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erenthology · 7 months

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Assertive

Rugby boyfriend!Eren x fem!reader

collage au, possessive but in an infatuated boyfriend type of way. Size differences are mentioned. No matter your size, Eren is bigger than you. (Note: going to be more active now that Aot is ending. Feel free to send requests ♡)

I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, cuz I’m ignoring you. “ he watches you bounce around the room in your thin, white nightdress.

You continue looking for your phone, ignoring him. There’s no way you haven’t searched every inch of his dorm room by now, so you finally look at him. He’s laying on the bed shirtless, hands behind his neck, looking at you innocently. That f’ckin bastard.

“Do you have my phone, Eren?”

He flashes his teeth, “ugh, baby, you have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice again. C’mere.” he pats his lap.

You sternly put your hand on top of your hip, arching it to the side, giving Eren the perfect view. “Do you have it or not?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.

”Do I? I'm not sure. You should come over and look,” stretching his arms out in an inviting pose.

Earlier, Eren’s roommate, Floch, made a joke about how he can hear when you and Eren are having sex. When you told Eren, he rushed out of the room and ordered Floch to apologize. Completely scolding him like a dad. You felt embarrassed since you didn’t want his friends to think you can’t take a joke.

You know he’s just going to grab and pull you towards him, so instead, you start walking towards the door. Eren tenses immediately and rushes towards you,

‘’Hey, hey” he grabs your hand. ”where do you think you’re going?’’ he questions with furrowed eyebrows.

‘’To ask if the guys have they’ve seen it?’’

His eyes flash red for a second. To have his friends see the outline of your nipples through that thin fabric of your so called pajamas? He looks you up and down, nope, not happening. You should be wearing his t-shirts to bed anyway.

‘’Not like that, you’re not,’’ he gives you an ‘’end of discussion’’ look, but you huff and turn anyway. Not that you get far at all, he has you slung over his shoulders before you’ve even fully turned.

The con of having a rugby player as a boyfriend is that he throws you around a lot without so much as breaking a sweat. When you’re mad at him, he has this irritating habit of lifting you off the ground and cuddling you until you’ve cooled down. Claiming it “breaks his heart watching you walk away angry.”

He walks towards the bed, ignoring your fists punching at his back. “You’re such a brat sometimes.” He doesn't mind at all though, Eren has the patience of a saint when it comes to his girl, he enjoys being the one to set you straight.

He carefully lies you down on his bed, positions himself on top and grins, ‘’gotcha,’’ then smacks a kiss on your cheek. ‘’You’re annoying.” you pinch his ear in retaliation.

“Ow, hey, you know you’re stronger than you look.” he scratches his reddened ear. ‘’I'm being deadass, baby, you could go pro in armwrestling or some shit.’’ You burst out laughing over how dramatic he’s being and his eyes lit up from the sound. Your smile always captivates him.

Feeling yourself being stared at, you grin cheekily, unable to hide your smile “weirdo, stop staring,’’ brushing your fingers against his stubble. His eyes follow the movement of your hand and begin tracing the shape of your figure when all of a sudden he starts attacking you in tickles.

You’re both advancing on each other playfully, laughing hysterically. In an attempt to roll out of his reach, Eren quickly reacts by by grabbing your hands and pins them above your head. The laughter is quickly replaced with heavy pants as you stare at him naively, your chest rising up and down.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he lets go of his grip and rests his head on your chest, “you know, it doesn’t matter if you’re mad. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable staying here.’’ he gently admits, then lifts his head,

‘’plus, I’m the only one who has a say about you in bed.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Gross,’’ you push his chest, apparently amusing him by the look on his face. ‘‘but it’s fine, really. I just wanted to ignore the situation, but I guess he should learn that not everything needs to be said.’’ At this, he grins and takes ahold of your chin,

‘’that’s a good girl.’’

You ignore the heat rising in your face and smack his hand away when you suddenly remember, ‘’speaking off, where is my phone? You know I need to do my nightly routine check.’’

He knows. It’s the reason he slipped it under his pillow the moment you started throwing a fit. It’s nice having the most predictable girl on the planet. ‘’You can do it later, let a man enjoy his girl for a moment. You can be mad at me after.’’

‘’I'm not mad at you’’ you look genuinely offended, causing him to snicker. “Besides, I kinda liked the whole sexy, scolding dad thing you had going on. It was kinda turning me on,” you admit, looking straight into his eyes.

His hands on your hips stiffen instantly and his whole demeanor changes. “Don’t even joke, [name] I will put a baby in you right this second,” large hands grab your ass and starts grinding your body against his.

You attempt to leave but he drags you right back, looking at you confused. Looking down, you purr, “I really need to do my routine check,” sticking out your lower lip for extra effect.

You love to rile him up and have him mock you for being greedy and bratty. His face gets closer to yours with his eyebrows all furrowed.

“Did you just pout at me?”

“Nuh uh,” you lie and tease your hand against his belt, Eren’s eyes follow your movements then trace back up to your face, where you’re innocently meeting his eyes.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and looks down at your hand playing against his bulge. ‘’You wanna get fucked?’’ he spits with disgust, or admiration. It’s hard to tell with him.

“Know you enjoy keeping me on edge, acting all innocent when we both know,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips. Thoughts on ways to tame you running wild in his head.

‘’Telling me it turned you on when I was commanding,’’ he shakes his head as if disappointed.‘’It's good I’m here to keep you in line. A girl like you needs that.’’

You feel the imprint of him on your stomach as his hips press you down on the bed, leaving you no space to leave. You try your best to keep your voice steady. “Just wanna make you happy,’ you breathe out. He almost laughs.

“You know what would make me happy?‘’ Eren stands and lifts you up with him.

‘’you with my cock in your mouth.” You almost go limp in his arms from how lewd he's being.

Giving you an expectant look, he nudges your nose with his, “are you waiting for something? get to work.” he guides you down on your knees towards his crotch. The carnal look in his eyes makes you fumble a bit with his belt, but Eren is patient. Sometimes you suspect he enjoys seeing you nervous to perform for him.

Pressing a kiss on the tip, he returns his gratitude by patting your hair in a domineering act, “make me proud.’’ he smiles, in which you relish. Keeping eye contact, you swirl your tongue around his shaft before hollowing your cheeks and start working your way down. You can’t help but gag at his size, no matter how often you blow him.

It’s been quiet for some time now and you’re growing impatient with the lack of praise. You decide to look up at him through the tears in your eyes and catch him smiling down at you. The scene feels so filthy you can’t help but slyly drag your fingers over your panties to relieve some of the pressure, secretly humping your hips against your hand to the sound of his pants.

He just nearly cums in your mouth when he notices what you’re up to. Shamelessly playing with yourself, mouth filled with cock, you look straight out of Eren’s nastiest fantasies, it was perfect.

He bends down and pulls your hand out from under your nightdress, “Not yet, need you to be a good girl for me.’’ Then he does the hottest thing all night, he leans down to give it a kiss. You love him. He makes you feel like a princess getting fucked by her knight.

Feeling enthusiastic again, you eagerly reach for him to continue where you left off, but are stopped yet again. Whining, you wait for him any sort of command, just to do something, anything! but he looks so unaffected it’s making you wail even louder.

“stop whining, you don’t deserve to suck my dick.” Despite the warning, you almost do it again but stop yourself when you notice the glare you’re given. “But I really needa feel you, Eren. It hurts down there.” you were so wet it felt like you were about to explode from the lack of release.

He's only a man after all, even he has his limits when you wail pathetically about how wet your pussy is. Now he needs to have a look. He pulls you up by your torso, ‘’does sucking me off make you wet?’’ You nod and visibly see his ego lit up.

A thin sheen of sweat connects your bodies as he effortlessly carries you over to his bed. You take advantage of your flexibility and spread your legs as far apart as you can once he lays you down, earning a groan out of him.

He doesn't hesitate a moment further to push his face in there and peek under your dress. “such a pretty cunt, princess. no idea how often I jerk off thinking about it, about this,” kissing through your soaked panties. Your hips jerk upwards at his erotic words, desperate for friction.

“Eren, please”

He pushes your panties to the side but keeps them on. It’s like he’s so needy for you he can’t be bothered to take off either of your clothes properly, but patient enough to check out every inch of you as if seeing you like this for the first time.

Eren’s broad body consumes your smaller frame as you lie beneath him. You love this feeling, him shielding your body from anyone and anything but himself.

His ring covered fingers play softly with your bud, observing your reactions before lining himself against you, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. The sight of Eren being almost abnormally endeavored by your pussy as he spits on his hand and pumps his cock, increases the heat pooling in your abdomen.

You lie still, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing and tapping himself against you. His eyes are fixated entirely on your cunt and you enjoy every bit of the attention. Not to say you’re not curious about what goes on in his mind when he’s focused and quiet like this. Like your body is art and he is studying and memorizing every part of it.

Once satisfied, he pushes through the tight hindrance and sucks in a breathe, “oh, fuck.” and finally looks up at you. His heart stops a beat when he’s reminded of how beautiful you are. The urge to hide you away from anyone's eyes but his, hits him strong but he bites it back.

Time slows for a moment as you both take each other in through half lidded eyes, and for some reason, your vision has never been as clear. His fingers thread through yours as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed. Eren grins and places one last kiss on your forehead before thrusting his way in.

He’s fucking you with his hips, hard. Hands pressing down your pelvic, holding you still for him to ram into. The strap of your nightdress has slightly fallen down your shoulders, so he pushes the fabric that’s hiding you from him down further, and exposes your breasts. The moan he lets out from the sight is pure filth.

‘’Touch yourself.’’ he demanded, pupils dilated. With glazed over eyes, you comply and start playing with yourself, twisting and grazing your nipples. The act drives him to lift your hips to reach deeper into you,’’really thought i’d let you walk out of my room looking like this.’’ he grows almost annoyed at the thought.

Tenderly cupping his cheek, he almost flinches from how lovingly you’re looking at him, “You’re all I want, Eren.’’ and he almost melts. When you say things like that it makes him want to keep you to himself even more, resting his forehead against yours, he looks at you with almost a pained expression. ‘’that’s good, because i'm a selfish man.’’

With your legs lifted around his waist and upper body sprawled on the bed, you’re essentially at his mercy as he connects your bodies in repeated thrusts. Again, again and again, the sound of him pushing into you echoes in the room.

He fucks like a deprived man and speaks like a man in love. “Does it feel good, princess?’’ You nod with lovestruck eyes. ‘’Yeah? taking me so well. making me so proud.’’ The pressure feels too intense, about to snap.

He’s stretching you on his cock and looking straight into your eyes as he's doing it. Your body dissolves into pleasure as you writhe beneath him.

Your body starts squirming uncontrollably, causing him to grip your hips ever tighter, overpowering you in strength. You let out a loud sob and rake your nails on his back when your vision suddenly fades to black. He stares at you, astonished.

He raises an eyebrow, “did you just cum?” the thusting has stopped completely now but you felt his dick twitch inside you as he asked. “Tried to hold it in for you,” you stare back apologetically, eyes still sprinkled with lust. Best part is, he knows you didn’t. And you know it too.

“Turn around,” he orders. You obey and slump towards the bed with your back against him, hiding your face in the pillows. “Don’t act all shy with me now, let’s see your face,” he leaves no room for discussion, so you slowly turn your head and face him. He looks so big staring down at you from your vulnerable position. “That’s a good, good girl.”

Next thing you know, your cheeks are being spread and played with. Still high on ecstasy from the orgasm you just had, the energy to perform is nonexistent, so he does the job for you.

Huge hands angle your limp body upwards, then press down your back to create a beautiful arch, only for his eyes to admire. He sinks back inside and buries his cock in your warmth.

It’s hard maintaining eye contact with him when he’s like this, it feels so shameless, almost taboo, still, you can’t look away. He’s pounding into you, pulling your hips hard against him.

“This is what you’re making me do, looking at me like that. No one else will ever be able to see you like this,” he occupies his thumb by rubbing it over your clit. The contact is so delicate but rapid nonetheless.

You nod agreeably, barely able to register his words. “Are you close, Eren?’’

“Yeah,” his hands pressed down tightly on your lower abdomen, the scream you let out is almost inhumane. ‘’yes, yes.” you’re grinding back against him in heated motions, shockwaves of heat pumping through your body.

He snaps his pelvic against your ass and feels you sucking him right back in. He thinks back to what you said before about him as a dad and his eyes roll back. The thought of you carrying his child inside you makes him come undone.

“Ugh, fuck.” He comes audibly high etc, covering you in his cum. You expect him to catch his breath but he smoothly regains his composure and pushes you on your back, his thumb finding its way right back to your clit, barely even getting started before leading you to your second orgasm.

You scream in pleasure as he cups your face, lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, princess, you did so well for daddy. made me so proud.” he praises as he pushes your hair out of your face.

The lack of response makes him laugh, realizing he’d fucked you to sleep, litterally. chuckling, he grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up to his best effort.

You’re usually sleepy right after sex so this is a regular routine for you both. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head and covers you with his comforter then goes for a shower.

Once he’s done, he carries you up bridal style to the bathroom. “Wake up, sleepy.” he’s back to his sweet self. You grunt in response. “C’mon, you need to pee.’’ It’s true, so you comply and he leaves you to it.

This is a conversation you’ve both had before, he feels no need to leave when you do your business but you’ve kicked him out enough times so he knows the drill by now. Eren changes the bedsheets while you clean up.

When finished, you walk back to the bed and he opens his arm for you to rest on, your phone lying beside him. You jump at the invitation and he hugs you towards him, ‘’what do you feel like eating?’’ he’s playing with your hair as you lie comfortably on his arm.

“Not hungry.’’ you murmur.

Eren fights the urge to sigh. “Sorry, not up for debate.’’ He saves himself the trouble and orders for you both, knowing you’ll feel hungry once you see him eat.

When the food arrives, you end up wanting exactly what Eren ordered for himself.

‘’You’re a big baby.’’ he sulks and rolls his eyes, but feeds you nonetheless. You don’t miss the look on his face as you take a bite from his hand. One thing about Eren? he can and will fuck multiple times a day if you let him.

‘’down, boy. i’m not tryna have my guts rearranged after eating food.’’

He grins, ‘’I didn’t say anything’.’ knowing he’ll do exactly that when you’re done eating.

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sluttywoozi · 23 days

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Babydoll | csc x f!chubby!reader

Seungcheol takes you lingerie shopping, forgetting that he'll love every single thing just because it's on you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.0k | Pairing: csc x f!chubby!reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: lingerie fetish (mainly when it’s on you), semipublic sex, petnames, rich!cheol, sugar daddy vibes but they’re in love, cheol knows his lingerie, possessive cheol, praise, descriptions of reader’s body, thigh riding, biting, mirror sex, piv sex, creampie, panty stuffing

Reader Notes: chubby, shy but not insecure, has breasts and a vagina

“Right here, baby,” Seungcheol nods his head to the right, opening the door to the boutique and waiting for you to walk in ahead of him, ignoring the cursive ‘closed’ sign hanging on the inside.

The interior is modern, understated, with mannequins of different sizes modeling various pieces of lingerie, a few sticking out to Seungcheol as immediate try-ons. The director appears from a door near the back, smiling kindly when she takes notice of you and Seungcheol and gracefully making her way to the front of the store.

“Mr. Choi, I hope everything is to your liking. Please feel free to give me a call if you require assistance with anything,” she says, nodding and smiling at both him and you before slipping out of the front door.

Seungcheol follows after a beat, turning the lock and drawing the curtains hung on both sides of the gallery window.

“Cheol, what’s going on?” You ask him, standing where he left you, now cloaked in soft ambient lighting.

“We, my love, are going lingerie shopping,” he grins suggestively, returning to your side and taking your hand in both of his. “I know you get shy, so I made some arrangements. Nobody else will be coming in, not while we’re here.”

You seem stunned for a moment, but this isn’t the first time Seungcheol has emptied a building for you and it won’t be the last, so eventually, you just smile back and draw him in by the lapel for a kiss.

He presses his lips to yours, releasing your hand so he can grip your fleshy hips and pull you in closer. He loves how you feel in his grasp, loves the thickness of you, the sturdiness, though no matter how sturdy you may be, he still touches you with nothing but the most tender of hands. He feels lucky, blessed, to get to know you in this way, and treating you like the ethereal being you are is all he wants to do.

Well, that and clothe you in fabrics that are just as soft as you.

Silk, lace, chiffon, he wants to see you in them all, and as he pulls away, he lets his eyes traverse the boutique, imagining you in every single piece.

“Let’s start with this one,” he murmurs, reaching out to rub the cream satin on the mannequin between his fingers, already imagining the warmth of your body under it.

Together, you make your way around the store, Seungcheol holding every negligee and babydoll and romper you pick together over his arm. It feels like he’s got most of the inventory by the time you decide to try things on, and he can only follow when you lead him to the changing rooms.

He chose this boutique for a very specific reason - the pedestal and floor-to-ceiling trifold mirror that occupy each dressing room. There’s an armchair and a dressing screen placed in the largest, per his request, and after hanging up every piece in the corner where you can reach them, he takes his seat.

The screen is translucent, with gold floral piping and shiny gossamer fabric stretched over each panel, your body just barely visible behind it as you get undressed. His heart skips a beat when you carefully drape your clothes over the top of the screen, and it starts to race as you change into your first set.

Seungcheol fucking loves you in lingerie. He loves the way it outlines his favorite parts of you, the way it lovingly caresses your body just like his hands do, the way you automatically feel sexy and a little playful in it. You in lingerie is the most beautiful form of torment for him, and it’s a torment he’ll be lucky to endure for the rest of his life.

“Ready?” You call out from behind the screen, and he clears his throat before responding, “‘m always ready for you, baby.”

Then you appear from behind the screen and step up onto the pedestal, and instantly, he knows he was lying.

You’ve chosen a lilac romper first, with unlined lace on the top that clings to your luscious breasts and waist and tiny shorts on the bottom that graze the tops of your thick thighs. You smooth your hands along your body, lifting the hem of the shorts and letting them flutter down, your lips quirking in a small smile.

It’s adorable that your first instinct was to show him rather than look in the mirror, but he wants to see the back as much as he wants you to see the front.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he instructs gently, leaning back in the chair and letting his legs spread.

You carefully rotate on the pedestal, and Seungcheol wishes he could see your face as you take in your own beauty but he’s just as happy to let his eyes rove over your body from this new angle.

The delicate lace dips with the rolls on your back and follows the gentle curve of your spine, and the chiffon of the shorts isn’t long enough to cover all of you, the crease where your ass meets your thighs visible just below the hem. He wants to bite you there, wants to leave imprints of himself all over you, wants to sink his teeth into your precious flesh and never let go.

