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paradlselost · 25 days ago

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. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.

#doctor phosphorus #dr phosphorus #creature commandos #creature commandos dc #smut #x reader #doctor phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #i need that radioactive man so bad

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blkgirl-writing · 1 year ago

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The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons

Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)

A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!

Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll

He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him

This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him

Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen

Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his

eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you

It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away

He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."

────⊱⁜⊰────

He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him

That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way

With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace

Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you

Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast

He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you

Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you

“You’re absolutely ravishing.”

And he’d give himself fully to you

Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric

Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it

Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give

Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for

────⊱⁜⊰────

Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking

If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch

If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch

Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass

It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp

But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired

that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy

he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting

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One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much

It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures

That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were

Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks

They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds

I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke

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Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day

You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust

Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower

For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap

If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies

if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day

When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy

telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"

cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand

it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you

I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts

like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels

"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)

Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home

I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love

but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly

There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in

Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you

He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you

super sweet but makes games feel much longer

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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

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hitomisuzuya · 3 months ago

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scaramouche x fem!reader. fluff. scara being drunk and in love. drunk voicemails. soft scara. college au

i have aventurine smut planned, but i have wanted to write something like this for a long time. the lyrics are from somewhere only we know by keane.

scaramouche had plans to go out last night. but you didn't feel well, so you told him to go out with xiao without you. to have fun and not drink too much. he protested at first, saying "what kind of a man leaves his woman to go out when she is sick?" complete with trademark huff, and crossed arms.

scaramouche hates being without you. really, really hates it.

the next morning, feeling much better, you rolled over and grabbed your phone to check the time. you discovered you had several voicemails. you'd been so deep asleep that you didn't hear the phone ring.

they were all from scaramouche.

"fuck, you'd better be asleep, kitten," came scaramouche's very slurred voice, "i really hate the song playing. i wish you were here so my ears aren't bleeding alone. i don't know why xiao fucking loves this song. it's stupid pop crap. i miss you. fuck, i am so in love with you. you should feel my heart. it goes skip, skip when i think about you. it's kind of annoying--" end of voicemail.

he must've hit the recording limit.

"hey kitten, listen, it's a song you like. more pop crap, but the piano is kind of clutch, not gonna lie," you heard shuffling for a moment, he must've been taking his phone from his ear and holding it out so you could hear the song. after a few moments of hearing shrilled music, he must've put the phone back to his ear. "fuck what's it called again?" you heard some drunk sounding humming before the voicemail stopped.

smiling, you went onto the third voicemail. you heard somewhere only we know by keane come through the speaker again. only this time, you heard scaramouche's slurred voice singing the song to you. "i felt the earth beneath my feet. sat by the river and it made me complete. you make me feel complete."

scaramouche stumbled and hummed adorably to the part of the song he didn't know. your smile widened. "oh simppllee thing, where have you gone..yeah, kitten where are you? i miss you. i'll be he medicine that makes you feel better. fuck how does this song go?" the voicemail ended.

the fourth one immediately started with scaramouche singing, more slurred than before. you found out later from xiao that he'd fed the jukebox at the bar with 5 bucks to play somewhere only we know over and over so he could call you back to sing the parts of the song he wanted to sing to you.

"i'm getting old and i need something to rely onnnnnn. fuck hold on, i wanted to sing this part to you first..no, did you hear the made me feel complete part? you make me feel complete," you heard drinking noises and a heavy sigh.

"dude, scara, she is probably sleeping. you are going to wake her up," xiao's voice interrupted.

"fuck off, you shithead! i'm serenading my kitten! go put another dollar in the jukebox, i'm not done, she needs to hear this!" the voicemail ended.

the last voicemail started with him humming somewhere only we know. "i need something to rellyy on." at this point, he was just singing random lyrics. "wait, hold on..made me feel complete. something to rely on..xiao! xiao! these fucking lyrics, these fuckers really wrote this whole song for her," there was some shuffling noises. "xiao, we gotta go fucking kill keane!"

he was deadass convinced the band was in love with you and wrote the song for you so they could steal you away from him.

later that day, you played the voicemails for scaramouche. 'oh my god..i got so drunk last night" he said, dismayed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"what? i thought the voicemails were sweet," you said, grinning at him. you gave him a quick kiss on his lips. "i'm keeping them." you had to say that before he asked you to delete them.

he sighed. "fine. keep them. not another soul hears them," he hissed. he was incapable of saying no to you.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #modern au #genshin fluff #scarammouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #soft scara

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itneverendshere · 3 months ago

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Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands.

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours.

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!”

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

“No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We’ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.”

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

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3verythingiknowaboutlove · 7 months ago

Text

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: fem!reader, def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

“Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #piper’s works

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froggiewrites · 3 months ago

Note

Hii, I hope you're doing well, if not I'll hope things will go better!

I really liked your writing like it's so good!!

I have an sfw request about Ace.

So basically reader is feeling really sick recently so they spend a lot of time with Marco who gives them advices and all, and Ace gets jealous about this cause he thinks that reader is interested in Marco so one day when he's with the both of them he just says something like "oh I wouldn't want to be the third wheel" like something that clearly shows that he thought the two of them were now a couple and when he learns that they're not he immediately confess to reader?

I really hope it's not too precise, if you want to change things feel free to since you're the artist here, and I hope you understood (English isn't my first language) thank you so much for the other stories!

Take care, bye bye!

Hi, thank you so much for your well wishes and your request! Sorry this took so long, I burned myself out a little bit with the Halloween event and it took me a little time to get back into the swing of things. This one is short and sweet, and I hope you like it!

Third Wheeling It

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've been spending a lot of time down in the clinic with Marco recently, and Ace gets the wrong idea. Warnings: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort, Idiots in Love Word Count: 1.6k

You’re convinced you’re never going to feel normal again. You have a headache you just can’t shake, and a fatigue down to your bones. You haven’t been able to shake whatever it is, no matter how much you rest.

“Are you really sure I just need to take it easy? It’s been weeks.”

Marco gives you a sympathetic look. “I know, but you really do just need time. You burned yourself out. Recovering from that takes a while.” He had been telling you that since you first started making regular visits to his office a couple weeks ago. You had spent a majority of the last week curled up in one of the beds in the clinic, pretending to rest but really just bothering Marco to entertain yourself. You suppose it was rest, in a way, but you liked to pretend you were somehow tricking him, getting away with something. It made you feel less helpless, and helped ease the ache of missing your normal routine.

You throw yourself down on the cot you had claimed for your own. “But I want to be better now.”

He laughs. “Don’t we all. If desire were all it took, I would be out of a job.”

“You could still fight. You don’t need to be a doctor to be a pirate.”

“True enough. But my point still stands: if our bodies listened to what we wanted there would be no need for doctors. Sometimes there really is no magic solution other than time.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He passes by your cot, ruffling your hair light as he walks past. “But you’ll pull through.”

“Will you sit with me? We can suffer together.”

“I have work to do,” he says, sitting on the edge of your cot with a slight smile anyway. “And I wouldn’t really call hanging out with you suffering.”

You smile sleepily. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need to raise your standards.”

“My standards are sky high, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“One, handsome. Two, nice to me. Three, end of list.”

He laughs. “God, the bar is in the ground for you, huh? Let me correct that for you: three, be Portgas D. Ace.”

You blush. “That–I–uh. Shut up!”

Marco is still laughing at you when you hear a throat clear in the doorway. You both look up to see the man you were just speaking of leaning against the doorframe, his eyes avoiding yours, a slight frown on his lips. “Sorry, I just–I heard you were down here again, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at him, bright and earnest. “I’m doing alright, I guess. As well as I can be.”

Marco stands, moving away from your bed and back to his desk, more than willing to let Ace take his place at your sickbed. “They’re fine, really. They just hate listening to me.”

“I’d like listening to you if you had better things to say.”

“Ouch!” He puts a hand over his chest. “I’m just doing my job here!”

