Can you make a doue fanfic were his gf is very good at giving massages and could literally be a physiotherapist. After a long day of practice, desire was in pain and she massages his whole body (especially and and biceps) so he can feel better and releaved + she is enjoying touching his abs and making him feel good.
MASSAGE;
⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗
désiré doué x f!reader.
dating.
note: thanks for ur req!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a long training session, he comes home exhausted and you massage him.
“that bad?” you ask from the couch.
“i think the coach tried to kill me.”
you laugh as he slowly collapses beside you, stretching his legs out with another groan.
“everything hurts.”
“poor baby.”
“especially my back and my arms.”
you glance at him before smiling. “come here.”
“what?”
“lay down.”
his suspicion turns into hope almost instantly. “massage?”
“maybe,” you grin.
less than thirty seconds later, désiré is face-down across the bed.
“if this fixes me,” he mumbles into the pillow, “i might marry you twice.”
“yeah?” you smile, hands settled against his shoulders first.
“oh fuck,” he groans.
“that tense?”
“i can feel heaven.”
you’ve always been weirdly good at massages, everyone says it but désiré especially acts like your hands perform miracles every time he’s sore after training.
you work slowly along his shoulders and upper back, pressing firmly enough to make him melt deeper into the mattress with every passing minute.
“you should’ve become a physiotherapist,” he mumbles sleepily.
“too much studying.”
“wasted talent.”
you smile to yourself while your hands move lower across his back carefully, his muscles tense underneath your touch.
“does this hurt?” you ask quietly.
“mhm.”
“good or bad?”
“good.”
his voice already sounds heavier now, completely relaxed under your hands.
eventually you move toward his arms.
this part might secretly be your favorite because désiré’s biceps are literally unfair.
you slide your hands slowly down his arm, massaging carefully while he lets out another groan into the pillow and turns on his back so you can massage his head, but your hands go lower.
“you like this too much,” he mutters suddenly.
“what?” you smile innocently.
“massaging me.”
“me?”
he turns his head slightly just enough to look at you suspiciously.
“you keep touching my abs like they hurt me.”
“there is a reason...”
every single time you massage him, your hands somehow end up lingering against his stomach longer than necessary, but it's not your fault he looks like that.
“you’re literally flexing and don't want me to touch them,” you accuse.
“you keep touching me so...”
“that’s the point of a massage!”
he’s smiling lazy and soft while your hands slide carefully across his stomach again.
his abs tense instinctively underneath your touch, you bite back a grin.
“see?” he says. “you’re enjoying this.”
“maybe a little.”
“creep.”
you laugh softly before continuing the massage slower now, thumbs pressing gently against his lower stomach while he exhales deeply.
he looks so relaxed.
“feel better?” you whisper.
“way better,” his voice sounds sleepy.
you continue rubbing slowly along his arms and stomach while he practically sinks into the mattress then he reaches blindly for your wrist, stopping your hand for a second.
“what?”
he opens one eye slightly, looking up at you. “come here.”
you barely move before he pulls you down carefully beside him, one arm immediately wrapping around your waist despite how tired he was two seconds ago.
“thought your body hurt.”
“still.”
he presses a lazy kiss against your shoulder before burying his face into your neck.
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