He'll be content with the diamond ring he put on your finger six months ago instead.

“Do you like it?” You ask softly, still facing away from him with a slight undercurrent of nervousness in your voice.

He furrows his brows, wondering how you could still be nervous after three years of him looking at you like you’re an angel. But he’ll never not reassure you, so all he says is, “I love it, baby, you look fucking gorgeous.”

You spin and hop down from the pedestal, taking a few steps toward him and bracing yourself on his knees before leaning down for a kiss. He grins fondly and pouts for you, fighting to keep his hands to himself as the position pushes your perfect tits together. If he breaks now, there’s no way you’ll get through the rest of the lingerie, and he wants to make sure everything fits you perfectly before he calls the director back to package them all up.

“Next,” you whisper into his mouth before pulling away and darting behind the dressing screen.

He takes in a deep breath and rubs his hands up and down his thighs, trying to dispel the urge to follow you and take more than a peek. Maybe he was a bit overconfident in thinking he’d make it through all of the lingerie…

A few different pieces should be enough for you to know your size, right?

Right, he nods to himself, barely sure that he can withstand this self-inflicted siege for two more outfits.

He becomes even less sure when he hears you huffing and puffing behind the screen, presumably wriggling into something tight and form-fitting and fuck, does he love your form, especially when it’s outlined by mesh and lace and-

“Cheollie, can you help me with this one?”

His eyes squeeze closed, just for a few seconds, before he gathers all of his remaining strength, stands, and ambles over to the corner. He does his best not to look at your body as he steps around the screen, knowing that if he sees you in an undone state, it’ll be enough to undo him.

“I just can’t get the middle,” you turn your head slightly to speak to him, and he thumbs your cheek with an understanding noise, unable to manage words when he finally sees what you’ve got partially on.

He can’t see the front, but because of the clasps, he can tell it’s a bustier. The white mesh molds to every curve and the blue piping highlights your waist and hips, drawing his eye toward the matching underwear, which, truly, are little more than ribbons joined together in a T-shape.

He doesn’t let his gaze linger on the plump curve of your ass, brings it back up to the task at hand and manages to fasten the middle hook-and-eye closures even with his fingers trembling in desire and restraint.

Usually when he’s finished doing something up for you, whether it’s the clasp of a necklace or the zipper of a dress, he squeezes your waist to let you know. Now, that’s not a smart move because once he starts touching you, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

So he murmurs a low, “Done, baby,” and returns to his seat. You don’t come out immediately and he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t mind having this extra time to collect himself.

Then you prance out in fucking thigh high stockings snapped into the garters attached to the bustier and he feels his mind go entirely blank. There’s no inner monologue, no loud swearing, no gushing compliments, just the image of you in a blue floral embroidered set with matching hosiery and the most minuscule panties he’s ever fucking seen.

Your skin shines against the colors of the lingerie and the shape of the set embraces every hill and valley of your body, the dip of your waist and the beloved pudge of your belly and the fullness of your thighs and your breasts…

Your breasts in the balconette style bra have him salivating, have him aching to bury his head in the softness and just breathe you in, feel you pressed up against his cheeks, keeping him warm, keeping him safe.

“Speechless?” You tease lightly, spinning on the stockinged pads of your feet to face the mirror.

He can’t even respond to your little gibe, his thoughts riotous, wild with need. Your lush ass is all but bare, your flesh pushing against the tautness of the garters, his fingers itching to pull them just to watch the fat of your ass and thighs ripple as they snap back onto your skin. He feels like he could vibrate out of this chair, his self-control wavering in the wake of your divinity.

He watches your smile slowly fade in the mirror, the heat in his blood spreading into yours, making you squirm on the pedestal until he gathers enough of his brain cells to say, “C’mere, darling.”

It’s not smart, making you come closer, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out any more than he can stop his hands from rising to grip your hips as soon as you get to him. You’re warm between his palms, cushy even with the mesh containing you, and it’s almost like he operates on autopilot as he drags the sides of your panties out from under the bustier and hikes them up.

He pulls until you gasp, and he wants to look at your face but he can’t take his eyes off of the way your plush pussy is parted by the scrap of lacy fabric, the lips of your cunt popping out of the sides just like he wanted. Now, all the pressure is on your clit, and it’s easy to set his hands on your hips and pull you down, down, down until you sit on one of his thighs.

Finally, he looks at you, his gaze lovingly traveling up your body, lingering on the swift rise and fall of your tits before at long last reaching your face. Your lips are parted, still shiny with your favorite gloss, and your brows are furrowed over hazy eyes, your lashes fluttering when he drags you forward and pushes you back.

“Want you to cum like this,” he mutters, knowing you’re close enough to hear him and waiting for the protest he’s sure will follow.

“Seungcheol! This is- we can’t- not here!” You sputter, pressing your hands to his chest as if you could hold him at bay.

“And why is that?” He asks gently, grinding you back and forth again, watching as you start to lose your resolve.

“Because this is someone’s store, it’s not… it’s not right,” your voice is breathy, quiet, your objection feeble.

“You’re not wrong, honey, this is someone’s store. It’s our store, I bought it last week,” he says in between kisses to the tops of your breasts, smiling when he feels your chest heat up under his mouth.

“You- you…”

“Yeah, baby, I knew I’d want to fuck you here, and I knew you wouldn’t let me if it belonged to someone else, so I bought it and put your name on the lease.”

You’re silent for a few ticks, and then he feels you grind into his thigh of your own volition.

“Carry on,” you sigh, draping your arms around his neck in obvious assent.

He grins and leans back, sliding further down in the chair so you have more room to move and gripping your hips tighter to guide you into going just a bit quicker. He flexes the muscle of his thigh, smirking when you tilt your head back and let out a tiny whimper. His smirk falls when you brace one hand at the top of his leg, dangerously close to his thickening cock, and lean forward into your thrusts to put more pressure on your clit.

He loves to watch you take your pleasure like this, loves to feel your arousal dampen the material of his dress pants, loves to hear your little sounds as they escape your parted lips. He loves you, more than he ever thought possible, and he loves to make you cum almost as much.

That’s why he shifts his grip to your ass, digs his fingers in deep, and pulls at your flesh to move you harder, faster against his leg. He knows time is passing but it doesn’t feel like it when he has you on top of him like this, all of his focus on you and the way you look and sound and feel.

He can tell you’re getting close when your eyelids fall shut and your noises start to blend together, so he does what he knows will help send you over the edge - he talks to you.

“My baby is so fucking pretty, huh? All dressed up just for me, just for your fiance. I can’t wait to marry you, make you my pretty fuckin’ wife. You’re already mine, I know that, but I want everyone else to know it too, know that I’m the only one who gets to touch you, love you, make you cum. And you are gonna cum for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, Cheollie, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you breathe out, your thighs clenching around his as you start to bounce. He helps lift you so you don’t strain your knees too much, loving the weight of you in his hands, in his lap.

“And then you’re gonna put on one last thing, that pink babydoll dress, and I’m gonna fuck you in it, so don’t bother with the panties,” he says roughly, his voice low and greedy.

You can only whine in response, your hips stuttering and your body tensing as you tumble over the edge. He doesn’t know where to look, his eyes darting between your juddering thighs and your heaving breasts and your sweet, sweet face, every perfect part of you reflecting the pleasure rushing through your system.

When your orgasm has run its course, you wilt into him, dropping forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath. He gives your ass one last loving squeeze before his hands migrate up to your back, rubbing soft circles and luxuriating in the feeling of your mesh encased curves.

“You’re gonna have to help me peel all this off,” you mumble into his suit jacket, making him chuckle and bring one hand up to pet your hair. “With pleasure, honey.”

You sit up after a few more minutes of snuggling, a grimace overtaking your face when you look down and see the wet patch you left on his thigh. These pants are dry-clean only but he doesn’t give a fuck, will proudly hand them over knowing that the stain is from you, his beautiful, responsive fiancee.

“Got one more in you?” He asks gently, cupping your cheek and drawing you into a kiss before you have a chance to answer, hoping that he can sway you toward a yes. Humming, you drag your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver before you pull away to giggle lethargically and clarify, “Orgasms or wardrobe changes?”

“Both,” he laughs easily. “Orgasms, if I can only pick one.”

“I think I can muster enough energy for both in this instance,” you offer pragmatically, standing on shaky legs and shuffling off his thigh.

He misses the warmth and weight of you immediately, but knows you getting up is a requirement if he wants to make good on his earlier promise. You turn and he unlatches the clasps along your spine, dragging his hands down your body and unsnapping the backs of your garters so you don’t have to twist around to reach them. He steals one more indulgent squeeze of your hips before rotating you back to face him and taking care of the front garters too.

His fingers hook in the sides of your ruined panties and start to pull them down, his knuckles dragging along your soft skin until they fall on their own. Used to this by now, you step out of the panties and watch as he picks them up, carefully folds them, and places them in his breast pocket, leaving the fabric peeking out as if they’re a pocket square.

With a kiss to his cheek, you disappear behind the screen again. He takes the opportunity to undo his pants and pull them down just far enough to release his cock, sighing at the relief of being unconstrained. He can hear you rifling through hangers to find the outfit he requested, and has to press a palm to his throbbing dick as he imagines you in it.

Still, he’s unprepared for the impact you have on him when you shyly step out and up onto the pedestal clothed in pink lace so delicate and sheer, he can see every part of you. Your heavy breasts fill the soft, unlined cups, your nipples taut and peaked beneath the lace, making his fingers tingle with the desire to pinch, twist, pull.

He forces his eyes to keep moving, to take in the rest of you. His gaze latches onto your stomach next, the way the dress grazes over the robust curve of it enough to make him wish his hands could do the same.

He wants to leave your pussy for last but finds his gaze drawn between your legs, to the cushion of your pubic mound and the creases where it meets your thighs, those creases being some of his absolute favorite places to kiss. You’re just always so warm, and you smell so good, and feel even better.

He’s cum there before, watched it pool and drip down the inside of your thigh, gathered it up with his fingers and fed it to you with rapturous eyes, and fuck if he doesn’t want to do it again.

But he thinks he wants to cum inside you more, wants to fill you up and know you’ve got part of him within you, even if it’s only until he gets you home and into the bath. And then perhaps into more lingerie.

First, he gets to fuck you, and he’s already got his plan for that in mind.

“Come sit, honey,” Seungcheol pats his thighs in invitation, his eyes locked on the way your thighs rub together when you step down and walk to him. You take hold of his shoulders, lifting a leg to climb on top of him, and he stops you with his hands on your hips, his fingers clenching enough to ruffle the lace.

“Not like that. Turn around, I want you to see,” he murmurs, waiting for you to rotate between his palms to pull you closer, your hands bracing on the armrests of the chair for balance as you start to bend. “Need me to stretch you out first, sweetheart?”

“No,” you gasp out and shake your head, continuing, “I’m wet enough, I just wanna feel you.”

So he grasps the base of his cock, holds it up for you, and starts tugging you down with the hand still on your hip, watching as your pussy slowly envelopes the head. His eyelids start to droop at the perfect pressure of you but he fights to keep them open, even as your walls cling to the thickness of him. He can feel you consciously relaxing your muscles, opening yourself up to accept him, and he thanks you with a kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze on the hip.

Once he’s halfway inside, you take in a deep breath and sink the rest of the way down, until his pelvis is flush to your ass and he’s fully seated inside of you. Your pussy flutters around him, still trying to adjust to the width of his cock, every ripple of your muscles around him stealing just a bit more of his self-control.

He knows you’re ready when you wriggle a bit in his lap to get more comfortable, and that’s when he grips your thigh and pulls it to rest on the other side of his knee, doing the same with your other leg until you’re spread out for him. He looks over your shoulder into the mirror, his eyes traveling along your tits, your stomach, your thighs, before landing on your pussy. The lacy pink fabric of your dress covers you but he can just barely see your cunt peeking through, and he murmurs, mainly to himself, “Nothing better than my baby in a babydoll.”

Then he wraps his arms around you, one hand clutching your breast and the other bunching up the dress so he can see you clearly, and holds you in place as he draws his hips back as much as he can and fucks up into you. He doesn’t have a lot of room to really thrust but you like it deep and dirty, like when he grinds into you and makes you feel it, and more than that, you like being on display for him as he does it.

You definitely are now, like this, with your legs held apart by his and his hand holding your lingerie up so you can both see the strain of your entrance around his thick cock, a sheen gathering on his balls when he pushes your wetness out with a deep grind of his hips. He’s obsessed with the picture you make, like something out of an obscene Renaissance painting, one he’d pay millions for if it meant you could see yourself through his eyes.

You’re his own personal Venus, a goddess of the highest order, and he’ll worship you in this life, the next, and in any that follow.

His brand of worshiping just happens to include dressing you up like a doll and fucking you like you’re his only vice, which isn’t far from the truth. Seungcheol has everything a man could wish for - money, property, respect, authority - and he’d give it all up if he was forced to choose between maintaining that lifestyle and keeping you.

Because what’s the point of any of it if he doesn’t have love? Someone with whom to share the wealth? He’s played the lonely millionaire before and that’s not a role he wants to reprise, not when he knows the incandescent happiness of coming home to you.

And of cumming inside of you, that avaricious voice in his head whispers, chasing away his sentimental thoughts and replacing them with raw desire. Every nerve ending feels like a live wire, amplifying the impossible bliss of your wet pussy around his cock and your flawless body in his arms.

He’s still grinding into you but he can tell you need more, so he hikes you up higher against his chest and plants his feet, giving him enough room to start pounding into you. He’s lost his view but that just lets him cut to the feeling, focus on your sounds and scent and searing hot cunt. He sucks open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of your shoulder, digging his teeth into the nape of your neck, unable to stifle the urge to consume you, to devour you whole.

You raise your hand and reach behind you, sinking your fingers into his hair to pull him closer, your nails scratching along his scalp and sending zips of electric pleasure down his spine. With every thrust, he can feel that knot starting to tie itself, feel it cinching tighter and tighter as your walls ripple around him, but he’ll be damned if he lets himself cum before you.

“Baby, hold this up for me,” he says roughly into your back, waiting for your free hand to grip the dress and take over so he can shift his fingers down between your legs. “Keep watching.”

You cry out as soon as his fingertips graze your clit, your pussy swallowing around him, drawing him in even deeper when he starts to swirl circles around the bundle of nerves. You’re slick and swollen beneath his fingers, and if he wasn’t so desperate to feel you cum on his cock, he’d make you cum on his tongue instead.

He can save that for after the bath, he tells himself, devoting all of his attention to working you up to that edge and pushing you over. It won’t be long now, not with the way you’re squirming in his hold, your legs twitching on either side of his and your pussy leaking enough that he can feel your arousal dripping down his balls.

He’ll never get enough of the way you respond to him, of how sensitive you are to his every move, of how you cradle him with both your body and your heart, and he’ll definitely never get enough of how it feels to have you break around him.

He can feel it happening now, sense the wave as it overtakes you, pulling you under and spinning you out as he bullies his way through your trembling walls to fuck you through it, to elongate your euphoria as much as he can. When you melt against his chest, he knows it’s over, and that’s when he finally gives himself permission to lower you fully onto his cock, root deep inside of you, and let it all go.

He can’t hold in the grunts and groans of pleasure, your name scattered through swears as he falls to pieces, his only anchor to this earth being your luxurious weight in his lap. His cum flows out in bursts, filling you to the brim, and he forces his eyes open just in time to watch in the mirror as a ring of white forms where he’s plugging you up.

His cock starts to soften as he catches his breath and untenses his muscles, loosening his hold on you and petting at your flesh where he may have been gripping too tight. You sigh contentedly as he hugs you to him and murmurs, “So fuckin’ perfect, baby. Love you so goddamn much.”

“Love you too, Cheollie. I’m glad you bought this place, the walk of shame would be beyond embarrassing if it wasn’t ours,” you mumble, exhaustion clear in your voice.

He chuckles into your neck, presses a kiss to the curve where it meets your shoulder, and asks, “Ready for me to pull out?”

You nod and he matches your pout in the mirror as he lifts your legs one at a time to rest in between his, massaging your inner thighs and hoping you won’t be too sore from having them spread so far apart for so long. You stand and bend on shaky knees so he can withdraw from you, and he’s quick to pull the panties from his breast pocket and start to push them inside, blocking his cum from flowing out.

You’re used to this too so you just hum and arch your back, waiting patiently as he works the fabric in and takes a few seconds to indulge in the living art that is your plump pussy stuffed with panties. He pulls out a handkerchief from one of the pockets lining the inside of his suit and cleans you up gently, giving you a loving tap on the ass when he’s finished.

You let him choose what you’ll wear out of the store, his eyes naturally gravitating to a white lace set that makes him think of your upcoming wedding. You can do it yourself but he latches the hook and eye closures on the bra for you anyway, kneeling in front of you to pull up the panties and leaning forward to bite the side and snap it back against your skin, just because he can.

You giggle and pet his head in response, and he can’t help but look up at you with constellations in his eyes, his gaze full of stars that spell out his adoration for you, his devotion.

He lets you finish getting dressed as he bags up some of the pieces, leaving the rest at the counter to be delivered to the house and waiting at the door for you. When you appear, you look perfectly put together, almost like he didn’t have his way with you at all.

Then he grasps the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss and feels the indentations of his teeth, and nothing could stop the satisfied smile from stretching his lips.

Seungcheol loves lingerie shopping with you.

AN: inspired by this ask and @bbychocolat immediately saying lingerie shopping when i said i was going to write chubby!reader x cheol

Outfit 1 | Outfit 2 | Outfit 3

thank you for reading! pls reblog and lmk your thoughts 💖

My Masterlist

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punkshort · 4 months

Text

somewhere to run | 2. book club

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: An incident at the diner causes you to get shaken up, and Joel is there to help.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, mutual pining, PTSD type symptoms, flirting, jealousy, attempted robbery, reader gets mildly injured

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

"So you see why it's so important you keep on top of your oil changes, yeah?" Mr. Connor finished saying as you set down his plate of waffles and sausage. You nodded enthusiastically while you filled up his coffee.

"I was never really any good at car stuff," you admitted, but he shook his head.

"If you take care of it, that car'll last you five more years and save you boatloads of money," he told you, wagging his finger. "You come by my shop any time and I'll take a look at that beater you're drivin', won't rip you off, either."

You laughed as you heard the bells above the door ring and Maria greet the next customer.

"I'll hold you to it," you said with a wink before turning to put the coffee back on the burner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar outline of a man settle into Joel's usual seat at the counter, and you felt the butterflies stir up in your stomach. You glanced up to make sure there wasn't any food getting cold in the window before pulling out your notepad and walking over. As you approached, you mentally braced yourself for the onslaught of his cologne, but as you got closer, you couldn't smell it. In fact, all you could smell was soap and maybe a faint hint of oil from his gun.