As you both giggle with each other, Marco trying to distract you and you trying to let him, you both miss Ace shifting uncomfortably and biting his lip. However, once you’ve come back down, you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you, a look far too intense to dismiss. It’s strange, somewhere half between hurt and resignation. Something flashes in his eyes, something pained, but before you can ask him what’s wrong he’s already turned his back. “I’ll leave you two to hang out. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re leaving already?” You can’t leave the sorrow out of your voice or the pout off of your face. “But I’ve missed you.” And you had, really. Spending most of your time down here with Marco means you’ve barely spent any time at all with Ace these past few weeks. You had missed everything about him, from his smile to his laugh to his loud, obnoxious snores when he passed out halfway through dinner.

His shoulders stiffen. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You could give a guy the wrong idea.”

You sit up, wincing but forcing yourself through the discomfort. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“The idea that you might be…interested.”

“That sounds like the right idea, actually.”

He whips around, his face painted with hurt. “That isn’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“I…really. This isn’t…this is cruel. Having to third wheel with you two is hard enough without…”

Marco finally speaks up, his voice filled with confusion. “Third wheel?”

“Yeah, watching you two get closer while I have to pretend I’m fine is hard enough, you guys don’t need to rub it in my face.” He doesn’t sound angry, really, just defeated and pained. “I’m trying to be happy for you, you don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

You furrow your brow. “Happy for us?”

Marco can’t help the surprised bark of a laugh that leaves him. “You think we’re dating?”

Ace pauses. “You…aren’t?”

“Hell no!”

“Absolutely not!”

You and Marco both instantly refute the claim, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary.

Ace lights up like the sun. “You mean it?”

“Of course we mean it!” You cry.

“Why wouldn’t we mean it?” Marco chuckles, voice filled with the sort of weary but unwavering affection Ace tends to bring out in people.

“Will you go out with me?” Ace stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, already moving to beg on his hands and knees, as though he expects rejection.

“You aren’t really my type,” Marco quips with a laugh, before closing the curtain to give you two some privacy.

It’s your turn to be shocked, heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushing. “You–I–What?”

He grins, on his knees in front of you, taking a hand in his. “I like you, a lot. Will you go out with me?”

“This is so sudden.” You want to say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you? But you weren’t expecting such a confession today, and your head is still pounding, and you can’t quite get over the thought that Marco is listening right behind the curtain. You know that Ace doesn’t care about any of those things, blind to anything but his goal in any situation, but you could never be so headstrong, so carefree. Could you?

“I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you.” His smile is growing ever wider, his eyes filling with hope. “I thought I had lost my chance, and I will absolutely never take that risk again. Will you be mine? Or, I guess, could I be yours?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and your brain is melting, but your mouth moves despite yourself. “Yes,” you hear yourself say.

You’re pinned to the bed as he throws himself at you, laughing joyously. “Yes? Oh my god, yes!” He tucks his face into your neck, and you can feel his smile. “I never thought it’d be a yes.”

“How could it be anything else?” Your voice is soft, more vulnerable than you’d like. But you would never understand how he could expect anything less than success. You don’t know how anyone could speak to Ace for longer than five minutes and not fall madly and deeply in love with everything about him: his smile, his humor, his confidence. He shines like the sun, and you don’t know how anyone could ever resist basking in his warmth for as long as they can.

“Well up until a couple minutes ago I thought you were in love with Marco.”

You laugh. “I’ve been sick, Ace. He’s a doctor.”

He doesn’t respond, and you can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked.”

“You should listen to them,” Marco calls from behind the curtain. “This was entirely self-inflicted.”

“Shut up!” He finally leaves your neck just to shout at Marco, cheeks hot. “Would you have asked?”

“Yes. I’m a grown man. I can handle a tough conversation.”

“Well–I–Shut up!”

Marco laughs, and you can hear the door slam shut behind him. Ace buries himself in your neck again, his strong arms pulling around you even tighter, and you can’t help but smile. He seems so delicate like this, so unlike his usual self, and you can’t help but admire him. He’s so charming even now, so vulnerable and small. “I would have been too nervous to ask too,” you quietly reassure him. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you said it.”

He smiles against your skin. “I did say it,” he mumbles. “And you accepted.”

“I did.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

You don’t have a moment to react before his lips are on yours, slightly chapped and hesitant. You imagine this is what sunlight tastes like, warm and inviting. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He’s smiling as he pulls away. “And now I can do that whenever I want.”

You grin. “You can. You’re encouraged, even.”

And so he kisses you again. Marco leaves you too alone for as long as he can justify to himself, and when he finally interrupts you two again you find yourself more than ready to leave the clinic again, a warm hand intertwined with yours and your headache nearly entirely gone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n #ace one piece #one piece

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randomshyperson · 5 months ago

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Saw your drabble list challenge thingie, here's my request, absolutely no pressure or whatsoever though.

Wanda + hugs + no. 24

Your writing makes me so giddy and warm, like a school girl kicking her legs while reading dork diaries.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: hugging with height difference | warnings: none.

The team had thrown a big party to celebrate your return.

Wanda was feeling a bit out of the loop. Of course, she was relieved and genuinely happy that you were back, safe, and with little more than a few scratches on your face. But the setting, a room full of Avengers and anyone else Tony Stark could get at such short notice, wasn't exactly her scene.

Besides, Wanda barely had time to see you. Your sudden arrival at the compound was as quick as your departure - Shield had a lot of questions about your last mission. And the brief wave and a whisper of "see you later" was the only greeting Wanda received.

She forced herself to go to the party - Out of consideration for you and also because the Black Widow had politely persuaded her to attend.

But going didn't mean participating, and Wanda spent most of the night hiding in the bar while you told people all about your adventures in space with Captain Danvers and the God of Thunder - the latter seemed quite happy to have the attention stolen since he could focus on his fiancée Jane, instead of fawning guests.

Wanda hadn't seen Carol since she arrived, and she wished you had been as quick as the captain in escaping the guests.

Her patience grew thin as the night went on. In fact, Wanda could have stopped pouting at any moment and gone to greet you (Natasha's words, not hers) but she ended up being overcome by introversion, and the pain in her feet from the heels she chose, so just before they cut your cake - a birthday lost due to your time out of the planet - she sneaked out.

She could talk to you tomorrow. Or any other day, when she no longer has that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she imagines herself under your attention, talking directly to you, or being alone in your presence.

The path to the room is lonely since that side of the compound is empty due to the party. She holds her heels in her right hand but almost drops them on the floor when the elevator at the other end of the hallway opens, and you stumble out, breathless as if you were running to catch up with it.

"Hey, Wanda!" Your face lights up with a mix of happiness and relief, having managed to find her, so close to her bedroom door. She shifted her weight between her feet, smiling awkwardly. You tried to seem less flustered. "I can't believe you ran away from my party."

Wanda only realized how much she missed having you torment her when you did it again. She felt a lump form in her throat, surprising herself with the sudden urge to cry. You sighed immediately, as affected to see her again as she was.

"Sorry." She murmurs hoarsely. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“I know.” You give her a small smile, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she notices your footsteps toward her. “I guess I’m the one who should apologize. For not coming to talk to you sooner.”

She shakes her head. “You seemed busy.”

“Busy for my best friend? Never.” You assure her, earning a tearful laugh from her. Wanda isn’t surprised when your hands find her cheeks, wiping away the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d let fall. It was the first thing you did for her so long ago, back in a cell in Sokovia when you first met her, and something you’ve done ever since whenever she thinks of Pietro. You frown, worried about her tears, and Wanda sniffs softly, trying to control her emotions. “Did I say something wrong?”

She brings her free hand to your left wrist, massaging your skin with her thumb, while your hands linger on her cheeks, caressing the damp skin. “It’s just… so good to see you again.” She confesses, smiling through her tears. "You took a while."

"The longest months of my life, believe me." You comment, offering her a small smile. There's a quick exchange of glances between you. Wanda thinks she imagines your eyes falling to her lips before you sigh and look at her with such affection that she feels her heart swell. "Come here, Wands."

She doesn't need to be told twice. It's not the first time she's hugged you, but it's only the third. The first time, you carried her in your arms away from a fallen city, and Wanda let her arms wrap around your neck. She couldn't even tell if it could be considered a hug, but it meant the world to her. The second, the first real hug, was on impulse after long training sessions in the tower and you were on enough adrenaline to forget about your super strength. Wanda complained softly, and you never hugged her again after a series of apologies.

