with benefits

notes: hi! i'm like working through writers' block rn. so... here is this i guess

Emma Boeser, known to those close to her as Emmy, had always been fiercely independent. Growing up as Brock's younger sister meant that she was no stranger to the world of professional hockey, but she had long ago sworn off any romantic involvement with hockey players. The glitz and glamour that others saw were just distractions to her--hockey players were trouble, and she had learned that the hard way. Now, she focused on her career, determined to make a name for herself that wasn't tied to her brother and his achievements.

Emma had secured a role in the Canucks' PR and marketing department, a job that she actually enjoyed going to. She was good at it too--organizing press events, managing the team's public image, and navigating the chaos of media day with ease. Her colleagues respected her, and the players knew she was off-limits, a professional boundary she had enforced since day one (one that her brother was glad to back up).

Quinn Hughes, on the other hand, was everything a star defenceman could be--talented, dedicated, and just the right amount of cocky. He had quickly made himself a name in the NHL, and his focus had always been on the game. Off the ice, Quinn was reserved, not one to seek out the spotlight unless it was absolutely necessary. But there was one person who managed to catch his eye every time, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on his career--Emma.

Quinn had noticed Emma from the moment she started working with the team. She was striking, not just because of her looks, but because of the way she carried herself. There was something about her confidence and no-nonsense attitude that drew him in, even if he couldn't quite figure out why. They'd had only a few friendly interactions, but Emma always kept things strictly professional.

~~

It was after a team gala that their relationship shifted. Emma had been working late, ensuring everything ran smoothly. Quinn had stayed behind, nursing a drink as the event wound down. He noticed Emma, finally off the clock and enjoying a rare moment to herself. She looked relaxed, maybe a little tired, but still as composed as ever.

"Long night?" Quinn asked, leaning against the bar beside her.

Emma glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "You could say that. But it's part of the job."

He nodded, studying her face. She was always so put together, always in control. "You did a great job tonight. Everything went off without a hitch."

"Thanks," Emma replied, raising her glass slightly. "But I'm sure you're not hanging around just to compliment the event planning."

Quinn chuckled, appreciating her directness. "Maybe not. I guess I was hoping to get to know you a bit more... off the clock."

Emma arched an eyebrow. "Off the clock?"

"Yeah," he said, meeting her gaze with a confidence he wasn't sure he really felt. "No work. Just us."

She considered him for a moment before downing the rest of her drink. "Alright, Hughes. But let's keep this simple. No strings, no drama. Just... fun."

He agreed without hesitation, not realizing at the time how much more complicated things would become.

~~

Emma wasn't one to complicate things, especially when it came to her personal life. Her rule was simple: no dating hockey players. The lifestyle, the endless travel, the pressure--they were all things she wanted no part of. But when it came to Quinn, that line had blurred.

What started as a one-time thing after a team event quickly turned into a series of late-night encounters. It was easy, convenient, and, most importantly, private. Emma liked the control it gave her--she could have what she wanted without risking her independence or her brother's wrath. And Quinn? He played along, meeting her in the middle of the night, leaving before dawn, and never asking for more.

Their relationship was built on stolen moments. Sometimes it was at his apartment, other times hers, but always with the same unspoken agreement: no one could know. Emma was strict about that, even more so than Quinn. The idea of Brock finding out was enough to make her heart race--not from excitement, but from pure dread. She knew her brother would lose it if he found out she was hooking up with one his teammates, especially Quinn, who was practically family to him.

For Quinn, those nights with Emma were a mix of heaven and hell. Being with her, touching her, was everything he wanted. But every time she slipped out of his bed, leaving him alone in the dark, it tore at him. He wanted more--he wanted her in his life in a way that went beyond just the physical. But he also knew that pushing for more could mean losing her altogether, and that was a risk he wasn't sure he could take.

At work, Emma was the epitome of professionalism. She was efficient, focused, and kept a cool distance from the players, especially Quinn. In meetings, she barely looked his way, addressing him with the same detached tone she used with everyone else. It was as if the Quinn who whispered her name in the dark didn't exist during daylight hours.

Quinn noticed, of course. He noticed everything about Emma. The way she would set her jaw when she was stressed, the little lines that formed between her brows when she was deep in thought. He noticed how she avoided his gaze during team meetings, how she never lingered when passing by him in the halls. It was like she had put up a wall between them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through.

It was frustrating, especially when Quinn would catch a glimpse of the Emma he knew--the one who laughed at his jokes and leaned into his touch when they were alone. But at work, she was distant, almost cold, and it gnawed at him. He found himself wanting to bridge the gap, to make her see that they didn't have to keep pretending.

One afternoon, after a long practice session, Quinn saw his chance. Emma was standing by the rink, talking to one of the other staff members. She was dressed in her usual work attire, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her expression serious as she discussed logistics for an upcoming event.

Quinn approached her, waiting until the other person had walked away before speaking. "Emmy, do you have a minute?"

Emma glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as if to warn him to keep things professional. "What is it, Hughes?" she asked, her tone brisk.

He resisted the urge to sigh. "I just wanted to go over some of the plans for the charity event next week. Thought we could grab a coffee and talk it through."

She hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "I'm pretty swamped right now," she said, already turning to look at the iPad in her hands. "But I'll email you the details later."

"Come on, Emmy," Quinn pressed, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "It's just coffee."

Emma shot him a look that was both annoyed and pleading. "We can't, Quinn. Not here."

The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine, but it also made his chest tighten with frustration. "It doesn't have to be like this," he said quietly. "We don't have to pretend."

She shook her head, tucking the iPad under her arm. "Yes, we do. I told you, this is how it has to be. We agreed."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not okay with that anymore."

Emma froze, her eyes searching his face for a moment before she looked away. "Quinn, please. Not here."

The vulnerability in her voice was new, something she rarely let slip. It softened Quinn's resolve, but only just. He nodded, stepping back to give her space. "Alright," he forced a smile. "I'll see you later, then."

Emma didn't reply, turning back to her work as if the conversation had never happened. But the tension lingered, heavy in the air between them.

~~

As the weeks passed, Quinn found it harder to ignore the growing feelings inside him. He was falling for Emma, and he knew it. It wasn't just about the physical connection anymore, though that was still a big part of it. It was about the way she challenged him, the way she made him laugh, and the way she kept him on his toes. She was different from anyone he'd ever been with, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was exactly what he'd been looking for.

But the more he tried to let her in, the more she pulled away. Emma was stubborn, and Quinn was beginning to realize just how deep her fears ran. She had been hurt before--by a hockey player, no less--and she wasn't about to let that happen again. No matter how much she cared for Quinn, she couldn't bring herself to break her rule.

Quinn found himself torn between respecting her boundaries and wanting to push past them. Every time they were together, he tried to show her how much he cared, how much he wanted more than just sex. He'd hold her a little longer, kiss her a little softer, hoping she'd see that he wasn't like the others. But Emma was like a fortress, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a way in.

One night, after a particularly grueling game, Quinn found himself lying awake in his bed, his mind racing. Emma had been distant lately, more so than usual, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He missed her, missed the way things used to be before his feelings got in the way. He knew he should be grateful for what they had, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was slowly losing her.

He picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages. Most of them were short, simple texts about when and where to meet. But buried between the lines was a connection that went beyond just physical need. Quinn could see it, even if Emma refused to admit it.

Without thinking, he typed out a message: Can we talk?

He hesitated before hitting send, his thumb hovering over the screen. Part of him was terrified of what she might say, of hearing the words he didn't want to hear. But he couldn't keep going this like, stuck in a limbo with no idea where they stood.

Finally, he pressed send and waited. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. He stared at the screen, willing it to light up with her reply. When it finally did, his heart skipped a beat.

I'm busy right now. Maybe later?

Quinn's shoulders sagged, the tension in his chest only growing. It wasn't a no, but it wasn't the answer he wanted either. He knew Emma well enough to know that "maybe later" was her way of putting him off, of avoiding a conversation she didn't want to have.

But Quinn wasn't willing to let it slide this time. He needed to know where they stood, needed to know if there was any hope of something more.

I'll wait. he replied.

Emma didn't respond, and Quinn didn't expect her to. He set his phone down and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what he'd say when they finally did talk. Part of him knew he should be careful, that pushing too hard might drive her away for good. But another part of him--the part that was tired of pretending--was ready to take the risk.

As the hours passed by, Quinn's thoughts continued to circle back to Emma. He thought about the way she smiled when she let her guard down, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. There was something there, somthing real, and Quinn was determined to make her see it.

When his phone finally buzzed with her reply, his heart raced. But when he read her message, his hope deflated.

Can we just keep things the way they are? I'm not ready for more, Quinn.

He stared at the words, feeling the weight of them settle in his chest. It was exactly what he feared, but hearing it--reading it--still hurt more than he expected.

Despite the sting, Quinn couldn't bring himself to walk away. To put his phone down. Not yet. He knew that if he wanted to be with Emma, he'd have to be patient, to wait for her to come to terms with her feelings. And as much as it pained him to do so, he respected her wishes.

Okay, he typed back. But I'm not giving up on us, Emmy

There was no response, but he didn't need one. He knew it was going to be a long road, but he was willing to wait as long as it took. Because for Emma, it was worth it.

~~

It was another late night in Vancouver, and the city was quiet outside Quinn's window. The game had been tough, a hard-fought win that left him physically drained but mentally wired. Emma had come over, as she often did after games, slipping into his place with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. They hadn't said much--there wasn't a need for words when they both knew what they were there for.

But tonight felt different to Quinn. There was a tension in the air that he couldn't shake, a weight pressing down on his chest as they lay in bed afterward. Emma was curled up next to him, a dull ache in her thighs, her breathing slow and steady as she started to drift off to sleep. Normally, Quinn would have let her, content to hold her in his arms until she inevitably slipped away before dawn. But not tonight.