When you paused in front of him, the realization dawning on you, he glanced up from the menu with a smirk. A slow smile spread across your face when you looked him in the eye.

"Better?" was all he said, and you couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your lips.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you said, suddenly feeling bashful and looking down at your blank notepad.

"I know, but I wanted to," he said, leaning back and closing the menu. He didn't even know why he looked at it anymore, he knew it by heart already. "Thought maybe it'd make you stick around long enough for me to get to know you better."

You definitely felt your cheeks flare at that comment, and it must have been visible because Joel just grinned, clearly very pleased with himself.

"Where are you from?" he asked, determined to try to make some more progress with you today.

"Pennsylvania," you said, finally looking back up at him with a smile as you tapped your pen on the pad.

"Northerner," he said with feigned disgust. "And what brought you all the way to Texas?"

"The incredible job opportunity, isn't it obvious?" you said, and he laughed. A real laugh, one you hadn't heard before, and it did something to you. Uh oh.

"You're funny," Joel said, almost as if he were saying it to himself. You grinned and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction: away from you.

"What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?"

"Born and raised," Joel said with a nod. "Our pop used to be the town sheriff, before he passed 'bout ten years back or so."

"So, you followed in your father's footsteps?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Suppose I did," he told you, leaning forward. "But can I tell you a secret?"

You hummed and leaned forward as well, trying to bite back your smirk.

"Kinda wishin' now I was the one who bought this place instead of my brother," he said quietly and so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Still leaning in, you dropped your voice to match his and said "then who would stop those teenagers from drawing phallic images on street signs?"

He laughed again, the same deep, throaty laugh as before, and you felt your stomach clench at the sound.

"You heard that, huh?" he asked, smiling and leaning back. You shrugged.

"Lee isn't as quiet as he thinks," you told him. You wanted to say you had to learn early on to eavesdrop, that listening and anticipating danger became second nature to you, but you caught yourself.

"Howdy, brother," you heard Tommy's voice boom from somewhere behind you. You took the opportunity to sneak away and check on your other customers while they talked, but you made sure to set Joel up with coffee before heading towards the other end of the counter, his eyes trailing after you and staring a moment too long on your bare legs.

"You givin' her the business?" Tommy asked, nodding in your direction, and Joel nearly choked on his coffee. Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"She's, uh... she's a nice girl," Joel finally managed to get out after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"He's got the hots for her," Betty whispered to Tommy as she ambled by. Joel cleared his throat loudly and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed and kept walking.

"Oh, Joel, I'm beggin' you, don't screw this up for me. She's a real good waitress, I don't wanna lose her - "

"Would you keep it down?" Joel whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure you weren't within earshot. "I ain't gonna screw anythin' up for anyone, don't worry. She's just... nice."

"'Nice'," Tommy repeated, clearly not buying it. He was about to say more, but Joel straightened up in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to wordlessly warn him you were heading over.

"Sorry to interrupt. Are you ready, Joel?" you asked him, your pen and paper in hand. He looked up at you and it was hard to fight the goofy look on his face now that you didn't regard him with such disdain.

"Yeah, sure. Let's put this guy to work, huh?" Joel said, pointing to Tommy, and you giggled. Behind you, Tommy rolled his eyes. Nice.

Joel told himself he was only allowed to think about you on his walk back to the station after lunch. You had told Betty you weren't interested in dating anybody at the moment, but he could wait. He wondered if he could change your mind, if he could make you come around to the idea of being with him, or at least give him a chance. You definitely seemed much warmer towards him today. He must have been wrong yesterday, you really must be sensitive to smells if all it took was for him to stop using that obnoxious cologne Sarah got him that he felt too guilty to throw away.

"Hey boss, how was lunch?" asked Bobby, the town's deputy and Joel's right hand man.

"Good. Anythin' goin' on here?" Joel asked, shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the coat rack outside his office.

"Not much. I was 'bout to let Ollie outta the drunk tank. His wife was callin', askin' after him," Bobby said before rising to his feet with a groan. Although the man was ten years younger than Joel, his joints seemed to be ten years older.

Joel glanced at the time on his watch with a nod.

"Yeah, go ahead. Third time this month, though. Next time it happens, I'm keepin' him longer."

"Alrighty," Bobby said over his shoulder as he pulled the keys from his pocket and headed back towards lockup.

Joel sighed and began flipping through the papers littering his desk before giving up and leaning back in his chair to stare out the front window, watching people as they walked past. Before he could stop himself, his mind had already wandered back to thoughts of you, and it took him five whole minutes and Ollie's hungover ramblings to snap him out of it.

Maybe Sarah would want to get pizza for dinner.

It was nearly seven at night as you made your way back home from work, your feet aching and your head throbbing. At the very least, it was a cool, summer night. The breeze was enjoyable and the sun was still peeking out just enough to keep your skin pleasantly warm. All you could think about was getting home and running a bath to soak your sore muscles. It had been a long time since you held a job, let alone a job that kept you as active as this one.

Patrick didn't like the idea of you working. When he first suggested you quit your job and stay at home, you thought it was sweet. You took it to mean he wanted to provide for you so you could relax and be a homemaker, maybe even a mom one day. But after a few months, you quickly realized he just didn't want you around other people, or more specifically, other men. Without even knowing it, you trapped yourself at home without a lifeline, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Even though you were sore now, you felt good. You were taking care of yourself. Providing for yourself. And you never felt more proud.

You were juggling your keys, trying to find the right one that opened the door to the sidewalk, when you heard a familiar voice exit the pizza place.

"Well, look who it is," you heard Joel say, and you let the keys dangle at your side as you turned around with a smile.

"Evening, Joel," you replied, your eyes quickly drifting down his body. It was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes. Every other time you ran into him, he was in his work uniform, which usually consisted of some type of suit. But tonight, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige button up shirt with short sleeves. As he strolled over to you, balancing a pizza box in his hand, your eyes were immediately drawn to the way the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of the shirt, making your mouth go dry.

"Tommy finally let you leave, huh?" he joked, and you had to remind yourself to laugh, your mind still too fixated on the way he looked in that shirt.

"Dad?" you heard a girl's voice call behind him, and you both turned your attention towards the voice. You remembered your brief interaction at the pharmacy and realized that she must be Sarah. Her eyes flickered from you to Joel, then back to you, clearly waiting for Joel to introduce you, but he seemed frozen in place. So, you stretched out your arm and introduced yourself with a smile, which she reciprocated.

"You look familiar," she said, tilting her head to the side the same way her dad did.

"I think I saw you at the pharmacy a couple days ago," you reminded her, and she snapped her fingers.

"That's what it is," she said, giving you another smile. "Are you working for Uncle Tommy?" she asked, looking at Joel again, who was still standing there, unmoving, watching the two of you interact. She frowned slightly at him, picking up on his strange reaction as well, before giving you her attention again.

"Yeah, at the diner. He hired me earlier this week, brand new," you told her, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Joel's silence was deafening at this point and starting to make you uncomfortable, so you held up your keys and pointed to the door.

"I won't keep you guys. It was great to meet you, Sarah," you said with a wave, but before you could turn towards the door, she stopped you.

"Why don't you join us?" she asked, shooting Joel a mischievous look as if she finally realized the reason for his behavior.

"Oh, no, that's so nice of you, but I'm just gonna jump in the bath and go to bed, it's been a long day," you replied. Joel's body stiffened next to you when you announced your plans.

Finally, he managed to clear his throat and speak.

"We'd love to have you join us, we were just gonna grab a picnic table out back," he said, and you swore his cheeks looked a little pinker than usual.

You were struggling to find another polite way to turn down their offer when he added "c'mon, why don't you lemme serve you for a change?"

Sarah smiled as she watched the two of you. She couldn't wait to tease her dad about it in the car later.

"Alright," you said slowly, lowering your keys once again. Joel's face broke out in a huge grin before leading you and Sarah down the short alley to the small courtyard behind the building, where there were a few picnic tables and string lights draped overhead.

"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" you asked again, and they both vehemently shook their heads.

"No way," Sarah said, licking the sauce off her fingers after she picked up her piece from the box. "It's nice to have another girl around for a change."

"Sarah," Joel said warningly under his breath.

"I just mean it's nice to hear about something else other than work and football," she said to him with a grin, and he rolled his eyes, choosing to sit on your side of the table instead of hers.

"So, you live above the pizza place? That seems pretty cool. Pizza whenever you want," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. You swallowed your food before responding.

"Yeah, it is pretty convenient. And they actually have good pizza," you said. "I think I'm finally getting used to the smell."

Joel's knee accidentally knock against yours under the table and you had to fight the urge to jump away, the contact startling you.

Sarah asked the same questions everyone in this small town inevitably asked you when you first met: where are you from and why are you here? The first question was easy, the second one always gave you pause. It wasn't until Sarah asked that Joel suddenly realized you never really answered him when he asked the same question earlier that day, so he stopped chewing to pay attention.

"Just looking for a change," you said with a shrug, taking another bite of pizza. Sarah considered your answer for a moment before following up.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Nope."

"So you just got in your car and ... drove?"

"Kind of," you said with a nervous laugh. Joel frowned slightly.

"That's so cool," Sarah said, a smile stretching across her face. "Dad, doesn't that sound so cool?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally joining the conversation. "Do you got family down south or anythin'?"

"Uh, no," you said, shaking your head. "Just always heard it was nice down here so I thought I would see for myself."

"You think you're here for good, then?" he asked, his voice a little more hopeful than he wanted to come across.

"That's the plan," you said to him with a smile.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Sarah asked out of the blue, and your eyes darted back to her in surprise.

"No," you replied slowly, heat creeping up your neck and guilt dancing in the back of your head while Joel hid his grin behind his pizza. "Do you?" you deflected, raising your eyebrows at her with a smirk, and she giggled, shaking her head.

"You better not," Joel said, and the two of you laughed.

Over the rest of the hour, you listened to Joel and Sarah crack jokes and argue over what movie they would end up watching later that night and you felt the smile slowly begin to slip from your face as you came to the sobering realization that the type of dynamic they had, one that was so obviously built on love and trust, was something you never truly experienced before. It wasn't just something you saw in the movies or read in books. People in the real world actually got to experience it, and you couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why not you? What did you ever do to receive the type of life you got?

After parting ways and thanking them over and over for dinner, you finally headed upstairs and collapsed on your small sofa. You untucked your work shirt and unzipped your skirt, but that was as far as you got, exhaustion winning the fight.

You closed your eyes and wished you had the energy to get up and run a bath, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Instead, you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you could call out to someone who cared for you in the other room and ask them to run the water. Maybe they would surprise you and light a few candles and mix in some soothing bubble bath. You knew that would never happen. You could never let yourself be honest enough with anybody to allow them into your life, but it didn't stop you from wishing for it, anyway. And right before you drifted off to sleep, you imagined that certain somebody had dark brown eyes and soft curls on the top of his head that you were itching to run your fingers through.

As hard as you tried to keep to yourself, the town was very small, and eventually you found it was nearly impossible to keep from making connections with people. Whether it was through work at the diner or striking up a conversation with someone at the store, you were quickly becoming interwoven in the lives of the people who graciously accepted you as one of their own.

You were particularly becoming fast friends with the girl who worked the register at the pizzeria below your apartment. Her name was Hailey and she was a couple years younger than you, but you had a lot in common, one of which was a shared taste in the same movies and books, so you were excited when she invited you to join a book club she and a couple other women in town started. As much as you enjoyed talking about books, you found you also very much enjoyed listening to all the town gossip that inevitably came out after everyone had their first glass of wine.

"So, Nikki, did I hear Sam asked you out on a date?" an older woman named Martha asked. Nikki blushed when the group turned to her, some women poking her in the side and others murmuring excitedly under their breath.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," Nikki said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She looked to be a little older than you were but it was hard to guess her age.

"Not back in town for two weeks and she's already got a date," Hailey said, rolling her eyes next to you playfully. "Some girls got all the luck."

"Oh, stop it," she chided with a smirk, then paused as if she were rethinking her next statement before blurting out "kind of wish someone else woulda asked me out instead."

That got the whole group's attention, even your own, and you barely had any idea who most of these people were. But you supposed any amount of gossip paired with alcohol is good gossip.

"Oh, please, you don't gotta say it, we all know who you've been chasin' after all these years," another woman chimed in with a giggle. Fortunately, you weren't the only person in the dark.

"Who?" Hailey asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Joel, obviously," the other woman replied, and while the rest of the group groaned, everyone tossing in their two cents and offering up their favorite things about him, you remained frozen in your chair, blood running cold.

"Lord, he came into school last week to pick up Sarah, and the way his ass looked in those jeans..."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly slipped on the ice and he caught me? Had to go to confession the next day..."

"... and I swear, I've considered committing a crime just so he would throw those handcuffs on me..."

"I don't know how that man has been single for so long..."

Part of you wanted to laugh at some of the things the women were saying about Joel, but the other part of you felt hot and angry. You wanted to scream shut up, don't think about him like that, don't even look at him. And through your alcoholic haze, you realized you were jealous. Jealous of all of these women, young and old, barking out comments about the town sheriff you had no business feeling jealous over.

The next day when he came into the diner for lunch, your head was still swirling with all of the comments the women in town made the day before. Distracted, you dropped your pen and pad on the ground as you made your way over to greet him, cursing under your breath.

Joel grinned when you finally approached, looking every bit as frazzled as you felt.

"Tough day?"

"Huh? Oh," you said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and shaking your head. "N-no, not really. Well, maybe - shit," you said when you knocked over a box of straws with your fidgeting.

Joel laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head again, trying to focus. "What can I get for you?"

"Nuh uh, darlin', not so fast," he said with a tsk, and you sighed. "What's goin' on? You can tell me, y'know. I am a man of the law."

He meant it to be playful, but with your history, it had the opposite effect. You winced and swallowed the lump in your throat, and trying not to make matters worse, you caved.

"I went to a book club last night," you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Book club, huh? Sounds like fun," he said, watching you carefully. "Maybe had a little too much fun?"

You finally dragged your gaze up to meet his and saw he was grinning at you, and you managed to force out a small laugh.

"Yeah, you could say that," you said, hoping that would be enough, but he wouldn't let it go.

"Can you get me a coffee? Then when I get back from the restroom, I wanna hear all 'bout your little book club," he said with a wink, then stood from his chair and turned around, heading towards the bathrooms while your gaze landed on his ass. It didn't look too bad in dress pants, either.

You tried to steady your breathing while you flipped over a clean mug and filled it with coffee, your mind racing and wondering what lies you could come up with to prevent telling him the reason you were so distracted.

Lost in thought with your head down, you didn't even notice when another customer took a seat at the counter until the man cleared his throat. You glanced up and apologized before bending down to grab another mug and set it down in front of the stranger.

You were pouring his coffee and telling him about the specials, your eyes glued to the counter, when he slid the barrel of a pistol across the table and into your line of sight. You froze, your hands gripping the coffee pot fiercely as you broke out into a cold sweat. You flicked your eyes back up to him. He didn't appear to be much older than you. He had his unkept hair hidden underneath his black hoodie, and you noticed his eyes looked bloodshot, his skin clammy. You knew that look. You've seen that same look one too many times.

"What do you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

"Open the register, gimme all the cash in this bag," he said quietly, tossing a tote bag across the counter at you. You nodded, grabbing the bag while your fingers fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to remember how to open the drawer without a sale. You could sense he was growing frustrated with how long it was taking, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly. "I-I'm new, I can't remember-"

"Hurry the fuck up," he growled, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, the tears falling down your cheeks.

"Drop the fuckin' gun, Marcus," you heard Joel's voice call out, and a wave of relief coursed through your body. But Marcus got startled, and instead of doing as he was told, reached across the counter and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you against his chest to partially shield his body, the gun pressed against your temple as your fingers clawed at his arms.

You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. Tears just streamed down your face as you locked eyes with Joel. They no longer carried that playful glint, his lips no longer turned up into a grin. His brow was furrowed deep and his gun drawn, cradled expertly in his large palms as his eyes shifted back to Marcus.

"I'm not lookin' to hurt anyone, sheriff. Just lemme walk outta here," Marcus rumbled behind you, his sour breath invading your nostrils and making your stomach roll.

"Now, you know I can't do that," Joel said, taking a small step forward. "But put down the gun, let her go, and we'll talk."

The grip around your throat tightened and you let out a small, pained squeak. Joel's jaw clenched when he heard the noise, his patience running thin. You hadn't noticed at the time, but the entire diner had gone quiet, some patrons slinking down in their seats, others craning their necks to get a better look.

"Goddamnit, Marcus, don't test me today," Joel growled, his eyes ablaze. "I don't wanna call your mama and tell her I had to spray her only son's brains all over the floor, but I fuckin' will." The tone in Joel's voice sent a shiver down your spine as you stilled, waiting for the stand off to be over.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the grip on your throat loosened and you no longer felt the cold metal pressed against your head. Joel locked eyes with you again as you coughed and shakily fell down to the floor behind the counter, curling yourself into a ball while you heard Joel reading Marcus his rights, the jingle of his handcuffs rang like bells in your ears.

Once Marcus was restrained, you heard Tommy bolt out of the kitchen and rush over to you. He knelt down on the ground, asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor, concern lacing his voice but when he reached out to touch you, you flung yourself backwards violently, knocking the back of your head against the counter.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your head as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.

"Hey, easy now," Tommy said soothingly, glancing over the counter as Joel spoke on the phone with Bobby, ordering him to bring a car to take Marcus back to the station and book him.

"I'm fine," you whimpered, still rubbing your head as you shakily forced yourself to your feet. You watched as Joel marched Marcus to the front of the diner, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his shoulder as he directed him through the door. A few patrons clapped weakly as the two disappeared outside, and the diner filled with excited chatter once again.

"You alright, sugar?" Betty asked, suddenly appearing beside you, face etched with worry. You flinched and brought a shaky hand to your sore neck.

"Yeah, I just need to use the restroom," you said, and before anyone could say anything further, you tore off your apron and made a beeline for the women's room.

You locked the door behind you and slid down to the grimy floor, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed, the adrenaline wreaking havoc on your nerves.

It was too much. It was all too much. The look in Marcus's eye was one you saw too many times. A junkie in desperate need for a fix. A drunk who would say or do anything for another drink. The fingers around your neck were no longer there, but you still felt them squeezing every last bit of oxygen from your lungs, every tear from your eye until you could hardly breathe.

The door handle jiggled and you jumped, wiping furiously at your face before shouting out a shaky occupied!

"Hey, it's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side of the door. No longer did he have that hardened edge to his tone. The warmth and softness in his drawl had returned.