But tonight, you wrapped your arms around her. Gentle at first, then as tight as you could. Wanda let her heels slide to the floor, her hands moving up to your back. The height difference between her and a Kryptonian was considerable, but it only made everything more perfect. She didn’t think much, just buried her face against your chest, inhaling deeply and letting her body relax into your hold.

Your fingers wrapped around her hair, massaging her scalp and running through the strands as she felt the heat from her cheeks spread throughout her body. She could no longer tell if it was emanating from you or her.

"I really missed you, witchy."

She nodded softly at your words, her heart racing in her chest. She realized at that moment that there was no way to put into words the feeling that your absence caused her. She sighed, tightening the hug a little. You seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #writing challenge #wanda maximoff imagines #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #what do you mean i forgot to post idk what you are talking about

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 5 months ago

Text

Golden Girl

Chapter 1

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you. Warnings: Dieter's POV, infidelity, heartbreak, some allusions to smutty thoughts but nothing extreme, pining, fluff, comfort, drug and alcohol mentions, Dieter's down bad for his best friend's wife. Words: 2,900

A/N: This was written for @punkshort's anniversary AU challenge. I received husband's best friend Dieter Bravo. I've been in the Dieter den lately, so of course I had a lot of fun writing this soft, pining side of him. The film featured in this fic, The Philadelphia Story, is one of my favorite movies ever, and I wanted to use it in this. Mike, Dex, and Tracy are all characters in the movie. FYI… the movie is free on Tubi. :)

Next Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist

___

He can't do this. He absolutely cannot do this.

“Dieter, I– can you just come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

He has to do this. He absolutely has to do this.

Your voice is so defeated, bereft, empty. It pains him to even think of the despair you feel inside.

How fucking dare he. Fucking Warren. He wonders why he feels like he owes him his friendship, his time, his loyalty. Fuck that. Breaking your heart, leaving your bright light dim after taking everything from you. He’s sat idly by for years numbing the pain of watching his closest friend pilfer you, the girl of his dreams.

Eight years of marriage gone in a blink of an eye just so Warren can fuck and supposedly fall in love with his brand new leggy blonde coworker. Warren’s always been good at taking what he wants. Hell, he took you away from him. Yeah, Dieter may have an Oscar… but he doesn’t have the girl.

He drives to your house, the same home you used to share with your husband. He wishes he could trade in his mega mansion and live with you in the two story colonial made warm and inviting only under your touch. Warren liked to remind you he paid for it all, but what use is money when there’s no heart?

He locks his car and inhales a deep breath before taking the walkway to the side entrance, the one only close friends use. The fresh fragrance of the peonies that you planted all over the yard makes his heart ache even more for you as he opens the door.

The house is quiet, save for the sound of your sniffles, a singular lamp casts the living room in a solemn umber tone.

“Sweets?” He can’t help it, he’s called you that since the first night he met you in that Venice dive bar all those years ago. He was infatuated with you from the first time he saw you, smiling and laughing with your friends, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He introduced himself, you shouted your name back, grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. He kissed you when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, your lips tasted like sugar from those damn overly sweet drinks.

Your head surfaces from the couch, the sight of you wounds him… red rimmed eyes, tear streaked face, and puffy lips. You look like hell and yet you’re more beautiful than any gorgeous actress he’s acted alongside.

He joins you on the couch, gathering your blanket covered form in his arms trying to calm your shaking sobs with a kiss against the top of your head. He rocks you like a baby, shushing you and holding you tight. His big brown eyes blink back tears, tamping down the guilt he feels over how much he loves holding you.

He’s never been good at these situations, he’s a great actor and can cry on command, but when it comes to consoling and emotions, he’s always easily overwhelmed. His mind races, too terrified to do wrong by you; all he can think of is your favorite movie. He grabs the remote, navigating the menu to play the film. He might forget where he puts his keys or what he has for breakfast but he always remembers everything about you. Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant battle for Katherine Hepburn’s heart. Ouch. He wishes he would have fought harder for you all those years ago.

You cuddle into his arms closer, sniffling out a soft “thank you” when the movie begins.

Tracy breaks Dex’s golf club. He hopes you’ll do the same to Warren’s once you summon the strength.

Dieter also loves this movie, the both of you first connected over your shared love of classic cinema. You wanted to act, Warren put an end to that… he didn’t want to ‘share you’ with the world. He’s so tired of Warren’s bullshit, he’s so fucking pissed off, all of those wasted years you could have been happy alone… or with him.

He’s so angry he could kill Warren. He reminds himself now’s not the time for vexation, settling deeper against the soft cushions, cradling and softly assuring he’s here for you. Dex walks back into Tracy’s life on the screen; he prays Warren won’t be able to do the same. He calms his anger at Warren by pretending he’s here watching a movie with his favorite girl, ignoring the reality that he’s holding your shattered heart and body, picking up the mess that his so-called “good guy” best friend made. He’ll take Warren’s mess any day.

Your bleary eyes focus on the black and white film playing on the TV. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and moves to pull his hand away. A tiny “no, stay” whimpers out of your mouth, his fingers remain. He doesn’t stop gently rubbing your soft skin through the whole movie.

Mike professes his feelings to Tracy. “No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He feels the quote in his bones, in his heart, in every single drug and drink he’s taken trying to get you out of his head. You’re golden, Warren has left you rusted.

It’s always been you. His marriage to Anika, he stood at the altar dreaming of you walking through that Las Vegas chapel doorway. The dissolution of those vows arriving soon after, he signed his name on the divorce papers while giddily anticipating your arrival to soothe him. His fuckboy ways he’s now so famous for, he always thinks about touching your body and hearing your moans whenever he enters whatever pretty person opens their legs for him.

The credits roll. You sit up and stretch while he mourns the loss of your body against his.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders.

“No,” you croak out, “I– thank you for coming over. I think this is it Dee, I can’t do this again. What did I do wrong?” Your head buries into your hands, a new batch of tears begin falling.

“No, no, no, baby, no,” he grabs your arms, wrapping his hands over yours and squeezing. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. Warren– he’s,” he sighs, “I don’t even recognize the friend I once knew.”

Your solemn nod and downcast eyes almost causes his heart to break and fall on the ground next to yours.

“Sweets, he’s a fucking idiot,” he tries to stop his words from coming out, but he loses the fight. Blame it on too many years of standing to the side and watching Warren slowly take away everything you loved brick by brick. “You a–you are brilliant, funny, beautiful, caring, y-you deserve the world.”

“You just have to say that…” your voice is so small, so infantile.

“I don’t,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from divulging more. “Trust me Sweets, I–I don’t.”

He dreams of the moment he’ll be able to tell you how he feels, how he’s always felt, how hard it’s been to watch his closest friend snuff out the light of the girl of his dreams, how he’ll never forgive himself for standing idly by while escaping in a haze of drugs and alcohol. Easy vices he found that could never mend his envious heart.

He changes the subject, distracts you, and mostly himself, from letting his true feelings out. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I really want a bath. I feel so dry, my eyes are burning.”

He tucks down the thoughts of you in a bathtub, on normal days he’d send himself down a spiral thinking of you naked, rubbing soap across your body, humming a contented sigh and stretching out your relaxed limbs.

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” he says, rising off the couch and heading towards the stairs.

“C-could you do it in the guest room? I-I don’t want to be in… our room alone,” your voice cracks with embarrassment.

He turns back to you, his head falls at your request and the look of shame across your face. He strides over and kneels in front of you, gathering your hands in his and holding them tight. “Whatever you need Sweets,” he stares into your eyes, “whatever you need.”

A small smile lifts the side of your mouth, his heart thumps against his chest at the realization he made you happy. “Thank you Dee, you’re the best.”

He nods before standing up and heading for the guest room upstairs.

Each step he takes the more his sense of duty to help and improve your terrible day blooms inside of him. He walks into the guest room, the same room he stays in when he parties too much, usually because alcohol helps him numb the want for you he holds inside. He flicks the bathroom light on, admiring everything you designed, this house is your house, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure you keep it.