"Emma," he whispered, his voice low and hesitant.

"Mmm?" she murmured.

There would be no going back. The words were there, waiting to be said, and he couldn't keep them bottled up any longer. "Can we talk?"

Emma's eyes opened, and she shifted slightly to look up at him. "About what?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"About us."

She frowned, already sensing where this was going. "Quinn, we've talked about this. You know how I feel."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We haven't really talked about it. Not like we need to." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Emma, this isn't just... physical for me anymore. It isn't just about the sex. I care about you. A lot."

Emma's frown deepened, and she pulled away slightly, sitting up in bed. "Quinn, don't--"

"Just listen to me, please," he interrupted, sitting up as well. He could see the walls going up, the defences she always put in place when things got too close. But he was determined to push through them this time. "I'm falling for you, Emma. I think I've been falling for you for a while now, and I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this being just... whatever it is."

She stared at him, her expression filled with surprise and something else--something that looked a lot like fear. "Quinn, you know I can't--"

"Why not?" his voice raising with frustration. "Why can't we be something more? We're good together, Emma. I know you feel it to."

She shook her head, wrapping the sheet around herself as if it could protect her from the conversation. "It's not that simple, Quinn. You know it's not."

"It is that simple," he insisted, reaching out to take her hand. "We care about each other. We have fun together. The sex is incredible. We could have something real if you'd just let yourself believe it."

Emma's hand tightened around the sheet, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Quinn, I have rules for a reason."

"Rules?" Quinn scoffed, feeling his frustration boil over. "Emma, you're not living your life. You're hiding behind these 'rules' because you're scared."

She flinched at his words, but her expression hardened. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Quinn pressed, his voice softening as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Emma, I'm not trying to hurt you. I just... I want more. I want us to be more. But I can't do that alone."

There was a long silence, the air between them heavy with even more tension. Emma finally looked at him, her eyes filled with fear, doubt, and maybe longing. But then she shook her head, her walls returning.

"I can't, Quinn," she said quietly. "I'm not going to break my rules. Not for anyone."

Quinn's heart sank, but he forced himself to nod. He had known this was a possibility, that she might not be ready to take that leap with him. But hearing her say it still hurt more than he could've ever imagined. "Okay," he whispered. "I understand."

But the truth was, he didn't understand. Not really. Because he couldn't see why she was so determined to keep them apart when it was clear they could be so much more.

~~

Emma could feel Quinn's words threatening to crack the carfeully constructed walls she had built around herself. She had always been so sure of her rules, so certain that she needed them to protect herself. But hearing Quinn say that he was falling for her, that he wanted more, made her question everything.

It wasn't that she didn't care about Quinn--she did. More than she had ever intended to when they first started sleeping together. But that was exactly the problem. Caring about Quinn meant opening herself up to the possibility of getting hurt, and that was something she couldn't afford.

"Quinn," she began, choosing her words very carefully. "I made those rules for a reason. I've seen what happens when you get involved with hockey players. The lifestyle, the pressure--it's not something I want stacked on top of my own work."

He frowned, clearly not satsified with her explanation. "But I'm not like that, Emma. I'm not just some random guy looking for a fling. I want to be with you, for real. Why can't you see that?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I do see it, Quinn. But that doesn't change the fact that it's a bad idea. We're too close to Brock, too close to the team. If things go wrong--"

"They won't," his tone was firm. "I know it's scary, but we can make it work. We can take it slow, keep it private if you want, but I can't keep pretending this is just about sex."

Emma bit her lip, her mind running a mile a minute. She knew he was right, that what they had was more than just physical. But admitting that, giving in to it, felt like stepping off a cliff with no idea if there was anything there to catch her. She had promised herself she wouldn't get involved with a hockey player again, and yet here she was, teetering on the edge.

"I can't," she said again, shaking her head. "Quinn, I can't risk it. I'm sorry."

The words felt hollow, even to her, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. She looked at him, hoping he would understand, but the hurt in his eyes told her that he didn't. Or maybe he did, but he wasn't willing to accept it.

"Fine," Quinn said, his voice flat. "If that's how you really feel, then fine."

He moved to get out of bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor. Emma watched him, her heart aching at the sight of him pulling away. She wanted to reach out, to tell him she was sorry, that she didn't mean it. But the words stuck in her throat, choked by fear and doubt.

Quinn dressed quickly, avoiding her gaze as he headed for the door. Emma felt a surge of panic as she realized he was really leaving, that his might be the end of whatever they had. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the door was already closing behind him before she could find the words.

And just like that, he was gone.

Emma sat in the empty room, the silence keeping her stuck in her spot. The bed still smelled like him, a painful reminder of what she had just pushed away. She curled up into a ball, pulling the sheets around her as if they could somehow shield her from the reality of what had just happened.

She had been so certain she was doing the right thing, sticking to her rules and protecting herself. But now, with Quinn gone, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of loss. She had never let herself get this close to anyone before, not since the last time she had been burned by a hockey player. But Quinn... he was different. And that was what made this so much harder.

The tears came before she could stop them, spilling down her cheeks as she buried her face in the pillow. She had told herself that she didn't need anyone, that she was better off alone. But now, she wasn't so sure.

Meanwhile, Quinn was walking the streets of Vancouver, the cold night doing little to cool the fire of frustration and hurt burning in his chest. He had laid his heart on the line, told Emma how he really felt, and she had shut him down. He knew she was scared, that her rules were her way of protecting herself, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He kicked at a loose piece of gravel on the sidewalk, watching as it skittered across the pavement. He wanted to be angry, to blame her for being so stubborn, so unwilling to let him in. But deep down, he knew that wasn't fair. Emma had been through a lot, and her fears were valid. But that didn't change the fact that he was hurting, that he wanted more from her than she was willing to give.

Quinn found himself at a small park, the trees bare and the benches empty in the late hour. He sat down, his head in his hands as he tried to sort through all the feelings in his head. He had never felt like this before--so out of control, so vulnerable. And it scared the hell out of him.

But what scared him even more was the thought of losing Emma. He knew she cared about him. There was something between them. Something worth fighting for.

As he sat there in the dark, he made a decision. He wasn't going to give up on Emma, no matter how hard she pushed him away. He knew it was risky, that he might get hurt in the process, but he also knew that it would be worth it. Emma was worth it.

He stood up, heading back to his apartment. He wasn't going to let her fear dictate their future. He would give her space if she needed it, but he wasn't going to walk away. Not yet.

Because sometimes, the best things in life were worth fighting for. And Quinn was ready to fight.

~~

The Canucks were on the road again, heading into a critical stretch of the season. This time, they were in a small city with a reputation for rowdy fans and intense games. The hotel was nice enough, but the schedule was grueling, leaving the players and staff little time to do anything but eat, sleep, and prepare for the next match.

Emma was there, of course, coordinating PR events and managing the team's image as she always did. She was good at her job--meticulous, organized, and (usually) calm under pressure. But this trip felt different. Ever since the conversation with Quinn a few weeks ago, she'd been on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder, half-expecting him to show up and push her again.

She'd managed to avoid him for the most part, keeping their interactions strictly professional. But then tension between them was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. Emma threw herself into her work, hoping to distract herself from the nagging thoughts that kept creeeping in whenever she allowed herself a moment to breathe.

That night, after a long day, Emma retreated to her hotel room, exhausted. The PR duties had been endless, and she was looking forward to nothing more than a hot shower and collapsing into bed. She had just slipped into her pajamas, an XL Canucks t-shirt, when there was a knock at her door.

It was late--too late for any of the players or staff to be knocking at her door for work-related matters. For a brief moment, she considered not answering, pretending she was already asleep. But something compelled her to go to the door, her hand hovering over the handle as she took a deep breath.

When she opened the door, her heart sank and fluttered at the same time. Quinn stood there, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression determined and vulnerable, and for a moment, she was at a loss of words.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" she whispered.

"I had to see you," he replied, his voice steady. "Can I come in?"

Emma hesitated, glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was around. The last thing she needed was for someone to see them together like this. "Q, it's late. We can't do this here."

"I know it's late, but I don't care," he said, taking a step closer. "Emma, please. Just... let me in. We need to talk."

There was something in his eyes that made it impossible to say no. With a resigned sigh, she stepped aside, allowing him to slip into the room. The door clicked shut behind them, the sound loud in the quiet night.

Quinn didn't waste any time. As soon as they were alone, he turned to face her, his face serious. "I can't keep doing this, Emma. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with the way thing are."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "We've talked about this, Quinn. You know where I stand."

"No, we haven't really talked about it," he countered. "You've told me how you feel, but you haven't listened to how I feel."

Emma looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She knew what was coming next, "Quinn, please. Don't do this."

"I have to," he said. "Emma, I'm in love with you. And I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this just being sex. Because it's not, at least not to me."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, winding her and leaving her breathless. She had known this was coming, had seen it in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. But hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way she wasn't prepared for.

"Quinn..." she began, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"No, just listen to me," he pleaded. "I know you're scared. I know you've been hurt before, and I know you've made these rules to protect yourself. But Emma, you can't shut yourself off from the world forever. You can't yourself off from me."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back, determined not to let them fall. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," he insisted, stepping even closer until he was right in front of her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "It is that simple. We care about each other. We have something real. Don't you want to see where this could go?"

Emma closed her eyes, leaning into his touch despite herself. "I'm scared, Quinn. I'm scared that if I let you in, I'll get hurt again."

"You won't," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you, Emma. I promise you."

The dam broke. All the emotions Emma had been bottling up for months came flooding out in a rush. She let out a choked sob, her hands gripping the front of Quinn's hoodie as she buried her face in his chest. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Quinn wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried. "You don't have to know. We'll figure it out together."