"I just need a minute," you said quietly after a long silence, and you heard him shift his weight.

"I know, but I - can you let me in?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice. You slid your eyes shut as fresh tears drenched your face once again. You ached for comfort. You wanted it so badly you would do just about anything for it. But every other time, you've been let down. Over and over and over again.

"I just need a minute," you repeated, just a whisper, not even sure he could hear.

"Then I'll be right here til you're ready, alright?" his voice came back, even softer this time. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. You heard him sit down against the door with a tired sigh, and you let your head tilt so it rested against the door. There was a small bit of comfort to be had when you knew only an inch separated you from him.

"You were real brave," he said after a few minutes of silence. You scoffed and wiped your nose.

"Is that why I'm crying on the floor of a bathroom?"

"Please don't cry," he said, his voice strained. But you didn't say anything in return.

"He wasn't gonna do nothin'. He's got troubles, is all. Bad habits get the best of him, but he's harmless," he said, trying to make you feel better.

"I don't know, these bruises on my neck say differently," you replied, and you heard his breath hitch. Then you heard his shoes scuff on the tile floor.

"Lemme see," he said, his voice firmer now. He was standing, his voice above you, waiting to be let in. You hesitated, the tone of his voice putting you on edge, but you knew you couldn't hide in there forever. With a trembling hand, you reached up and unlocked the door, then scurried backwards so you were pressed up against the opposite wall as he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze fell on you and his eyes went soft at seeing your wrecked state before clicking the door shut behind him.

He rushed forward and you flinched. A bad habit of your own. He paused and slowed his movements, crouching down in front of you instead. He lifted a hand to pinch your chin but you turned your face away.

"Will you show me?" he asked gently. You gazed up at him with red rimmed eyes, your knees pulled tight against your chest. Finally, you lifted your chin. Again, he reached a hand out, but you stopped him.

"Please don't touch," you whispered. He looked at you and nodded slowly, dropping his hand again, examining your bruises with only his eyes.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said after a few minutes, but you shook your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just sore," you said, and his gaze flicked up from your throat to your eyes. His lips parted the longer he stared at you, and you felt the tremor return to your hands. You couldn't look away, his gaze too magnetic.

"Don't like seein' you cry," he murmured, still gazing deep into your eyes, trying so desperately to read you.

"I cry all the time," you said without even thinking. He blinked and frowned. He was about to say something else when a gentle knock on the door interrupted him.

"You okay in there?" Maria called out. You sighed and stretched out your legs, standing up and waving off Joel's helping hand.

"We don't gotta do it today, but I'll need you to come by and give your statement sometime soon," he said, glancing down at you with a sympathetic look.

"Okay," you replied, your voice cracking a bit. You looked at one another, both of you wanting to say more but neither of you could. So you reached out to open the door, forcing a smile for Maria.

"Sorry," you told her meekly, and she laughed.

"You're sorry? You just had a gun pointed at your head and you're sorry?"

You laughed weakly, then stopped short in pain, your fingers brushing against your throat.

"I just wanted to bring you your purse so you could sneak out the back," she said, lifting your purse up and handing it over to you.

"But my shift-"

"Oh my god, take the day off," Maria said, shaking her head and grinning. "Think you earned it."

"Okay," you agreed, then turned to walk through the kitchen where you could leave out the back so no customers would gawk at you.

"Lemme walk you home," Joel's voice said, startling you. You had just assumed he went back out front.

"Don't you have to, you know... work?" you asked, floundering for the right word.

"He ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked by your side down the sidewalk.

The two of you walked quietly for a few minutes.

"I've never seen you like that before," you said, breaking the silence. He turned his head towards you, raising his eyebrows.

"Like what?"

"Like, all... cop-like," you said, chuckling at your terrible choice in words.

Joel grinned and glanced down at his feet.

"Yeah, well, job's not all inappropriate graffiti and speed traps."

You hummed in agreement as you kept walking.

"Do you have to unholster your service weapon often?"

"'Service weapon'?" he repeated, surprised at the term you chose. Although it wasn't wrong, it typically was not something most people said. You just looked at him, not acknowledging it, so he let it go.

"Uh, no, not really," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Oh," was all you said, taking a deep breath and continued to stare straight ahead. He watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment.

"When I came outta the bathroom and saw - " he stopped short, then rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he collected his thoughts. "You were scared. And I... reacted."

You glanced his way again, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. What was he trying to say?

"Thank you," you said softly, but he was quick to shake his head.

"Not lookin' for you to thank me," he said, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to you, giving you a small smile.

When you finally reached your apartment, you took out your keys and turned to him, ready to thank him again, even though he told you not to, but he spoke first.

"Here, why don't you take this," he said, holding out a small white card between his index and middle finger. You gingerly took it and flipped it over, reading the text on the other side.

"It's my card. Call me when you wanna stop by the station," he reminded you, and you nodded.

"My cell's on there, too. If you ever, y'know," he said, half a smirk playing on his lips as he nervously shifted his weight. "You ever wanna talk 'bout anythin', really. 'Bout what happened today, or... book club," he said, and you laughed. He grinned, relieved to finally see you smile again.

"Okay," you said with a nod, and turned to put the key in the lock.

He watched as you made your way all the way up the steps, and didn't leave until he saw the second door at the top of the stairs close firmly behind you.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

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slaybestieslay946 · 2 months

Note

Oh me gosh can you please do a Luke Castellan x reader fic where he’s just so head over heels for her but she’s so clueless and everyone keeps trying to get her to notice but she won’t and like they’re bests friends🤗🤗

tysm for ur request! if you don't mind I tweaked it a bit so its annabeth and percy trying to set up Luke and reader! hope you enjoy!

KISS THE GIRL

word count: 2000

pairing: Luke Castellan x poseidon!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: Even though this is a daughter of poseidon fic, its not part of my future au! for Luke.

MASTERLIST

Percy and Annabeth were standing at the edge of the amphitheatre, talking about something mindless when they spotted you and Luke walking towards the entrance, seeming deeping engaged in conversation.

Annabeth watched as you laughed at something Luke said and a light blush tinged his cheeks, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Could he get any more obvious?

“Oi, Perce,” She whispered, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” She asked, nudging him to look in the direction of the pair of you.

“Yeah, I see my sister with Luke, what about it-” It appeared the realisation finally struck him, “Oh my god, are they-?”

“I don’t know. He’s definitely into her, I know that.” Annabeth mused, inspecting the pair as they grabbed two wooden swords and began sparring together, laughing as they repeatedly dodged and side-stepped the other.

“He told you that?” Percy asked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Well, no. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Annabeth then gasped in realisation, startling Percy slightly before he realised it was just another one of her epiphanies.

“We should get them together!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t that something you leave up to Aphrodite kids?” Percy asked hesitantly.

“Battle strategy and romantic strategy aren’t all that different.” She shrugged, before dragging him off to draw up new ‘romantic’ battle plans with her.

STAGE 1: CONFRONT LUKE

Annabeth’s strategy wasn’t all that complicated, and she was pretty certain the most difficult part would be getting Luke to admit his feelings. But, as it turns out, he cracked pretty quickly.

“Alright, you got me.” He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender, “I do like her, but can you blame me? I mean, she’s so smart, and beautiful, and kind, and-”

“That’s enough lover boy. Cool it.” Percy said, cutting him off with a groan. As much as he had given Annabeth his blessing to go along with this crazy plan, he still didn’t want to hear Luke gushing about how hot his sister is.

“Sorry man.” Luke chuckled awkwardly, before the pair of boys turned back to Annabeth to lead the conversation.

“So, now that you’ve admitted it, we need to start brainstorming how we’re gonna get you guys together.” She said, clapping her hands together and producing a roll of paper, with a long list of ideas that she promptly began to read out.

The list ranged from pretty normal things like ‘take her out on a picnic’ to insane stuff like ‘bring her a monster's head as a gift’. Luke wasn’t so sure you would be a fan of that one, but he had to admit all the other items were pretty good ideas.

“So what do you suggest, Annie? Work our way down the list?” Luke asked, and his little sister nodded, before outlining which ones she thought would be best.

“We should start small, you don’t wanna freak her out,” She consulted the list again, thinking to herself, “Ah, here we go, ‘Give her a compliment’.”

“Ok, I think I can do that.” Luke grinned, his head immediately flooded with things that he loved about you.

“Just don’t make it weird, or I’ll revoke my blessing.” Percy grumbled, his arms crossed as Luke laughed sheepishly again.

“Will do.”

STAGE 2: START SMALL

The next week mostly consisted of Annabeth and Percy spying on you and Luke at any possible moment.

The first of his tasks, to give you a compliment seemed to go well. The pair of preteens watched on from their spot behind a tree as the pair of you separated to go to dinner, and Luke complimented your hair. You blushed slightly, and smiled widely, before rushing off to your own table in the dining pavilion.

Luke quickly whipped around to look at Percy and Annabeth who gave him enthusiastic thumbs ups.

His next task was to give you a small gift, and he decided that it should take the form of the matching charm bracelets he made with the younger kids. Annabeth and Percy sat with him as he deliberated over specific colours and shapes of bead, until they were nearly sick of his equivocation.

But, as much as watching him make it was downright annoying, Percy had to admit the way you both wore your charm bracelets everyday afterwards was pretty cute.

The final task of the week was to bring you flowers, and that whole day Luke could be seen wading through fields of wildflowers looking for the perfect ones to add to his bouquet. This was then snuck onto your nightstand later that night by Percy, who over the course of the week had become very invested in your blossoming relationship, a fact he would deny to the ends of the earth.

STAGE 3: ESCALATE

“Alright Luke, time to bring out the big guns.” Annabeth announced, before clearing her throat and reading the list of tasks for the week.

‘Sit at her table during dinner’

‘At least one compliment a day’

‘One instance of arm-around-the-waist contact’

This was the point at which the Hermes boy began to get slightly nervous. The other stuff before could be pretty easily written off as friendly, but sitting at someone's table at dinner? Only couples did that.

“Are you sure that’s not moving too fast, I mean-”

“Luke Castellan, don’t be so damn pathetic! Grow some balls, before someone else steals your girl!” Annabeth exclaimed, whacking him over the head with the list.

He nodded, “Yes Ma’am.”

From then on, he was pretty much unwavering in his determination. He sat at your table every mealtime, slinging an arm around your shoulder, or your waist. Anytime you came up with a capture the flag strategy, he’d praise you intelligence, anytime he saw you, he greeted you with a ‘Morning beautiful’ or a ‘Hey sweetheart’.

Annabeth and Percy were shocked with his sudden progress, but pretty impressed with the way it was going. At this point, the pair of you were practically dating.

The only minor setback came in the form of your complete and utter cluelessness.

Percy had decided to test the waters with you, and gently float the idea of you getting together with Luke.

“You’ve been spending loads of time with Luke at the moment.” He remarked casually as you both walked back to cabin 3.

“You’ve just noticed I spend time with my best friend? Well done kid.” You laughed, ruffling his curly blonde hair.

“That’s not what I meant.” He rolled his eyes, ducking out of your grasp.

“Then what did you mean?” You asked, hands on your hips, a confused expression on your face.

“I meant like, you guys being ‘involved’.” He shrugged, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible while looking out for your every reaction. He was unreasonably invested at this point, but oh well.

“What?!” You exclaimed, your voice suddenly going higher pitched, “Nah, no chance! Luke would never.”

Percy had to stop his jaw from dropping to the floor. It would’ve made sense if you denied having feelings for him, but to be so oblivious of how whipped that boy was for you? He thought you were smart.

“Yeah, sure. I guess so.” He shrugged once again, before swiftly changing the subject.

STAGE 4: KISS THE GIRL!!

“Guys, we have a problem.” Percy said, bursting in on Luke and Annabeth’s conversation the next morning.

“What?” The pair asked in sync, concerned expressions on their faces.

“Y/N is an idiot.”

“Woah, don’t say that about her-” Luke began, desperate to defend your honour, but was cut off by Annabeth’s harsh glare.

“What do you mean, Perce?” She asked, her tone level.

“Luke, man, she has no clue you like her. Like she is convinced it’s impossible.” Percy explained, and Annabeth’s expression also grew confused.

“Gods, she really is dumb.” She sighed, ignoring Luke’s chiding at insulting you, “We’re gonna have to really turn it up a notch. Luke, it’s time to really bring out the big guns.”

For the next few days, Luke, Annabeth and Percy spent most of their time rushing around preparing for Annabeth’s so-called ‘masterstroke’.

And then, after much hard work from the trio, it was ready, and Luke was whisking you away from the campfire to the surprise he had prepared for you.

“Luke, where are we going?!” You laughed as he dragged you along by the wrist, a piece of cloth tied around your head to block your vision.

“You’ll see.” He chuckled, gently directing you around a tree root as he led you deeper into the forest.

“I swear, if you’re kidnapping me I am not going to be happy.” You teased that infectious smile he loved so much covering your face.

“No, no kidnapping tonight.”

You continued to joke around together as he led you towards his destination, until eventually you came to a halt, and he was untying the cloth around your face.

You gasped in delight as you saw you were by the pier, and in front of you was a picnic blanket set up with all of your favourite food and drink.

Immediately you grabbed him by the arm and led him to the blanket, thanking him all the way and gushing about how sweet and amazing he was. Meanwhile, Luke was trying not to pass out from the barrage of affection you were giving him.

The pair of you quickly tucked into the meal, laughing and joking. But all the while, Luke was preparing his confession, and trying not to let his palms get too sweaty.

Eventually, he decided it was time, and he made his move.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him with shining eyes, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“I’m in-” His love confession was cut off by the sudden boom of fireworks above you both, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to organise a signal with Annabeth to start them. She really did have bad timing sometimes.

“Oh my gods! Fireworks!” You exclaimed, nudging Luke to take a closer look, pointing out which ones were your favourites, and clearly any speculation about what Luke was going to say had escaped your mind.

Eventually the display was over, and you turned to him yet again, gushing about how lucky they were that fireworks were out tonight. He couldn’t help but wonder how someone usually so smart could be so clueless?

“I organised the fireworks, Y/N.” He said, softly, placing his calloused hand over yours.

“What, really?!” You blinked owlishly at him for a moment before furrowing your brows and asking, “Wait, how come?”

Luke couldn’t contain his chuckle.

“Isn’t it obvious by now? I’m in love with you. I’ve been trying to hint at it for weeks, but clearly I wasn’t being obvious enough.”

“What? Why?” You stammered, shock coating your face entirely.

“Why am I in love with you?” He asked as if it was a stupid question, which to him it was, because he could list a million things that he loved about you.

“Because you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind, and generous, and every time I see you I can’t help but smile because you're my best friend and I love you more than anything.” He rambled, wiping his slightly clammy palms on his cargos.

“Now I’d really appreciate it if you’d put me out of my misery and reject me.” He said sheepishly, itching the back of his neck.

But, of course, the rejection never came. Instead you were rushing forwards to hold his face in your hands and kiss him, slowly and deeply.

And, about ten metres away, Annabeth and Percy could be seen high-fiving behind a tree, before skipping back to the campfire in glee.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #fluff #x reader #pjo #writing #fanfic #ask #clueless #reader is so silly #trace amounts of percabeth #percabeth crumbs

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allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hello 👋 can I pls request dating and jealousy headcanons for Bale! Batman? The reader works in his company and is very sweet and generous? Thank you ❤️

Dating and Jealousy Headcanons | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 6k words

Warnings: None, I would say? Workplace relationship, if that's a tag, hahaha. Jealous and overprotective Bruce, one (1) makeout session and I don't think anything else? Do correct me if I'm wrong.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here's another one of my Bruce asks! I had a really fun time writing it - I love this man so much omg. I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

Also I apologize if I got any of HR functions and tasks wrong, please do not kill me if they're not correct, I had to do some research, hahaha! Also, I've just realised how vague the information on Wayne Enterprises is. Like, what the hell do they do? I've been rewatching the movies because my family never has, and they're never clear about it lol. Except for the first movie and the whole "Thomas Wayne wouldn't want us to build war weapons" plot, what the hell do they do there???

At first, he had no idea who you were.

And honestly, could you blame him? He’s the owner of this enormous company that employs at least a hundred people.

You were working in the Human Resources department and were praised by every single one of your coworkers. You were the one keeping everything in check, from analysing performance and helping everyone set goals on what they wanted to achieve at work, to organising databases and generating reports. Those jobs should technically be made by at least 3 different people, but you were efficient and very professional, and most of the time took it upon yourself to oversee things and make sure all was running smoothly.

Bruce ran into you for the first time when you were checking on the Applied Sciences department. You had been sitting next to Lucius Fox, keeping a record of all the important work he’d done the last month, as well as going over the paperwork that outlined whatever his job entailed – while still in the AS department, Lucius was now a member of the board once again, and you wanted to make sure he had everything under control – as always, he did.

Bruce had walked in and raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen you before, were you one of his employees? Some relative of Lucius’s? His partner? Who the hell were you, and what were you doing in here?

“Ah, Mr. Wayne.” Lucius said with a nonchalant smile, standing up to shake his hand in a warm greeting. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. I was going over my Monthly Workplace Wellness Check with Miss [L/N] over here, and it seems all is in order.

“Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him, standing up and offering him your hand. This was your boss – the Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, arguably the richest and wealthiest man in the city, the boss, the man you’d never actually seen, but everyone spent no expense in talking about. And they did not lie – the man in front of you was handsome, with dark brown hair carefully slicked back and warm brown eyes that scanned you over carefully. He looked far too good in his navy suit, and you tried your best not to let your gaze linger on him – it would be unprofessional, and you wouldn’t want to be fired for sexual harassment.

Bruce, on the other hand, thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon. Your body was being snuggly hugged by a pretty, dark pencil skirt, and you wore a white dress shirt with flowy sleeves. The first two buttons were open, exposing a small patch of delicate skin and a leaf pendant. Cute.

Slipping his aloof mask back on, he shook your hand, relishing the feel of your hand on his. Your grip was firm – you were clearly trying not to be intimidated by him, but there was also something very tender about it.

“Miss [L/N], is it?” he asked, leaning back and placing his hands inside his pants pockets.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve never seen you around here – are you new or something?”

You tried not to flush in embarrassment. It’s only normal he wouldn’t even know who you were. After all, he’s got a whole company to take care of. And it’s not like you hung around the top floors a lot – your work was among everyone else, not the board. They had their own assistants for that.

“No sir – I’ve been working here for a few years. I’m HR Director.” You replied, trying to sound confident. This was your job and you’d been doing it very well – extremely well – and you were proud of it. It was a great opportunity to let your boss know of how great of a worker you were.