He turns the tap on making sure the water is hot enough for you before placing a towel on the stool next to the tub. He wonders where you always get the fluffiest towels from, just another layer of your softness and care for the things around you. A bottle of bath oil lays on the tub edge, he picks it up and smells the sweet scent of almond and honey before pouring a bit into the warm water.

He turns around when he hears you walk into the bathroom. A shy smile is on your face, you’re still so beautiful even when you look utterly devastated.

“I think it’s warm enough for you,” he says, swishing his hand in the bathwater. “Do you want the jets?”

“I’ll take care of it Dee, thanks,” you begin unbuttoning your pajama top, revealing your light pink bra. You’re so comfortable in front of him, if only you knew the way he thinks about you. Dieter swallows, and with the heaviest most unreluctant body moves around you to the doorway. He’d do anything to watch this, but not tonight. You’re too vulnerable, he can’t take advantage of his dream.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he offers before shutting the door, hating that he knows it’s best to be a better man.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a guilty smirk develops when he realizes it’s the same bed he’d touch himself on whenever he’d overhear your moans as Warren took the body Dieter always craved. He plays with the gold ring in his ear, he wonders if Warren’s still wearing his wedding ring.

His head perks when he hears the sound of your feet dipping into the tub, your body settling into the water, and the sigh you let out as you relax into the warm bath. He fights the lust coursing through his body, you’re naked and only ten feet away from him.

Distract, distract, distract, he thinks to himself reaching for the remote and turning the TV on to a rerun of South Park; he turns the volume down, he just can’t fathom drowning out the sounds of your bath, he likes hearing the whoosh of water as you move.

“Dee,” you shout from the bathroom, “I–can you get me my robe from my room? It’s hanging up behind the bathroom door.”

“Of course,” he steadfastly gets up, “I’ll be right back.”

The last time he was in your room was when you and Warren purchased the house, he still remembers the jealousy he felt that day; watching Warren kiss his pretty wife in his brand new picturesque house complete with the shiny white picket fence. Norman fucking Rockwell could never paint a more perfect picture of suburban paradise.

He looks at the bed with the pretty floral quilt laid atop it… you’re probably so warm and soft to sleep next to. There’s a frame on your bedside table holding a photo of you and Warren laughing on some grand vacation he probably took you on to get back in your good graces. He wonders what it would be like to feel your head against his chest, to have you so close he could feel your laughter vibrate against him. You have all sorts of lotions and tchotchkes on your table, quite a contrast from the clean table top on Warren’s side. He can almost hear his friend’s voice complaining about all of your clutter.

He finds your robe and brings the soft downy fabric to his nose inhaling the scent of you, this must be what an angel smells like. So sweet.

He takes one last glance at your bed and imagines seeing you asleep under the covers, leaving you in your peaceful slumber every morning and going downstairs to make you coffee. He gets lost in his fantasy while walking back to the guest room, ignoring the photos of you and Warren that hang on the walls.

He taps against the bathroom door and holds out your robe, the thought crosses his mind yet again that you’re behind the ornate white piece of wood fully naked. You crack open the door, peeking your head out, your hair is wet, he tries to shush his brain thinking about how wet the rest of your body must be. You look better, more fresh faced; a sense of pride settles inside of him that he’s helped you tonight.

“Thank you Dee,” you smile and grab the robe before closing the door.

He settles on the bed, stretching out on the mattress and resting his back against the headboard. Nervousness rears its head for what comes next. He knows he’s going to see you soon, your relaxed body will be wrapped in your soft robe… he has to be good and resist any sort of desire. He hasn’t been good at saying no to temptation, but you’re so much more special than a joint, a drink, or a pill.

The bathroom door opens, there you are, freshly bathed and beautiful, your legs peek out from under the fleece fabric.

He swallows when you climb on the bed and sit next to him. Your legs are smooth and shiny from your bath, his mouth waters at the sight.

“He hated cartoons,” you whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

“I like cartoons,” you say, picking at a loose piece of fleece on your robe.

“I know. Cartoons are the best,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.

Your heart might be fractured right now, but the comfortable silence that’s shared between the two of you makes his heart race as the four kids from South Park get caught in hi-jinks. You chuckle as Butters gets adopted by Paris Hilton. He loves your laugh, hearing it tonight means even more to him.

You scoot closer to him, he tries to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathing when you place your head on his chest. You smell of that saccharine bath oil he poured, he tamps down the thoughts of how it’d taste on your skin.

“Dieter,” your head angles up to look at him, “c-can you sleep here with me?”

“Of course baby,” stop calling her baby, “a-anything you need.”

“I’m just… I-I’m so tired and I don’t want to–”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer.

You yawn a “thank you,” as your eyes flutter shut against his chest.

Fucking Warren, you’re a goddamn idiot rushes through his head. He would give everything up to feel this every night. The Oscar, the mansion, the designer clothes, the luxury cars, gone in a blink of an eye if he could feel this sensation over and over again. To protect you, to console you, to love you… He lays wide awake next to you, his arm stays wrapped around your beautiful sleeping form all night.

He can’t imagine what the next few days, weeks, and months will be like for you, all he can do right now is hold you in this guest bedroom bed and vow to stand by your side once you wake. He wishes he would have intervened earlier, saved you from ever feeling this way, of ever thinking you weren’t worth the world.

Soft snores escape your slightly ajar mouth, you look so peaceful and beautiful. He’s dreamt of being able to wake up to this sight every morning ever since that first night in the bar, when he should have been the one to take you home… not Warren.

Next Chapter

#shortieswritingchallenge #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #dieter the bubble

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teenidlegirl · 1 month ago

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣en

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀after dating for several weeks, miguel wants you to meet his military buddies. although you’re thrilled to meet them, you want to push miguel’s buttons a little at the bar.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, smut, shower sex, fingering, breast play, praise kink ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

it’s been a blissful few weeks.

thriving at your job writing top stories for articles, reading that new murder mystery book which recently came out, hanging out with friends, spending time with miguel and having amazing sex.

damn, it’s never been this good in a long time. like a really long time. you feel very grateful.

right now, you’re laying in bed with the man you adore. his muscular arms wrapped around you as he peppers kisses all over your face.

“miguel!” you giggle, trying to block his kisses with your hands, squirming in his arms.

“let me kiss my pretty girl.”

your cheeks warm up at his compliment. “no! i look like a mess.” you cover your face with your hands, hiding from him but mainly to hide your bashful face. “i got morning breath and my hair is all screwed up.”

that makes miguel stop immediately and looks down at you in disbelief. a frown settles on his face. “you’re not a mess, preciosa.” he actually is in disbelief that you think of yourself like that.

he adores you in any way, no matter what. morning breath, messy hair, miguel loves it all.

leaning closer, miguel gently tries pry your hands away from your face but he gets a whine instead. “preciosa… lemme see you, por favor.”

you can feel his breath against your hands. that soft tone makes you weak. god, he’s just so-

“lemme see my pretty girl, please…”

is it possible for your cheeks to burn? because this man is making you a bashful mess. you feel like a teenage girl gushing over the boy you’re crushing on. how can you deny that sweet plead?

very slowly, you move your hands away from your face. just revealing your eyes.

“need to see more, chula.” miguel teases.

you roll your eyes as you continue lowering your hands until they’re completely off your face.

“there she is.” a genuine smile on his face, pleased to see your pretty face completely. “mi niña preciosa.” without warning, he smothers your face with kisses.

“miguel!” you squeal, squirming underneath him.

laughter and squeals fill the room as his kissing attacks continue. miguel gives you one final kiss on the lips but deeper and longer this time. you reciprocate and cup his face with a hand.

“you look pretty wrapped in my sheets.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “of course, and i thought i looked pretty in the sunlight.” much sarcasm.

miguel grins. “you do, you always look pretty.”

another eye roll as you feel heat rise up in your cheeks again. “you look pretty too.” a smirk grows on your face as you watch his eyebrows rise in surprise.

now his cheeks are warm. it’s not often he gets called pretty, mainly handsome or sexy, which isn’t the best compliment. but being called pretty is just different, especially coming from you. his heart flutters.

