#sweeter than sugar

[inkbybambi]

simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish/f!reader words: 4.2k warnings: mmf, threesome, fingering, anal fingering, finger sucking, riding, creampie, doggy style, pet names (kitten, bonnie, angel, etc), dirty talk, breeding kink notes: this was written as part of the valentine's exchange from @bunnyreaper ♡ this is a gift for @auspicioustidings ♡ this is my first time writing a threesome, but i loved every moment of it ♡ header image is coral charm peony ii by mia tarney

The light of the dying sun slowly drains from the horizon, hues of blues, pinks, and purples following in its wake. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the open windows of the cottage; a little haven tucked away for you and yours. A smile plays at your lips as a small cow-shaped timer trills from its perch on the kitchen counter. You slip on a pair of oven mitts decorated with highland cattle, taking out your shortbread from the oven lest it bake for even a moment too long. 

Your boys were due to be home soon and this sweet treat was the last on your to-do list. 

They had left you earlier that week with a messy amount of kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead and lips and anywhere they could reach, really. You had similarly returned the favor, finding your favorite lipstick to press marks onto Simon’s mask and Johnny’s glove before pressing other faded marks elsewhere. 

Before letting them cross the threshold back into the world — one that had tried to take them from you more times than you could count — you spritzed your favorite perfume on their wrists, sealing it with a kiss. The scent may fade with the mark, but they’ll know. 

Your heart ached the moment they left and its felt more numb in the days since, waiting dormant for them to return, to let you breathe fully knowing they’re there, that they hadn’t been taken from you. 

You inhale sharply to disperse your lingering worries. They’ve always, always come home to you. Today will be no different.

You leave the shortbread to cool on a rack as you gather your sugar and butter for the caramel next. 

The one perk of solitude means the abundance of time you had to practice. Johnny isn’t necessarily known for his patience — not when it comes to you or Simon — and he would’ve been quite the distraction. You burnt enough caramel without him, thank you very much. 

The soft, warm lights of the kitchen accompany you humming Simon’s favorite song, staring patiently at your pan as your sugar melts slowly, pulling you into a sugary-sweet trance. 

You lose yourself to your very serious task of making sure your caramel doesn’t burn, the melody of the song lost in your throat as your humming softens, concentration on anything outside your little kitchen waning. 

The click of the front door doesn’t phase you, and neither does the muffled thump of boots and bags. The sugar has started to dissolve and you can’t bear to lose your concentration now. 

“Bonnie!” 

You barely have time to register Johnny’s excited shout, head snapping up only moments before strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up to spin you in a hug. 

“Johnny!” you laugh through your startled yelp, squirming in equal parts because you want to hug him properly and to get back to your caramel. 

“Johnny, the caramel!” you exclaim when his grip on you only tightens, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“Ach, we dinnae caramel,” he says almost petulantly, voice lost against the fabric of your shirt. He does put you down — albeit reluctantly — but all you do is turn in his hold to lace your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Missed ye,” he says as a soft kiss is pressed to your temple and you bury further into the crook of his neck. You’ve missed his warmth, and his scent, and the comfort of him and being his. 

You feel like you miss him all the time, but it’s the moments when they’re first back when you realize just how much, and the knot of worry slowly unfurls the longer you spend in his arms. 

He cradles the nape of your neck gently and you can hear the angry bubbling of your sugar — too far gone now to save — but you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself away from him for even a moment. 

“Where’s Si?” you ask against his skin when there’s a very distinct lack of your other half from the kitchen, craving his touch just as badly. 

It’s not real until you’ve seen them both, until you’ve touched them both, to know that they aren’t the phantoms that will sometimes accompany your dreams, your memories. 

“Think he went to the shower, hen,” comes Johnny’s soothing reply, pulling you back from your hiding spot to cradle your face in his hands. 

You used to hate how small you felt with them; how it felt like you were an accessory to them rather than part of them. 

Now you feel nothing but protected, cradled carefully in their hold, their own way of keeping you safe. 

You pout, glancing over his shoulder, down the hall to where the bedroom lay, seeing the faint hint of light from the bathroom spilling out. Johnny’s calloused thumb rubs over your bottom lip, before he crowds in close enough to give you  a soft kiss. 

“Without us?” you ask, and he snorts in reply. 

“Go on, then,” he says as he herds you towards the bedroom, a gentle pat to your ass to urge you along. “Go join ‘im.” 

Your pout deepens, holding out your hand for him. 

“Come with me,” you don’t whine, but you wiggle your fingers enticingly. You’ve been without them for so long, you don’t want to go another second without either of them. 

You’re selfish in very few ways, but are unapologetically so when it comes to your boys. 

Johnny steps into your space, a soft kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, before nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises with another lingering kiss, and you nuzzle into him momentarily before nodding and releasing his hold. Like a moth to a flame, you follow the path to the bedroom, seeing Simon’s clothes already tucked into the basket that’s specifically meant for their work clothes. Anything to separate who they are out there to who they are with you. 

You shed your own clothes, placing them in the empty hamper before stepping into the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet. 

He stands just beyond the glass, new scratches and bruises littering his skin. You’re going to kiss each and every one before you fall asleep tonight. You take a few moments to appreciate him; the broad expanse of his back, the slight layer of fat that surrounds his tummy, thick thighs that you love to bury yourself between, muscles moving like water. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” comes his teasing lilt as he turns to face you, a smirk plastered on his lips as he tilts his head in invitation. You bite your lip to hide your excitement, hurrying over to join him in the shower, taking his hand as he reaches for you, drawing you under the spray of the water.

“I have plenty of photos, actually,” you tease back. He tilts your chin up with a tattooed finger, leaning down to kiss you, before he moves to hold your throat delicately, keeping you in place. You inch up on your toes to press even closer, nipples pressed against his broad chest. 

“Not nearly enough, love,” he replies, not giving you a moment to answer before he draws you back into his mouth, licking into you and swallowing your gasps. You hum and lean into him, lacing your arms around his shoulders. One of his large hands splays against the middle of your back, the other trailing down your spine to the curve of your ass, pulling you in close. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out between kisses, as you cup his face to kiss him deeper, desperation thickening in your veins the longer you’re in his hold. “Missed you so much,” and your nails dig into his skin, adding a collection of your own marks to the others on his body. 

A warm body at your back makes you shiver, pulling away from your kiss to lean your head back on his shoulder. Simon cradles the back of Johnny’s head, kissing him softly. 

“You two need to clean up,” you murmur into Johnny’s jaw, lips grazing the stubble that’s been growing for a few days. It burns your lips, but you’re thankful for any reminder of them. 

“But you’re so comfortable,” Johnny practically whines as he leans further into you, arms tight around your waist, thankful Simon was there to provide stability or else you absolutely would’ve lost balance. 

“Johnny,” Simon admonishes gently, a bite to his ear in reprimand. Johnny squeezes your tummy tighter in reply, but turns to brush his nose gently over Simon’s. 

You wriggle from his grip, a hand on each of their forearms for balance, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before pressing one to Simon’s. 

“The quicker you get clean, the quicker you can join me on the bed,” is your parting words as you grab a fluffy towel from the rack, drying yourself before sauntering to the bedroom, diving into fresh sheets. 

You hear the soft murmurs of their conversation curtained by the fall of the water, rolling onto your back and arching up as you stretch, feeling as the tension seeps from your body, relaxing further into the mattress. 

“MacTavish!” comes Simon’s warning bark before a very excited, very wet Johnny launches himself into the bed at you, burrowing his face into your neck as you giggle, feeling the bubbles of body wash that he hadn’t bothered to rinse all the way off. 

He peppers your throat and jaw with kisses, teeth scraping every now and then before he reaches your mouth for a breathless kiss, and you cradle his head gently, nails grazing along the nape of his neck, feeling how his shaved sides have grown just a little since they went away. You’re sure he’ll let you clean him up proper tomorrow, but you don’t want you or either of your boys to leave the bed for the foreseeable future. 

“Simon’s grumpy,” he says against your cheek, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you tease in return, gripping a longer part of his mohawk and giving a harsh tug, hoping Simon brings an extra towel or two with him because the bed is damn near drenched — and not in the fun way. 

“Absolute menace, that one,” Simon says as he comes from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips showing the tantalizing line of his tummy that you love so much. 

“Aye,” Johnny agrees with a cheeky smile, removing himself from you and sitting on his heels, settling himself over you to turn back and look at Simon. “But ye love me.” 

Simon comes forward with a fresh towel in hand, motioning for Johnny so he can dry him off. 

Simon doesn’t say anything in reply — he doesn’t have to, and both you and Johnny know that your declarations of love will never go unrequited — instead stopping at the edge of the bed and reaching for him. 

“Be a good pup,” you say as  you push him back with your foot, pressing him back into Simon’s hold so he can dry him off, ruffling his mohawk and wiping away the lingering drops that cling to his tanned skin, Johnny’s own marks and scars adorning his body. The intensity of the blue of his eyes feels like a shock of electricity, his gaze unwavering from yours as Simon tilts his head to the side to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, a soft I love you pressed to his skin. Simon’s lips graze over to his ear, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

Johnny turns enough to catch Simon’s mouth in a rough, dirty kiss, teeth nipping his bottom lip before a tap to his ass pushes him into motion, crawling his way over the bed back to you. 

You arch up into his body as he slinks closer, a hand on your jaw pulling you into for a filthy kiss of your own. You whine against his mouth as Johnny pulls you up from where you lay on the bed, moving to take your place. 

Johnny settles you over his hips, blue eyes sparkling in the lingering light of the bathroom, a fond smile painting his lips. As cute as he looks — and he looks adorable — the thick heat of his cock resting between your legs makes you ache, makes you want him to take what he wants. His nails dig into your calves as he anchors you against him, rocking his hips against yours, cock moving through your slick and catching on your clit. 

“God, we missed ye,” Johnny sighs out as he digs his nails into your skin, and you bite your lip against the sting of his possession. 

“Never heard the end of it,” Simon says as he comes around the side of the bed, one leg braced on the mattress, the towel parting enough to show his aching cock. 