For a long time, they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms as Emma let herself be vulnerable for the first time in years. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders, but at the same time, she was terrified of what was to come next.

Finally, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "I don't want to lose you, Q. But I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," he assured her, his hand gently carressing her hair. "We'll take it one step at a time. I'm not going anywhere, Emmy. Not unless you tell me to."

She shook her head, her grip on his hoodie tightening. "I don't want you to go."

"Then I'm staying," he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

The kiss was tender, a promise of what was to come if she could just let go of her fears. Emma felt something shift inside her, a crack in the armour she'd built around her heart. She looked up at Quinn, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized how much she wanted this--wanted him.

Without another word, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was different from all the ones that had come before. This one was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions they'd been holding back. It wasn't about lust or need--it was about something deeper, something that scared her just as much as it thrilled her.

Quinn responded immediately, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her back with the same intensity. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, alone in the quiet of the hotel room.

They moved together in perfect sync, their movements slower, more meaningful than before. It was as if they were discovering each other all over again, but this time with their hearts fully in it. Quinn laid her back on the bed, his hands reaching under her shirt. She shivered, his skin cold against hers. She gripped his hair, bringing his body closer to hers so that their hips were pressed together. There was no rush, everything felt slow and loving.

As they lay together afterward, their breaths heavy in the air, Emma felt a peace she hadn't felt in years. For the first time, she felt hope that a relationship could work for her. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, her mind still buzzing with the emotions of the night, there was a small part of her that couldn't shake the fear of what was to happen next.

~~

The soft light of the morning filtered through the thin curtains of the hotel room. Emma stirred in her sleep, the events of the night before replaying in her mind as she hovered between dreams and waking. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Quinn's chest, his arm draped protectively around her waist.

For a moment, everything felt perfect. Peaceful. But then she remembered that it wasn't just another night together. This time it was more intense, more meaningful. Emma knew she couldn't pretend it was just a casual hookup anymore.

Quinn was awake, too, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back. He didn't want to move, didn't want to ruin the moment they were sharing. But he knew they couldn't stay like that forever. Sooner or later, they'd have to face the consequences of what they had become, and that thought terrified him.

"Morning," he whispered.

Emma tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Morning," she replied, her voice barely audible.

They stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to speak about how things had changed between them.

"What happens now?" Emma finally asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Quinn hesitated, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that I don't want this to be the last time we wake up like this."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," she confessed, her fingers absently tracing the outline of his collarbone.

"I know," Quinn said, his voice gentle. "But I'm not asking for you to be ready right now. I'm just asking you to think about it. To think about us."

Emma didn't respond right away. She wanted to believe they could make it work, that they could be more than just a secret. But the reality of their situation--of Brock, the team, and her own fears--loomed over her like a storm cloud.

Before she could find the words to respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room, shattering the moment of quiet intimacy. They both froze, their eyes locking as the sound registered in their tired brains.

"Emma?" Brock's voice called from the other side of the door. "You up?"

Panic surged through Emma's veins as she scrambled to sit up. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not like this.

Quinn's eyes widened in alarm, his hand gripping the sheets as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "What do we do?" his whispered urgently.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "You need to hide."

"Where?" he hissed, his eyes darting around the small hotel room. There was nowhere to go, nowhere that wouldn't immediately give him away.

"Just--" Emma was cut off by another knock, this one more insistent.

"Emma, you in there?" Brock's voice was more concerned now.

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. But before she could do anything, the door handle began to turn. Brock was coming in. Emma always gave him an extra key to use in case of emergencies. And her not answering him was an emergency in his mind?

Quinn barely had time to leap out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and diving into the bathroom just as the door opened. Emma could feel her heart in her throat as she watched him disappear, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Brock stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Em, what's going on? Why didn't you answer?"

Emma forced a smile, suddenly feeling like she was going to be sick. "Sorry, Brock. I was just getting up," she lied, pulling the covers a little tighter to her chest.

Brock's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing back on his sister. "Are you okay? You look... I don't know, off."

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, hoping her voice didn't betray the panic she felt. "Just tired, that's all."

Brock didn't look convinced, but before he could press any further, a loud clatter came from the bathroom. The sound of something falling, followed by a muffled curse.

Emma's blood ran cold as Brock's head snapped toward the bathroom door so fast he could've gotten whiplash. "What was that?" his voice was twinged with suspicion.

Her wind went blank, all possible excuses failing her. She couldn't come up with a single plausible explanation for the noise. All she could do was watch in horror as Brock took a step towards the bathroom door.

"Brock, wait--"

But it was too late. He was already pushing the bathroom door open, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight before him. Quinn stood there, half-dressed, his face covered in guilt and resignation. He had clearly tried to get dressed quickly, but it obvious what had happened. There was no hiding it now.

"Quinn?" Brock's voice was low, dangerous, as he turned to look at his sister, his eyes blazing with anger. "What the hell is going on here?"

This was exactly what Emma had been trying to avoid, the confrontation she dreaded from the moment she and Quinn had started whatever it was they were doing.

"Brock, I--" she began, but Brock cut her off, his voice rising with anger.

"How long has this been going on?" he demanded, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Sleeping with my teammate?"

"Brock, it's not what you think," Quinn interjected, stepping forward, his hands raised as if he was approaching a wild beast.

"Not what I think?" Brock's eyes darted between the two of them. "What am I supposed to think, Quinn? You're in my sister's hotel room, half-naked, and you expect me to believe this is just a misunderstanding?"

Emma couldn't help the sense of guilt that was creeping in when she saw the hurt in her brother's eyes. This wasn't how she wanted him to find out, not like this. But there was no taking it back now, no undoing the mess they had created.

"Brock, listen to me," she started. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react like this. But it's not Quinn's fault. It's mine. I... I care about him a lot."

Brock's anger faltered, replaced by confusion. "You care about him? Emma, you've always said you'd never date a hockey player again. You've always told me--"

"I know what I've always said," Emma interrupted. "But things change. People change. I didn't expect this to happen, but it did. And I didn't tell you because I was scared of how you'd react."

Brock stared at her, "You should have told me, Em. You're my sister. I deserve to know what's going on in your life.

"I know," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Brock. I never wanted to hurt you."

The room was silent for a long moment, then tension in the air thick. Quinn stood by the bathroom door, his heart heavy as he watched the siblings. He knew this wasn't giong to be an easy conversation, but it was necessary if he and Emma were going to have a chance of being together. They had to face this head-on.

"I just... I can't believe you didn't tell me," Brock said quietly, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I'm telling you now," Emma said softly. "And I'm telling you that I care about Quinn. This isn't just us hooking up. It's something more."

"You really care about him?"

"I do, Brock. I really do."

Brock glanced at Quinn, who stood there with a look of determination on his face. It was clear that he wasn't going to back down, that he was ready to fight for Emma if that's what it took. And as much as it pained him, Brock knew he couldn't stand in the way of that.

"Alright. But if he hurts you, Emma... if he breaks your heart, I swear--"

"He won't," she interrupted, "He won't."

Brock nodded, "Okay. But you two owe me an explanation. The whole story."

"We will," Quinn promised. "You deserve that."

Brock turned to leave, to give them some space. They had made it through the worst of it, but there was still so much unsaid, so many obstacles they would have to overcome.

~~

The morning after Brock's discovery, there was still a tension in the air. The team was scheduled to leave the hotel soon, and Emma could feel the unease radiating from Brock as they packed up their things.

Brock waited until they were in the parking lot, away from the rest of the team, before he turned to Quinn. "We need to talk."

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, we do."

They walked a few steps away from the bus, finding a quiet corner where they wouldn't be overheard. Emma watched from a distance, she could see the stiffness in Brock's shoulders.

"What the hell, Quinn? You're supposed to be my friend. How could you go behind my back like this?"

Quinn swallowed hard, knowing that Brock had every right to be angry. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I never wanted to keep it from you, but Emma... we weren't really sure where we stood. I was trying to respect her wishes."

Brock let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Respect her wishes? You're supposed to respect me, too. I trusted you, Quinn."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I hate that I hurt you, Brock. But I care about Emma. I care about her more than I've ever cared about anyone."

"This isn't just some fling to you, is it?"

"No. It's not. I know how it looks, and I know why you're pissed. But Emma means everything to me. I'm not going to hurt her, Brock. I swear."

Quinn could see the conflict in his friend's eyes, the way he was struggling to reconcile the betrayal he felt with the truth of Quinn's words. Finally, Brock let out a long sigh, ruunning a hand through his hair.

"I'm still mad as hell at you. But if you're serious about her... if you really care about her, then I guess I don't have a choice but to deal with it."

"I am serious, Brock. And I get why you're angry. But I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to make this work."

"You better. Because if you screw this up, Hughes... if you hurt her, I'm coming for you. And nothing will stop me."

Quinn didn't flinch at the warning, understanding the protective instincts behind it. "I won't hurt her. You have my word."

Brock didn't say anything for a few seconds, then finally extended his hand. "Alright. We'll see how this goes."

Quinn shook his hand. It wasn't a full reconciliation, but it was a start.

~~

Emma sat by the window on the back of the bus. The conversation between Brock and Quinn had gone better than she'd expected. Now, more than ever, she needed to decide what she really wanted.

As the bus rumbled down the highway, Emma continued to stare out the window, her mind drifting back to all the events that had led her there. She thought about the walls she had built around herself, the rules she had clung onto so tightly. They had been her armour, her way of protecting herself from getting hurt again. But now, she was starting to realize that those same walls were keeping her from something she truly wanted--something real with Quinn.

But could she really risk everything for him? Could she trust him not to break her heart, not to shatter her into pieces like she'd been before?