“HR Director, huh?” Bruce hummed, turning to Lucius once again. “You familiar with Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes sir,” the older man replied, smiling confidently at you. “She’s been overseeing most departments for about five years now. She’s the reason everything’s going so smoothly.”

“Really?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yes sir, it is,” you nod. “I’m very proud of my job.”

Bruce took one good look at you once again and nodded.

“Fox, I wanted to check on you about some of the, well, some of the orders we placed last week. But seeing that you’re busy, I’ll return later.”

Lucius nodded and sat back down. Unlike you, he felt comfortable around Bruce, even if he was his boss. After all, who else had helped Bruce Wayne spelunking?

“How about I fax you when I’m done?”

“Oh, I can – I could come back later if you wished to talk to Mr. Fox right now?” You asked, quickly turning to your desk to retrieve your clipboard and pens.

“No need, Miss [L/N],” Bruce responded, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt an employee doing a good job. I’ll wait for Fox’s fax.”

You placed your clipboard down and nodded, offering him a small smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

Bruce found himself returning it, before turning to Lucius and nodding in acknowledgement and then walking away.

“I’m quite sure he’s gone, Miss [L/N].” Lucius announced, an amusing smile playing in his lips. You nodded, trying to get that flustered look off your face.

The man next to you supressed a chuckle – he was sure the first thing his boss would do when he got to his office was do a thorough research on his HR Director. And it’s not like he hadn’t noticed the heat that seemed to have crept up on your cheeks. He shook his head and turned to you, focusing on the Wellness Check.

Lucius was right. The first thing Bruce did when he got to his office, was do some research on you. Who you were, what job you held exactly you held, how long you’d been in the company. Not in a creepy way (or so he tried to convince himself), more in a “How come I’ve gone so long without knowing my HR Director? Who knows what kind of people are working in my company, and how come I don’t know them all? Who knows what their true intentions are” kind of way. Not that he doubted you – Lucius wasn’t the type to lie – but he was… Curious. Very curious.

He also decided to ask around about you. No one would know you and your work better than the people that interacted with you daily.

The word around was that you were an exemplary employee. Professional, hardworking, and kind to a fault. Everyone told Bruce about how incredible your work ethic was, and how helpful you were. How you always offered an arm when asked for a hand, how you’d go the lengths to help your coworkers even if it meant you would work overtime.

“She’s quite incredible, Mr. Wayne. Very efficient, very focused,” his board members would tell him, going over the fantastic things you’d done for the company. “She’s actually personally trained each of our interns herself – that’s why they’ve picked up on their work so quickly.”

“I don’t know about your department, but we work better when she’s overseeing us. [Y/N] is really kind, she’s very firm in her job, but never rude. You know what I mean?”

[Y/N], huh? Pretty name.

“She’s an excellent communicator, fights barely happen when she’s around because she makes everyone feel heard and understood.”

“Her initiatives have significantly enhanced our company culture, that’s for sure.”

“Her consistency to always go above and beyond in her efforts would make Thomas Wayne proud. This is what he would’ve wanted Wayne Enterprises to be about.”

There were many the people that mentioned his father’s name along with yours. How he’d be proud of you, how he’d give you a promotion right away, how workers like you were exactly what he needed in his company. And Bruce was intrigued. Because, how come such a gem was working under him, and he had no idea?

He had to change that, clearly.

“Miss [L/N]?” he asked you once as you were about to leave for the day. You turned around and couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened in surprise. What did your boss want? And how come he’d remembered your name?

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” you looked up at him and tried to focus. A million thoughts were running through your head. What did he want? Why had he chased you? Oh goodness, had he chased you? Had he run a background check on you of some sorts and was unsatisfied with the work you were doing? Were you going to be fired? You couldn’t – you’d been working here for about five years and never once slacked off. This couldn’t be happening, could it?

“I was wondering if you would like to join me to dinner later this week.” The words rolled smoothly out of his mouth, practiced, precise. He knew what he wanted and was not going to play around.

“Dinner?” you repeated, furrowing your brows. “This week? With you?”

“Dinner, this week, yes. That’s what I said.” Bruce nodded, and patiently awaited a response. He knew it might be weird. Your boss, whom you did not know, suddenly asked you for dinner?

You stared at him, running his words over in your head. Your boss wanted to have dinner with you. Your boss. Bruce Wayne wanted to have dinner with you. Part of your brain told you this was a terrible idea. Everyone knew what the papers said about Bruce Wayne, that he was a womanizer, a playboy. You didn’t want to be just another name in a long line of women he slept with.

But there was something inside of you that kept screaming “GO TO DINNER WITH BRUCE WAYNE PLEASE. YOU LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE”.

Except perhaps, your job. What if he asked something of you, something you couldn’t give him? What if he punished you for it? What if, all along, this was a big ploy to check his sources and get you fired?

“Miss [L/N]? Is everything alright?” Bruce asked, looking at you in concern.

Screw it. You were a damn good employee. There was no way your boss was going to fire you, murder you, or whatever other silly ideas were going around in your head. You shook them away and looked at him once again, smiling.

“Yes, sorry. Everything is fine. And yes, dinner sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bruce gave you a polite nod, before looking behind you, where his limo went.

“I will send you the details later then. Is Thursday okay?”

“Yes! Thursday is fine.”

Bruce nodded again, and looked at his limo, this time with a tad more urgency.

“Miss [L/N], I would offer you a ride home, but I have quite the long list of errands to attend to. I will see you later this Thursday then.” He smiled – he smiled – and made his way towards a black limo, where an older man dressed nicely opened the door for him.

You couldn’t help staring as the car drove away.

You were going to dinner with your boss. With Bruce Wayne.

Surely, there was no need to panic, right?

Turns out, there hadn’t been no need to panic at all.

In fact, things went great.

Dinner with Bruce had been surprisingly pleasant.

It started out a bit awkward, with you not really knowing what your position there was, but after Bruce reassured you there was nothing wrong with your performance at work, you relaxed.

And surprisingly, so did he.

He found himself conversing with you the way he hadn’t done in a long time – casually, truthfully, openly. Sure, he didn’t tell you all of the secrets he kept, but he was genuine in his answers about his favourite memories from his childhood, or his hobbies, what season he liked the most, or whatever other question you had for him.

It felt nice to have a companion who wasn’t merely interested in his name or title or wealth. You didn’t seem to care about those, preferring to get to know Bruce Wayne the man, as opposed to Bruce Wayne the name.

He asked you about your life and you replied truthfully as well, telling him stories from when you were growing up, sharing some of your hopes and dreams, and opening up about yourself.

Bruce thought you were fascinating – at first he thought the things people said about your kindness were just polite office talk, but after spending 20 minutes with you, he realised how true they were. You’d smiled at everyone on the way to the restaurant, letting an old couple go inside before you (even though you two had arrived much earlier), refused to ask for anything without a gentle “Please” at the end.

And he could tell you weren’t fake – he was often met with fake smiles and faux politeness everywhere he went, but he could tell you were genuine, and it just made him even more interested in you. After all, not only you were beautiful, with your hair carefully tucked behind your ears, and a fitting dress that, while modest, still managed to make you stand out, but you seemed to be beautiful inside as well.

By the time you got to dessert, you were laughing heartily, head thrown back as joy overtook you. Bruce had been telling you about the worst excuses he’d made to get out of social events, and the last few truly were something. You then realised he was not the man media portrayed him to be. No, he seemed much more down to earth, more focused, more sensible. Not at all the reckless playboy gossip magazines painted him as. It was a pleasant surprise, and you were enjoying every minute of your evening.

At the end of the night, he drove you to your apartment (more like gave you a lift, since his driver – whom you learned to be his butler Alfred – was the one who had taken you to the restaurant in the first place) and walked you to your door, like a true gentleman. You giggled and swayed a bit, having drank a tad too much of wine. You weren’t drunk, no, but you could feel that pleasant buzz flowing through your veins, the one that made you gigglier and happier and made everything a bit funnier.

Bruce steadied you by letting you hold onto his arm and caught you when you tripped on the stairs to your building. You laughed loudly and he pulled you up, allowing you to face him clearly. Your breath caught in your throat, and you giggled once more when you realised how close you were, and how you could feel the alcohol on his breath.

“I really liked tonight,” you said, nodding along to your words. You had been drinking, but you weren’t dumb, and weren’t going to ruin the lovely night you’d had. As far as you were concerned, this could simply be a dinner for him to try and get to know you better, and not anything remotely romantic.

His next words changed your mind.

“Me too,” he said. “I’m sorry if my invitation was abrupt. You’ll have to forgive me, but when I saw you working with Fox that day, I was curious.”

“Curious?”

“Yeah. Everyone said wonders about you, and you seemed like a great worker, and not to mention you’re quite beautiful – “

“You asked about me?” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. Somehow, that was the line your brain picked up in this whole conversation. “You’re a stalker!”

“And I apologize for that.” Bruce steadied you once again when you leaned back to laugh and let out a dry chuckle. “But I really enjoyed our evening. I was hoping that you’d accompany me to dinner some other time?”

You looked at him, eyes now getting heavier. The wine was working its magic, and instead of moving around, you stood very still, enjoying the feel of Bruce’s arms around you.

“Dinner? Some other time?”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?” You don’t know what prompted you to say that out loud. That’s what you were wondering, yes, but you weren’t actually going to say it out loud, too scared to face rejection, too scared that this whole thing was a misunderstanding, and he wasn’t interested in you at all.

Bruce looked at you, surprised by your forwardness. Not that he wasn’t thinking the exact same thing – he was – but he thought he’d have to be the one doing the pursuing. After all, he was the “stalker”, as you put it.

“Yes, [Y/N], as a date,” he nodded. “Like a date. As I said, I’m interested in you. I know it might not be appropriate, seeing as I’m your boss, but I won’t lie and say you haven’t caught my eye, and I would really like to go on another date with you.”

You smiled, hands resting on the collar of his coat.

“This was a date?”

He shrugged, “If you want it to be.”

You pretended to think, placing a delicate finger on your chin, and looking away.

“Hmmmm…. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Playing the part, you stepped away from him and tried to climb the stairs to your building door. Unfortunately, your foot caught onto one, and the floor went flying on your direction.

Luckily, steady arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from falling face first. Bruce pulled you to him once again, and this time he swore he could see all the specks in your pretty eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t look away. Bruce’s eyes fell to your lips for a brief second, and you followed his gaze, wishing he would close the distance between you too.

But Bruce Wayne might be a lot of things and do a lot of things – but he wouldn’t take advantage of you. Not right now, when the wine was clearly getting to your head. He was going to do this properly.

He pushed away from you and gave you a friendly pat on the arm. Upon seeing the way your face fell, he mentally kicked himself. Shit. It was the wrong thing to do, wasn’t it? He should’ve just kissed you. But you weren’t thinking straight. And he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].” He said, offering you a smile.

“Why are you such a goddamned coward?” A tiny voice in your head asked repeatedly. Why didn’t you just kiss him? You had a great time, didn’t you? He said so himself. He called it a date. He wanted to go on another. Why were you always so scared of going for what you wanted? Why dint you just take the plunge and do what you wanted to for once in your life?

Shaking away your nerves, you stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Bruce.” You said, nodding in contempt and walking towards your building. By the grace of some god up above, you found your keys rather quickly and didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness that would’ve surely followed, so you just walked inside and closed the door behind you.

It was Alfred who had to break Bruce out of his trance.

“Perhaps you could take a picture of the building and take it with you, seeing as it is far too cold for you to stare at the real thing the entire night.” He said in a sarcastic manner, causing Bruce to stare at him and get in the car, but not without shooting one last look at the building.

He’d see you again for sure.

Things went smoothly after that.

You went out a few more times, and within about two months, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You accepted of course – after all, you were just as head over heels for him as he was for you.

You had to settle some boundaries for your office life to work out. You didn’t want anyone thinking you were shagging your boss for a promotion, or financial extras – not at all. So, you set some ground rules.

No PDA at work – this was rule number one, and it was the most important one. After you two started dating, Bruce found himself seeking you out more during the day, just to catch up or look at you (he was whipped). You’d noticed, and it was hard keeping yourself away from him. PDA was a big no-no. You two had to be professional and keep your personal relationship out of the office.

No pet names, no endearment terms, and minimal contact as it was. He’d once nearly gotten himself in trouble, having to switch from “My dear” to “Miss [L/N}”. It was tough and some employees looked at him funny, but he just walked away with his Wayne confidence, and no one said a word.

If you two did want to meet, it’d have to be after work hours, or during breaks, and in private. You would often bring him lunch, sit by his side in his office and just talk about your day and go over work stuff. He liked the privacy his office offered. He could have you in his lap, laugh about whatever silly reality show the Gotham gossip channels had on, and just enjoy some time off work.

No special treatment of any sort. This was very important. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to any problems you’d caused or any work you hadn’t done properly. Thankfully for him, you’d always been an excellent worker and he never had to reprimand you nor scold you. But he also couldn’t just praise you for every little thing you did – at least not at work.

It was hard, to say the least.

At home, you enjoyed being close to him, away from prying eyes, doubtful employers or clingy assistants who wanted his everlasting attention. And you could manage just fine at work as well – sure, you didn’t like seeing other workers drool all over him and beg for him to look their way, but you were also always far too busy to pay them any attention. After all, you had so much work to do.

But Bruce couldn’t say the same thing.

He’d go down a few floors to check on one particular project, or to supervise a series of workers, and find you busying yourself around with tasks, giving orders, keeping files in check, and turning in reports, and you’d look so great doing all of that. Efficient, hard-working. That’s what everyone had called you.

But then he’d see every other person had noticed the same. He could see the way other men looked at you, calling you over to ask questions and chit chat with you. They’d try to make you laugh, offering you charming smiles when they achieved so, and Bruce had to control every fibre in his being not to walk over to where you were and punch those smug grins off their faces.

Their games didn’t work on you though. You’d politely decline their advances, and declare you were taken, but some of them were too damn persistent. To those, you simply wished a good day and returned to your tasks. Something inside Bruce beamed with pride, and he would be lying if he said their upset faces did not bring him joy.

“C’mon [Y/N], it’s just one dinner. What wrong can that do, huh? I’ll take you to some place real nice,” a man in the same department as yours once pleaded, holding your hands in his. Bruce’s jaw twitched and you firmly moved away from him.

“Sorry Joe, I told you, I’m very busy. And even if I wasn’t, I have a very loving partner, and would never cheat on them.” Your voice was calm, but he could tell you weren’t comfortable with the way he touched you.

Joe scoffed.

“Some partner you have – you leave by yourself every single day. How come they never come pick up their missus, huh? If I had a girl like you, I’d come pick her up every day. What kind of douchebag leaves his girlfriend all alone? C’mon – one dinner with me and you’ll forgetting all about that idiot.” Joe moved towards you once again to grab your arm, but you moved away, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I told you; I wasn’t interested. And please do not touch me. Now, you should get back to work. Your monthly reports tell me you’ve been slacking, and I would hate to have to give you a warning.” You said firmly, raising your chin and gripping your clipboard tighter.

Joe scrambled for words, and you walked away. While brushing past Bruce, you could feel the smirk in his voice as he whispered “That’s my girl” for only you to hear.

But sometimes, he had to jump in and save you.

Well, perhaps save wasn’t the right word.

Because you didn’t need saving – he was just jealous.

You were taking a break from your weekly roundups, sitting at your desk, and chatting happily with your closest work friends. You leaned forward to whisper in a woman’s ear, and the both of you leaned back in laughter.

“Good morning, ladies,” a man in a nice-looking dark blue suit said, approaching the two of you. His blonde hair fell loosely over his eyes, and he did little to nothing to tame it.

“Raph! Hey – you’ll not believe what [Y/N] just told me,” your friend smiled, and “Raph” bent over to listen closely to what she whispered to him. He widened his eyes in surprise, before snorting in response.

“You’re kidding.” He turned to you.

You shook your head, biting the pencil you’d taken to your lips. Bruce had half a mind to walk over to you and claim your lips then and there.

“Nope. Saw it with my own eyes.”

The three of you laughed again, and Raph quickly looked around. He clearly did not notice his boss staring at them from across the room, so he pulled up a chair nearby and sat down.

You three engaged in lively conversation, and Bruce fumed at the sight of you leaning towards him every so often and giggling, bending over to whisper in his ear and touch his arm. Why were you so god damn close to him? Was there something going on between the two of you? Why the hell did he not keep his hands to himself?

Bruce’s patience snapped when he saw Raph take your hand in his and place a dramatic kiss on your knuckles. You looked at him and rolled your eyes, doing your best to pry your hand from his.

“Let go of me Raph, you’re absolutely disgusting.” Bruce noticed the way you smiled as you spoke each one of your next words, and something twisted in his stomach. A very ugly feeling that told him he did not like the way you seemed so close to Raph, nor the way he seemed to touch you so effortlessly. Why the hell was he touching you in the first place? Did he not know you were taken? He decided then and there this had to stop. This man needed to get his hands off you, right this moment.

“I’m serious – ugh – get off me, you’re sick! Get away!”

“I believe the lady has told you to let go of her hand.” Bruce’s voice echoed in the room, and nearly everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat and Raph, who was sitting next to you, quickly stood up, brushing his suit.

“Sir – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – “

“Working? Clearly. Shouldn’t you be occupying yourself with your tasks at hand, other than harassing your coworkers?” The words left his mouth with venom, and he looked very angry – part of you had to stifle a laugh.

“Mr. Wayne, I promise I wasn’t harassing, I was – “

“Get back to your job before I do something about it.”

Raph shot you an apologetic look before scurrying away.

“Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes?”

“A word.”

You shrugged bashfully at your friend and followed Bruce. He led you away from your department, looking inside each passing room to find one that was empty. Once he found what he was looking for, he pushed you inside, locked the door behind you, and pressed himself against you, kissing you passionately.

A gasp left your lips before you returned his kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck and in his hair. He licked your lower lip as if asking for permission, and you granted it with a soft whimper which he swallowed, hands deftly pulling your hips closer and closer to him.

When you broke away for air, you noticed how flustered he was, and how his lips and chin were covered in lipstick.

“What was – what was that for?” you asked, panting.

“Couldn’t stand to see that bastard all over you,” Bruce muttered, before moving on to press kisses against the column of your neck. You sighed in pleasure and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Raph is just a friend.”

Bruce snorted.

“Yeah, and he’s clearly interested in you. Idiot. Doesn’t he know you’re mine?”

At these words, you pushed away from him and burst out laughing.

“Mind explaining what’s so funny?” Bruce asked you, raising an eyebrow.

“Bruce,” you managed to say in between laughs, “Honey, Raphael is gay!” You kept laughing, staring at his dumbfounded expression.

“What?”

“Honey, he’s gay! We were talking about how I found his work crush sending dick pics to some random guy on Grindr!”