“Did you take good care of our pup?” you ask through a gasp as you turn to the blonde, eyes fluttering as Johnny’s cock catches at your entrance. 

“Always, love,” he promises, Simon crowding in close as you pull his towel loose, blindly tossing it from the bed as he kneels on the bed at your side, swallowing your next gasp as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Don’t like it when you leave,” you pout against his lips as he moves to kiss down your jaw and throat, trailing his lips over your shoulder. Your head tilts to the side, wanting his teeth in your skin. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Johnny soothes as a hand grazes up your side to grip your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You lay above him, arms braced by his head as you catch him in a kiss, happily letting him take control as his tongue licks deep into your mouth. “We’re not going anywhere,” is his whispered promise and you just nod in agreement as you press your mouth back against his, unable to get enough of his touch, of his taste. 

“Missed your cock,” you whimper with a sharp roll of your hips, Simon settling behind you, hands on your waist as his chin tucks over your shoulder, watching your slick soak Johnny’s cock. 

“Gorgeous thing,” is Simon’s soft purr of praise, one of his hands slipping down the line of your tummy until he can press two fingers against your clit, his other hand grazing up to hold your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. 

“Dreamed of your cunt, bonnie,” Johnny pants from beneath you, feeling his cock pulse with each of your thrusts. His fingers grip your hips tight, and Simon tuts at him from his perch over your shoulder. 

“Don’t cum, pup,” and Johnny only whines in reply, nails biting into your skin. “Wanna see your cum spill from her pretty pussy.” 

You’re breathless, need and want coursing through your blood, desperate for something more. 

“Please,” you mewl as you try to paw for Johnny’s chest, but Simon’s hold on your throat keeps you in place. 

One of Johnny’s hands grip you hard enough to lift you from his lap, his other fisting the root of his cock so he can guide you down onto him slowly, your pussy fluttering as you sink deeper in his lap until he’s completely sheathed. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, and you feel the way his legs shake as he holds off his release. He looks gorgeous beneath you, head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his throat exposed and mournfully free of marks from either you or Simon. 

“How’s she feel?” Simon asks, dipping his fingers lower to feel for himself  where you and Johnny are connected. 

“L-like a fuckin’ dream,” comes his panted reply. 

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” he asks, like you aren’t even here. 

You feel like you aren’t, lost in the pleasure of Johnny’s cock nestled deep inside you, stuffing you full. You don’t think Johnny is capable of words after a week without you and your touch, but soon he starts a slow grind of his hips up into you, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix. 

You cry out in pleasure as he continues the slow roll of his hips, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you rough. This is for him just as much as it is for you. 

Simon’s grip on your throat remains, thick fingers collaring you, keeping you safe. The two fingers he used to rub your clit, to feel where Johnny was plugged into you, grazes your lips. You willingly open your mouth, swallowing down his fingers as best you can with him behind you. 

“Did you miss me too, darling?” he asks, though you can feel his smirk pressed against your skin, knowing you can only gurgle your answer around his fingers, spit spilling out from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, kitten,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder, pressing his fingers even deeper, causing you to choke, your throat working around his digits. “I missed you too.” 

He withdraws his fingers as you gasp for breath, losing it the next second when Johnny snaps his hips up hard against you. His soaked fingers trail down your spine to your other hole, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as he circles it, just pressing the tips of his fingers against it. 

“Johnny couldn’t stop talking about your ass,” Simon says against your skin. Your eyes flash to Johnny’s, glazed and dark, but his eyes are locked to Simon’s. “Told me how warm it is,” he continues, very carefully pressing one of his thick fingers against your rim as you beg yourself to relax. “How every single inch of you,” he says as he slowly begins to pump his finger deeper and deeper with each word, “is meant for us.” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon,” comes Johnny’s choked moan, “she’s squeezin’ me so tight.” 

Simon hums in reply as he continues his leisurely pace of fucking his finger into you. “Wonder what my cock would feel like in here,” he muses, continuing a line of kisses across your shoulders. He digs his teeth in deep into your shoulder, a shaky moan rising in your throat as he wiggles a second finger into the tight ring of muscle. 

“T-too much,” you whine out, asshole fluttering desperately around his fingers. Johnny’s cock was bigger than Simon’s two fingers — but it had been well over a week since either of them had touched you there. 

He stills as Johnny leans up to kiss along your collar and chest, tongue licking across your nipples. 

“Give me a color, love,” he asks gently, the fingers around your throat loosening so it’s easier for you to breathe. Johnny’s soft pants ghost against your skin as he holds your waist gently, ever so patient with you. 

“Bonnie?” comes Johnny’s soft prompting, laced with concern when you didn’t answer. 

“Green,” you whisper out after another moment of pause, and Simon’s answering good girl makes you melt further into their touch. 

Sweet, precious girl Johnny whispers against your collar, one arm laced around your waist as his other hand reaches for Simon’s hip. 

You bite your lip as tears thicken your throat. Your head is muddy with pleasure and love for your two boys, not realizing how much you’ve missed them until now, their soft praise spoken against your skin, kisses and devotion pressed to each exposed inch that they can reach. 

Simon carefully begins to thrust his fingers into you, sinking deeper each time until he’s able to curl and thrust without any resistance. Heat licks deep in your belly, broken moans catching in your throat with each expert thrust of his fingers. 

You vaguely hear him ask Johnny for the lube, hearing the pop of the cap as he squirts a generous amount into his hand, coating his length before smearing whatever is left over your hole, empty now without his fingers. 

He drags the tip of his cock over your hole, teasing the relaxed ring of muscle, watching as it looks like your hole is trying to draw him in, desperate. 

“Think you can take me, love?” comes his question pressed against your cheek, and you lace one arm back around to hold the nape of his neck, a soft yes falling from your lips. 

One thing you’ve learned from your boys is they always want to hear you. They love how vocal you are — Johnny especially — but hearing how badly you crave them, need them makes something primal in them snap, wanting to give you everything you beg for and more. 

“Slowly now,” he says as he pushes the crown past your ring of muscle, and you swallow thickly, nails digging into any part of Johnny you can reach. Johnny does his best to distract you with soft praises as Simon slowly sinks into you, pausing halfway when he feels you trembling under his touch. 

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” he groans out, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“Feels good, don’t she, Si?” 

Simon inhales sharply, raising his head enough to pull Johnny in for a kiss as your nails scratch at the base of Simon’s neck, leaning back against him as you watch your boys indulge in each other. 

“Incredible, just like you said,” he agrees with one more kiss, teeth nipping sharply at Johnny’s bottom lip. 

Johnny leans back down against the sheets, pulling you forward. Simon follows carefully, allowing Johnny to adjust your hips so it’s easier for him to sink the rest of the way into your hole. 

“Angel of our lives, ah swear,” Johnny says as he begins to carefully thrust up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs when his sharp thrust catches that squishy spot deep inside you that makes you keen and clench around them, Simon’s moan reverberating against your back. 

Simon carefully ruts into you, timing himself with Johnny’s thrusts, until you can’t think of anything more than the heat coursing through you, sparking and igniting like a wildfire. 

You can’t think of anything other than their names, but after a few minutes, Simon braces one of his feet on the bed so he can thrust in harder, rougher, and your voice cracks with how hard you cry out, lost to the pleasure. 

“Wanna stuff you full,” Johnny babbles beneath you, his thick thumb moving down to rub your clit, touch electric and causing you to moan and shudder in his hold. “Watch our cum drip from you until you’re full of our babe.” 

Simon’s free hand settles over your tummy, thumb stroking in surprising gentleness compared to the absolute filthy mess they’re making of you. 

“You want that, lovie?” Simon asks from behind you, his question punctuated with a sharp thrust, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your ass accompanying the sounds of Johnny’s cock drenched in your slick. 

You’re helpless and reduced to nodding and whimpering, clenching hard around them as you whine out about giving them a baby. 

“Christ, love,” Johnny grits out before he’s spilling deep inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He grips the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss, a mixture of panting his moans against your mouth and swallowing your own. 

Simon’s fingers are back on your clit, your nub hard and sensitive, sensitive to his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out as you reach your peak, Simon buried deep inside you as his grinds, cock pressed deep inside you. 

Johnny’s cock pulses with your orgasm, walls fluttering and spilling your release over him, the force of it causing his cum to spill out from where Johnny’s still plugged deep. 

“Atta girl,” Simon snarls as he buries his teeth in your shoulder with his own release, your eyes rolling back as you feel each thick pulse of his cum. He growls as he minutely thrusts into you, his own cum spilling from where his cock is nestled in your ass, making a mess of Johnny beneath you two. 

Simon draws his teeth from your shoulder, soothing  over the wound with his tongue as it pulses with your heartbeat. Soft kisses are placed along the line of your shoulders and close to your throat as you settle into their touch. 

He gently draws you to him, pressing a significantly softer kiss to your lips as your breathing evens out. You press your forehead to his to bask in his warmth, his nose pressed to your cheek as his nuzzles into your skin before carefully pulling out, his cum slipping from your hole. He helps keep you in place for Johnny to pull out as well, before Johnny is gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and running his fingers delicately along the line of your back. 

You hate how empty you feel without them, but they’re right there, close enough for you to touch, for you to know they’re here with you, home, finally. 

You nuzzle into Johnny’s hold, already the edges of sleep drawing you deep. Simon settles behind you, a thick arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, to them. You murmur something about ruined caramel, but the press of their lips across your cheeks and forehead are all you need, finally allowing you to rest in the comfort of their arms. 

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[jupitercomet]

When the Lies Catch Up

summary - You should have known to question when Bob suddenly appeared in your bakery and made his place in your life—but, in your defense, his smile was so charming! Five dates in and he's already swept you off your feet completely with his thoughtful nature and kind heart. But the question still remains: what do you actually know about him? And why does he always come back to you covered in bruises?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, language, Bob is 6′5″ because I said so, no use of y/n, brief smut... half smut? idk they get interrupted, mentions of injury, mentions of violence, men being a little gross

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.0k

sweeter than sugar masterlist

“What—”

“I am so sorry.” On your doorstep stands a very distraught looking Bob. He’s holding a takeout bag from Charlotte’s in one hand and a cup holder of coffees in the other, almost juggling the two in his haste to get his words out.