She thought about the way he had held her in the hotel room, the way he had looked at her with such sincerity, such unwavering care. He had been patient with her, understanding her fears even when she hadn't fully explained them. He had been willing to wait, to take things at her pace, and that meant more to her than she could express.

Emma knew that she couldn't keep running from her feelings, couldn't keep hiding behind her rules. If she wanted to be happy, really happy, she needed to take a leap of faith. She needed to let Quinn in, to trust that he would catch her if she fell.

She made her decision. She was going to give Quinn Hughes a real chance. It wouldn't be easy, but she was tired of being afraid, tired of letting the past dictate her future.

~~

After they arrived at the next hotel, Emma waited until most of the team had gone up to their rooms before she approached Quinn. He was standing by the luggage cart, talking to one of the staff members, but when he saw her coming, he broke off the conversation, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Emma? Everything okay?"

She nodded, "Can we talk?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

Emma led him away from the group, finding a quiet spot near the hotel's entrance. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. And I've realized something."

Quinn nodded, urging her to continue.

"I've been scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of what might happen if I let someone in. But... I don't want to be scared anymore."

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, reaching out to gently untangle her hands, holding them in his. "Emma..."

"I want to give us a chance, Quinn. A real chance. No more hiding, no more pretending it's just physical. I want to see where this can go."

Quinn's face lit up with a smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that." He squeezed her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. "I promise you, Emma, I'm all in. Whatever it takes, we'll make this work."

Quinn leaned down to kiss her, a soft, tender kiss that held all the promises of the future they could create together. Emma knew she had made the right choice. She was taking a risk, but it was a risk worth taking.

Later that evening, as the team gathered for dinner, Brock found himself watching Emma and Quinn across the room. They were sitting together, not hiding their connection but not flaunting it either. He could see the way Quinn's hand rested protectively on Emma's knee, the way Emma leaned into him, a soft smile on her face.

He could see how much Quinn cared about his sister, how much Emma softened around him. It was becoming glaringly clear to him that this wasn't just some fling, that they were both very serious about making it work.

Brock let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure he was ready to fully forgive them, but he knew that he couldn't stand in the way of their happiness. If this is what Emma wanted, if this was what made her happy, then he would find a way to be okay with it.

He caught Quinn's eye from across the room, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then, slowly, Brock gave him a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of the understanding they had reached earlier.

Quinn returned the nod. And as Brock watched Emma laugh at something Quinn said, her face lighting up in a way he hadn't seen in years, he realized that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what she needed.

[stayinlimbo]

love at your fingertips

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: established relationship, fluff disclaimers: tooth-rotting fluff, will (hopefully) make you smile, slight suggestiveness, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 681 note: i had this idea and just had to do it. i love love ♡

minho has never been good with words.

it’s a fact he’s had to accept throughout his entire life. sentences spew past his lips before he has time to process what he's saying and his mouth won’t form the intended words clawing at the back of his throat. his attempts at conveying emotions fall flat due to his dry tone of voice, the only noticeable tells articulated by his ever-changing demeanor. 

it must be ironic that he considers himself an extrovert. 

or maybe it isn’t, because although minho may not be able to express himself verbally in his native korean, he is fluent in the universal language of love through touch (as if his obsession of slapping his friends’ butts wasn’t proof enough). and now that you’re in his life, it has become one of his primary means of communication. 

“i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not when the simple brush of the back of his hand with yours hints at his affection for you before starting dating. not when he clasps your hand with his to carefully guide you through a crowded area, occasionally looking back to ensure you’re okay and always to be met with a smile that melts his heart.

he expresses it in the way he ruffles your hair when he stands behind your seated form on the couch, laughing as he defends himself against your playful swats. minho remains tied to you, playing with your fingers under the restaurant table when on a group date with your mutual friends.  

careful love as his hand presses against the small of your back, letting you walk slightly in front of him on the sidewalk at night, making sure you’re always in his line of sight. 

passionate love as he pushes you against the bedroom door, the grip on your hips tightening when your mouth detaches from his and trails down to his neck. he radiates it through the act of intertwining his fingers with yours by your head as he pants into your ear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your temple, a silent thank you for vulnerability you’ve never hesitated to unveil for him. 

unconditional love when he pulls you in for a firm embrace after one of the worst arguments the two of you have ever had in your relationship. his thumbs wipe your tears away, an unspoken apology for making you cry. 

it’s the love minho knows will be there when he wakes up in the morning as he stretches his hand out towards the middle of the bed, close to where your half-asleep figure peacefully lays. 

it’s the love he knows is reciprocated, for you speak the language of love too. 

minho hears it, sees it, in the way you took his shy hand in yours, intertwining them together with a beam on your face at the way his face flushed from your confident action, and it’s the way your fingertips dig into his shoulders, kneading away the tense muscles after a stressful day. 

you make his annoyance at the world disappear when your fingers card through his wet hair, creating spiky towers pointing in every direction that he can’t help but laugh at himself at how ridiculous he looks (yet never smooths them back down unless you do it for him). 

it’s your careful love too, existing in the lip tint you applied on him transferring onto your lips as you tilt his head and pull him in for a sweet kiss. it’s worth the smudged kiss stains adorning his face when he sees you admiring your work, squishing his cheeks together because he’s just “so cute.”

you love every extension of him, including his cats that yowl and parade around your feet until you give them all equivalent attention with gentle pets. 

love is imbued in your touch, even when you’re half-asleep, yet still reach out to meet his open palm to loosely interlace your fingers.

no, “i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not if it’s with you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WELCOME HOME

MASTERLIST

pairing: opla!mihawk x reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+, swearing, smut, slight knife play, oral (female receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink

a/n: i got carried away with the fluff at the end. as much as i love smut i also love some domestic ass fluff which is very clear here lol.

i started this a while ago but got busy and only managed to finish it today! next up i’ve got buggy. i actually have two ideas for him. both have smut but the premise is so different lol. let’s just say one has a prominent daddy kink.

this might be very ooc! mihawk, again i’ve only watched the live action. i would like to start the anime but those 1,000 episodes are intimidating to say the least.

Working for the Marines proved to be useful for Mihawk. His bounty was canceled, and he got to travel and get up to shenanigans that would otherwise bring him trouble.

Mihawk gets to strike pirate after pirate, which benefits him greatly. It gives him the opportunity to search for the one meant to surpass him while getting paid. No one has come close to beating him yet.

After another tedious mission, Mihawk returns home. He opens the grand doors of his castle and leaves his hat and coat by the door. He silently goes deep into the castle and into his bedroom, unhooking Yoru from his back and placing it by the bed.

He removes his boots and pants while keeping his eyes on the figure sprawled on the bed. His dear wife sleeps peacefully on her stomach, her hair casting a halo on the white pillows.

He tries his hardest not to wake you, but you groggily open your eyes as he lays on the bed. He stares back at you apologetically, kissing the back of your head.

"You're back," you sigh, closing your eyes again. Your muscles relax when you see it's your husband who has returned from his latest mission.

Normally, you'd greet him much more enthusiastically. However, the sky outside is still a deep shade of blue, the stars twinkling brightly to shine some light on the otherwise dark room. And you have had a long, exhausting day that is pulling you back to sleep.

"Just got back," he responds softly. His eyes trace over your exposed figure. It's a warm summer night if the sheets crumpled by the end of the bed are any indication.

He was away longer than he expected. It's times like these that he resents his agreement with the Marines. He will resent anything that keeps you away from him. He would take you with him if your circumstances were different, but it's too dangerous. 

You suddenly feel his touch on your back, but pay him no mind as sleep threatens to take you away once more. Mihawk traces your exposed skin with his small blade Kogatana. He likes seeing two of his priced possessions in his grasp.

He'd never dare cut you with it. That's reserved for his enemies. Enemies who would be scared by the mere sight of Mihawk, but you simply melt under his gaze without a worry in the world. The touch of the cold blade familiar and comforting.

"Don't you dare cut through my clothes again, Mihawk," you suddenly threaten when he glides the blade over your night dress. You might be safe from the sharpness of his blades, but your clothes never are.

"Or what?" he asks, lifting your silky nightgown with the blade. Just a bit more tension, and it will cut through the fabric. There's an unmistakable smile on his handsome face.

"Fuck around and find out," you groan, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Deep down, you know you're not getting any rest anytime soon. Mihawk is clearly in a particular mood.

"Is this how you receive me? With empty threats?" Mihawk teases you. He follows it with a "Tsk, I expected more from you."

"My love, it's four in the morning. My brain isn't working properly, but rest assured it'll come up with something by morning," you huff, burying your face on the pillow.

"I'm dying to find out what you come up with. In the meantime, I'll fuck around." Mihawk says with a tone that warns you he's up to no good.

In an instant, you hear the blade ripping through the material of your nightgown. The cut is clean and precise, exposing your skin to the room's humid air.

"Mihawk!" You groan, annoyed but far from surprised. Another piece of clothing ruined by Kogatana. Add it to the tally.

"Screaming my name already? I've barely touched you," Mihawk chuckles, amused at his joke. He traces his lips down your spine, pressing kisses along the curve of your back.

"Idiot…" you mumble with a small grin. You prop yourself up on your elbows, still on your stomach, looking at your husband over your shoulder.

"All yours, darling," he responds cheekily, biting down on your exposed ass cheek.

"Hey!" You giggle, wiggling under his hold. Mihawk pins you down with his body as he comes back up.

Mihawk brushes your hair over one of your shoulders to dig his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse point. You smile at this, having missed his touch like the familiar scrape of his beard on your skin.

Mihawk gives you enough space to turn around in his grasp. You cup his face and say, "I missed you. A few more days and I would've gone out in search of you." Your thumbs mindlessly rub over his jaw. No matter how much he cuts through your clothes, you love him.