“you… estas loca.” miguel finally speaks before leaning in and kissing you once again.

you two stay like that for a bit, kissing and embracing each other which feels like eternity. wishing you could remain like this indefinitely.

all of that kissing requires a break for air. parting your lips from each other, you shift positions on the bed where now you and miguel lay on your sides facing one another. one of his arms wrapped around you.

your eyes wander over his features. those plump lips, sharp cheekbones, the curve of his nose, those gorgeous brown eyes, and thick brows. but you notice those brows seem to be furrowed a little. his eyes don’t meet yours, instead off to the side.

he’s thinking.

“what’s up?” you bring on a hand to cup his cheek, bringing his back attention to you.

“nada, i…” he trials off for a moment, thinking. you remain patient, allowing him to take time to think. “well… i’m planning on meeting up with my buddies from the field tomorrow at a bar.” those brown eyes meet your own. “¿quieres venir conmigo?”

he watches your eyes sparkle. a wave of excitement courses through you. miguel has briefly mentioned his military buddies previously. three other men named ben, flash, and kaine. you always wonder about if you’d ever get the opportunity to meet them. perhaps you could with this proposal.

a smile creeps up on your face. “i’d love to.”

your answer makes his heart skip a beat and cause miguel to smile as well. “that’s great because they have been dying to meet you.”

your eyes perk up. “really?”

he chuckles at your cute reaction. “claro, they won’t stop asking me when they’ll get to meet you.”

“ohhh so you’ve been talking about me, huh?” you wiggle your eyebrows teasingly.

“cállete.” miguel chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“well, i’m dying to meet them too.”

miguel is filled with glee, thrilled for you to meet his buddies and for them to meet you to see how incredible you are. they’re gonna love you for sure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ ┈ ₊ ୧ ┈

the day has come for you to meet miguel’s military buddies. you decide to wear a simple mini black dress with matching platform boots. you wanted be a little devious, wear something that would make it hard for miguel to keep his hands to himself and eyes from wandering a little too far. you wanted to push his buttons a little tonight. the mini dress was truly mini since it barely reached over your ass. showing off your thighs and most of your legs. your outfit seems to work it’s magic as miguel’s eyes dilate immensely the minute you step out the door.

his mouth waters at the gorgeous view before him. breath caught up in his throat as he drinks in your appearance. captivated by how the dress hugs and outlines your curves graciously. the man is utterly speechless, mesmerized by your beauty. you always manage to take his breath away effortlessly.

“you look… you look amazing.” his eyes can’t stop from raking over your form.

“gracias, guapo. you too.” you flash him a smirk, wrapping your arm around his after locking the door.

miguel wears a simple navy blue shirt with a bike jacket over it and dark denim jeans. maybe jeans wasn’t a smart choice since he feels them a little tight since he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“puta madre…” he curses at the sight of exactly how short your dress is as you walk in front of him heading towards the bar once you arrived.

barely covers your ass, almost peaks out. the swaying of your hips don’t help either but you definitely do that on purpose, teasing him more.

the tightness in his jeans grows much worse but he seriously can’t afford a boner right now. especially not in front of his friends or in public. but miguel believes this is only gonna get worse. you got something planned for him and he’s scared. miguel takes a deep breath before catching up to you.

entering the bar, there is a group of three men and two women. the men waving a hand in the air, one of them calling out to miguel. you and miguel share a smile before making your way over there.

“well, well, well.” the dirty blonde man with a buzz cut who was waving at you approached with a grin on his face. “el guerrero in sight.”

“nice to see you too, huevón.” the two men chuckle before sharing a quick embrace.

“¿el guerrero?” you smirk.

“my nickname.” miguel confirms.

you recall that nicknames and code names are used in the military. miguel’s nickname seems fitting, he definitely is the warrior type.

the other two got up from their seats and follow suit, greeting miguel with dabbing up and quick hugs. miguel turns to you, a hand on the small of your back, and introduced you to his friends.

the dirty blonde is flash. the blonde, broody one is ben. the brunette with a stubble is kaine, a cousin of peter (for plot sake, calm down comic nerds).

“so this is the girl who you’ve been tripping balls over.” flash teases which earns him a shove to the arm from miguel. “nice to finally to meet you.” he smiles, you say likewise. “this is my wife stacy.” the blonde woman strolls beside him.

“hi! it’s so nice to meet you!” she greets you sweetly, offering her hand to shake which you take.

“you too!”

“this is lena, kaine’s fiancé.” a brunette woman approached with a kind smile, introducing herself.

“it’s nice to have another woman in the group.” she jokes, shaking your hand.

“well, i’m glad. i was worried i was gonna be alone with wild animals tonight.” you joke.

“oh no, honey, we got you. someone has to keep an eye on them.” stacy laughs.

“by the way, you look gorgeous. that dress is amazing.” lena compliments you.

you smile with glee. “oh thank you! got it from cider.”

“no way! i shop there too!” she smiles.

the three of you engage in your girl talk, to invested to notice miguel admiring you from afar. a soft smile on his face as you gossip with your new friends. pleased to see you smiling, happy.

you all finally sit down and continue your conversations. miguel beside you, a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing and groping the soft skin as you engage in your conversation. although, it’s a little difficult to concentrate when miguel would slowly glide his fingers up your inner thigh before moving them away, leaving you a little disappointed. from your peripheral, he has a smirk on his face.

oh he wants to be like that?

well, you have something planned for him tonight.

here in the bar, not at home. why else would you be wearing this short ass dress? to tease him, duh.

after much chitchat, stories about the boys’ adventures and life-and-death situations, funny memories, you decide to play some pool. it starts off as men vs women, which resulted in the women winning. then it was couples vs couples, even though ben was a single pringle, he was still included and teamed up with flash and stacy.

after several rounds and beer, everyone needed to use the restroom. you and miguel stay and continue playing while waiting for them.

perfect, it was you two alone.

now your plan is in effect.

sassy mode is switched on. you feel miguel’s intense gaze as you slowly walk around the pool table, as if not paying attention to him. a smile creeps up to your face once you stand in front of miguel, your back to him, before bending over the table at a slow pace. arching your back more than usual and making sure your ass sticks out. the hem of your dress rises, revealing your black lace panties to his eyes.

“fuck…” he curses quietly at the sight of your exposed panties, your round ass. that boner returns, straining in his jeans that become a bit too tight.

that’s your plan.

it’s worse this time. cock suddenly throbbing in his jeans, desperate to be free of its confinements and slip pass through your probably now slick cunt.

miguel sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth then slowly walks up behind you, brown eyes never leaving your ass. a quiet groan escapes his lips as his clothed erection is pressed against your ass. cock twitching at the sensation. the denim fabric against your skin. his hands instinctively latch onto your hips. you pay no attention to him as you prepare to take your shot. although, you can’t deny the rapid beating of your heart and throbbing pussy.

“ay, hermosa… you’re driving me insane tonight.” miguel whispers, leaning over your smaller figure. “you trying to kill me?”

you shrug, acting oblivious. “i don’t know, i’m just here playing some pool.” oblivious and innocent contrasting the sinfulness of your actions.

“no me jodas, preciosa.” he bites back a groan as your hips wiggle a little, playfully grinding his throbbing erection. the grip on your hips tighten.

“i’m not, hermoso.” you say innocently, continuing wiggling your hips to tease him more. “but you can help me with taking my shot.”

miguel indulges in your game and helps you. leaning over until his firm chest is pressed against your back. his larger hands on top of your smaller ones, holding the stick together. his hot heavy breath beside your ear. hard cock against your throbbing pussy.

part of you wants to flip around, smash your lips on his and let miguel fuck you on the pool table. but the last thing you want is to get kicked out of the bar for eternity and ruined the night.

just gotta maintain patience.

your bodies are synchronized as you take your shot. moving together in harmony like in the bedroom. miguel’s broad muscular figure pressed against your smaller form, swallowing you whole. oh you just love feeling him against you, craving him endlessly.

“thanks for the help.”