You wipe your eyes tiredly.

“I had work so I couldn’t— And I know it’s early, I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you waking up thinking that I just wanted to use you for sex or something. Because I don’t! I— I really like you and I know what I did makes me such an asshole, but that really wasn’t my intention—”

“Bob.” You cut him off and the man’s mouth snaps shut. “Put those down please.”

Bob sets the bag and coffees on your porch, a nervous look on his face as he watches you for any kind of reaction. Your face remains neutral, which frightens him more, and it isn’t until he’s straightened back up that you lunge for him. 

A startled noise of surprise leaves Bob’s lips as you pull him down by the collar of his shirt, swallowing the sound with a deep kiss. He collects his bearings quickly, his hands landing on your hips as he walks you into your house, closing your door with his foot. His hand cups the back of your head, muting your thud against the wall, and his leg slots between your own.

Your grip on the front of his shirt loosens and you pull away from him with a breath. “I don’t understand how a man like you can exist.”

“I mean— I’m not—” Bob’s cheeks are pink and he looks down almost bashfully, which would be endearing if his thigh wasn’t in between your legs.

Wordlessly, you pull your sleep shirt over your head. You hadn’t bothered with a bra when you were woken up to someone nervously knocking on your door and, as you watched Bob’s eyes widen, it was definitely the right decision.

“Oh.”

One thing that has always surprised you about Bob is his reflexes. Regardless of what’s thrown at him, he can always recover quickly. Which is why it only takes a second before a trail of clothes is leading to your bedroom door. 

“Fuck,” Bob nips your earlobe and your thighs squeeze at the feeling. “Always so good to me, sweet pea. ‘M gonna make it up to you, pretty girl.”

You let out a breathy moan as his large, rough hands squeeze your breasts, your body gently being laid on the mattress with a softness that wasn’t entirely present last night. “Please…”

Bob fumbles with his jeans quickly, doing it one-handed as he dips down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth. His teeth brush against the sensitive bud and your back arches as he pulls away, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your chest as he moves to give your other nipple the same attention.

“Bobby, oh—” You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him to your chest as he kicks his jeans off.

“I’ll give you what you want, sweet pea,” his lips move up to your neck and his hand drops to the growing dark patch on your panties. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you're soaking,” he presses his thumb into you through the fabric, your underwear pulling against you as he does so. “Am I making you feel good?”

“Hey, did you get DoorDash or something? There was food waiting outside so I just brought it in.”

Your eyes snap open wide and they’re met with an equally panicked Bob, who’s frozen on top of you. “Who’s that?” He mouths.

“Eloise.” You hit his arm gently, trying to move him off you. The bed creaks under him as he rolls off you and he winces.

“Girl, are you still in bed? It’s, like, 7:00.”

“I’m— I’m awake!” You’re praying she hasn’t noticed the discarded clothes outside your room, grabbing a shirt off the floor and throwing it over yourself. “Just give me a sec!”

You hold out a hand, instructing Bob to stay put, and slip out the bedroom, shutting the door behind you securely. Taking a deep breath, you try to make it look like you weren’t about to get your back blown out by a 6’5” Adonis of a man and make quick work of grabbing all the clothes that hadn’t made it to your room and throw them in a nearby hamper. 

Eloise calls out your name again, rummaging through your kitchen, and you scurry over to her.

“Hey,” you say a bit breathlessly, leaning against the wall to appear nonchalant. “What’s— What’s up? What are you doing here?”

Eloise makes a face after she finally found what she was looking for in your fridge, closing the door with a Fanta in hand. “What do you mean? Obviously I wanted to hear how your date with Bob went.”

Your eyes widen because you know that Bob should be able to hear you from the bedroom, and you really don’t want to gush about him with Eloise when he’s right there.

“Oh, um, it was good— Great, actually. Can I— I’m actually not feeling well, so…” You bite your lip, shifting awkwardly and glancing at your bedroom door.

Eloise furrows her brows. “Why are you acting so weird? What—” She cuts herself off with a gasp when she follows your eyes. “Oh my god! Is he here?” She whispers loudly.

“What? No!” You laugh awkwardly, blocking Eloise’s view of the door.

Eloise just lets out a squeal, almost vibrating in her excitement. “That is not your fucking shirt! He’s totally here right now. Where is he? Is he hiding under the bed?”

“No, he is not hiding under the bed,” you hiss, wishing you could just melt into the floor. You hide your face in your hands “Please can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but I will give you some privacy,” she sings the word, taking a smug sip of her Fanta. “I expect details later, missy.” 

Eloise moves to grab her bag, “Bye then!” You send her a mortified wave, but suddenly she’s smirking, looking over your head with a wave of her own. “It was nice seeing you, God’s gift to women.”

You whip around to see Bob’s head peeking out of your bedroom, looking like a deer in the headlights with both you and Eloise staring at him. “You too…”

Eloise cackles, but you’re already pushing her to your front door, kicking her out with a halfhearted glare. The door to your house closes and you let a groan cut through the now quiet air. 

“Oh my god.”

“I’m sorry,” Bob says when you make your way back over to him. “I know you wanted me to wait in the bedroom, but I could hear you guys talking about me so I thought—”

“It’s okay. It’s Eloise. She probably would have opened that door herself if you didn’t,” you cut him off and Bob’s shoulders slump in relief as he lets you lead him back into your room.

There’s a touch of awkwardness lingering in the air as the two of you stand in the middle of your room. In your haste, you’d picked up Bob’s shirt, so now all he has on him is his boxers.

Bob looks at you unsurely. “Do you want to—”

“Not really,” you wince at how quickly you cut him off. “Sorry, it’s just— I think I’m too embarrassed…”

“Oh, good, I was thinking the same thing, I just didn’t want to leave it if you were unsatisfied.” Bob looks visibly relieved and it lightens the mood a little because you have genuinely never met a man like him. He looks around your bedroom, before his eyes land on your bed. “Well, if we’re not gonna do that, can I make up for last night?”

You furrow your brows. “What do you me— Oh!” 

Bob picks you up suddenly, dropping you both on the bed as you let out a yelp. Your back is pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around your middle, and he shuffles a bit to get comfortable. You turn in Bob’s grip to face him, a smile lighting up your features that you don’t even try to hide.

“Your way of making up for last night is cuddling?”

“Well, yeah,” Bob lets out a small yawn and it occurs to you that, between your date, his sudden job, and his early morning to come see you, he must have only slept a couple hours. “It’s what I should’ve been doing last night. I’m sorry—”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss, cupping his cheek as you try to express how truly forgiven he is. Bob reciprocates, a small, blissful smile on his lips when you pull away from him. Your own face mirrors that expression, though it falls quickly.

“How’d you get this bruise?” You ask, your fingers lightly tracing the purple you’ve just noticed on his side.

Bob tenses under your touch, his eyes widening slightly as he tries to draw your attention away from his body. “Oh, I— The job was to move some things and I rammed myself into a dresser.”

“Does it hurt? Do you want some ice?” You move to get up, but Bob stops you, distracting you with a kiss of his own as he pulls you back into bed.

“I’m just fine, sweet pea.”

With his assurance, you settle back into his chest, getting comfortable again as your breath starts to match the rise in fall of Bob’s chest. 

He clears his throat suddenly. “This… This ‘God’s gift to women’ thing isn’t going away anytime soon, is it?”

There was something about Bob that made him feel just out of reach. He was perfect—as perfect as a person can be, at least—but there was something that just felt off. It wasn’t that you thought he was pretending to be somebody he wasn’t, you didn’t think Bob was capable of that. He may look big and intimidating, but you’ve seen him go bright pink all the way down to his neck and stumble over his words like they’re sprinting in a race. Bob wasn’t pretending to be somebody else, he was just leaving a part of himself out.

Sometimes it felt like you didn’t know Bob. You know Bo, the scrappy kid who would do anything and everything for his mom and best friend. You know Bo, who dreamed of being a pilot and took physics in high school and tried to imagine what it would feel like to fly. You know Bo, who loves novels, and rom coms, and poetry about the human experience. 

Then there’s your Bobby—you’ve never called him Bobby to his face, but you like to think he’s yours. Your Bobby, who lets his tongue peek through his lips when he’s concentrating. Your Bobby, who plays 20 questions like it’s a declaration of commitment. Your Bobby, who hides shyly behind his ball cap like he didn’t have you pressed up against a wall only a few minutes ago.

And they’re both him, you know that. Bobby and Bo are equally Bob as anything else, but they aren’t all of him. There’s a piece missing. You know Bobby and Bo, but you don’t know Bob.

You know that he has a sweet tooth. You know that he works at Maverick’s Gym and Boxing—but only sometimes, other times he takes up odd jobs, like moving furniture at 3:00 in the morning. You know that, for whatever reason, someone scribbled down the address to Spiderhead Boxing because he needed it. And you know that he must be quite clumsy because, days after your morning together, you’re still finding bruises on him.

“We can call it a day if you want?”

“Huh?” You’re pulled from your thoughts only for your eyes to lock with Bob’s concerned ones. “Sorry, I just— I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea. Why don’t we call it and I’ll get you a coffee or something?” Bob’s already taking off your gloves, inspecting your hands with gentle fingers to make sure you haven’t accidentally hurt yourself during your lesson.

You smile softly. “Okay.”

Bob undoes your wraps, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand as he looks up at you through his lashes. You scoff playfully at his antics, though your heart does not seem to be on the same page as it flutters bashfully.

“Reaper.” Bob tenses suddenly, his fingers freezing on the wraps on your other hand as a shorter man with jet black hair approaches the two of you. “I wanna see your A game tomorrow night, alright? Got a lot riding on this.”

Bob nods stiffly. “Got it, Mav.”