Your actions bring him comfort as he leans into your touch, "My apologies. Will you allow me to make it up to you?"

You pretend to think as he stares you down. His gaze is soft and loving and filled with playfulness. Playfulness that is reserved only for you. "It's the least you can do," you finally respond, touching his lips.

Mihawk closes the gap in an instant, kissing you senseless. He groans into the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue swiping your lips to gain entrance. He grabs your thigh, wrapping it around his waist to have you closer.

Your arms wrap around his back, scratching his skin with your nails as you pull yourself closer. Mihawk's hand comes up to your chest, pulling on the tattered fabric of your nightgown, successfully throwing it somewhere in the room.

"Don't forget you owe me another nightgown," you breathe as Mihawk kisses down your body.

"And a blouse, a skirt, a dress, and many the undergarments. But who is keeping track?" Mihawk says. He's settled between your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses down your soft stomach.

You prop yourself up to watch him delve lower and lower down your body. He searches for your gaze when he reaches your mound, where he places a small kiss. "I'd much prefer you sleep naked. We can sleep skin to skin."

You smile and shake your head at him, biting your lip in anticipation. "What of the nights you're gone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Mihawk's strong hands grasp your thighs, pulling them open. Maintaining eye contact, he traces his lips over the inside of your thighs, not quite kissing them. His facial hair tickles you and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

Not one to lose an argument, he responds, "More of a reason to stay naked. Makes it easier to touch yourself while you think of me," he purrs. You feel his breath where you need him most.

As you open your mouth to reply with a snarky comment, Mihawk takes his chance. His tongue licks up your slit, tasting you for the first time in weeks.

"Ohh."

Mihawk eats you out like a starved man lost at sea for months. His tongue licks and flicks over your clit repeatedly as his lips wrap around it to suck. You fall back on the bed with your fingers digging into his curls, pulling on them. It only spurs him on as his hips involuntarily thrust into the mattress. Pleasing you turns him on.

"I missed this cunt," he lewdly moans as he kisses the inside of your thigh, lightly biting the area.

"Mihawk," you whine, turning red-faced by his crude words.

He mimics your tone, saying your name. Your ankle digs into his back in response. He's far from hurt as he laughs into your thigh. Having had a taste, he slows it down, taking his time. Enjoying everything about you.

He spreads your lips apart, exposing your pink center to him. Strings of arousal cover you, giving your cunt a pretty sheen. You're easily embarrassed by Mihawk's actions, but your whines do nothing to stop him.

"Fucking beautiful," he purrs, thumb circling over your exposed clit.

Your fingers card through his curls, pulling them back to watch his lustful expression. No one has ever made you feel as desired as Mihawk has.

Soft breaths fall from you as you feel Mihawk's warm tongue gather the slick from your entrance. He gets lost in his pleasure as his fingers dig into your thighs. Obscene wet noises coming from his mouth, mixing with the staccato of your moans.

Each flick of his tongue gets you higher and higher, your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure. You whine as you get closer to your peak, small warnings Mihawk doesn't need as he's learned what each of your tells are. He's adamant about making you cum on his tongue.

It's a matter of time until he feels your legs squeezing his head and your hips bucking into him. Your back arching follows soon after as a loud cry escapes your lips.

Mihawk licks his lips, satisfied, as he pulls slightly away from you. The twitching of your cunt is not missed by his hawk eyes. He presses his palm against your center, easing you down from your high.

He crawls back up your body, kissing your nipples on his way up. You swat him away gently, feeling sensitive.

"My beautiful wife," he says once he's face to face. In his eyes, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Your skin shines prettily with the afterglow of an orgasm.

"What's gotten into you?" You giggle, giving him exactly what he was looking for. Your smile.

"Can't a man miss his wife?" He asks, nudging your cheek with his nose as he sporadically leaves kisses on your face.

He did miss you, but he's also extremely pussydrunk. Going down on you does as much to him as it does to you, judging by the hard on pressing against your lower stomach.

"He can..." You smile, wrapping your arms around him to caress his back. "Just how much did you miss me?"

You feel his laugh in your ear as he catches your suggestive tone. Nonetheless, he whispers, "I missed you like the sun and moon miss each other."

"You're cheesy," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him flush against you. His cock is between the two of you, a bead of pre dripping onto your skin.

"Don't tell anyone. Or else my reputation be ruined." Mihawk says, pressing his forehead against yours.

"It's our secret," you whisper in response with a kiss on his waiting lips.

Hiking your leg further up his body Mihawk lines himself up and pushes his cock into you. You gasp into the kiss as he fills you up until he bottoms out.

He always starts slow. The drag of your walls against his cock is a memory he never wishes to forget. He swears your cunt feels better each time he has the pleasure of being buried inside you.

His thrusts are slow but deep. He keeps a hand on your leg that's hiked up around his waist while he holds himself up with the other. The way you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes is his favorite sight in the whole wide world. Your soft gasps and cries are a symphony of their own, especially mixed with his own.

His slower pace only lasts so long as he gets lost in the way your cunt chokes his cock. He wants more. He needs more.

His resolve quickly disappears as he picks himself up to kneel on the bed. He easily pulls you closer as you slide down the bed with a yelp. His cock always inside of you.

Mihawk presses your legs up to your chest, grabbing a discarded pillow to place under your ass.

"Much better," he mutters as his hips buck against you tentatively.

"Yeah, 'cause you're not the one folded in half," you begin saying as he snaps his hips, which turns into a moan. The new angle brings tears to your eyes. The tip of his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"Don't deny it. You like when I manhandle you," he gruffs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He further presses against the back of your thighs as he looks down when you both meet. His cock wet with both of your juices.

"I'm. Not." You pant between each one of his jerks. You leave it at that, closing your eyes to focus on the sparks of pleasure.

This is Mihawk's favorite position just because of the visual standpoint. He's in total control and gets to gauge your body's reactions.

Your scrunched up eyes as you concentrate on following your release. The biting of your lips to try and remain quiet, yet whimpers betray you. Your chest bouncing pulls him into another trance as he watches your skin blushing and your nipples hardening.

Your eyes squint open as you bring your hand down to your lower abdomen, where you say, "Feel you right here, Mihawk."

Mihawk mutters a curse under his breath. He places his hand on top of yours and asks, "Want me to cum right here too, darling?"

His moves become sharper and more precise as he bullies that spot inside you. "yes. yes. yes. Fill me up, my love," you cry out.

It's all becoming too much for you. You bring your arm up to bite on it and muffle your moans, but he still manages to coax out your voice. Your moans remain a secret in the night, heard only by Mihawk.

It's fucking glorious the way your cunt squeezes his cock when you reach your climax. The rhythmic pulses of your high urging him to continue pushing into you. You try to push him away to get him to go slower, your hands only managing to caress his abdomen before he pins them down.

He is in total control. He just needs a bit more from you. You can take it. You've done it before. Your legs shake both in exhaustion and rapture. His pace is steady as he feeds into that feeling that tightens his balls.

His hands turn to lace his fingers through yours. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. With hooded eyes, you watch your husband in all his glory. Trickles of sweat fall down his strong chest, and his curls are a mess atop his head. It all makes him look like a work of art.

Once more, the familiar sensation of pure euphoria washes over you, and it's enough to push Mihawk to reach that place as well. He stills inside you, his hands squeezing yours as he empties himself inside you, just like he promised.

With your hands on his hold, he brings them to his lips to kiss your palms. He follows the path down your arm until he buries his head on your shoulder. He lies there, almost crushing you under his weight, breathing you in. You wrap your arms around him, enjoying the closeness and rubbing your hands up and down his muscular back, rubbing the spots with the most tension from carrying Yoru around.

You talk in hushed whispers as you gain back your energy. It's a hard task, considering you were woken up in the middle of the night, and Mihawk probably hasn't slept in more than 24 hours.

Hours later, you feel the hard patter of footsteps nearing your bedroom. You sit up, preparing yourself despite Mihawk's heavy arm threatening to pull you back down into his embrace.

The door to your bedroom is slammed open with a bang barely second after you manage to slip on your robe.

"Wake up, wake up, it's morning!" Your loud, curly-haired boys scream as they run around the room with wooden swords.

"What's all this ruckus about?" Mihawk groans. Both boys freeze, noticing the other figure sitting up on the bed, "Papa!"

"There are my brats," Mihawk huffs as they let the swords clatter to the ground to climb the bed and throw themselves at him, "I missed the two of you," he says, hugging them and kissing their heads.

You stare lovingly at the scene in front of you. The twins were a result of your honeymoon with Mihawk. Fruits of your love, if you will.

The five-year-olds are the spitting image of their father. Kind reminders of him whenever Mihawk has to go out on a mission.

"Missed you too, Papa."

"I want some snuggles, too!" You exclaim, grabbing the twin closest to you and placing him on your lap to kiss and snuggle. He squirms and laughs as you tickle his belly.

The twins celebrate their dad's back as they cling and climb over him. You let them do as they please, considering it has been you who they've clung to for the past couple of weeks.

"Mama is sick," one of them blurts out to Mihawk, causing you to freeze.

"Mhm, Mama called the doctor to make her better!" The other echoes as you pull him to your lap to shush him.

Mihawk narrows his eyes at you as he listens to the twins ramble. You throw him a sheepish smile and quickly look down at your son, brushing his unruly curls to avoid his gaze.

"Well, Papa is home now. I'll take good care of Mama," Mihawk reassures them. "Why don't the two of you go to the kitchen and gather the ingredients for your favorite?'

"Really?" They ask in unison with excited smiles.

"Absolutely," Mihawk says just as excited, ushering the boys out of the room. As soon as they run out, he turns to you with a raised eyebrow, "Not that I'm a doctor, but you didn't seem sick a while ago."

"I didn't?" You ask incredulously, standing from the bed to sit on the vanity.