Bruce stopped in his tracks; brows furrowed in confusion.

“Gay?”

“Yes! He’s not interested in me silly – we’re just friends.”

“Oh.”

You resumed laughing, before adjusting your clothes and trying to wipe some of the lipstick off his face.

“Bruce, were you jealous?” you asked, cocky grin playing in your lips.

“No – I wasn’t – “

“Oh gosh, you were!” You smiled warmly at him. It was flattering, and you felt slightly bad for him. He had been worrying over nothing. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“They’re all after you. I know it.”

“They’re really not,” you replied, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “And even if they were, I only have eyes for you. You know that right?”

He nodded, kissing you again.

“Besides,” you pulled away for air, fiddling with his tie. “If anything, I should be the jealous one. Every woman in this building is in love with you. And your personal assistant has tried not once, not twice, but three times bending over your desk, so you’ll look at her chest.”

Bruce shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“I couldn’t care less. I only have eyes for you.”

“Well then, you have to learn to behave. This is still my workplace, and I still have to interact with all of these people. And unless you want everyone finding out about us, you’re gonna have to learn how to deal with your jealousy better.”

He sighed, dropping his head to rest it on your chest. You smiled and ran fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

“I only have eyes for you, you know.”

“And I only have eyes for you.” He replied, before straightening up and fixing his hair and clothes. He looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, wiping whatever lipstick he had on his face, and fixing his tie and shirt. “Perfect”, you mumbled.

Bruce gave you a quick kiss and you walked outside. He’d wait a few minutes before following.

He really needed to work on those jealousy issues.

And he did!

Sort of.

He tried not to think too much about it when coworkers of yours praised and complimented you. “Hey [L/N], heard the turnover rates stabilised thanks to you! Good job!”. “Nice outfit, [Y/N]. Makes your eyes stand out. Very nice.”. “Hey, you saw this week’s morale reports? They skyrocketed – you’re too good at your job, we should all just quit.” It made his blood boil.

He tried not to think too much when your colleagues brought you any sorts of gifts. Coffee, when you were feeling tired, cookies or some other snacks when you were hungry, some even offered to go get you full fledged meals like salads or other dishes from the cafeteria just so you could keep working. You were so kind to everyone – it was only natural the ones around you reciprocated. And Bruce loved it – he loved that people recognised how generous you were, how downright good you were, and wanted to repay in kind. But it still made him somewhat envious.

So, he decided to take action.

One particular morning, he found you in your floor, working tirelessly. It had been a very stressful week, and you’d been far too busy to even visit him at the Manor or have dinner with him. He missed you. Missed your smiles, your laughter, your voice, your touch. Alfred was positive he was behaving like a child whose favourite blanket had been taken from him. It was endearing, yet also somewhat pathetic.

He approached you from behind, ignoring the surprised and stunned gazes everyone around you gave him. He embraced you from behind, dropping his head to your neck, and kissing you there.

You gasped in surprise, face covered in an expression of astonishment. What was going on? Was that Bruce? What was he doing here? And why was he kissing your neck? You were in the middle of organising a few very important reports and did not have time for distractions of any sort.

“Bruce – what are you doing?” you whispered, voice laced in shock.

“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” he said, intentionally loud for everyone to hear. “You should take a break.”

“Bruce, we’re working – we can’t – why are you – “ you had no words. No PDA, no nicknames, no special treatment. Why was Bruce breaking these rules all of a sudden?

“I missed you, of course. You’ve been exhausting yourself. Look at what I brought you,” he placed a cup of coffee on top of your desk, and you gasped. It wasn’t just any coffee; it was a very special brand that you only got one or two times due to how expensive it was. “You need sustenance.”

“Wow, Bruce, I mean, thank you so much, but you didn’t have to – “

“Of course I had to. Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend burning out, now, can I?” He lifted himself up and faced you clearly. He then proceeded to dip down and capture your lips with his, hand cupping your cheek and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. He parted from you slightly, and whispered against your lips, “I couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t stand being away from you. Screw everyone else. If they have a problem, they can come and talk to me. I’m the boss, after all, aren’t I?”

You looked at him through your lashes and offered him a soft smile. You couldn’t lie; you too missed Bruce, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn’t know him at all. You gave him a soft tug on his tie and pressed another kiss to his lips. He could feel your smile against him, and it only made him smile in return.

Bruce then stood up, straightened his suit, and caressed your cheek.

“I bought lunch. Meet me in my office in two hours?”

“Yeah. I’d like that very much.”

He stole another kiss from you, causing you to chuckle, and walked away, as if he hadn’t just shocked the entire HR department to hell and back with his actions.

It didn’t matter.

They all knew you were his now.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I love this man so much okay. And wish me luck, going to rewatch TDKR with the family. Yesterday we watched TDK and I don't think my family understood the sheer magnitude of that movie... 😔

Oh well! It'll be fun!

Once again, thank you very much! And please keep your eyes wide open, I have a surprise coming up for everyone!

Have an amazing day ahead!

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479 notes · View notes

octuscle · 2 months

Note

Hey there! I'm having a debate with my roommate and wondering if you can help settle it. He says that if you gave someone the body of a jock, without any mental changes, they'll eventually start acting like a jock anyway. I don't think that's true. Just because you have muscles and look like a jock doesn't mean you'll start acting like one, right? We were thinking of trying to set up an experiment for our honor's thesis and wanted your input, thanks!

Are you really sure you want to go through with it? We are happy to do it. I'll create a preset for you that only changes your body. But really. 1.90 m tall. 140 kg of pure muscle mass. But everything else stays the same. To be honest, you don't look like you're ready for it. But it's up to you. I can only recommend that you are in a safe and, above all, unobserved place when you activate the preset.

You take a deep breath. You stand naked in the middle of your room. Next to you, you have laid out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a tank top, a jockstrap, a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers. You can only hope that the clothes will fit your new self. 3. 2. 1. enter!

Wow! Holy shit! Now that was quick and without a transition. You look down at the floor from a slightly greater height. And when you look down, all you see are pecs. Fucking huge pecs. You need a mirror. Phew! Very slowly! The new body works a little differently than the old one… Your center of gravity is much higher up. You stand in front of the mirror. This no longer has anything to do with you. It's more Greek demigod than human. Your cock is getting hard. A huge cock that fits this huge body. You never wank. Especially not in the middle of your room. But now you have to. Not for long. And a huge load lands on the mirror and the floor. Yes, I've changed a few details apart from the height and muscle mass. You've already noticed one thing. You'll notice the others too.

You're convinced that the new body won't change anything. So you act as you always have. First of all, you clean up the mess. You are manically clean and tidy. Then you put on your clothes. The shoes are a bit tight, but otherwise everything fits pretty well. So off you go to the library. After all, your honors thesis isn't going to write itself.

Iris and Rita at the information desk didn't recognize you when you greeted them. They looked at you as if you were an alien when you wished them a good morning. You sat down at your regular place in the library. You like routines. You started working on your thesis outline when Vincent came over. Vincent always sits three tables behind you. Nice guy, similarly obsessive as you. He clears his throat and says that you can't sit here, the seat is taken. Actually, you should have said something along the lines of "Vincent, don't you recognize me, it's me!". But somehow you can't help it. You have to try it out. You cross your muscular arms behind your head, look deep into his eyes and just ask who cares. Vincent retreats like a beaten dog. Three minutes later, you have a WhatsApp message: "There's some stupid musclehead sitting in your seat!" You reply that it's okay, you're not on campus for a few days for empirical studies anyway.

But you're not as productive as usual. Your new body is keeping you busier than you thought. It feels so good to tense your muscles. Your hard cock is constantly leaking precum and is always half stiff. Shit, after an hour you have to jerk off. Fuck, you make quite a mess in the toilet. You try to clean everything up with toilet paper. When you come out of the stall, a student is standing at the urinal, looking at you and wanking. Get out of here quickly, you think to yourself.

The incident is definitely worth recording. After all, you've never experienced this before. But it was hot. As you type out your thoughts, your stomach begins to growl. So loud that Vicent hisses "Pssst". It's actually too early for lunch. But the canteen is about to open. So you're one of the first in the queue. You can hardly wait. And you heap heaps of food onto your tray. You're so hungry.

The weather is good, you sit down at a table in the sun and, ignoring all the table manners, you wolf down your food. Suddenly you hear a voice shouting "Hey, guys, there are empty seats here with the big boy!" You look up. A couple of idiots from the football team are standing at your table. "Dude, okay if we join you?" asks one of the guys, who seems to be some kind of leader. "Sure thing," you say with your mouth full, spitting a bit of your chicken across the table. "Cool," he replies, giving you a fist bump, which you return somewhat hesitantly and also a little awkwardly. And before you know it, you're sitting in a cloud of sweat, testosterone and stupid comments.

You start talking to the boys more for scientific reasons. They ask if you're Fresman because they've never seen you before. You say that you're actually studying somewhere else, but you're here to work on your Honor's thesis. The leader spits his Coke across the table. "Fuck, dude! You already have a degree? In what? Lifting iron?" Everyone laughs. Very loudly. You too. It's actually really funny with the boys…

The boys go to the gym after lunch. I wonder if you're coming too. You don't even think about it. You just say that you haven't got anything to change into. Everyone laughs and asks if anyone is interested. So you go along. It's a field study, you think to yourself. You're observing everything very closely. You don't want to attract negative attention. The processes seem very simple. You copy what you see the boys doing. You even enjoy it. You work up a sweat. You forget the time. The others are gone at some point. You're still here. You look in the mirror. Your long, sweaty hair falls across your forehead. Your friends all have much shorter hair. It's also more practical when working out. You look at your watch. Shit!!!!! You have to get your stuff from the library before it closes. Trevor, sitting at the information desk, doesn't recognize you either. It's already very empty when you pack up your things. Vincent is still there, mumbling something about how antisocial it is to occupy a space you're not using. You don't know why you're doing this now. But you go to him very slowly. You press his face into your armpit. And say that you had more important things to do. Shit, Vincent is seriously licking the sweat out of your armpit hair now? Pathetic little fucker, your new friends would say now. You're far too surprised. By you. By him. Slightly disturbed, you go home. You throw yourself on your bed and think about your first day as a jock. You fall asleep.

You are actually a person who is always well prepared. But you are amazed at how little you have prepared for this experiment. You have a combination to wear. It's still sweaty after yesterday's workout. But you don't have anything else. So this morning you're not going to the library, but to the paint shop. Shopping. A pair of sweatshorts, a few tank tops, socks and jockstraps, sneakers. A bit of compression gear for training. You pass a barbershop. There are a couple of guys inside who are obviously no strangers to the gym either. Fuck it, you think. Down with the long hair!

You haven't been in the library this late in a long time. Vincent has blocked your seat for you. With a few protein bars. Cute! He winks at you when you come in. You raise your arm and smell your armpit. Shit, you haven't showered! Fuck… Well, maybe the little prick will like that even more…

By lunchtime with the boys, you at least want to have logged yesterday and this morning. And you're looking for some literature on the connection between mind and body. Most of it is ancient. Nothing has been published on the subject for a long time. And if there is, it's more about the effect of the state of mind on the body. Less often on the effect of the body on the state of mind. That's obvious, because normally a genius like you doesn't acquire a body overnight…

The lunch break with the boys was cool. The guys are just very chilled, you like that. No highbrow topics. Just sport, fucking and partying. Unfortunately, a lot of football too. You have no idea about that. After lunch, the boys want to throw some balls on the lawn. You have to go to a colloquium later. And Luke said that you should finally replace those nerdy glasses with contact lenses. The visit to the optician was a good excuse not to embarrass yourself at football.

A whole day without going to the gym sucks! That's why you got up early today. You didn't do your thesis assignments yesterday, nor did you get your muscles burning. That has to change. Shit, you're still struggling with your contact lenses. But it looks a thousand times better. You're screaming alpha with every trained muscle fiber. And that's great! You almost feel at home in the gym. And nobody questions your position. In the library, Vincent provides you with everything you need. He fetches books for you and takes them away again. He has also already offered to help you with your work. What a loser! You don't need to order anything in the canteen after just two days. Your extra large portion of extra protein-rich food is prepared especially for you. Twice. You come once when the canteen opens. And once just before it closes. Your body is a machine. And this machine needs fuel. Lots of fuel.

You sit in the library and document the developments of the last few days. It really is only a few days. Reading through the last few lines almost makes you nauseous. Has your body replaced your mind so quickly? You need to get a grip on yourself. You did your Master's with distinction. You're working on your honor's thesis. You have a chance of getting a professorship at your old college. And you suddenly prefer to spend more time in the gym or with the airheads on the football team? You make a plan. Two hours of gym in the morning, two hours break with the bros at lunchtime, two hours of gym in the evening. And in between, focus on your thesis and your studies. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're an intelligent and disciplined man. So let's get going!

You have made every effort. And you actually come to the conclusion in your thesis that the body of a jock does not automatically lead to the mind of a stupid, arrogant and superficial jock. You have fun with both. Training in the gym and hanging out with the bros. And working scientifically and researching the human psyche. But in a lecture you realize that it's not you who changes, it's your environment that changes you. Since you got this body three weeks ago, no one has spoken to you about your studies. Vincent, who you thought was intellectual through and through, just wants you to let him lick your armpits in the evening. Your bros didn't even ask you what you were studying. And then the day comes when you attend your doctoral supervisor's lecture. Since your transformation, you've only spoken or written on the phone. You sit in the front row. You appreciate your doctoral supervisor for his liberal political views, his rhetorical skills and his incredible knowledge. At the end of his lecture, he looks at you. And asks if the young man, who unfortunately was unable to dress appropriately, understood a word of what he had just said. He assumes you were mistaken in the lecture hall. But if you invest your energy in your biceps and not your brain, that's to be expected.

First you think about whether you are saying anything particularly intelligent. To express your indignation at his insolence. To justify yourself. But then you think about what has been really fun in the last few weeks. And who you really had fun with. And you answer "Nah, professor dude! Dat wuz alot of words n stff u sed. I dnt thnk I need all dat for my degree as a personal trainer. wdut, bro?" You make your pecs dance. The lecture hall laughs. You stand up. Fuck the honor's thesis!

You started studying sports economics again. You also work as a trainer in a fitness studio. And you have a pretty successful YouTube fitness channel. You recently received a call from your old doctoral supervisor. He read through the draft of your honor's thesis again. It was all very promising. Why did you drop out? You say that you obviously have to choose between brains and brawn at some point. And you're grateful to him for helping you decide. And with that you hang up.

#male tf #muscle tf #chronivac #inked man #ai image #tank top

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sprout-fics · 9 months

Text

I keep thinking about the way people write Ghost as a Dom.

There’s a tendency in the x reader part of this fandom to write CoD men as very dominant, kinky, rough, degrading kind of personas. I like the idea of a dominant character about as much as the next smut writer, but I’ve noticed a tendency for folks to really lean into this, and make characters (mostly Ghost) almost malicious in his sex acts. It sits wrong with me because Simon is a victim of some pretty horrific sexual assault in his original comics, and also someone we see who has compassion and tries extremely hard to distance himself from his traumatic past.

However, I also feel like there is a way for Ghost to be involved in dominancy and kink without it being completely antithetical to his character. This is my personal interpretation, trying to closely keep in mind Simon’s past, and you are free to disagree with it. However I think the idea of Simon finding kink/dominancy as a way of reclaiming his sexuality after his trauma is deeply fascinating, and worth exploring.

(TW: Discussions of consent violation and sexual trauma)

Ghost experienced sexual assault in his comics tied to the original series, for those of you who may not know. I’ll spare the details, as I’ve been over this several times before. Like many sexual assault survivors, he has nightmares from his time being tortured. It’s pretty easy to conclude from this that Simon has a complicated relationship with sex. I adore soft Simon, I think the pieces of Simon getting emotional during very tender sex are some of my favorites. I also think there’s layers to character interpretation.

It’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma, sexual or otherwise, to try and use kink as an emotional and physical outlet to work through severe emotions. Kink offers a safe, controlled context for sexual trauma survivors to reclaim sexual confidence and comfort. While sexual trauma like assault is a non-consensual seizure of power and dominance, power exchange in a safe, kinky setting can be a consensual, healthy practice to reframe sexual trauma. Kink centers and emphasizes communication and consent which are vital tenets of any healthy sex. (Source)

For Simon, what happened to him was a complete lack of control which led to physical, emotional, and psychological harm. So, for me, it makes complete sense he would approach kink/BDSM practices through the lens of dominance, where the exchange is focused on retaining control rather than the surrender of control. Personally, I think Simon would be very very hard pressed to ever be a sub, and would only consider it with someone who he trusts with not just his life, but his mental well-being, which for him is a very challenging task.

The idea of Simon being involved in kink related dominancy (Side note, there’s is a difference between someone saying they like to be dominant in bed vs identifying as a ‘Dom’, which I see many many writers make the mistake of) can, to me, be seen as a safe way to explore sex following the events in the comics. Responsible Doms hold consent sacred, and know that partners invest a significant amount of trust in them to keep them safe during kink related activities, sexual or otherwise. It isn’t uncommon for BDSM dynamics to form ‘contracts’ that outline things that are completely off the table. Safewords are an absolute must, and must be respected at all times.

Note: Dominancy =/= Rough, degrading, hair pulling sex. Dominancy can be deeply psychological, in learning your partner’s mannerisms, wants, desires, and most importantly their triggers.

There’s often very definitively laid out boundaries between partners, and it goes both ways. Ex: you may not like being called degrading names. For Simon (In my personal opinion) I think this involves a refusal to bottom, being restrained, and other things that may invoke triggers related to his trauma. A lot of concepts revolving around BDSM ( (SSC) Safe, Sane, Consensual / (RACK) Risk-Aware Sexual Kink) emphasize and hold accountability for both partners to communicate clearly with each other and respect these clearly set boundaries while being aware of the acts they are involved in.

I think this sense of rules, consent, guidelines, contracts, and boundaries of how to participate in kink is fairly relieving for Simon. It provides a clear framework of how to approach his partners and ensure both their safety and his own. I feel like Simon is very hesitant about the idea of dominance, because he often fears perpetuating behaviors his abusers committed against him. So this covenant of etiquette towards partners provides a much needed structure for him to work in. If he’s a man of routine (which personally, I like to think so. He’s in the military, which tends to do that to you) and it is deeply relieving for him, because it acts almost like a boundary that prevents him from abusing his partners. So Simon doing research into BDSM/Kink etiquette is totally feasible in my mind, especially when we take into a concept of him using largely agreed upon guidelines and suggestions to allow him space to reclaim his sexuality without it turning into a victim to abuser scenario. (There’s also room to be explored regarding Ghost and protocol based BDSM dynamics within this same vein, but that’s a different essay)

(Another side note: It is easy for abusers to take advantage of victims by concealing themself behind being a Dom. However, this is why concepts such as contracts, SSC, and RACK exist, to help mitigate instances of this. If you are interested in these types of dynamics, please please do some responsible research to know how to spot people like this)

There’s a lot of nuance to this idea. However, I have seen some AMAZING fics explore this concept of Simon being a responsible Dom while also keeping in mind he is a deeply complicated person with a complex history. Simon’s sexual assault does not define his character, but it is an important facet to it considering that the trauma of his torture formed him into the character we are introduced to- a man who burned his past but continues to carry it with him in the form of a mask designed to separate himself from others.