“no problem.” his baritone voice against your ear, making your pussy quiver.

god you want him to take you right here, right now. usually you’re a patient person but now it’s biting you in the ass, pun intended. with miguel and sexy moments like this, it’s impossible to be patient. the man drives you crazy as you do him. finally, you turn to the side and lock eyes with him.

oh fuck, you’re done.

the tension intensifies the moment you locked eyes with one another. oh now you really wanna kiss and fuck already. neither of you felt this needy, but that proves the adoration you harbor for each other.

“is it weird to fantasize about being fucked on a pool table?” you whisper jokingly, lashes fluttering.

“no but i don’t think it’s best in public.” miguel whispered back, hot breath fanning your face. his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips.

before you could indulge in that fantasy, your hear footsteps approaching which makes you and miguel immediately pull away from each other. him taking a few steps back, discreetly adjusting his boner in his jeans so no one could notice. you fix the hem of your dress with a hand, covering yourself. your friends return and continue playing. you and miguel pretending as if you weren’t thinking about fucking on the pool table. although the spiciness was ruined, you send a wink at miguel across the room, signaling that the fun will continue later.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ ┈ ₊ ୧ ┈

it was a great night. finally got to meet miguel’s friends from the military and their partners. made new friends with the said partners and created a group chat titled ‘the special ops girlies’ which you came up with the name. played some pool and learned a few tricks. successfully managed to give miguel multiple boners. almost gave into your intrusive thoughts about fucking on a pool table.

now you couldn’t wait for the fun at home. but instead of eating each other’s faces off and rushing to the bedroom, you causally enter your apartment without intense eagerness. miguel helping you take off your shoes and taking your hand in his as you enter the bedroom, recapping about tonight’s event.

it was suggested to take a shower together. after stripping off each other’s clothes, miguel helps you step into the shower with a hand then follows you, sliding the glass door shut after him then wrapping his arms around your waist. your body immediately relaxes as the warm water hits your body, leaning against miguel’s solid chest. eyes closed and humming softly as you two relish this peaceful moment in this tiny space.

you begin washing each other. miguel’s thick fingers gently digging and stretching your scalp as he washes your hair with shampoo. you do the same to him, miguel slightly bent down to help you reach his hair. the sight makes you laugh. taking turns scrubbing each other’s bodies. miguel first then you. he crouched down scrubbing the load over your legs, hiking it up to his face and press gentle kisses on your inner thigh. a soft smile emits on your face as you look down admiring your handsome lover.

things briefly spice up as his kisses slowly trail up towards your heated core. your breathing gradually increases the further his lips travel upward. a feeling of disappointment hits you abruptly when his lips move away. opening your eyes, you notice the smug ass smirk on miguel’s face.

“¿que paso, bebita?” he chuckles at your cute glare.

you raise a brow, unamused. “hilarious, man.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “just showing affection.” his calloused hands find your hips and gently tug you closer towards him.

“riiiight.” much sarcasm in your tone, giving him a skeptical look which he grins in return.

“also payback for early.”

“ah, but you enjoyed it though.” you say teasingly, placing your hands on his chest.

those bulky shoulders shrug. “sí pero…” he leans closer, making you crane your neck up ever more. “doesn’t justify the several boners you gave me.”

you knew he was gonna mention that. addressing the elephant in the room, or bathroom more accurately.

it was your turn to shrug. “don’t blame me for your body problems.” turning around, you face the shower nozzle and bask in the warm water, ignoring the slightly tight grip on your hips.

you can’t hold back the smile forming on your face as you feel pulled back more firmly against miguel’s chest. not to mention his boner against your back.

“but you are to blame, preciosa…” his tone lowered an octave, deep and seductive, making your core quiver. “bending over that table and flashing those pretty panties where anyone can see…”

you suddenly feel a hand slowly reaching towards your inner thigh, making you shiver. you pretend to not be phased by his touch but it’s impossible when he inches closer towards your now heated core. throbbing terribly with want and desperation.

“but that’s what you wanted, huh preciosa? wanted my buddies to walk in and see your panties?” he smirks when your body jerks slightly as his fingers tease your slick folds mixed with the water.

you bite back a soft whimper and close your eyes as miguel continues teasing your folds torturously.

“show them what’s mine?” his smirk widens as his middle finger rubs your little clit in sinful circles, making you moan out. watching your back arch against his chest. admiring how responsive you are to his touch makes his cock twitch terribly.

you figured this would happen yet you still become a whimpering mess for him. the slow, sinful circles on your sensitive pearl drives you fucking crazy. his fingers sliding up and down, side to side. a moan falls from your lips as miguel slides in two fingers through your silk folds and cups a breast with his other hand.

miguel fondles with your tit while plunging his two digits in and out of your tight pussy at a slow pace. “so you are to blame, bebtia.” he chuckles when your walls flutter around his fingers.

the slow pace of his fingers pumping into you was lowkey annoying you but you know it’s payback for earlier. his other hand continues fondling with your tit. squeezing the squishy fat, fingers gently tugging and twisting your nipple. your whole body feels like on fire. your body jerks at the sudden sensation of miguel’s fingers curling up and hitting that sweet spot inside. making you latch onto his forearm.

“miguel~” you moan softly.

“¿que quieres, bebé? dime.” his tone deep, laced with seductiveness as he continues pumping his digits in your tight pussy, keeping that slow pace.

“tú…”

“¿qué?…”

“i’m gonna kill you.” you softly groan.

he chuckles at your cute grumpiness and silences you with a flick to your clit with his thumb, making you gasp. “dime, bebé.”

“you, miguel…”

disappointments hits you when his fingers slip out of you but immediately vanishes as miguel turns you around and hoists you up in his arms by grabbing the back of your thighs, gently pressing you against the shower walls. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and arms around his bulky shoulders. his large bulky shielding you from the water, hitting his back instead. your lips collide in a heated kiss, tongues intertwined exploring each other’s mouths. your fingers digging through his wet hair as you makeout.

your makeout sessions progresses as miguel aligns himself with your entrance, the tip of his cock gazing your wet folds. a shared moan mingles in the steamy air as he slowly slides through your tight cunt. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always stings a little but feels so good. your grip on his shoulders tightens as he bottoms out.

“shit… you’re so tight, amor.” miguel groans in between words as he begins thrusting himself in your tight warm walls, welcoming him home.

moans and groans mix with the hot steamy air of the bathroom. hands intertwined pressed against the tile wall and the others gripping onto each other as miguel continues pumping into your tight pussy. thick meaty cock stuffed inside you, hitting all those sensitive spots perfectly. lips smashed together, sallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure.

the harsh, deep thrusts makes you dig your nails into his muscular back, adding indents and scratch marks like a canvas. you moan out his name beautifully like a mantra, full of bliss and desire. miguel marks your delicate neck with kisses as he continues making love to you under the hot stream of water.

“ah~ miguel!” your grip on his back tightens, making the tall brunette groan in slight pain and pleasure.

“you’re so— fuck— so beautiful, amor.”

“ah~ ah~ oh!—”

his hips wind against yours rapidly, cock pounding into your sweet tight cunt. your body bouncing against the wall with each thrust. the glass shower doors fog up. steam over-floods the shower, leaking into the rest of bathroom. the mirror fogs up as well.

miguel is literally drunk off of you. that warm, tight pussy of yours squeezing the life out of his cock. your sweet sounds of ecstasy. your whimpers, whines, strangled cries, moans of his name. it was all music to his ears. fueling his motivation to plunge deeper, overflow you with tons and tons of ecstasy.

“you’re so perfect.” he admires your blissful expressions through hooded eyes filled. drinking in those furrowed brows, rolled back eyes and mouth agape, all simply because of him.

his praise went straight to your pussy, making you clench around him which elicits a groan from him. those sweet words makes your mind putty.