Mihawk follows you, knowing you're trying to avoid the conversation. He calls your name, kneeling down on the floor by your seat. "Why did you call the doctor?"

You sigh, mustering the courage to tell him the news. You face him as he settles between your legs. He grabs your hand and places a kiss on the back of it, giving you the courage to tell him.

"We're having another baby," you smile at him, squeezing his hand.

"You're happy?" Mihawk is ecstatic, to say the least, but he recognizes how hard your pregnancy with the twins had been. So, he toned it down for the moment.

"I'm happy," you nod, allowing him the joy of having another kid. It's been six years, and you're ready for another baby. Besides, the boys are growing up so fast that they aren't babies anymore.

Mihawk hugs you from his kneeling position, digging his head into your stomach, "You think we'll have a girl?"

"I have my fingers crossed. There's too much testosterone in this castle. One thing is for sure though, it's the last one," you tell him, kissing his head.

"Come on, darling. We have more space for two or three more..."

You roll your eyes at him and gently push him away, reminding him he has two hyperactive boys downstairs waiting for him.

[s-awturn]

Pilots and their love languages || F1 Grid

cw: superficiality, slightly suggestive, PDA and non-PDA and I don't know what else to say, so blah blah blah

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I'm testing something new, so please bear with me 😩 for now it will be just these pilots because they are my favorites here, as I get used to this format, I can include more pilots. Anyway, enjoy!

LEWIS HAMILTON - Acts of service

Lewis knows that you are inattentive and forget to eat, sometimes you fall asleep in the office while you are working, you forget your things when you are in a hurry, And luckily for you, your fiancé is always attentive to these details. So he always checks his things, whether he has his keys, whether he has had his coffee properly or whether he is about to finish his work at the office. No matter how much you tell him that he doesn't need to worry, Lewis loves taking care of you and making sure your needs are met, even the most basic ones.

"Sorry for giving you so much trouble, you must be tired from training"

"Nah, I'm fine and taking care of you is no work at all, it's a pleasure for me"

CARLOS SAINZ - Gifts

Carlos loves to give gifts and his generosity knows no bounds, especially for you, he loves to present you with whatever he thinks you like. Did you like that book? It's yours. Did you show interest in a bracelet? It'll be on your wrist before you know it. You've lost count of how many times you've talked to him about it, your closet couldn't fit anything else! But how could you deny it? Whenever your boyfriend arrived with that lost puppy dog look, you knew what was coming, Carlos knew you couldn't resist that look.

"You can't blame me for wanting to see my girl happy"

"You make me happy and as much as I love your gifts, I don't need them, I already have you"

CHARLES LECLERC - Physical touch

No matter where, no matter who is watching, Charles will always have his hands on you. Whether it's holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist or kissing you. PDA is not a problem for him, the Monegasque loves to show how much he loves you, he is completely ok with the idea of kissing you in the street, of fixing your hair when necessary or keep his hand on your thigh while chatting with friends in a cafe. As long as he touches you, the world could end.

"Charl, there are reporters here, they're going to make a huge deal out of this..."

"They can say whatever they want, I won't keep my hands off you, chérie. "

LANDO NORRIS - Words of affirmation

When you first met Lando, you could have sworn he was the gift or physical touch guy, so it was a big surprise to find out he was the words of affirmation guy. You'd often find notes around the apartment, or receive sweet messages at random times of the day, and Lando was the best at captioning his Instagram photos; He wants you to have no doubts about his feelings, so any chance he gets to tell you how he feels about you, he will.

"Are you paraphrasing Edward Cullen's wedding vows?"

"It was either Twilight or Romeo and Juliet... I chose the one where the characters stay alive... Figuratively speaking"

OSCAR PIASTRI - Quality time

Oscar is aware that he doesn't have much free time between races, so there aren't many good breaks he can enjoy with you. Knowing this, Oscar doesn't mind spending as much time with you as possible; It doesn't matter what you do, you can read, watch a series, having a skin care session, talk or just be silent, he just needs some time with you. It could be an hour or five minutes, as long as he's with you, it's fine.

"Are you sure I'm not bothering you here?"

"Baby, you never get in my way, I just need a few minutes with you before the race, alright?"

MAX VERSTAPPEN - Quality time

Just like Oscar, Max likes to spend as much time with you as he can, and that time is usually spent doing activities that focus on the two of you. Max will trade any party, any event for an afternoon at home watching his favorite movies or sitting by the window of your apartment, talking while it rains. Max really appreciates these moments because he knows they don't happen often, they both have very demanding jobs and he values every minute he has with you.

"Choose any movie you want, I'll watch whatever it is, as long as it's with you"

"And you still say you're not romantic"

Gif credits: rb19, callumilott, quadrantslandonorris, walkingonanunknownpath, artemispt and yungbludz

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 9 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: After Anna joins him for dinner, Bob knows he needs to accept that they really are just friends. Even though her kisses are perfection. Even though he's falling in love. But what's going to stop Anna when she realizes Bob's poems are very familiar to her?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, Bob in gray sweatpants, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Bob couldn't imagine a world in which he'd go to this much trouble to make the perfect dinner for a woman who he was falling in love with, only to hear her say the words just friends. But apparently it was the world he was living in, because he spent days comparing recipes from both Bradley and Jake, hoping to make something that Anna would find irresistible.

"You should make my lasagna," Jake said for the tenth time at work on Friday morning.

Bradley snorted. "Great idea, as long as you never want to see her again. Make my homemade pasta," he told Bob. "I already gave you the recipe."

Bob just kept nodding and agreeing with whatever they said, hoping they'd eventually be quiet. Anna was coming over tonight, and he still didn't have a solid plan in mind beyond trying to convince her he'd be worth her time. That it was okay to be more than friends.

While the guys argued, Bob got himself ready to get in the air with Phoenix. He must have looked flustered, because she rubbed her thumb gently across the back of his hand when he stood next to her in the hangar. "You seem nervous. Are you still trying to figure out what to make for dinner?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Oh, Bob. She's not going to care what you make. It could be a grilled cheese sandwich."

"I always burn those," he said with a small smile. "I just feel like this is pointless. I invited her over anyway even though I know she just wants to be friends, but I'm still standing here hoping for more. I shouldn't be doing this, even if we did makeout in her office."

Nat sighed and asked, "Do you want my grandma's recipe for bruschetta chicken? You liked it when you tried it at her house last summer, and it's not that hard to make."

His eyes lit up. "Please." 

He'd only have a little bit of time to himself to prepare the meal and cook it before Anna came over, and he listened as Nat called her grandma and asked her to send it over. Before they were even called out of the hangar to start the day, he had a photo of the handwritten recipe in his phone.

"Nat, you're a lifesaver."

"Just save me some of the leftovers."

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

Friday was going so well for Anna, she almost forgot to be nervous about dinner. She met with the dean to discuss how her classes were going, and he even brought up the word tenure which sent her into a giddy spiral where she treated herself to a candy bar from the vending machine which she couldn't really afford. She carried it out to eat lunch in the quad with her friends along with her regular, uninspired sandwich and ginger ale.

She hadn't mentioned a word about going to Bob's house for dinner, but she was absolutely certain both ladies knew about it. She almost found it comical the way they were trying to get her to say something about it, but Jessica was clearly ready to boil over.

"Hi," Anna greeted, biting into her Snickers bar as she settled on the bench between them. Advanced Calculus casually offered her some carrots and hummus while Jessica's cheeks started to grow a furious shade of pink. 

"When were you going to tell us Bob invited you over for dinner tonight?" she exclaimed. 

Anna shrugged and said, "I was probably just going to tell you about it on Monday since it's nothing because we are just friends. It's only as exciting as it would be if I went over to your place for dinner."

"That's exciting, too!" Jessica said. "You should absolutely come over for dinner! But you're wrong, because it's not as exciting as Bob cooking dinner for you!"

"Jess. Chill out," came the voice from Anna's other side. "She'll learn soon enough that dinner cooked by one of the Top Gun boys is essentially a marriage proposal on a plate. A very sexy and delicious marriage proposal. You and he will be sleeping together in no time."

Anna chewed up the last bite of her Snickers and shook her head. "You're both wrong. Bob and I are just friends. The dinner means nothing, and we're not going to sleep together."

"Oh, please!" Jessica was back to practically shouting now. "If you think he's actually okay with all the making out, then you've lost your mind. He doesn't want it to be meaningless. He likes you."

Anna looked at her feet. "I know he does. I like him too."

"Then stop stringing him along! I don't understand what the problem is here, Anna."

She sat quietly now, no longer feeling so great as she picked at her sandwich.

"Hey, I know Jess sounds like an excitable terrier, but maybe you need a little tough love," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot into the hummus. "You can talk to us, you know. You can tell us what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Anna whispered as her mind flooded with thoughts of Kevin and what he might be up to at the moment. 

Jess took a deep calming breath before she said, "There's just no good reason to put your dream man in the friend zone. And don't even try to lie and say Bob Floyd isn't perfection."

"He is," Anna whispered. Other than her infatuation with Sky Writing, Bob was the closest thing to a dream come true that she'd ever encountered before. But she did have her reasons, and she was too embarrassed to talk about it out loud. She was certain that Jess already knew her current financial state was in ruins, and it might be nice to have her friends understand where she was coming from, but she didn't want them to pity her. That was the last thing she needed right now. "You know what, I think I'm going to get ready for my next lecture."

She was on her feet and rushing away as her friends called after her, but she didn't stop walking until she reached her office. She was not going to cry over this, and she definitely didn't want to cancel on Bob. The only thing she could do to calm down was look at all of the books on her shelves, letting her gaze glide over the colorful spines. Then she read the note from Bob that was tucked in her copy of Papillon.