Here’s some fic recs that explore or touch on this topic, thanks for reading:

Surviving You - WhisperedWords12: SoapGhost BDSM AU that provides a great understanding of consensual dynamics, contracts, consent, subdrop/domdrop, and touches on how irresponsible dominant partners can leave lasting, scarring impressions on their partners

Exfilitration - Vedettare: Similar concept in that Ghost assists Soap through subdrop, and realizes he may be poorly handling the way he engages in his and Soap’s dynamic, which he tries to rectify (Ongoing)

Mine and Yours - Artemis_Neardos: Again, SoapGhost, simultaneously explores Ghost as a Dom as well as his relationship with his trauma, and does a very good job doing so. Bonus: Dom/Sub AleRudy. This series involves under negotiated kink at the beginning, which improves later. Mind the tags

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in this area. I am relaying things I have learned. I encourage you, if you are interested, to do your own research and read critically the things that are available to you. Never engage with partners who do not respect your consent

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw2022

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vampyrsm · 2 years

Text

mdni.

thinking about roommate bakugou who is so tired of hearing you whining in the room just next to his, so sick of the buzzing of what he knows is your favourite wand & how it just doesn’t satisfy you enough because you’re trying for so long to cum.

he can hear the bed shift when you try a new position to hurry things along, can hear you curse when it’s just not doing it for you. if he wasn’t so hyper-focused on you, he might’ve missed the way you’re moaning for something bigger over the noise of his wet cock in his hand whilst he aggressively strokes himself.

it’s like that most nights, him cumming hard on himself to the sound of when you finally hit your high and you’re cumming, loud. he’s pretty certain that you know he can hear you, but you don’t seem to care when he hears you finally relax, then padding over to your bathroom to clean yourself up.

but tonight is different, the familiar hum of your vibrator has been on for a while, much longer than you usually take to reach your peak. he wonders if you’ve maybe just left it on, huffing at himself for realising how fucking creepy it is that he’s trying to read your movements through the fucking wall.

that is until he hears you sigh, long and loud and dripping with annoyance. he hears a faint “can’t even cum,” along with a sentence that’s much quieter and harder for him to hear but he’s not really focusing anymore. he’s focused on the fact you can’t cum anymore from your toys, making your little clit all numb to the vibrations and ruining your own orgasm.

doesn’t even stop himself from getting up and out of bed, tugging up his sweatpants to his hips and making his way out of his room and straight to yours. doesn’t even knock either, just opens the door to hear you squeal and attempt to cover yourself up. but it’s too late, he saw the copious amount of slick coating your thighs and the wet patch on the towel you’ve laid out, never mind the impressive amount of toys you’ve got on your bed that have got clear signs of usage.

“katsuki!” you try to sound stern, but it wavers when you see the clear outline of his fat cock in his sweatpants and the wet patch forming where his tip must be. he’s smirking at you when you reach his eyes, making quick steps towards the edge of the bed to grab ahold of your ankle and yanking you down hard enough to twist the blankets off of your body.

he has you splayed out for him, your legs spread to expose your dripping wet slit to the cool air and he’s staring. unashamed with it too, he’s practically drooling over the state your pussy is in. you’re fucking soaked, and you still couldn’t cum? tsk.

“heard you whinin’ and sighing through the wall princess,” he starts, voice laced in thick arousal as he ruts his clothed cock against you to see the wet imprint you leave behind. “you need someone t’make you cum, hm?”

you should really say no, he is your roommate after all and if you let him fuck you then wouldn’t that blur some lines? make things complicated? but every time he rolls his hips forward, catching your swollen clit against the ridge of his cock, the worries melt out of your brain.

“please,” you pout a little, sounding extra needy because if he keeps doing that thing with his hips then you’re going to end up cumming and it’ll be all for nothing.

“please what? hm?” he bites his bottom lip when you whine, your hips jerking a little and he can see your stomach tense up when he ruts a little harder against you. “tell me what you want baby, and i’ll give it to ya.”

you abandon the embarrassment, opting to roll your hips a little in tandem with his and making him the one to moan at the pressure you’re applying. “wan’ you to fuck me, please, wanna cum on your cock.” it’s filthy, the words you say but the fire that sets alight in katsuki’s eyes when he meets your fucked out gaze with a wolfish grin.

“since you asked so nicely,” he grins and finally letting go of one of your thighs to pull and tug his sweatpants down to let his cock spring out and slap against his thigh because of how fucking big and heavy it is, you can’t stop yourself from staring at it with wide eyes, is it even going to fucking fit? seemingly catching the look in your eye, his hand wraps around the base of his cock as he gently glides it through your wetness, gathering it at his tip to tap it against your clit to watch you jolt.

“don’t worry baby, we’ll make it fit.” is all he says before he’s angling his hips down a little, enraged red head of his cock catching against your entrance before he’s rolling his hips forward fluidly with a low groan that matches your moan of ecstasy at being stretched out by his length.

he gives shallow thrusts until he’s buried deep inside of you, his hips flush against your own and your thighs twitching at his sides from where he’s holding them. he tucks your legs over his arms before effortlessly folding you in half, his face now just hovering over yours. his hips still giving slow but deep experimental rolls to feel the way your walls flutter and cling to him for dear life.

“so fuckin’ tight, keep squeezing me like that and ‘m not gonna last princess.” he tenses his jaw when you subconsciously squeeze him at his words, just the thought of making him cum enough to get you off.

“can’t help it, ‘s too big.” you mumble back, and he’s grinning again despite the strain in his body to stop himself from exploding inside of you. his lips brush against yours when he leans a little closer, exchanging soft pants before he stills deep inside of you.

you think he might actually be struggling to hold on but then he starts a pace that’s almost vicious, downright mean with how his balls slap against the curve of your ass and the rough trail of blonde hair just above his cock is rubbing against your clit harshly. you moan loud, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he shifts his body slightly and barrelling the head of his cock into the one spot that has your entire body going rigid.

“g’nna cum pretty girl? yeah? wanna feel you cum all over my cock,” he groans when your thighs start to twitch against his biceps and how you’re squeezing him somehow much tighter than earlier, he throws his weight around a little more to make sure he breaks past the strong grip you have on him. “cum for me, c’mon.”

and you do, throwing your head back and arching your back as little as you can in the mating press he has you in and you’re spasming wildly around his length as he continues to fuck you through your initial relief and throwing you right into your next one that’s almost painful from how quickly you approached it. “f-fuck, ‘ki, too much, ‘s too much!” you finally manage to get out after your entire body seized up in pure ecstasy.

“just a little more, ‘m so close,” he moans sinfully against your parted lips, his body drenched in sweat and all his muscles bunched tight before he’s losing sense of rhythm and throwing himself head first into what he might think is one of his best orgasms in a long time. he whines, actually whines, when his cock twitches and starts to release his hot white seed deep inside your walls with each thrust of his hips, fucking it impossibly deeper until he can’t anymore.

his body lowers itself over yours, still aware of how he could crush you beneath him as he lets your legs loose from the grip you had and you both groan at the wet feeling of his cum being forced out from you around his cock. he breathes in deep when his nose buries itself into your hair, letting himself relax as your fingers stroke gentle patterns up and down his sides. “i’ll clean up in a second, lemme just..” he doesn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he means.

you kiss against his collarbone, then his shoulder, basking in the after-sex smell and the thought that maybe this could turn out for the better.

anyway i wrote this instead of making myself lunch, hope you enjoyed 🥰

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #bnha x self insert #bnha oneshots #katsuki x you #bnha x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo fluff #mha smut #bnha smut #katsuki smut

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chelscait · 11 months

Text

we back. | Alexia Putellas

category: fluff, baby fever major fluff.

summary: where you and Alexia return to football from two entirely different reasons.

word count: 5.1k.

You were sat at home when you got the call regarding Alexia's knee injury. You were both set to guide Spain all the way through the euros yet neither of you participated.

Alexia was on the sidelines and out for the next 9 months whereas you were 'injured' for the next 9/10 months.

The truth is you were injured, just not to the same extent as Alexia's. You had picked up a slight ankle injury towards the end of the 21/22 season, only a sprain but you dragged it out. The real reason was that you were a month pregnant.

Alexia and you had decided that you had wanted a baby and you were willing to give up the euros in order to do so, Alexia was not so sure it was the right time but you reassured her promising her you'd be fine on your own and to update her.

The ankle injury was the best excuse to hide the pregnancy, pretending you were staying in Barcelona to do your 'rehab' while everyone was in England.

When Alexia's injury was announced it had brought great dread upon you, an ACL tear is a big deal and it would not be easy growing a child inside of you and looking after her at the same time.

Although you could see her struggling through the mental aspects as well as the physical, she was trying her best to look after you as well. The thought of her unborn baby inspired her through her rehab to get back in shape as quick as possible.

The black and white outline on the sonogram that was revealed to you both every appointment seemed to make Alexia's comeback near closer and closer.

Finding out you were having a little girl made Alexia even more excited, wanting to become an inspiration for your daughter even though you told her many times that she's not going to have a clue in the world Alexia was a top player for a while.

"When you grow up you are going to be one of the best footballers in the world." Alexia giggled as she felt the baby kick hard for the 4th time in a row.

"Just like her mama." You interrupted their conversation, while stroking her hair.

"Mamas, you mean?"

You just smiled as you turned back to reading your book, Alexia carrying on her conversation after finding out after tons of research that the more the baby hears your voice the more relaxed they'll be around you when they're born.

"Bebé, can you please stop talking about football the more you do it the more she kicks and it's getting uncomfortable."

"Sorry." She whispers against your stomach, pressing a light kiss before sitting up.

Whilst doing so you didn't fail to notice the wince on her face.

"Are you in pain? Want me to get you some painkillers?"

"No. i'm fine." Her face turns emotionless at the attention of her discomfort, getting up to hobble to the bathroom.

You got up after her to go and get her some meds as well as water to leave on her bedside table, opening the freezer and grabbing her an ice pack to rest on her knee.

Alexia had her surgery a couple of months back, though she was still struggling with the pain and it made your heart crack seeing her like this.

"I don't need that." Glaring at you as you walked in. Your rose your eyebrow, telling her to carry on.

"Do you really want to dismiss a pregnant women? You need it, it'll help." You scolded pulling the covers off her bottom half and placing the ice pack gently on her knee, herself hissing at the coldness, and gently lifting her leg to rest on a pillow.

"You've already got the motherly characteristics."

"Yep, i'm practicing on you." You gave her a humorous look as you pulled the covers back over her, "Now take." You practically forced her to take the pills with the stare you were giving her.

"See? What would you do without me? Pretty sure you'd be dead by now."

"Ha ha." You gave her a successful smile and turned back to walk towards your side of the bed.

Before you felt a sudden pain in your side, "ouch." You hissed as you bent over on the bed.

"¿Estas bien?" Alexia looked all over your face to check if your okay.

"Estoy bien, i think she kicked a bit too hard. Don't worry, it's okay." You reassured her as you got into bed and cuddled into her side.

"Have you thought of anymore names yet?" You ask to clear the air.

"No, it's too hard. We have to make sure that it's not the same as any of the girls we play with and that's literally every name!"

You giggle at the known fact that any of the girls name being used will end up with a fight or an argument about being the favourite.

"I've come up with a few. I really like Ada but it is the name of the best player in the team we will hate until death."

"Yeah, definitely not. I think something more Spanish traditional, you know? Like... Sofia or something."

"Mhm," You hummed before you yawned. "It'll come."

3 months later, you hit your late 8 month mark while Alexia was getting stronger and stronger, herself now training separately on the pitch beside the others. The team were wondering where you were though, Alexia having stayed quiet about you the whole time they've been back from being knocked out in the quarters.

All she has said, as well as the trainers, was that you were on a health break. You had both told Jonatan and the trainers the truth when Alexia started her rehab, they were all ecstatic and couldn't wait to have another baby in the team.

"Amor, where are you?" Alexia shouted throughout your house, expecting to find you right in front of her, instead just Nala bouncing at her feet.

"Nursery!"

She made her way towards the room with the ball of fluff trailing behind, to find you in the middle of a mess of baby clothes.

"Hola." You grinned up at her as she appeared in the door way.

"Ay dios mío. Do we need this much?" Alexia's shocked face looks around the room, bending over to pick up some tiny socks.

"I couldn't resist! I went out with Alba and tu mama and we couldn't stop fussing over all of it and how little it all is! Like look at the size of these shoes!!" You crawled over to pick the small converse up and shoved them in her face with a small pout.

"This is going to be one stylish baby. She's very lucky." She held her arms out to help you up, your bump now much bigger which limited your mobilisation.

"She is one lucky baby." You bit your lip as you stroked your stomach, "I'm so excited."

"Me too, Cariño."

"How was training? Venga, i'll start dinner." You took hold of her hand and dragged her into the kitchen, giving her a questioning look as she didn't reply.

"The usual, girls asking about you and how your doing and a lot of strengthening." Alexia plopped onto one of the stalls as she spoke, yourself going quiet as you got some ingredients out to make your favourite pasta.

"I feel really bad. Do you think we should have told them?" You whipped yourself around, hugging the bunch of ingredients in your arms as you lip wobbled.

Alexia's eyes widened, knowing how emotional you have been lately the hormones fluctuating drastically.

"Baby, baby, hey. It's our life, our choice. We wanted to experience this privately and so far it has been amazing, it feels normal. Besides, they all love kids and once they see our beautiful girls face all accusations will be thrown out the window. Prometo." Alexia was now in front of you slowly removing the ingredients from your arms before they are all chucked everywhere, anger was a big one of your hormonal moods.

"Okay."

"Bueno, do you want me to do dinner?" She felt you nod against her shoulder, herself lifting your head up with your cheeks squished and pressing kisses all over your face.

"Estoy cansada. I want baby out now."

"I know, i know, t'estimo tant. Go sit down, we'll have dinner in the living room."

She frowned as she watched you wobble off towards the destination.

"You're having the next one!"

The next day, Alexia was training anxiously. She had left you that morning with some minor pains in your abdomen, a clear sign of near labor. You had convinced her to go to her rehab to not cause any suspicion and promised her that you'll be fine as her mum was coming round after she leaves.

In the physio room, she didn't want to leave her phone behind, staring at it for a good 20 minutes before she had to go out.

"You can take it out with you." Alexia's one on one coach told her with a smile on his face. "It's getting close, it's probably best."

"Gracias."

"No hay problema, i remember when my wife gave birth... i was with her the whole time, might not have been the best time of her life but it was mine. Helping my boy come into the world, she made me so proud."

Alexia smiled at him as his thoughts drifted off, going to get a ball of the side of the pitch.

"Also, remember to not take anything they say to heart during labor. I had some pretty mean things thrown at me and the grip of the hand hold is hard, so try not to break your hand."

"Of course, i've already had some pretty stern telling offs. Pretty sure that after she's born i'd be mothered, still, more than her."

The feeling of the ball at her feet distracted Alexia from her worries, there being no update from her mum or you, her phone staying relatively quiet during her session.

It wasn't until she was heading in for lunch when she started to feel her anxiety creeping up again, not allowing her phone screen to go dark.

"Hola.." Mapi caught up with her, shoving her arm around her shoulders.

"Hola." Alexia smiled at her quickly before returning her gaze to her phone, Mapi following on.

"Are you okay? You never have your phone at training, you don't like distractions?" Mapi's hand travelled down to the small of her back, her head tilting in front of Alexia's.

"Sí, todo bien. Just waiting for an update from my doctor..." They continued on walking towards the cafeteria, Alexia then putting her phone in her pocket to grab some food.

Mapi immediately went to sit down next to Ingrid, stealing her apple.

"Hey!" Ingrid stole her apple back after Mapi took one bite, giving her a weird look.

"I think something is wrong with Y/N."

"What do you mean?" Frido now joined in the conversation, concerned over the state of one of her best friends.

"I'm not sure, but Alexia seems anxious... she keeps looking at her phone every two seconds and... just look at her!" They all turned their heads towards Alexia, Mapi's point being proved with Alexia resting her elbow on the table with her forehead being rubbed by her palm.

"I'm sure it's nothing too bad... right?" Claudia, having come over with Patri and a few other girls, tried to reassure herself, as well as the others, worried about her missing team mum.

"Hopefully... i just really wish that they'd say something. Like, Y/N has been gone for ages and hasn't spoken to us once. It's ruining us and our focus is not on football." Ingrid placed her hand on Mapi's back, rubbing it up and down soothingly in response.

Suddenly, a loud blaring of a ringtone erupted in the room. Mapi's head flew off of Ingrid's shoulder and found Alexia frantically getting up to answer it. With a determined look, she got up and slowly followed Alexia out the room.

"Mapi!" Ingrid scolded, knowing Alexia won't be pleased with the lack of privacy and respect Mapi is showing.

"Is she okay? Is she coming?" Alexia slowed in the hallway, placing her hand on top of her head.

"She is?? Okay.. Okay.. erm.. joder! i'll be there soon i just need to get my stuff, are you on the way to the hospital?"

"Hospital?" Mapi whispered to herself as she rested against the wall around the corner.

"Okay, give me 20 minutes. Tell her i'll be with her soon, and that i love her and she's so incredibly strong and she should be so proud of herself." She rambled through the phone, pacing the small width of the hallway. "Okay, right, see you in a bit."

Alexia tucked her phone back in her pocket, rushing round the corner to bump straight into Mapi.

"Maps? What are you doing?"

"Erm.."

"Were you spying on me?.. You know what forget it." Alexia interrogated before she continued her fast walk down the hallway towards the locker room, Mapi following close behind.

"What's wrong with Y/N?"

"Nothing she's fine."

"Alexia!" Mapi took a hold of her arm to stop her from going any further, "Dime, do you not think this is affecting the team? We're all so worried and it's hurting us thinking she's going through something terrible and we can't help her!"

"Mapi, i promise you she's fine." Alexia reassured, tugging her arm out of her hold wanting to get to her wife as soon as possible.

"I heard the phone call Alexia. Why is she going to the hospital?" She tugged her back towards her gaze.

"For fuck sake, Mapi. Let me go."