The man—Mav—glances at you, as if now realizing your there, then at your hand that’s still being held by both of Bob’s. He looks back at Bob with a knowing smirk, already turning on his heels to walk away. “Good for you, kid.”

Your brows furrow as you watch him leave, not entirely sure what to make of the man. “What was that?”

“That’s just my boss,” Bob explains, though his voice sounds weirdly hollow. “He recruits professional fighters, I’m— I’m training one of them for him.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Are you training him for a fight or something?” You perk up a bit, because this is Bob. You’re finally learning about Bob.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Have you ever fought anyone before?” You wonder aloud as Bob moves to start cleaning all the equipment you used. “Like, professionally, I mean.”

He gives you another strange look you can’t decipher. “No… I haven’t.”

You don’t know what compelled you to do it. Maybe it was because somewhere, deep down, you knew Bob was hiding something. Maybe it was because you needed to prove to yourself that no one could possibly be as perfect for you as Bob was. Maybe it’s because it feels like that little white card with an address on it has burned itself into your nightstand and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Whatever the reason, you find yourself sitting in a parked car outside Spiderhead Boxing, 783 Ragnarok Road.

It’s perhaps the sketchiest looking establishment you’ve ever seen. From what you can make out through the front window, not a single person in it looks remotely like someone you’d want to be around. You can hear Eloise screaming at you in your head about how stupid of an idea this is, and she’s probably right. Actually, there’s still time if you just want to turn around and—

A sudden knock on your window causes you to flinch.

“Hi,” a man who looks to be about your age peers down at you as you roll down your window. “Couldn’t help but notice you parked outside.” With his head, he gestures back to the gym. “You’ve been staring for a while. Need something?”

You wet your lips nervously. “Oh, um, I’m just waiting for someone. He said he’d meet me here.”

“Who are you waiting for?” The man is still eyeing you suspiciously.

“Um,” you suck in a breath. “...Reaper.”

At that, the man relaxes suddenly, letting out a loud laugh like you’ve said something funny. “That pussy? Hate to break it to ya, sweet thing, but he’s not coming. Not all the way over here. I’m surprised he even suggested this place in the first place.”

This confuses you for two reasons because why would this man know that and, more importantly, why does he seem to know Bob well enough that he can recognize his inside joke nickname?

“You know him?”

“Know him?” The man props himself against your car door with a smirk. “Sweet thing, I fight him tonight.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but the man hardly seems to notice continuing his explanation with a boastful air and without even sparing you a glance. “He fought my buddy Razor a few nights back, but the dude went ape shit and then ditched before their rematch. It’s too bad for Reaper though, he actually had a shot against Razor, I’m gonna fuck his pretty boy face up so bad— ‘specially now that I know that he ditched ya.”

It occurs to you suddenly that this man is trying to flirt with you—however gross and misguided it is—and while normally you’d try to politely decline, you know an in when you see one. And this was your in because, as it turns out, you do know Bob. The piece that’s missing is Reaper.

And if all this is true, that means Bob had left you hours after having sex with you for the first time to go fight someone. And that he’s lied to your face over and over again. And if he’s lying to you about this, what else could he be lying about?

“Oh, um, thank you...” You swallow, trying to hide the sudden sinking feeling that’s settling in your stomach.

“Hey,” the man lights up suddenly, like he’s had a genius idea. “You should come watch tonight. Always like having a pretty girl around me when I win.”

“I— I should?”

The man grins. “Just tell them you’re with Peter Hayes.”

Your phone lights up in your cup holder with a text from Bob. He’s probably showing you his Wordle score or something. Because that was Bob, Bo—your Bobby. And maybe this had all been a mistake. Maybe this Peter guy is talking about a different Reaper. Because your Bobby wouldn’t leave you alone after sleeping with you, only to come back the next morning and lie to your face about it... right?

Your phone screen goes back to black when you make no move to answer the text and your reflection looks back at you through its rectangular glass. You turn back to Peter.

“What time should I come?”

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd imagines #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #sweeter than sugar #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

[dusty-grrl-bones]

Alastor x reader imagines/headcannons!!!

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

♡- He would literally be sweeter than sugar with you, sometimes you'd get exhausted by it..

♡-He really wouldn't care though and smother you with his true and genuine affection and love, most definitely in more ways than one.

♡- He'd be super gentle with you and your feelings no matter the situation as you're the one person he genuinely cares for and he doesn't want to drive you away

♡- He would try to stay as far away from offering you a deal as he possibly could just because he doesn't want anything like that between you and him just because he wants a no strings attached relationship with you.

♡- Remember when I said he'd be gentle no matter the situation? Well he can and would be a little rough but only when you're okay with it. He believes that consent is key when asking for things.

♡- He's a doll, he'd call you every charming and older pet name out there, doesn't matter which as long as it's something that you would blush over.

♡- He isn't all that for some things but he's willing to try for a little bit as long as it's you who asked him (and as long as you asked politely)

♡- Manners are everything to him so of course he's going to be a gold hearted gentlemen with you, are you kidding?

♡- He'd sing for you, no matter what the song was, if you requested it or not, he'd sing for you.

♡- After a long day of even just being at the hotel he'd invite you to his room, lay down and cuddle with you just having a night of peaceful sleep, only to wake up the next morning and do it all again!!

(Sorry this was kind of short!! This is the first time I've posted something like this lolz)

#hazbin hotel #alastor altruist #x reader #kind of ooc #rly cute tho #fluff #sweeter than sugar

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Sweeter Than Sugar

a Stephen Strange x Female Reader one-shot

summary: When you're head over heels in love, even the simplest things can be sweeter than the sweetest of sugars.

characters: Stephen Strange, Female Reader, established relstionship

genre: fluff, romance, love

rating: general audience

word count 1.0k

Early November, and autumn had fully descended upon the City—and it was turning out to be the happiest autumn of Stephen’s life. An inarguable fact and due solely to a blessing he never could have anticipated--but found himself thanking the mercy of the Vishanti for daily. Your presence in his life and all the love which you so readily lavished upon him.

Ordinarily, he managed to devote all his weekend free time to spend with you, unless there was an unavoidable magical obligation or emergency that came to call. Today was such a day, as the Sorcerer Supreme had called for a meeting of the Sanctum Masters at Kamar-Taj to discuss several pressing matters important to the continued protection of Earth and this reality. He’d slipped from bed at the call of his alarm (enchanted so that only he would hear it, and you’d be able to sleep peacefully on), leaving you snugged down and sleeping warmly on what otherwise should be a perfectly lazy day to spend together. Feeling so very regretful to abandon the soft, warm haven of your body and already counting the hours until he could return to you--more home to him now than even the Sanctum that was his domain.

Though Stephen loved his work, thrived on it, in fact--of that there was never any question—you had clearly become the sweetest temptation he’d ever had to play truant. It was a contradictory sort of happiness that he had been convinced for many years, was never going to come his way—and he planned to hold onto it for dear life.

Returning home that afternoon, Stephen called out for you before the gateway door behind him had even closed, hopeful that you had stuck around to spend the remainder of the day with him--and though you didn’t answer, he heard the faint strains of music seeming to come from the small kitchen on the second floor of the Sanctum. He sped up the stairs, eager to see you, but was struck dumb upon the enchanting sight you made--dancing in the little kitchen, with your cell phone blasting the soundtrack to Mama Mia!. Singing the way people do when they think no one sees them: full-voiced and unapologetic. He adored seeing you this way, so at ease in his living space—reminding him again that the time was swift approaching when he wouldn’t be able to keep from asking you to make a more permanent commitment to this arrangement. Baby steps, he told himself once again. And keep your eagerness in check a while yet; that’s what is best for the both of us.

You had gathered your long, dark tresses up in a sloppy bun of sorts, their care clearly not having been your top priority when you had finally risen for the day. But their haphazardness suited the happy way you danced around the room, and that made him smile all the more. You were wearing one of his old shirts, a pink and lavender plaid that suited your happy mood—dusted with flour from whatever baking project you’d undertaken—over a pair of old, worn boxer shorts (those, he chided himself, should have been tossed long ago; you must have found them at the forgotten bottom of his socks & undies drawer; yet they looked quite dear on you as you took another twirl about the room). He could see your bare feet had tracked the flour in several places across the kitchen floor as well, but that was surely accounted for by the exuberance of your dance.

A full two minutes passed before you saw him there, and it was only a break in the music that made the difference. You held the last note of the current tune (her voice really isn’t half bad at all, he thought in amusement), your eyes closed in concentration. Stephen cleared his throat, just to announce himself, and when you opened them and saw his face, you immediately looked sheepish, as though you had been caught at something naughty. He found himself wondering—wishing too—that all the undiscovered moments that lay ahead for the two of you would hold the same, sweet charm.

After quickly turning down the volume on your phone, you turned back to face him, still looking a little abashed. “I baked you a tart,” you blurted out, meaning it to be an explanation for the mess you thought you looked, and the mess you had made of the kitchen.

"Oh?" Now that you mentioned it, he realized he smelled cinnamon and other sweet things on the air, making him ponder that were he to kiss your neck, if that would be the scent to greet him, and how pleasant your skin might taste. "What kind?"

"Caramel apple. I got a little bored, missing you." There was only the hint of a pout in your voice, but enough to make his heart glad that you still looked forward to his return, as much—and even more--as in their early weeks together. "So, I went to the Farmer’s Market—it’s their last weekend until Spring--and they had the loveliest, juiciest looking Bramleys, and I thought, well, that might be a nice surprise."

You came to stand before him as you spoke, ending by circling your arms about his neck. "How would you like it," you asked him saucily, "a la mode or with melted cheddar cheese? I prefer the ice cream, myself, especially as the tart’s still warm…"

"Tart later, perhaps," he replied, before kissing the end of your nose, which bore its share of flour as well. "There’s other sweets need sampling first, don’t you think?"

Your eyes went very wide, and soft with happy expectation, as you stood on your toes to kiss his parted lips, and then giggled pettily when Stephen swept you up into his arms to carry you through his hasty portal back to his quarters. When he finally did savor the delicate skin of your neck, he found as he’d expected; that the simplest of moments with the woman he loved, were indeed the very sweetest.