Freedom would feel like being so in love, you'd willingly let another person lock you to their side.

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

Bob had a fully stocked kitchen filled with a nice set of pots and pans and sharp knives and anything else he could possibly want, but right now, it was like he'd never cooked anything before in his life. Nat's grandmother actually had atrocious handwriting, and he could barely make out the measurements in the photo he had to work with.

"Basil," he muttered to himself, grabbing the leafy greens from the cutting board and wondering why it looked like he was supposed to use three cups of them. "I didn't even buy that much!"

He took a deep breath and walked around his kitchen, trying to clear his head. Anna was going to grab an Uber. She would be arriving in about an hour with wine and dessert. He wanted to feed her the most delicious meal he could muster, but right now he was just looking at the chicken breast on the plate in front of him like he'd never seen food before.

And he just knew Jake and Bradley never had to work this hard for a woman in their lives. Jake could rely mostly on his looks if he wanted to, and Bradley was the luckiest person he knew, reuniting with the love of his life after ten years and getting married approximately a day later. "No," he whispered, "that's not fair to them." He knew he was wrong. He knew both of them worked to get where they ended up, and he shouldn't be putting himself down so much. 

He glared at the chicken and picked up a knife. "This is fine. No problem." He had to fudge some of the measurements which made no sense, and he'd suggest to Nat that maybe her grandmother should take an eye exam, but the recipe really wasn't too terribly hard. Soon he had the browned chicken in the oven, and he set to work on the bruschetta topping and started boiling some water for the pasta. He was just adding another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to the tomatoes and basil when he heard Anna's beautiful laughter.

Bob nearly knocked the bowl to the floor in his haste to get to her. After grabbing a dish towel for his hands, he rushed toward his front door and saw her on his porch. She was wearing a little sundress that he'd seen her in before with her worn out denim jacket over it, and he froze a few feet inside his screen door just so he could look at her. She was juggling a shopping bag and a bottle of wine, and that's when he realized she was talking to Suzanne.

"Oh, no, I'm not in the Navy," she was saying as she tossed her beautiful, red hair over her shoulder. "I'm a professor at San Diego State University. My name's Anna."

She stretched her hand out, and then Bob heard Suzanne's voice. "I'm Suzanne, and that's my cat, Sylvester. I must say, I had no idea Robert got himself a girlfriend. And such a pretty one!"

He desperately wanted to interrupt their conversation before he could hear what Anna's response was going to be, but he just couldn't. She was standing there in the last rays of the setting sun, blushing as she said, "Bob and I are actually just friends. Just good friends."

There was a beat of silence before Suzanne laughed. "Have you seen him? And he's even sweeter than he is handsome!"

Anna was laughing nervously, and Bob's heart was pounding, but he opened the screen door to bail her out anyway. "Hey," he greeted as naturally as he could, and then Anna's apprehensive gaze met his. God, all he wanted to do was drag her inside, push her up against his living room wall and kiss until she realized he wasn't going to hurt her.

"Bob," she whispered, taking a small step in his direction. Her eyes were wide and perceptive, like she could read his every thought on his face. She cleared her throat and said, "I brought wine and some cookies."

Helpless to do much of anything else, he smiled at her. "Dinner's almost ready." Then he leaned further out the door and said, "Hi, Suzanne."

His next door neighbor looked delighted as she glanced between him and Anna. "I was just talking to your charming friend here, Robert. Cooking dinner for someone certainly sounds romantic to me."

Bob was gripping the door frame as he watched Anna's face fill with panic. Then she blurted out, "Why doesn't Suzanne join us?"

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

The only thing Anna could think to do was sabotage the dinner she'd been looking forward to all week. She watched Bob's face fall slightly as he realized she invited his next door neighbor to join them for a very platonic dinner. And since Bob was the sweetest man Anna had ever met, he recovered immediately, turned to Suzanne and said, "You're more than welcome."

Ten minutes later, Bob was opening the bottle of cheap wine she'd brought while Anna watched the veins in his hands. He was graceful and lovely, and Suzanne was talking nonstop as he poured three glasses. She had nobody to blame but herself for inviting a third wheel along. The older woman was really more of a safety net. Someone to prevent Anna from kissing Bob. Someone to stop her from falling completely in love with him.

The whole house smelled amazing, and she knew this dinner was supposed to be just for her. She hadn't eaten a real meal like this, other than at the cookout, in months and months. The first bite of chicken, bruschetta and pasta was delicious enough that she moaned softly. Bob watched her take a second bite, and it was incredible. The third bite left her staring at him in wonder.

"You're the best cook in the world," Anna informed him, cutting across Suzanne talking about her cat. She didn't even care if she was being rude, the food was perfect. And it would have somehow been even better if the two of them were alone.

Bob blushed and took a sip of the wine that Anna wished was better than it was. "Thanks. Uh, it was a new recipe. I've never made it before tonight."

Suzanne took a bite and said, "Robert is an excellent cook and a real gentleman. He always makes sure I have groceries, and he picks up a little something for me if he gets dinner on his way home from work."

As Bob's cheeks grew redder, Anna's heart beat faster. "A real gentleman," she echoed, knowing he'd take care of anyone who needed something.

"Yes," Suzanne said. "You don't see many of them around. Never seen many myself."

Neither had Anna, and after she blew her life to bits, she'd probably never see one again. She listened to Bob and Suzanne talk about their favorite game shows, and she cleaned her plate before either of them had finished. All of the toast and sad sandwiches she'd been eating weren't really cutting it, and she knew that. She also didn't want to get another piece of chicken and seem like a mooch.

"Can I get you more?" Bob asked as he stood on the opposite side of the table in his worn jeans and snug white shirt. "There's plenty left."

Anna shook her head, but he reached for her plate anyway. While he was in the kitchen, Suzanne quickly finished eating and downed the rest of her wine. Softly, just for Anna to hear, she said, "He is a very nice man. I hope I see you around here in a less friendly capacity." Then she called out, "Robert? I need to go. I hear Sylvester outside bugging for food. Thanks for dinner, and enjoy your evening."

"Night, Suzanne," he replied, and the older woman bustled off without another word, leaving Anna alone with Bob when he returned with two plates refilled with food. "She's a character."

Anna laughed, but she could tell Bob was hesitant to say too much now. Probably because she'd dashed the mood in the first place. "I'm sorry I suggested she join us," she told him sincerely, shaking her head. "All week long, I'd been looking forward to talking about books with you." 

As she poked at her chicken, afraid of what he was going to say, he said, "Once you finish eating, I could show you my books. I don't have as many as you do, but maybe there's something you'd like to borrow in the mix. And then I'll drive you home."

"I can get an Uber," she insisted, taking another bite of the perfectly cooked dinner. 

"And I can just as easily drive you."

He was a gentleman. She wasn't going to leave here in an Uber no matter what she said. "Alright."

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

"You have books in every room!" Anna exclaimed as she walked around his house nibbling on a cookie. The wine she brought was kind of terrible, and so were the grocery store cookies, but Bob didn't mind. She ate two full plates of the dinner he cooked, and now that Suzanne was gone, she seemed more herself.

"I have a system," he insisted as she sat down on his living room floor to inspect a stack of paperbacks.

"I'm not buying it," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Try me. The living room is poetry. The extra bedroom is mysteries. The dining room is true crime."

"What's in your bedroom?" she asked, flipping through a collection by Robert Frost.

Bob wanted to tell her that his bedroom was where he wrote his own poetry. And that they had begun to turn into a collection all about her. "Romance," he said.

She laughed softly, such a pretty sound. "I'm assuming you don't have any Vonnegut? No soul massacring, unhappy endings?"

"None," he promised. "You won't find any of those around here."

She was skimming a page as she muttered, "Good. I've had enough of that anyway." Then she stood and carried the Frost poems to another small pile on his coffee table. She rooted around and pulled out a volume by Walt Whitman before asking, "Could I borrow these two?"

Bob was admiring how perfect she looked in his house when she met his eyes with her pretty brown ones. "Of course," he said, dropping down onto the couch as he finished his own cookie. "Anything you want."

She stood and carried the books over to her purse before sitting down a few feet away from him. "What I want is to help you organize your books for real. Have you ever heard of a bookshelf before?"

"Never," he replied innocently. "What's that?"

She laughed and scooted a little closer. "You know those big, wooden things that were holding all the books when we met at that store in North Park? Remember that day?"

He knew she was just joking around, but as he memorized the pattern of her freckles, he said, "I will never forget that day."

Once again, Anna initiated the kiss, and once again, Bob was helpless to pump the brakes. She leaned in close with her hand on his knee and brushed her lips against his. It was so sweet, he was almost able to ask her to stop. Even though it felt too good, he was nearly able to tell her he couldn't do this. But being tortured was worth it. That was the worst part.

He let her do what she wanted, and her soft hands found their way to his face, knocking his glasses askew on their way into his hair. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he'd lose himself in these kisses that meant so much more to him than they did to her. He counted to ten slowly in his mind, savoring every touch and taste, letting Anna settle against his thigh. Then he broke the kiss, leaving her hovering there, surprise on her face.

She pressed her lips together, and turned her face toward his front door. "I'll never forget that day either."

He nodded as her hands fell away from his hair and his face, and he whispered, "Grab the books you want to borrow, and I'll drive you home."

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

"He's a gentleman," Anna groaned in her bed on the floor of her tiny apartment the following morning. It was Saturday, and she didn't have much she needed to accomplish today which would leave her plenty of time to think about the drive home in Bob's truck and the way he walked her to her door. She didn't kiss him again, but he always seemed to be close enough that she could feel his body heat in the chilly night air. Even now, when she grabbed at some strands of her hair, she swore she could still smell his fresh scent there.