“ah!~ asi, asi!” you chant as his cock repeatedly hits that sensitive spot on inside. that warm, joyful feeling in your belly beginning to boil up.

miguel obliges and pumps into you like there’s no tomorrow. his groans turning into breathy moans. both hands gripping tightly onto your body. chasing for your high so you can cum beautifully on his cock.

that joyful feeling boils up faster as miguel’s cock pumps into you at a brutal pace. it approaches so fast that you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. before you even know it, the fireworks exploded. a loud moan of his name erupts throughout the bathroom as you gush all over his cock, coating it in your sweetness. miguel soon follows with sloppy thrusts before coming deep inside, filling you completely.

damn, that was the most intense shower sex you’ve ever had. it was so fucking amazing that you feel so breathless, exhausted but luckily miguel’s strong ass is still holding you in his arms.

you share one final kiss before miguel pulls out of your now sensitive pussy, causing you to whimper softly. very slowly and carefully, he plants you down on your feet but keeps his hold on you so you don’t tremble. he’s aware he did a number on you.

“you okay?” a hint of concern in his tone.

you nod weakly, too exhausted. “yeah, just… had mind blowing shower sex.”

“i did went a bit intense.” he admits with a chuckle.

“a bit? my legs say otherwise.”

laughter echos in the room, a major contrast to the obscure noises from a few seconds ago. after rinsing off and wrapping yourselves in towels, you finally step out of the shower with miguel carrying you in his arms. his excuse is you’re too sore to walk and honestly you don’t mind. miguel sets you on the counter and dries you off with your towel. he helps rubbing lotion on you, calloused hands among your soft skin. a few kisses here and there.

after helping you put on fresh panties and a nightgown, you give him the same treatment, applying lotion and leave soft kisses on his body. though it was hard to concentrate while he stands in front of you like a fucking god. the silver dog tags around his thick neck. wet hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead. towel around his waist that hangs a little too low, happy trail on display perfectly. damn he looks so fucking handsome, you just wanna—

no! you have to give your body, specifically your legs, a break no matter how much you want to pounce on him for looking so fucking delicious.

once he’s finally dressed and do your nightly routine, which miguel let you lather him in your skincare products, you head over to the kitchen for a late snack. you settle on leftover pizza from the other night when you had a movie night.

bodies snuggled up together in fuzzy blankets. microwaved pizza and drinks on the coffee table. terminator playing on the tv. the low lighting of your table lamp coating the living room in a warm hue. luna laying in between you and miguel, sleeping peacefully. your head resting on miguel’s chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. his fingers caressing the exposed skin of your shoulder.

mostly sit in silence, a few moments of commentary while watching the movie. simply enjoying each other’s presence peacefully in your own little world. nothing else matters, only each other.

while your eyes focus on the movie, miguel’s eyes focus on you, admiring you in silence. how perfect you look in his arms as if you’re meant to be. the sight emits a soft smile on his face, causing him to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he can tell you smiled by the way you snuggle closer.

a perfect way to end the night.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀.ᐟ⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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rmadridcore · 1 month ago

Text

Through the Jazz

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: A charming and mysterious encounter at a jazz club leaves Jude captivated by someone who doesn’t recognize him, sparking his excitement for what’s next.

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s note: Thank you anon for this request, it was so fun writing it, hope you enjoy! 🤍🤍🤍

“God, this lighting makes me want to rethink every selfie I’ve ever posted,” your friend joked, leaning over the table to adjust her hair, her face glowing faintly under the warm red lights of the jazz club.

You chuckled, taking in the ambiance. The room felt like it belonged to another time — dim crimson lighting casting a sultry glow, the hum of a live jazz band serenading the crowd with soulful melodies, and the murmur of quiet conversations blending with the occasional clink of glasses. People swayed in their seats or danced with languid grace, lost in the music and each other.

This was your ideal night out, no thumping bass, no deafening music that made conversations impossible, no rowdy strangers trying too hard to impress. Just you, your girls, a round of delicious cocktails, and a playlist that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Across the room, seated at a table with a few of his friends, Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He’d come here seeking the same thing as you, a relaxed evening to unwind after a taxing week. This jazz club was one of his sanctuaries, a place where the world’s noise dimmed and the rhythm of the music matched the beat of his heart. Most nights, he came for the music, a drink or two, and easy conversations with his friends.

But tonight was different.

The moment he spotted you, every reason he’d had for coming here evaporated. The music became a soft blur in the background, the drink in his hand forgotten. His friends’ voices barely registered as his focus locked onto you.

You, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware of the attention.

Jude wasn’t used to this. Normally, his natural charm and status worked without much effort. A glance, a few clever lines, and he could start a conversation with ease. But tonight, he found himself overthinking every move. Something about you demanded more than the usual routine — more finesse, more thought.

At first, he assumed you’d noticed him and were playing coy, but after a few more minutes of watching you sip your cocktail, laugh at your friend’s jokes, and sway your leg subtly to the music, it became clear. You hadn’t even seen him.

And Jude liked that.

“She hasn’t noticed you yet?” one of his friends teased, nudging him.

“No,” Jude muttered, his eyes still on you.

“Why don’t you just walk over there and buy her a drink? Easy.”

“I can’t just interrupt her,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. He sounded calm, but inside, his nerves were alive. “She’s with her friends, and I don’t want to come off as... I don’t know, pushy.”

“She’s not going to notice you if you just sit here.”

Jude knew that. But you seemed... different. Sophisticated. Like the kind of woman who’d appreciate something thoughtful and intentional. Charging over with a cheesy pickup line wasn’t going to cut it.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” your friend asked, gesturing toward your empty Espresso Martini glass.

“Mhm.” You nodded softly, savoring the lingering flavor of the cocktail. It was exactly what you needed tonight — smooth, rich, and just a little indulgent.

“I think I’m going to get another one,” you announced, already craving the next. With your friends’ glasses still mostly full, you decided to head to the bar alone. Sliding onto a stool, you ordered another Espresso Martini and rested your hands on the sleek wooden counter, taking a moment to soak in the cozy hum of the jazz club.

Across the room, Jude saw you stand. His heart gave a subtle leap as you made your way to the bar. His friends exchanged knowing glances, one of them nudging him with a grin. Without hesitation, Jude rose from his seat. This was his chance.

“Wish me luck,” Jude murmured, adjusting his sleeves as he crossed the room.

As you waited for the bartender to finish your drink, the faint, woody scent of cologne caught your attention, drawing you to the presence beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone taking the stool next to yours. He didn’t face the bar; instead, he angled himself toward you.

“Is it just me, or do they really make you earn your drinks here?” His voice was warm, with a playful edge.

You turned toward him, your gaze meeting a boyish smile that was entirely too charming for its own good. He had an easy confidence about him, and you wondered, just for a moment, what his face looked like fully lit by that smile.

“That depends,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “Did you charm your way up here, or are you next in line to complain?”

Jude chuckled, surprised by your quick wit. He’d been right, there was something different about you.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he said, his grin widening. “Figured I’d give it a shot. Worked better than waiting for someone to serve me.”

There it was — the full smile you’d been curious about. And it didn’t disappoint. His face lit up in a way that made you momentarily lose your train of thought.

“You’re bold,” you said as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. “What’s next? Going to critique my cocktail choice?”

Jude leaned slightly closer, inspecting your glass with exaggerated interest. “Let’s see… Espresso Martini?” He paused, feigning astonishment. “No way, I was about to order the same thing!”

The obvious lie made you laugh softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Okay, you caught me,” he admitted with a low chuckle. “But I’d say it’s a solid choice. Smooth, refined, just the right amount of kick. Kind of like you.”

You gave him a mockingly skeptical look but couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.

“Are you always this focused when you’re people watching, or am I just lucky to be in your line of sight tonight?” he asked, his tone teasing but not overbearing.

“People watching? Bold of you to assume I even noticed you.” Your words were playful, but they were also true. You hadn’t noticed him until now, and that realization seemed to intrigue him even more.

“Well, I noticed you,” Jude countered smoothly. “So either you’re exceptionally good at hiding it, or I’ve just got really bad luck.”

“You’re too smooth for your own good,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do girls actually fall for this?”

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his grin never faltering. “You tell me — are you falling?”

“Hm, not yet,” you teased, holding his gaze. “But you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Not persistence, love,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, silkier register. “Just good taste.”

You let out a soft laugh, swirling your drink absentmindedly. “Good taste, huh? Is that what brought you to a jazz club of all places?”