(can't tag any blogs as I'm still in shadow ban prison, so I hope people will see and read it on their own)

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#my writing #Sweeter Than Sugar #Stephen Strange x Female Reader #Stephen Strange x Y/N #fluff #romance #love #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x female reader #doctor strange #stephen strange #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #Benedict Cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse

[euesworld]

"She's as sweet as pie, as sweet as cake.. I would do anything to see her smile, whatever it takes."

She's as sweet as honey, as sweet as pie.. and I have never known anything sweeter than being by her side - eUë

#sweet #sweet like honey #sweet things #sweeter than honey #sweeter than sugar #cake #pie #honey pie #sweet cakes #i would do anything for you #whatever it takes #honey #by your side #next to you #affection #poem #poetry #poetic #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #love quotes #love #love quote life quotes #love quote for her #quoteoftheday #romance #romantic #i love you

[weird-color]

you guys know that moment when your biological dad kills your adoptive parents and now he's after your deputy dad isn't that just crazy 😂🤣

#PLEASE SOMEONE TELL Y/N IT'S NOT HALLOWEEN ANYMORE THEY'RE SCARING THE KIDS #spooky month #my art #traditional art #gore #gore tw #blood tw #sweeter than sugar #art #doodle #photo #bob velseb #y/n

[djevilninja]

Moderate players, that's we are; We 'bout getting paper - feel me, God. No longer out there chasing dreams; I'm living the words for the song I sing.

Joe - Sweeter Than Sugar

#joe #music #RnB #2000s #2003 #sweeter than sugar

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Hi! Sorry to bother you is there a part 3 to the A/B/O fic with the Black Jackals? :)

it is still a work in progress, but I have some more in store for that one and will not drop it

#sweeter than sugar

[anemptypuddingcup]

Sweeter than sugar.

Vampire Luffy x Female Reader.

A two part series with Vampire Luffy.

Y’all I am so sorry. I had sidetracked myself with the Sanji series and decided to come to Luffy next. Don’t fight me please-

Part 1 Part 2

Contains: Vampire!Luffy. Luffy hungry for blood. Reader happens to roam into his mansion without knowing it’s his. Luffy allowing Reader to stay in exchange for blood. A segment of storyline before we get in to smut.

“Hahhh…So hungryyy…”

Luffy groans heavily as he stares out through the tinted mansion window, the sound of rain nearly putting him to sleep as he listened intently. The clouds blanketed the sky with a slight darkness, covering the his mansion along with his land alike. It was a shame he couldn’t go out. Even if it wasn’t the sea, the water still drained him if his energy, especially at a time like this.

A heavy huff leaves his lips while his stomach rumbles with ferocity, his long thin tongue tracing across his dry cracked lips as he yearned for some fresh sweet blood. Not blood from animals but from humans. He was getting a little sick of thick consistency of animal blood, not to mention it was harmful to the animals themselves. It was all based on survival, but at the same time Luffy was picky with this matter.

He hoped that Chopper or Sanji would at least return soon, it would’ve been a better alternative to ask for blood packs instead of hunting for animal blood. It would’ve been more convenient and it could’ve saved up a lot more time, though knowing Luffy he wasn’t thinking about it not one bit.

A bit of drool trickles from his lips and down to his chin as he thought of slurping up the blood of a wonderful human. The consistency and the flavor, he couldn’t help but to be picky with a thing such as this. If only he enjoyed eating food more.

“Ahhh…I hope th’rain brings in somebodyy, how long will I hafta wait..?” He sighs before he wipes the drool from chin and lips. He lets out a little groan as he lifts himself up from his chair and walks over to his window, his cloak flowing slightly in the air as he stood. He stares as the little droplets fell down with slight intensity, the sound of the rain washing a sudden sadness over him and his body. He felt a bit lonely if not hungry.

His eyes scans down his yard, sliding past a little shadow within the thick moist air before he turns away.

“Wait-“

The sudden realization made him backtrack to his window and he peers out again. He squints his eyes before they widen with excitement, a thankful little gasp leaving his throat as he stares at the shadow.

He presses his hands and face against the glass before smiling widely, thanking every god for answering his prayers. It was a human, a fresh source of blood that he’d been begging for all this time. His eyes glimmer with delight and more drool spills past his lips before he finally snaps back to his senses.

He shakes his head and looks back in the same direction of the mysterious figure, only to see that it disappeared from his sight.

He jolts as he suddenly hears his front mansion door creak open, his heart beating from his chest as he realized that his meal had entered his vicinity.

Sliding his tongue along his lips, he slowly walks out of his main room and into the long corridor, his feet trailing along the long red rug.

***

You slowly slide yourself through the large mansion door and quickly shut it behind you, your teeth chattering from the cold temperature of the rain against your skin. Your eyes darts around as you gripped your arms tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself warm after being exposed to such cold weather.

You were surprised that the mansion was clean and pretty on the inside, it didn’t look much like its dilapidated stone exterior outside the doors. You slowly trail through the mansion while your soaked clothing left a trail of water to follow. You huff heavily as you trembled from the cold air hitting your damp skin, looking around for at least some source of heat to keep you warm.

As your wet and damp footsteps echoes through the empty mansion, the sound of a different set of footsteps makes you freeze suddenly.

“Oi…”

The ominous sound of a young man calls out to you down the corridor and you quickly turn around to see him standing on the other end. You felt your heart beginning to pound as a sudden rush of adrenaline sends you back, pulling you away from the figure of whoever it was. Your legs move on their own and you run, a bit afraid that you’ve entered someplace you weren’t supposed to.

A sudden flash of his presence makes you pause before you feel your back press against someone’s chest. You don’t dare turn around as you felt the heaving of the person’s chest rise and fall up against your back. A hand to your shoulder makes you jolt as a few tears brim at your eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shut your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for whatever may happen next.

“What’re ya doin’ ‘side f’my place? Are ya lost?”

You feel his warm breath fall against your neck before you felt his slimy thin tongue trail up your skin. He groans heavily at the saltiness of your skin, fighting back the strong urge to just bite and gnaw at your neck right then and there. All color falls from your face as you felt his tongue slowly slide against your skin.

You let out a little mewl before biting your bottom lip tightly, pursing and clamming up your noise. He removes his tongue and giggles and you shiver as you felt the chill on your neck where his saliva lingered. “Ya gonna answer me? Ya shy or sum’?” He asks, his head cocking to the side as he stares at you with his jet black pupils.

You exhale shakily and you tremble against him, the sound of your heart pounding beginning to echo throughout your head. “I-I’m so s-sorry i-if I’m trespassing…I-I need shelter..” You sigh out heavily as you begin to feel lightheaded.

You hear him giggle before he grips your chin and turns your head to face him. A slight blush dusts your cheeks as you admire his features while his eyes glazes your body from head to toe. It seems that he’d gain a slight attraction to what he’d seen, and you probably did too. “Shishishi~ S’fine~ M’not gonna eat ya~” He says teasingly, his thumb pressing up against your soft glossy lips.

Your face begins to burn up before your eyes glance away from him.

Looking back to him, you notice his thin tongue sliding along his lips repeatedly as he stares at you in the eyes. You gulp your saliva as a mixture of feelings began to overwhelm your body. Your body grew warmer against his and you sigh heavily. His eyes didn’t look away from you one bit and you felt as if he was trying to undress you with them.

“You’re pretty. An’ I like that ‘bout ya.” He says to you, speaking his mind. You stare up at and let out a heavy sigh as he moves in closer to you. He slides his tongue along your neck once again and your heart pounds once more. “Is there something that you want?…” You ask reluctantly, his behavior growing more and more aggressive with every lick and tastes of your skin. He couldn’t hold back his urge much longer the more he tasted your skin.

Your question causes him to pause before he looks at you with his brows raised. “Yeah. There is.” He says to you before he slowly pulls away from your neck to face you. “Lemme have sum’ f’ya blood. Ya smell sweet…and it’s makin’ m’hungry.” He admits, his thick and heavy hands pressing hard against your shoulders.

You shudder but suck up any remaining feeling, part of you began to question if it was okay to bargain with such a man.

It was too late now though, by time you thought so you were already speaking.

“May I stay here for a few nights in exchange?” You asked, now desperate to just have a roof over your head and some heat enveloping your body. His brows raise as he listens to your question before his hand begins to ruffle at his hair. His eyes trails around with thought and a smile comes across his face before he grins widely. “Shishishi~ Playin’ hard ta get with me?” He asked, looking to you with an amused expression. You stay silent and look away from him out of nervousness.

“Alright. I’ll getcha whatever ya need. As long as ya stick with ya words.” He says, finally taking a step back away from you.

You feel a wave of relief wash over as he accepts your trade before you feel yourself quickly beginning to grow lightheaded and fatigued. As you begin to wobble he quickly rushes to your side and holds you steady, a small bit of laughter leaving him as he held on to you.

“Ya alright there?” He asked, his arms holding you up and steady. You exhale heavily and nodded. “I’m just…I’m just tired.” You sigh heavily as you lean up onto him. He smiles as he wraps his forearms underneath your body, lifting your body up off the ground as he walks down the long corridor.

You feel yourself ready to fade out of consciousness but you couldn’t allow yourself to, not when there was a bloodthirsty man carrying you down the dark corridors of his mansion. He walked slowly, making sure to take his time as he held your delicate body in his arms.

Among walking the dark halls and staircases, he finally brings you into a warm and cozy area, a room with a fireplace and warm bed far in front of it. “This is m’guest room. Hope it’ll warm ya up a bit.” He says as he walks over to the well-made bed. There was a canopy attached to the top, allowing the silky curtains to fall down and slightly obscure the bed.

He softly sets you onto the bed before walking away to look around in the closet. “Sorry if this ain’t good enough, ion usually have folks here so…just have this f’now.”