She needed to get out. She grabbed her phone and took the longest walk imaginable. Her legs were burning by the time she stopped in a corner store for something to eat for lunch, but the sandwich was almost as bad as the ones she had been making for herself. Nothing would be as good as what Bob cooked, and he served it up last night like it was no big deal at all.

As Anna started the long walk back to her apartment, she groaned while she blasted her music. She had invited his elderly neighbor to join them for dinner, and then she had kissed him again. She was so embarrassing. She'd never been like this when she was in New Jersey, never doing the most mortifying things over and over. 

She didn't go home for a long time. She walked through an enormous park and looked at a fountain while she daydreamed about all of her unfinished manuscripts. When that started to hurt too much, she watched the storm clouds that were rolling in from the coast and thought it might be nice to get soaking wet. Then a few fat raindrops started to hit her face as she realized that she wouldn't be able to replace her phone if it got destroyed. 

"Damn it," she muttered, starting to run through the park under the cover of the trees. The sky was quickly getting darker as she tried to stay under awnings and overhangs as much as possible until she reached her apartment building. Her clothing was soaked, but her phone was still in working order when she ran inside, dripping all over the welcome mat in the small entryway.

She desperately wanted to cry, but that wouldn't solve anything, so she took a long shower instead. She washed and braided her hair, and then she painted her nails. When she finally picked up her phone again, she had a new message from Bob.

Bob Floyd: Taking your advice and buying one of those bookshelves? Was that what they were called? Which one do you think is better?

He had attached two screenshots of nice looking shelves from Ikea that she'd never be able to afford at the moment. She smiled as she typed back to him while she heated up a can of soup for dinner.

Yes, they are called bookshelves. Are you sure you know how to use them? I like the navy blue one better.

The flavorless chicken noodle soup went well with Anna's mood as she sat on the floor and watched a show on her phone. Part of her wanted to know what her friends were up to, but she didn't want to have to tell them about last night. She knew Bob and Jess would be going out to play Dungeons & Dragons soon anyway, but she dropped her spoon in the bowl when Bob wrote back again.

Bob Floyd: I think I'll pick it up tomorrow and make it my rainy Sunday project. Feel like helping me build it?

"Oh, Anna. Don't."

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

Bob pulled up to Anna's building on Sunday afternoon after stopping to pick up the shelf. It had been pouring rain since last night, and he had to wrap his new furniture box in a tarp to protect it in the bed of his truck. But this would be a great way to spend the afternoon. He could make two cups of tea, and she could help him organize his books. They didn't need to kiss anymore. He would see to it that they didn't. He could handle this whole thing without issue.

He left his truck idling at the curb, and Anna came running outside like she'd been waiting for him. He grabbed his umbrella and met her halfway, shouting, "I was going to walk up and get you!" over the sound of the rain. She joined him under the umbrella, her denim jacket pretty wet as she shrugged.

"The rain's okay. It reminds me of New Jersey."

Once he opened the door and helped her scramble in, he ran around to the other side of the truck. He was barely able to find a dry spot on his shirt so he could wipe off his glasses, and when he yanked the hem up, he could feel Anna's eyes on his body. There was no sense in feeling self conscious about the way he looked now, because nothing else was going to happen. Last night had to be the end of that.

"You ready?" he asked, cranking the key in the ignition when she nodded. His wipers were going full speed as he drove her back to his house for the second visit in one weekend. "Thanks for helping with this. I kind of realized that having everything on one big shelf makes more sense. Especially if I keep borrowing books from you."

Her laugh was soft as she said, "If you don't borrow my books, then nobody will."

"Same goes for mine," he replied easily as he headed toward the beach. "But don't you dare dog ear my pages."

Now she laughed louder. "I read most of Whitman last night before I fell asleep, and there's nary a bent page in sight."

"That's what I like to hear." When he pulled up in front of his house, he handed her the umbrella and his keys. "Go ahead and let yourself in, and I'll unload the box."

She just gaped at him in response and asked, "Don't you need help carrying it?"

"Nah," he replied, popping his door open, "I can get it."

Bob struggled a little bit with the tarp before sliding the massive box closer to the edge of the truck tailgate. Every movement was made slower by the pounding rain in his face, but he managed to tip it into his arms. It was heavy, but not too bad, and his grip on the wet cardboard was good enough for him to get it inside the house. Anna was standing on the porch, holding open his screen door with the umbrella folded up at her feet, and he accidentally brushed against her with his arm as he maneuvered himself through the door.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, her voice a little breathy as she let the screen door close and helped him prop the box against the wall. "This is massive."

"I guess now I can buy more books," he said with his hands on his hips while he dripped all over the place. "I'm going to get changed quickly, and then we can build the shelf and organize it, and then I'll make dinner."

Her eyes lit up. "You'll make dinner again?"

"Yeah. I was going to see if I can attempt a grilled cheese without burning it. I'll be right back." And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he had clean undershirts, some sweatpants and all of his favorite books.

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

Anna was halfway through unboxing and organizing the shelf pieces on the floor when Bob walked back downstairs. She'd removed her denim jacket, and her leggings and tank top were mostly dry, and she'd settled on the floor with the instruction book. "It looks like we'll need a screwdriver or a drill...." 

Her sentence tapered off when she looked up at Bob just casually standing there in one of his white shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants and neatly combed, damp hair. The ability to speak escaped her.

"I can grab my toolbox," he told her, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants before disappearing toward the kitchen. She needed to lie down. She stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling as rain pelted the window next to her. 

"Oh my god," she whispered before biting down on her lip. She wanted him. She liked every damn thing about him, and then he had to look and smell and sound so good on top of it all. The Walt Whitman poems weren't the only thing she had read last night. Sky Writing's words from her favorite poems were also in her mind, and she couldn't shake them. Anna had just rolled into her side, staring at the instructions without actually seeing them, when he walked back in. 

"Are you okay?"

"Great," she said, voice raspy. She was in fact not great. She was the opposite of great. When Bob handed her the toolbox and said he was going to make two mugs of tea, she took the time to pull herself together. Sweaty palms glided along her leggings, and she read the instructions through. It seemed simple enough, and she had the hardware in order by the time Bob returned with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks," she whispered as he settled onto the floor next to her. She knew this was how good things would be if she could date Bob. Hot tea and homemade meals and someone around who loved books. "You're really sweet."

He didn't say anything as he sipped his tea, so Anna did the same. It was raining so hard, she couldn't tell if what she heard was thunder or not, but inside Bob's house, everything was warm and cozy. "Let's get started," he finally said, leaning in front of her to set his mug on the windowsill.

They spoke quietly, mostly about the shelf, while she handed him hardware and tools. Anna found herself distracted as she watched his hair dry and lighten in color as they worked together. Every bump of his muscular arm against hers felt intentional, but she couldn't tell for sure, and she was too afraid to ruin this friendship beyond repair. Especially after what her friends had told her at lunch on Friday.

"I need the screwdriver," he said, bumping her gently with his elbow as he held two perpendicular pieces of wood in place. 

"I can get it," she replied, finally refocused on the task before her. "I'll screw it in." She tried to reach in front of him, but he was too tall. When he moved his arms a little further apart, she popped up between them so she was standing between his body and the shelf. "I'll only take a second."

She could feel Bob's warm breath against her ear, and all he could think was that she would fit perfectly in his arms if he decided to just drop what he was holding and wrap them around her instead. "Take your time," he murmured, because of course his arms wouldn't get tired in this position. She fumbled the screw. His body was immaculate, and it was all she could think about as he exhaled and tickled her hair.

"I'm trying," she whispered, fumbling the screw again. Finally she had it in place, and Bob released the shelf, but he didn't move away from her.

"Think you can screw the last two in as well? Then we'll be done."

She nodded and decided to go slower, savor this tiny bit of intimacy and pretend he was hers. Then it was done.

"It looks good."

She barely had to turn to look at him over her shoulder. "It's a nice shelf. How do you want to arrange your books?"

He was still standing close as he said, "Poetry on the top? Since it's my favorite?"

"Yeah," she told him with a laugh. "Banish it to the top where nobody but you can reach it."

He cocked his head and leaned in closer. "Are you insulting the poetry or commenting on my height?"

"A bit of both," she replied right away. The living was darker now from the storm and from the time of day, but she could see his smile perfectly. 

"Come on, Anna. We both know you love the poetry. You borrowed two volumes the other day."

She only hummed in response before ducking away from him and reaching for a stack of his books. She handed them to him one at a time, commenting on them like she was giving each a bad review. "Oh, this one is too flowery. Too many words and no substance." She handed him another after he shelved the first one. "This author put all their best works at the beginning of the collection. The second half is terrible."

Bob chuckled as she picked up a book that she knew was a favorite of his. "Hey, you better watch what you say about that one."

She waved it in the air, unable to reach the top shelf, and he snatched it out of her hand. "I'm going to be brutally honest," she said softly, and Bob's hand rested on her back almost like a warning. "I loved it."

He smiled and let his fingers trail along her back as he nodded toward the stairs. "Want to help me tackle the mystery books in the extra bedroom?"

"Sure," she told him, leading the way to the steps. "But first, you have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

"What's not to like?" he replied as she started up. "All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little as she considered his words. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

"Uh. I did. Yeah."

Truly, she loved reading poetry, but she didn't have much of a knack for writing it. She didn't even think she was good enough for PoetsAmongUs. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed, and Anna stumbled on the top step as he said, "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

She gripped the banister to keep herself upright, and then she spun and sat down hard on the top step. Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew those words intimately. She knew the whole fucking poem by heart. She knew everything else he had written as well, because she'd been reading his poetry for years.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her, hands gentle on her ankle and leg.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her face. "You're Sky Writing."

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

BOB IS SKY WRITING, ANNA. What the hell are you going to do now, babe? Please, make good choices. Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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