"Just tell me!"

"She's pregnant, okay!?"

Mapi slowly let her arm slide out of her hold, Alexia slamming the changing room door open and frantically packing her stuff away.

"You guys are having a baby?"

"Sí, yes we are. She's gone into labor her water broke, we wanted to keep it private. Happy?" Alexia shoved her shoulder into Mapi's and made her way out.

"Omg... Omg!"

"Don't tell anyone yet, Mapi!"

"¡Prometo!" Mapi squealed to herself, already excited to meet her bestest friends baby.

"So, did you find out anything?" Claudia eagerly whispered to Mapi after training, watching as she packed her stuff away.

"She's okay, trust me." Mapi smirked to herself, Claudia and Ingrid both giving her a weird look.

"Why has she been so distant then?"

"You'll see."

"Why not tell me?"

"Because it's not something for me to tell." Mapi patted Claudia on the shoulder, "I promise you, she's okay."

Claudia flopped onto the bench with a huff as she watched Mapi and Ingrid stride out of the changing room. Her mind in continuous thought about what may be the reason to why you had been gone so long, the knowledge that her football mums have gone this long without revealing anything to her made her feel unwanted. Though she couldn't feel like that, she was an adult after all.

Many hours later in the early morning of the next day, you were sleepily watching your loved one cradle your newborn to her chest. You smiled as you watched her bend her head down to rub her nose against hers, her eyes appearing glossy as she looked back at you.

"Oh, mi amor... she's perfect." Alexia bit her lip at the sight of her relaxed daughter.

"She has your eyes, and nose... practically all of you as she was your egg." You rolled your eyes jokingly as you shuffled in bed.

Alexia chuckled with a sniff, wiping some of the tears from her face.

"Elena." You whispered, you face displaying adoration for your little family.

"¿Que?"

"Her name. Elena? Elena Putellas Segura?"

You could see Alexia's smile widen, her face revelling in a small glow as she nodded.

"I love it." Alexia got up to pass the sleeping baby back to you, yourself moving over to allow her to join you. "I love you. I'm so proud".

"Oh and by the way, Mapi knows."

"Of course." You huffed at the lack of secret keeping between the two best friends. "She was going to find out sooner than later."

That whole night Alexia didn't sleep a wink, wanting to watch over the most precious thing she has. As well as you. She didn't allow her touch to leave hers, wanting Elena to feel she's wanted and protected. "I am never going to let anything bad happen to you, mi amor."

In response, she had gripped her finger so tightly, almost as if she remembers Alexia's voice. The whole night they stayed like that, no distractions just pure love.

The next few weeks were bliss, your daughter turned out perfect. You and Alexia had slept through most nights, Elena not kicking up no more than just one small fuss a night for a feed. The secret still going while Alexia trained, although with the continuous annoyance of Mapi pestering in her ear.

You had also started your rehab, though also in secret. You didn't want the interrogation yet and would rather do so with Alexia, your post natal emotions still not up to speed. You had been going into the Joan Gamper, the trainers helping you with avoiding any of your teammates, and training on a separate pitch.

After a few months, you both were back to standard fitness. The physios having cleared you to go back to training now after Alexia did a few weeks back. She was glad, you not so much.

"They've seen you! They know you're okay! I have been avoiding them for a straight year nearly!"

"Baby, it's okay. We'll explain everything." Alexia tried to calm you down as you were having a literal melt down in the kitchen after finding out the news.

"Oh hey, i'm back yes i've been gone ages, i've had a baby with Alexia and we decided not to tell you all, i know it's full on but we are happy and we don't care about what you think." You blabbered in the conversation, making out to her that this is a big deal.

"Why don't we take her with us, she's a bit bigger now." Alexia sighed rubbing her hand over her face.

"And what would we do? Who would look after her?"

"How about we meet them before?"

You stopped to think for a second, looking at the floor. Your trail interrupted as you heard a strangled cry coming from the bedroom, you and Alexia both snapping your heads towards it.

"I'll get her."

"No, i'll get her. I need to think." You rounded the kitchen island, placing your hand on her shoulder to push her back down gently in her seat.

Picking the chubby baby up from her crib, you rocked her on you hip to soothe her, pressing kisses on her head.

After she had let out a giggle from your silly faces, you laid her down to change her and grabbed her some clothes.

After you had done so, you pulled her up into a sitting position and she stared at you with a wide toothless smile.

"What am i going to do?" You ask her rhetorically, sweeping you hand through her messy dark baby hairs.

She just gurgled and slapped her hand onto your face, which she seemed to find funny. With a scrunched face, you removed her small fingers and picked her up once again taking her downstairs.

"ahh, bebé is awake." Alexia put down the snack she was eating on the counter and brushed her hands away of any crumbs before reaching out, Elena doing so too.

"Hola, pequeña." She had settled on her lap straight away, intrigued with what was on her plate, while Alexia pressed kisses to her cheek.

"I think i've figured out a plan..."

"Mhm, go on." She listened to you, swiping her hair behind her shoulders away from Elenas reach.

"I'll pick you up from training tomorrow. I'll be in the changing room waiting for you with her... but you got to be the first one in and you have to promise me that." You pointed your index finger at her with a serious face.

"That sounds like a perfect plan, cariño."

"Yeah... i just hope they aren't too mad." You exhaled as you turned to lean on the side.

"Hey..." She grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you closer towards her. "Don't worry, even if they are mad they can't be for too long. Besides Mapi will fight anyone off."

You gave a small scoff of a laugh and allowed Alexia to bring you in for a small kiss. "A little hostility is nothing compared to what you've brought to the world."

Elena also agreeing with a loud squeal, making her presence known once again. You both jumping slightly at the high pitched noise, as well as Nala who was cosied at Alexia's feet.

It was near the end of Alexia's training the next day and you, to say, were shitting it. You and Elena were sat in the car park in your usual spot before time changed, your leg bouncing up and down as you stared at the sleeping baby in her car seat from the rear view mirror.

"Okay, vamos. Calm down, we'll be fine. Everything will be fine." You hyped yourself up as you came back to reality, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt and get out the car before rounding the other side to carefully extract Elena with her car seat.

Being careful not to disturb her you slowly made your way towards the front entrance, your hands shaking was not helping to keep her steady and you didn't notice that she was stirring awake.

"Ay dios mío! It's so good to see you again!" One of the photographers you'd come to know quite well spotted you entering before her eyes trailed down to what was in your hands.

"No you did not."

"I did." You giggled as you turned the car seat towards her view.

"Y/N... she's perfect." She crouched down to Elenas view, tickling her finger across her cheek which elicited a cute giggle.

"You have kept this cutie a secret all this time?"

"Yep, now i'm going to surprise the team." You huffed with pursed lips, still not excited for their reaction.

"I'm sure they'll be fine." She got up from her position still eyeing your baby with a big smile on her face. "Anyway, i'll let you get going. See you later."

"See you."

You continued your way down the long hallway before the changing room sign entered your view, pushing the door open. The sight of the changing room brought back memories, it hadn't changed one bit. Your locker still had your name on it and was still next to Alexia's, you moved over to it to finally place the heavy carrier down and look around.

You sat down on the allocated bench seat in front of your locker and hastily undid Elenas seatbelt to pick her up, needing a bit of emotional support. You placed her in your lap, grabbing one of her toys from your bag to distract her with.

You saw the time on your phone and it was about 2 seconds until training finished, your heart racing as you leant your lips gently on her head.

Your trance was knocked away when the door opened, you snapping your head up to see Alexia making her way over to you.

"Hi baby, you alright?" She leant down to press a quick kiss to your lips before pressing one to Elena's head.

"No." You answered, biting you nails with the hand that was not keeping Elena steady.

"It's going to be fi..." Your wife started before the door flung open once again an overjoyed Mapi coming bounding over to you.

"You stupid bitch! How could you keep this beautiful little thing from me!" Mapi giggled as she pushed Alexia out of the way to be able to sit down next to you, Elena seeming to like her bubbly personality and wanting to climb over to her.

"Hola. You must be Elena, it is very nice to finally meet you." Mapi started a conversation with the babbling baby as she got settled on her lap, fisting her training top.

"Is it only you training or something? Where are the others?"

"They're coming.."

All of a sudden, a loud racket appeared into the room, but turned silent once they spotted you.

"Where have you been?" One of them asked before you answered by looking at the baby in Mapi's lap who was trying to twist her body around to see what was going on.

"No way."

"What the fuck."

"A BABY."

"Everyone, meet Elena our daughter." Alexia slowly introduced the few month old, grabbing her from Mapi who pouted at the loss of her presence.

Everyone clambered over to Alexia and your newest addition to the family, all but one. Claudia was shocked you could tell, diverting her gaze between Elena and yourself.

"Claudia." You attract her full attention and reach your hand out, as she got closer you could see her glossy eyes.

"Clau... hey, talk to me."

"I thought something really bad happened to you... ¿Que cojones?" A lone tear fell down her cheek, you hand immediately swiping it away before pulling her into a hug.

"I'm sorry Clau, i'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you all in the dark, i promise, but it was too late. It felt too late."

Claudia sniffled into your shoulder, relieved to finally be in your hold after all these months.

"Can i hold her?"

"Of course you can, cariño. She's practically your little sister." You rubbed her back as you let her go, making your way over to Aitana who was sitting with her on the floor.

"Times up with the play time." You clapped as Elena looked up at you, picking her up and placing her onto your hip. You were just about to turn around when you were engulfed in a massive group hug, them all obviously being careful to avoid suffocating the baby in your arms.

"Oh... guys." Your heart warmed at the gesture, still feeling the love you have always felt.

"We're all so happy for you Y/N, even though you kept this all from us and made us think you were dying... we're proud and we love you." Marta pressed a kiss to your cheek and made it clear to you that all your worries were wrong, your post natal emotions were still strong and you were fully in tears, letting out a wet laugh of relief before they all returned to their lockers.

You made your way over to Claudia and Alexia who were having a deep conversation as they sat on the bench.

"You still want to hold her?"

"Sí, por favor."

Once you had placed Elena into her arms, you had never seen her react more positively. She took a straight liking to Claudia, wanting to be as close to her as possible and placing both her chubby hands on her cheeks.

"Oh wow. She's chosen a favourite." Alexia and you looked at each other in surprise, as you heard them both giggling, Claudia having found a random toy from your locker.

"Sisterly love."

Coming back to training with your beloved team made you feel on top of the world, your life becoming more and more the better. Having a ball at your feet to having baby snuggles at night, you couldn't see it getting any better. Until your and Alexia's debut came.

Jonatan had decided that it would be the best moment to substitute you both on at the same time, making the comeback just that little bit more perfect for the fans. You both were ecstatic you could be involved in the game that could decide the title run, especially when your daughter was in the stands.

Once the substitutions were both announced by the 4th official, the crowd went wild, mostly for Alexia as they were chanting her name the most. You looked at her with admiration, you loved her and you loved that Elena had her as her mother.

"Te quiero."

Alexia turns her head towards you, reaching to grab your hand without gaining much attention.

"Yo también, te quiero mucho. Ets la millor mare que pot tenir l'Elena i estic molt agraït que ho siguis." (You are the best mother that Elena could ever have and i am so grateful that you are.)

"Para, em faràs plorar." (Stop, your going to make me cry.) You slightly wipe your eye before running onto the pitch with Alexia trailing behind, looking to where Alexia's mum said she'd be with Elena.

The game ended 3-0, which meant you won La liga F. Hugging every single teammate that came into view as you made your way to your wife.

"Welcome back, Mama."

"Back to you as well, amor." She wrapped her arms around your waist and picked you up, your legs wrapping round hers as you buried your face in her neck.

She released you to find tears flowing down your face, her own softening as she reached out to wipe them away.

"Shall we go find la pequeña?"

You nodded as you felt her guide you over to the stands with her hand placed securely on your back, only revealing your face once again when you heard the familiar squeal.

Alexia had taken her into her arms from her mother while you pulled yourself together, exchanging thank yous and congratulations with your families. You could hear fans around you speculating about who the child getting so much attention from you both was, you basically giving the hint when you kiss her cheeks.

You held her close as they were celebrating Alexia’s come back, you refusing to be lifted up in the air, especially as your insides have not been the same since. Elena’s face was a look of pure worry as you pointed out the action, until you started laughing and she started too, one of the media personnel getting it on camera.

You and Alexia didn’t mind the attention, wanting to be as truthful to the public from now on after hiding it for so long. So, when she did her speech, she announced the newest addition to the team and confessed to where you’d been, Elena clapping as she heard loud cheers for herself before fiddling with your medal.

“We did good, yeah?” Alexia asked you later that night when she climbed into bed after settling Elena down, you snuggling up to her.

“Yeah, we did good.”

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #espwnt x reader #mapi leon x reader #claudia pina x reader #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso oneshot #woso imagines

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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

Text

Love Across Dimensions

Miguel O'Hara x Reader s/o

TW: ANGST, LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP, READER IS MID 20S, MIGUEL'S IN HIS EARLY 30S, FLUFF. MINORS DNI AS THIS WORK IS CONNECTED TO ONE OF MY NSFW BLURBS.

Synopsis: You're from a different dimension than him. You didn't ask to fall in love with the protector of the multiverse, and it sure as hell isn't easy being in a long distance relationship with him. But what you have is special, and that's always worth waiting for. The Nicholas Sparks movie Dear John inspired this a little. (The moon quote 😫🫶🏾)

A/N: spinoff of my phone sex blurb, Long Distance. Here's some more insights into y'all's relationship. This one is mostly SFW, maybe a NSFW version coming soon? Headcanons/outline ish? Idk what it is but here you go. NSFW PART 2

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- He walks through his portal at HQ with your lip gloss shiny all over his neck and doesn't think to wipe it off. Clearly he's not a makeup expert and forgets that this stuff smears easily. Hobie and Pav snicker together, " well, wonder where he's been." (They already know)

"Shut it, you two!"

"Sureee, boss."

-You have him get you a trinket from every dimension, it's not up for debate. It's always a snow globe or a postcard. Your fridge and your shelf space are both running out of room by now to store them. The postcards are filled with sweet handwritten words from Miguel, telling you about his day and the location they're from.

-He won't take you across dimensions with him. He crafted you your own version of a gizmo to call him and summon Lyla whenever you need her, but you don't have the ability to travel across dimensions yet. Even Miguel can't bring himself to break his own rules, despite how much he wishes he could just bring you here and keep you here himself. The threat of canon disruption looms over his head. Losing Gabi destroyed him. A piece of his heart never recovered. Losing you could be the straw that breaks him. Not to mention, he can't protect you at all times if he took you along on his missions. He takes comfort in knowing you're tucked in, safe at home watching your favorite movies or with your best friends at a new restaurant getting drinks.

-You always save songs that you think he'd like and have all the reels you want to show him saved in a folder called "Memes for Miggy ❤️." His playlist on your Spotify is just titled "🖤" because you don't want anyone to know it's just songs for you two.

-You hardly see him. Dating someone like him is not for the weak. You can usually count on seeing him maybe once a month if you're lucky. And he'll usually stay for the weekend. And it's always the best weekend of your life.

-It took a while for him to get there, but he's super romantic/poetic when he's in love. He reassures you as you two stand outside one night, his arms wrapped around you from behind, resting his chin on your head.

"If you ever miss me, just look at the sky. It's my anchor to you. Know that when you look up at it, that I'm somewhere in it, not far away. The colors of the sky, the position of the stars, the shadow of the moon and the rays of the sun are the same in every universe, including this one where we end up together."

-His favorite gift from you is a bottle of your perfume. He'll take a sniff every now and then and close his eyes and imagine you're next to him. You do the same with his cologne. He's left a ton of hoodies and sweatpants at your house. You wear them to bed every night and give them a spritz whenever you feel like his scent is wearing off.

-The first night after he leaves is the hardest. But the night after that hurts a little less. As does the night after that, and after that, and so on. The stab wound of his departure healing itself as it has dozens of times before by now. Your heart steadily molds back to its original shape in your chest, no longer shattered. You immerse yourself in your work and your friends, trying to go out every now and then, imagining he's right there with you. Because even though he's light years away, he still is.

-But sometimes , the ache of his absence hits you like a wave crashing against a cliff it threatens to erode. When you accidentally play that song that you two belted in the car together, or when you see the carmelicious fudge ice cream in your freezer that you haven't touched since the last time you two ate it together, sharing the carton. It hurts when you realize you're spending another Christmas Eve without him, leaving you with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk that you have to enjoy all by yourself, staring at his stocking you bought and stuffed for him hanging untouched over your fireplace. Hearing your niece and nephew buzzing about their Valentine's cards they get to hand out at school, knowing that the one you bought for Miguel will stay forgotten in the grocery bag in your closet. Tiny needles that pierce you. A jarring reminder that your heart is split in two across a vast continuum of time and space, with Miguel holding the other half on the opposite side.

-You cry, a lot. And little do you know, he does too. The last time after you guys got home from a few days at a little beach house in San Diego, you just sobbed and sobbed into his arms while he held you in your pajamas as you slowly walked him to your apartment door. His expression was sorrowful as he tried to brush your tears away, lip trembling as he tried to ward off his own tears that threatened to release, a tight knot causing his voice to choke in his throat.

"I'll back for you. I promise, baby. Think of me, okay? Use your watch to call me whenever you want."

You look up at him, mucus running down your nose and your eyes puffy and red, but you don't care. You bathe in the ruby ocean of his eyes for one more moment, windows to his precious soul that now inevitably belongs to you. You touch his cheeks, the smooth pattern of his skin imprinting itself in your palms, his warmth transferring onto you a final time before your body eventually forgets.

He walks forward across the threshold with a deep breath as he lets go of your hand at last, slowly closing the door behind him. The door barely clicks before he's ripping it back open, pulling you back into his arms as you wail and sob some more while he just rocks you gently in his embrace, his face buried in your neck.

Trying to tattoo the scent and feel of your body into his memory one more time. As though the very essence of you were all the rations he'd need to hold him off until that moment when he could feast on your beautiful smile once again. He tries not to think about how this could be the last time. The reality of the dangers of the job he signed up for are a painful reminder. Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice.

He finally closes the door behind him, and walks slowly through the orange glowing tunnel, tears leaking down his face, gasping as though the wind got knocked out of him. He hates saying goodbye, praying and pleading to whatever deity is out there that it wouldn't be the last time he did.

Why did the universe plant you so far away from him? Why did the love of his life exist on a plane of existence separate from his? The laws of time, space, and the formidable, neverending, infinite weight of the multiverse barring you two from each other.

But you're his true love. Of course he'd find his way back to you. In any universe.

------

💖

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o hara fluff #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o hara angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress.

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry.

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating.

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

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