You slowly sit up against the bedding to look at him and he tosses a large shirt over to you. You look at it before sighing, you weren’t about it be picky with any clothes after he allowed you to stay in. “U-Um…” You look at him a she stood there with a little grin on his face, tilting his head as you call out to him.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“C-Can you…Can you turn around..?” A nervous blush spreads across your face as he stares at you with a blank expression. “Aw, not even a peek?” He asks, a little giggle leaving his lips as he slowly turns around.

You quickly try your best to change out of your sopping clothes as he stood there and waited for you to tell him to turn back around. “Where do I put these…?” You asked as you held your soaking clothing tightly. The young man peeks back before fully turning around and walking over to you. He grabs your clothes and sets them aside before smiling. “Ah, ya can set ‘em right here. It’ll be fine.”

You slowly climb into the bed as a yawn escapes your lips, leaving the young man out to stare at you as you settled into bed. You slowly close your eyes as the drowsiness crashed onto your body, pulling the blankets up farther so you could get comfy.

“Oi. Ain’t ya forgettin’ sum’?”

You slowly pull your eyes back open and see the young man staring down at you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight as he hovered over you. You shoot up from the pillows and stare at him, your body shivering a bit as he stares at you with intensity.

He presses his hand up against your neck and stares at it before trailing his eyes back to yours. You trembled as you felt his fingers trace along the skin of your neck, his fingertips prodding at silky smoothness of your skin.

He lands his hips onto your your lap as he stares down at you, the cheekiest yet darkest smirk spread across his face. “I want sum’ f’ya blood…now.” He says, his tone slightly more impatient than before. Your mouth quivered as his body weight was pressed up against yours, his fingers still tracing along your neck.

“R-Right…I forgot..” You lie. He smiles wider before he presses a smooch along your neck, making you let out a sudden mewl. “Y’aint forgot…Y’just nervous…” He whispers as he peppers kisses against your neck. You feel your body grow warmer as he tried his best to soothe you, soften you up before he was ready to take a bit.

“Ya smell s’good~ Ya skin’s tasty too~” He whisper to you, pressing a small smooch against your ear. “M-Mhh~” You feel heat beginning to spill from you as he kissed and suckled along your skin, making a few noises come out of your lips. He softly pushes your body down along the soft fluffy pillows, pressing more kisses against you before he finally presses a kiss to your lips.

“What’s ya name?~” He asks as he continues to press his lips against yours. “H-Hmm?~” You moan out, your hands now gripping his cloak tightly as the kisses began to feel so good against your skin.

The feeling of his warm rough lips along your skin began to make your mind swirl with arousal. You hear him giggle again as he cups yours face.

“What’s ya name baby?~” He asks, this time adding on a little pet name. You felt your heart swell up with slight joy as you hear him call you such a name. “_-________~” You gasp out. He chuckles. “Pretty name. M’name’s Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy.” He finally introduces himself as he presses another kiss to your lips. You let out a little gasp as his hands trails from your face to your shoulders. “________. Can I touch on ya an’ bite on ya?” He asks, lookin down at you with half-lidded eyes.

You stare up at him before blushing. “Y-Yes…Yes you can.” You breathe out softly. Luffy smiles as he yanks off his cloak urgently before he moves his hands to the buttons of his shirt. Buttons begins to fly everywhere as he pulls his shirt open with a heavy sigh, your eyes widening once you see his sculptured body in front of you.

Your hands trembled against the sheets as you stare at his torso. His abs defined prettily as you stared at them with eagerness. What made his entire look cuter was the X-shaped scar across his chest. A scar that signified lost and pain. A scar that singe deep within his skin. “Y’can touch it if ya want.” He snickers as he notices you staring at his body.

You slowly press your hands up against his scar, tracing it as a shaky breath leaves your lips. You feel him pull you closer as her buries his face deep into your neck. “Can I…Can I bite ya now?” He asks, his hands now shivering against your collarbone. “Y-Yes…Sorry for keeping you waiting.” You apologize, a little gasp leaving you once you feel his tongue along your neck again.

You feel him press his fangs against your skin, imprinting a spot on where he wanted to hit you. “Fuck…M’so ready~ Are ya ready ________?” He asks, his hands gripping your shoulders to keep you still. You clench your eyes shut and tense up as you felt your his teeth graze along your neck.

“Y-Yes, I’m ready..” You say shakily before exhaling softly.

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece luffy #op luffy #luffy smut #luffy fluff #monkey d luffy #luffy x female reader #puddingcupfics #sweeter than sugar series

[mydarlingdahlia]

I remember one time I was being bullied for being the tallest in first grade and some girl came up to me and asked, “How’s the weather up there?”

I said, “Raining.” And spit in her face. 💀

#charlotte rambles #lottie’s lore — 𓇽 #i was lowkey a bitch as a child 😭 #but then i was sweeter than sugar #no inbetween

[jupitercomet]

20 Questions: In Three Parts

summary - You should have known to question when Bob suddenly appeared in your bakery and made his place in your life—but, in your defense, his smile was so charming! Five dates in and he’s already swept you off your feet completely with his thoughtful nature and kind heart. But the question still remains: what do you actually know about him? And why does he always come back to you covered in bruises?

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, violence, language, Bob is 6′5″ because I said so, no use of y/n, I added outfit links but you can imagine whatever you would like

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.5k

sweeter than sugar masterlist

“Okay, 20 questions.”

Bob raises his brows slightly. “20 questions?”

“Yeah,” you grin at him from over the counter. “20 questions.”

You didn’t exactly know what your relationship with Bob was. After your impromptu lunch, he started stopping by Sugar Plum more regularly. Then that turned to him staying until closing. Then after closing—Eloise was there too at first, but when you both deemed Bob to be an, at least, normal guy, she started giving you privacy. She certainly doesn’t mind going home an hour early either. Now he chats with you until everything is cleaned and put away—he offered to help, but you have a system—and then walks you to your car.

Bob looks at you before he lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Yeah, alright. Are you starting or am I?”

“I can start.” You tell him over your shoulder. “And that counts as one of your questions, by the way.” You add. 

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair,” Bob chuckles. 

You ignore him coyly. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Probably New York, just to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Bob says after a moment. 

“You like art?” You pause from wiping down the countertop.

Bob’s lip twitches into a small smile. “I do. And that counts as one of your questions. What made you know you wanted to be a baker?”

“I don’t know, it was something I did for fun growing up. I used to sit my family down and force them to eat whatever crime against chemistry I concocted. But when I got good at it, and realized I could make a career out of it, I just kinda did,” you shrug, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

“Would you still like me if I told you I was unemployed?” 

You laugh. “I know you’re not unemployed, Bob.”

“How do you know that?” Bob makes a slight face.

“Men who are unemployed don’t usually leave repeated 20% tips.”

The tips of Bob’s ears pinken. “Right well, I don’t know, I don’t really have a job. I… work at a gym, but I pick up odd jobs all over the place too.” 

“That’s cool,” and you mean it, but you can also tell Bob is slightly embarrassed and he definitely shouldn’t be. “What do you do at the gym?”

He looks down and you think it’s rather sweet how shy he seems. “I’m a boxing instructor. Give lessons and all that.”

“Do you get a lot of boxers?” Your eyebrows raise. You’d heard rumors from Eloise when you first moved to San Diego. How there’s some elaborate underground boxing ring that connects all throughout the city. You’re not sure you believe it—it seems a little far fetched—but maybe there’s some validity to the fact that, at the very least, the sport is popular.

Bob lets out a hollow sounding chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure I would be. The only thing I punch is, like, stubborn dough,” you wrinkle your nose after a moment, freezing behind the counter. “That was a terrible joke actually, I’m sorry.”

Bob lets out a genuine chuckle this time, his head dropping as he bites back a smile, looking up at you through his lashes. “You ever tried standup, sweet pea?”

“No,” you stick your tongue out at him. “And that’s question number three.”

Bob holds his hands up in mock surrender, and though it hardly graces his lips, there’s a smile in his eyes as he watches you finish up the last of your cleaning. You seem somewhat deep in thought as you reach behind yourself to tug on the ties of your apron. The canvas strings catch and Bob stands as you fiddle with them.

“Want help?”

You nod gratefully, moving out from behind the counter so he can reach you. It’s quiet as he untangles the ties and you keep your gaze trained on your shoes because you really don’t want Bob to see how the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck is affecting you.

“There.” His hands drop and the untied apron now opens around your body. “Think it’s your turn to ask a question, sweet pea.”

You take off your apron with a shaky breath, gathering all your courage before you turn to face Bob again. You like hanging out with him and the way he just goes along with whatever antics you put him through. What other grown man entertains the idea of playing 20 questions? You like hanging out with him and you want to do it more. “Do you think you could, um, teach me… boxing? That’s— That’s my question.”

“I don’t know if—”

“I was planning on starting it anyway!” That’s definitely a lie but there’s no way you’d ever tell Bob that. “It seemed like good exercise and one of my friends has been raving about it. But I’d feel better if I knew the instructor.” 

Bob swallows, looking at you with an unreadable expression before he finally nods slowly. “I guess I could— Yeah sure, I’ll, um, I’ll teach you. Does Wednesday afternoon work?”

“Yeah, that works,” you nod excitedly, turning away to turn off the kitchen lights—as well as hide your giddy expression. “That was another question, by the way. Now we’re even.”

“Well, someone’s home late,” Mickey lets out a low whistle as Bob closes the door to his apartment, his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he lounges on the couch.

“You know you don’t live here, right?”

Mickey looks up in mock offense, powdered sugar sticking to the corner of his lips. “Is that anyway to treat your best friend? Since childhood?”

“How is reminding you that you have your own apartment—” Bob stops, looking at the open—and very empty—purple box with white cursive font on it. “Did you eat my donuts?”

Mickey’s eyes flick flatly down to the identical box in Bob’s hands before going back up to his face. Sheepishly, Bob looks away, not wanting his best friend to catch on to the pink blush that is dusting his cheeks.

“Clearly, I did you a favor. Don’t think your trainer’s gonna be too happy that you’re stuffing yourself full of sugar,” Mickey licks some of the powdered sugar off his lips, before making himself comfortable again. 

Bob’s blush deepens. “It’s not that much.”

“Sure. Is she cute at least?” Mickey wipes his index finger on the sugar covered parchment paper in the box, popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Who?”

“The girl you’re trying to impress by buying all this shit.” Bob opens his mouth to protest, but Mickey scoffs, “Don’t even try to act like you’re not. You did the same thing in middle school when you had a crush on Mindy Carverse.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bob calls over his shoulder, moving to the kitchen to put down the box of treats from Sugar Plum you insisted he take home with him—and to escape Mickey’s pestering.

“You forced me to join the mathletes with you because she was the captain. We were both in the lowest level math class, Bob!”

“Okay, well that— These are entirely different situations,” Bob argues back, peering through the wall cutout of his kitchen at the back of Mickey’s head. “She just makes really good desserts.”

Mickey jumps up, whirling around and pointing an accusing, powdered sugar covered finger at him. “Aha! So there is a girl, I knew it! Has Bobby boy found himself a girlfriend?” 

“Would you stop it? You’re worse than my mom,” Bob groans, tossing an oven mitt at Mickey in retaliation.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with Sarah wanting her baby Bo to find a nice girl and settle down,” Mickey dodges the oven mitt easily and Bob huffs out a low scoff as it flops and then skids off the coffee table. “But you, sir, are avoiding the question. Who is she? When’d ya meet her? Does she like you? Have you kiss—”

This time he doesn’t dodge the second oven mitt that hits him in the face.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just— She’s just nice, alright?” Bob looks down at the swirly font of “Sugar Plum Bakery”, stark white against lilac purple, with a small smile. “She’s sweet.”

Mickey’s smile grows and he hurries around the couch to join Bob in the kitchen. “Oh, so you like like her then? You gonna ask her out?”

“No,” Bob deflates at the reminder, walking out of the kitchen to toss the empty box of treats Mickey finished before it starts attracting ants.

“What?” Mickey follows after him, brows furrowed. “Why?”

Bob sighs.

Guilt had been bubbling in his stomach since he’d agreed to see you again Wednesday, eating away at his stomach lining with every bitter reminder. He lied. He lied. He lied. Good people don’t lie, Bob knows that. He doesn’t need some children's book to tell him that, some rabbits or otters, he knows he shouldn’t lie. 

But if Bob doesn’t lie, he admits he’s a bad person. If he doesn’t lie, he has to look you in the eyes—those same eyes that light up when you ramble about something you like, that hide behind your cheeks when you smile, that look at him so softly—and tell you that he beats the ever living shit out of people for a living. And good people don’t do that.

So he didn’t tell you that. He lied. He lied. He lied. And Bob told himself that he should leave you alone, that you don’t deserve to be with someone like him. That you don’t deserve to be with someone who covers his every mistake with reusable shopping bags and recycling bins—like cheap band-aids on a bullet hole. 

Bob tells himself to leave you alone. But he can never seem to follow it. Instead he comes back, and keeps coming back, and asks you to share cupcakes with him, and agrees to teach you how to box. Because, even though he tells himself he doesn’t deserve you, it does nothing to outweigh the fact that he wants you anyway.

So Bob can’t ask you out—he can’t ask you to stay. Because, if he does, Bob knows he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you never leave. And you deserve more than reusable shopping bags and recycling bins. You deserve more than a liar.

Mickey’s lips suddenly part in understanding. “She doesn’t know.”

Bob swallows, looking down at the empty purple box with white cursive font in his hands.

“She doesn’t know,” he repeats.

You’re already waiting outside when Bob finally makes it to Maverick’s on Wednesday afternoon. The two of you had been texting back and forth in anticipation—which resulted in you sending him a very cute photo of you pretending to box pastry dough that he has since made your contact picture. But even with all of that, he feels slightly sick seeing you standing in front of white painted bricks of Maverick’s Gym and Boxing.

“Hi!” You wave excitedly as Bob gets closer, waiting until he’s standing in front of you to speak again. “You ready, coach?”

That puts a small smile on his face and he shakes his head as he opens the door for you both. “Coach?” He questions simply. 

“Yeah, you’re coaching me, aren’t you? Like Rocky.”

Bob gives the girl at the front desk a small nod of acknowledgement. She knows him—most people at Maverick’s do—and only seems mildly surprised to see you walking in next to him. Bob doesn’t usually bring people here, even Mickey’s only seen the inside of Maverick’s a couple times.

“Is that the only boxing movie you know?” Bob teases lightly, your excitement making it marginally harder for him to feel uneasy about bringing you here.

“For your information, I saw the trailer for the new Creed movie, I just never got around to watching it. But there’s another franchise,” you put your hands on your hips as Bob turns around to grab some clean wraps and gloves for you. “And that definitely counts as another question for you.”

His eyebrows raise slightly and he cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at you. “We’re still playin’?”

“We haven’t gotten to 20 questions yet. We both only got to five— Well, now I’m at five. You’re at six.”

“Alright then, we’ll keep playing. Give me your hands please.” You hold your hands out for Bob to wrap them, watching with bated breath as his calloused fingers brush against your skin. “Gotta keep your hands protected, sweet pea. They got work to do decorating pretty cakes.”

You grin as Bob slides a glove onto one of your hands, before deciding it’s not the right size and taking it off. “They’re also very sick of decorating pretty cakes. I had to make, like, three wedding cakes in the past seven days.”

Bob finally finds a pair of gloves he’s happy with, sliding them on your hands and securing them with the velcro strap carefully.

“Decorating pretty cupcakes, then.” He gives you a small smile.

He pulls away once the gloves are secure, putting a step of space between you as he straightens to his full size. He’s not wearing his ball cap today and he runs a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face, soft looking strands peeking out under his ears. Bob crosses his arms, his biceps bulging enough to test the resilience of his t-shirt sleeves. You swallow thickly. Maybe Eloise had been on to something when she called him God’s gift to women.

“Alright then, let’s see your stance, sweet pea.”

You blink, pulling yourself from the trance of Bob’s biceps and meeting his eye. “My— My what?”

“Your stance,” Bob repeats. “Let’s say you’re trying to punch me, how would you start?”

“Like this?…” You trail off unsurely, attempting to keep your feet in line with your hips because that’s what most workout YouTube videos always said and you were hoping it would also be applicable here. 

You feel a little silly, you realize, and not the least bit intimidating. Part of you wishes you’d just asked Bob out like you wanted to, instead of using his job as a pretense to hangout with him. When another tall, large man starts approaching from behind Bob, you drop the stance in mild embarrassment, like you’ve been caught trying something you shouldn’t, and Bob’s brows furrow.

“Hey Reaper, you lookin’ to—” When the man’s focus lands on you, having not been able to see you behind Bob’s towering frame, his eyes widen slightly. “Oh shit, my bad. Didn’t know you had a girl with ya, Reaper.”

Bob freezes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, um, maybe another time, Brigham.”

The man nods in understanding, throwing you a polite wave as he leaves. “For sure, man. Sorry for interrupting.”

You wait for him to walk away, nose scrunched in confusion. Bob seems to be acting like the whole event never happened, moving through his routine like it was never interrupted. It throws you a bit because, to you, that man seemed perfectly normal. But Bob’s almost putting up an act of normalcy. “Why does he call you that?”

“Why does he call me what?” Bob returns the question, not facing you as he grabs two strike pads. 

“Reaper.”

He stills, a pad halfway on his hand and he keeps his gaze stubbornly trained on it. You almost feel like you’ve ventured into territory that you shouldn’t until he finally speaks.“I… I love spicy food. It’s Reaper like a Carolina Reaper.”

“Oh,” you nod and Bob finishes putting on the strike pads. “That’s cool! I guess that probably counts as my question too, huh?”

Bob swallows, not quite meeting your eye as he nods. “Yeah, um, you ready to start?” You grin at his question and it seems like Bob can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto his lips. “I’m never gonna learn anything about you if you keep counting these as questions, sweet pea.”

“That’s a shame. You’ll just have to get better at asking questions then,” you shrug and then look down in baffled surprise when the weight of your hands snapped your arms straight back to your sides. Boxing gloves are heavy.

Bob lets out a loud, honest laugh at your expression. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, you realize. Maybe the first time anyone has heard him laugh if the startled reactions of people around you are anything to go by. But you look up and Bob’s eyes are squeezed shut, his face all crows feet and smile lines, and he laughs. 

You want to make him laugh all the time.

“Sorry,” he quiets down to soft chuckles, looking at you endearingly as his mouth returns to its usual small smile. “Sorry, that was just— I’ve never seen anyone make that face before.”

“It’s okay. I like when you laugh.”

Like some kind of fucked up Freudian slip, your mouth doesn’t stop when it’s supposed to, instead choosing to spill out the thought that’s been orbiting your mind for the past minute or so. The words hang in the air—your mouth choosing now to finally close, your teeth hitting each other audibly—and you almost wish you could punch them instead of Bob’s strike pads. 

Bob’s bright pink from cheeks, to ears, to neck and he looks down. “Thank you… I, um, I also like when you laugh.”

“Oh.” Most of your mortification washes away as Bob smiles at you bashfully and you can’t stop the butterflies that are fluttering in your stomach. “Thanks.”

It’s quiet and you look down at your boxing gloves as you try to beg the butterflies inside you to go back to their caterpillar state so that you can calm down. Bob doesn’t seem to be faring much better, turning his neck to peer out one of the many windows in Maverick’s—a blush still very evident on his face.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” You blurt.

Bob turns back to look at you quickly. “Sorry?”

“For 20 questions.” You elaborate. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Oh, right,” Bob looks up for a moment to think. “Probably cookie dough, I think.” He holds the strike pads up suddenly and you cringe internally at the reminder of what you’ve agreed to do just to spend time with this man. “Sorry, you came here for a lesson. We can—”

Your eyes widen slightly and you try to prolong the inevitable. “It’s your turn to ask a question,” you interrupt hastily. 

Bob drops his hands, looking at you thoughtfully and not saying a word. You wonder if he’s finally caught on to how desperate you’re acting. You’d hyped yourself up this morning and everything! And yet you are still acting like an idiot.

Bob swallows, lets out a breath, and then meets your eye. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

What Bob Floyd wants to do and what he knows he should do are two very different things, and it was in meeting you that Bob realized he is far more inclined to do what he wants. Because he told Mickey that he wouldn’t ask you out, that you’re too good for him, that he would leave you alone. And here he is waiting outside a restaurant you suggested, wearing a nice button up and slacks like he’s some sort of Mav clone after having spent a little over half an hour slicking back his hair and gathering his nerves.

Which is entirely the opposite of leaving you alone.

Briefly, he wonders if he should go. Act like a dick in that regard and make it so you don’t want him around you anymore. Leave you waiting for him at a restaurant wondering if Bob Floyd is really the good person you thought he was. But he can’t stomach the thought for more than a second. Because he doesn’t deserve you, he knows that, but you're both well past that now so there’s not much he can do about it. The least he could do is try.

“Oh gosh, sorry! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

Bob turns around at the sound of your voice, mouth opening to assure you that he really hasn’t been waiting that long. But his eyes land on you and suddenly words escape him. You’re so pretty.

“Fuck, I should have brought flowers.” He takes in your dress, and then his words, and then cringes. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t curse on a date.”

You laugh, looking up at him with a smile Bob thinks is far too large for him to be on the receiving end of. “It’s okay. And, um, next time we can both get each other flowers.”

Bob moves to open the door for you, which he knows he should do, so he can distract himself from the sudden urge he has to kiss you, which he really wants to do. You follow after him, sliding off your jacket as you enter the dimly lit restaurant. Bob hasn’t been here before and it seems you haven’t either, as you look a little disoriented searching for the hostess. 

“Sorry, I’ve never actually eaten here,” you explain after the hostess makes her way to the both of you and seats you at a table. “I’ve just always wanted to check it out and their reviews say they have really good spicy food, so I thought you might like it.”

Bob has never been more grateful that growing up with Mickey Garcia meant being force fed every pepper in existence under the pretense of double-dog dares and weekly allowances. Because of that, he’s built up a fairly high spice tolerance to match the lie he told you at Maverick’s. Again, Bob’s stomach twists at the reminder.

“But anyway,” you wave off, pulling Bob’s attention away from his inner turmoil and onto you. “I’ve been thinking about what questions to ask you and I think I got the most important ones.”

“Alright, hit me.” Bob nods, rubbing the tips of his fingers together nervously under the table. 

You make a sour face suddenly. “Don’t even use that as an expression around me, my arms are still sore from Wednesday.” 

Bob chuckles, ducking his head down to hide his smile as you rub out your arms with a slight pout. “I’ll let you borrow a massage gun.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.” You narrow your eyes teasingly. “But you should know that I box now and my trainer is really good, so I know how to kick your ass.”

Bob smiles and he realizes he likes the sound of being your trainer—well, he likes the sound of being your anything. And he knows that isn’t a thought he should be having, not with how much he’s lied to you, but as the waitress takes your order and you tease him for the fact he ordered a soda, Bob doesn’t want to throw that thought away. He wants to keep doing this with you and listen to you laugh, and ask him questions, and tell him how you’ll kick his ass. He knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to.

“Okay,” you look at him seriously. “What’s the movie that means the most to you?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. “Probably The Notebook. It’s my mom’s favorite movie and we’d watch it all the time - movie nights, if I was home sick, it was just kind of our thing. So, yeah, The Notebook.”

When Bob looks up, you’re smiling at him, eyes twinkling under the orangey-yellow bulb that hangs from the long ceiling light above your table. Normally he would have picked a cooler movie, he doesn’t entirely know why he’s being so honest with you. Maybe it’s his brain’s way of combating the guilt that comes from when he’s lied to you. Maybe, if he’s honest enough, it’ll balance out.

“What about you though?” He asks. “Do you have a movie that means the most to you?”

Your mouth falls open. “Hey! You can’t just repeat my question, that’s cheating!”

Bob chuckles at your outcry—and the way you nudge his leg with your own under the table. “I don’t think you can cheat at 20 questions, sweet pea. Besides, maybe I really wanna know what movie means the most to you.”

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But you can cheat at 20 questions and you just did.” You nudge his knee again before thinking. “I’d say Ratatouille as mine.” Smiling softly, you recall a memory. “It’s what inspired me to care so much about food, I think. I’d watch it and dream of working in Paris just like Remy.”

“Do you still want to work in Paris?”

You purse your lips pensively. “No, I don’t think so. I love San Diego, I don’t think I could leave. Even for Paris. What about you? Do you see yourself staying a boxing instructor?”

“Yeah,” Bob swallows down a sip of his Coke, but it does nothing to push down the honesty erupting from his mouth. “It’s just one of those jobs that makes you feel like you couldn’t do anything else, I guess. But there are worse jobs to have.”

The waitress comes back with your food before you can respond—Bob’s somewhat grateful for that as he’s not entirely sure if he wants to hear what you’ll say to his answer. Your game of 20 questions is paused, conversation flowing easily between the two of you, and Bob finds himself smiling, and chuckling—and laughing—between mouthfuls. He likes you, he knew that already. But he wants you too. And he knows he shouldn’t, but right now, under orangey-yellow lights and with the taste of Coca-Cola on his tongue, he can’t bring himself to care.

It isn’t until you’re saying goodbye, as he helps you put your coat on and opens the door for you, that he even remembers you had yet to finish your game.

“Wait!” You stop at the sound of his voice, turning to look at him as you stand on the sidewalk and Bob takes a few strides to meet you. “It’s— It’s your turn. You have the last question.”

You bite back a smile and Bob’s glad it’s somewhat dark out so you can’t catch how pink you’ve made him—again. But you’re looking up at him so intently, he’s sure you’ve noticed anyway.

“I’m gonna save it,” you say.

“Save it?”

“Yeah.” And as you stand there, under the warm light of the restaurant's frosted windows grinning at him, Bob swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “So I guess we’ll just have to go on another date.”

join my Bob Floyd taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd imagines #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd angst #bob floyd au #bob imagine #bob imagines #bob x reader #bob fluff #bob angst #bob au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #sweeter than sugar #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

[dusty-grrl-bones]

I recently got back into RE4 and leon has been flooding my mind sooo.....

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

As the title suggests I very recently got back into RE4 and just leon headcannons and thoughts have been popping up in my head so here are a few just to get the ball rolling, you can ask or comment if you want one to be made into a full fic but for now let move onto the list!!

1!> Leon totally rests his head on your thighs, 100%, no questions asked, he loves it and finds it so relaxing

2!> even though he's gone half the time when he comes back he is just as/more romantic as he was when you last saw him.

3!> he's secure but also a little jealous, like he doesn't mind guys flirting with you in front of him, but when he's away he just gets so nervous and constantly calls or texts you to make sure he's still your 1 and only.

4!> even if he's gone, if you're on your period or just having a bad day in general he will be there for you. Hell, if he's just at work he'll drop what he's doing just to go see and help you.

5!> if you want to watch something but he doesn't like it he'll beg and plead to either watch something you both like or nothing at all

6!> If he's gone when he wants to propose he will send all of it in the mail or if he's coming home sooner than later then he'll wait but being the more needy person he is he'll probably just send it to you, and if he gets back before you get it he'll surprise you with it

7!> He'd do anything for you, *wear* anything for you. "You really want me to wear that...?... okay" is all he'd really say as it actually doesn't bother him, he's just curious where you got the idea to put him in a big hot pink dress from; and who gave you the idea to have him wear a tiara with it.

8!> When he comes back from a mission he gets really sleepy and kinda lazy (natrually) to the point where for a few days he just stays home and cuddles you, you and your warmth making him relax and feel better.

9!> He LOVES baking, especially with you. It calms him down and let's him spend time with you and when he's all done he gets to eat his sweet little treats

10!> speaking of sweet treats, he goes all out for valentines day, he makes sure you both call in sick, he goes out with you for tea in the morning then you two go out for brunch then an hour or two later you both are eating lunch at a picnic table. After dinner to make you feel even more special he does you a small favor and takes care of you for the night. (Interpret tht last part as you wish.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

That was it!! Like I said ask/request anything tbh I'll write about anything for anything!!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #he loves you #sweeter than sugar #hes so bbg #male wife material

[kylesgirltroubles]

day 1

hes a vry healthy guy

#i cant remember kyles coffee order im such a fake fan #its like 2 cream 2 sugar IDK I DONT DRINK COFFEE #that cojld b normal 4 all ik #mayb its like a cup of cream w/sugar based coffee #all ik is that its sweeter than others bc uh reactions #anyways paint water 4 him #paint water is vry healthy & helps ur kyle rayner grow #salt skittles is good as a treat #dont give him 2 much or hell bcome addicted like mine is

[euesworld]

"You are so sweet, much sweeter than I.. I almost get a sugar rush just from looking into your eyes."

You are so beautiful, almost as if I am looking at flowers.. I fall just like the rain of April showers - eUë

#you are so sweet #you are sweet #sweet like honey #sweet things #sweets #sweetness #sweet #sweeter than sugar #sweeter than honey #sugar rush #looking into your eyes #looking at you #looking at her #poem #poetry #poetic #beautiful #you are beautiful #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #love quotes #love #love quote life quotes #love quote for her #quoteoftheday #romance #romantic #fell in love #falling in love

[the-blathermouth]

New Sugary Spire video got me thinking of he

#sugary spire #old lore #candyman #rita spaghetti #heard his name and had to draw #feels nice to finally draw him #other two pictures are based off head cannon #to me he's addicted to sugar and also candy monsters are much sweeter than normal candy #rip coneboy #in more ways than one #my art

[rafesthroatbaby]

can’t sleep so i thought i’d leave you a little something. i love you sm. forever thankful to have you in my life. have the best day. muah! ❤︎

i just love asks from you, swear they’re the sweetest thing ever 🥲 so blessed fr, don’t make me blush 😭 love & got you forever ♥️

#my hoes #lyndys💖 #sweeter than sugar like I can’t even handle