“Good music, good atmosphere,” he said, gesturing to the band. “And apparently, good company.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Do you come here often, or is it just my lucky night?”

“That depends,” Jude replied, matching your playful tone. “Are you always this charming, or is it just the jazz talking?”

“Oh, I’m always like this,” you said with mock seriousness. “You’d better keep up.”

“Who said anything about keeping up?” His voice softened, his words carrying an unmistakable weight. “I’d much rather keep you close.”

His eyes never left yours as he spoke, the intensity behind them making your breath hitch slightly. The flirtation was steady but not overwhelming, his tone perfectly balanced between confident and inviting. There was no rush, no pretense — just an undeniable connection.

The bartender offered Jude a drink. He shook his head politely, refusing it.

“Are you not going to order that Espresso Martini, or was that just a throwaway line?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m actually not supposed to drink much in the middle of the season,” he admitted, leaning back slightly against the bar.

You tilted your head in confusion, your curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, middle of the season? Season of what?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment, realizing how casually he’d let that slip. “You know, because of my job.”

You blinked at him, nonchalantly taking another sip of your drink. “What do you do?”

The question was so casual, so devoid of the recognition he was used to, that it hit him like a curveball. For the first time in years, someone his age didn’t seem to know who he was. He swallowed his initial surprise and decided to lean into it, enjoying the novelty.

“I… well, nothing too exciting,” he said, scrambling for something to say. “I run. And stuff.”

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh, the sound light and melodic. He’d been wondering what your laugh might sound like, and now that he’d heard it, it surpassed even his wildest expectations.

“Run and stuff?” you repeated, chuckling. “Is that an official job title?”

He smiled sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for the ridiculous answer, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep hearing you laugh. It was such a beautiful sound, and knowing he’d caused it made his chest swell a little.

Jude had never been the type to flaunt his status, but this was new. Girls usually knew exactly who he was and often used it as their icebreaker. He wasn’t used to this kind of blank slate, and honestly, he loved it. With you, there was no pretense, no assumptions, and no expectations. He couldn’t lean on being Jude Bellingham, the star of England and Real Madrid. He couldn’t impress you with his accolades or fame. Instead, he had to charm you the old fashioned way — with wit, humor, and his own personality. And he found it refreshing.

For once, he wasn’t a star athlete; he was just another guy in a bar.

As he glanced at you, a thought flickered across his mind, and he tilted his head slightly, studying you in silence for a moment.

“What’s the look for?” you asked, squinting at him with playful suspicion.

He grinned softly, his gaze never wavering. “Just wondering how someone like you ended up in a place like this.”

“Someone like me?” you repeated, your curiosity rising.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “Someone who could make the whole room disappear.”

The compliment landed like a quiet ripple, subtle but powerful. You felt your cheeks grow warm, flustered by the easy way he said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You quickly brought your glass to your lips, hiding your reaction behind one of the final sips of your Martini.

“Alright,” you said with a smirk, setting your glass down. “That one was good. You get points for creativity.”

Jude’s grin widened as he caught the faint blush still lingering on your face. He could tell his words had affected you, and he loved that he was starting to crack through your calm exterior.

“Creativity?” he repeated with mock offense. “I was just being honest.”

You shook your head with a cheeky smile. “Honest or not, I’ll give you credit. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughed lightly, the sound warm and genuine. Complimenting you felt effortless to him. In fact, he could have gone on for hours, listing all the things he was already drawn to about you. But something told him to take his time. If tonight was any indication, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

“Does that mean I’ve earned a dance?” he asked, his tone cheeky yet hopeful, his grin widening as he met your eyes.

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… how about I come back in two minutes, and I’ll let you know if you’ve earned it?” you replied, finishing your drink and setting the glass down.

“I’ll take that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you stood, grabbed your purse, and excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick touch up.

Once inside, you gave your reflection a final once-over, ensuring your hair and makeup were flawless. There was something about the way Jude looked at you that made you want to bring your A game.

Meanwhile, Jude let out a deep breath. He’d gotten the green light, but now the real challenge loomed: dancing. Dancing was not his forte, but he was willing to risk it. He glanced over at his friends, who were watching him with knowing smirks. Shaking his head with a soft laugh, he adjusted his shirt and waited. His nerves weren’t focused on you possibly rejecting him but on whether he’d embarrass himself by stepping on your toes.

When you returned, you moved to settle your bill, but the bartender stopped you with a polite smile. “It’s already been taken care of,” he said, gesturing subtly toward Jude.

You turned to him, a playful smirk on your lips as you approached. “So…” he began, his tone laced with anticipation.

“I think you’ve earned a dance,” you teased, pausing for dramatic effect. “But only if you promise not to step on my toes.”

Shit.

Jude let out a nervous laugh, pretty uncertain about the promise.

“Deal,” he said with a grin, holding out his hand.

As he led you to the dance floor, the soft notes of John Coltrane’s My One and Only Love filled the air, a perfect melody for a slow dance.

The space wasn’t crowded, leaving the two of you plenty of room to move freely. He placed his hands gently on your waist, and you looped your arms around his neck. As your eyes met his, he felt the world shrink to just the two of you. The soft glow in your eyes, the delicate flutter of your lashes — it was all so simple yet so captivating. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange realization struck him: he didn’t even know your name, but you already felt special.

You moved together with an ease that surprised both of you. The initial clumsiness he feared melted away as you found a rhythm, the music guiding your steps.

“You’re not bad at this,” you said, breaking the silence with a small, teasing smile.

He chuckled softly. “Not bad? Careful with the compliments, or I might start thinking you like me.”

You laughed, a sound that sent a pleasant warmth through him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re doing okay… for now.” Your head tilted slightly as you gave him a soft, playful look.

“Okay,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his expression more serious yet still teasing. “This is the best I’ve gotten all night. I’ll take it.”

The proximity between you felt charged. His cologne, woody and fresh, was intoxicating, as was the quiet power of his presence. There was a depth to him you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it intrigued you.

Jude found himself entirely lost in the moment. Being with you felt so different, so exceptional. You didn’t know who he was, and that was precisely what made this connection so meaningful. For once, he wasn’t Jude Bellingham the football star; he was just Jude — a guy trying to impress a beautiful stranger.

And it worked.

He could see it in the way you smiled at him, the way your body moved easily with his, the way you laughed at his jokes. You liked him for him, not for his fame or the life that came with it. It made him feel proud of himself — proud that he could charm you just by being genuine. As the song played on, he wished it would never end.

It did end, unfortunately to him, and as it did, neither of you moved at first, lingering in the intimate space you’d created on the dance floor. Jude wasn’t ready to let go, and for a moment, it seemed you weren’t either. But to his dismay, you were the one to step back first.

Your eyes flicked toward one of your girlfriends across the room, and with a subtle nod, you silently communicated your readiness to leave. She got the message, standing and making her way toward the exit with the others. You turned your attention back to Jude, your charming smile softening the blow of your departure.

“Well, mystery man, this was fun. Thanks for the drink and thanks for the dance,” you said gently.

“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Jude tried to mask the disappointment in his voice, but the slight edge in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t want the night to end — not yet, not like this.

You shrugged with a playful glint in your eye. “What can I say? I’m spontaneous like that.” And just like that, you turned and walked away, leaving him no chance to respond. As you joined your girlfriends at the door, you didn’t look back, disappearing into the night and leaving Jude standing on the dance floor, disappointed yet utterly captivated.

Jude was floored.

You were beautiful, witty, flirtatious, and effortlessly intriguing.

There was a magnetic pull about you, an undeniable charm that made him want to unravel all the mysteries you seemed to carry. Most of all, you made him feel like himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was just a guy — one who was utterly enthralled by someone who didn’t even know his name.

Usually, when Jude approached women, he was bold, direct, sometimes even audacious. But with you, it was different. He found himself holding back, wanting to show you his best side, wanting to prove he was a good guy while still keeping his natural charisma intact. You had him walking a fine line between flirtation and respect, and he loved every moment of it.

Returning to the table, Jude was greeted with knowing smirks and playful jabs from his friends.

“So, when’s the first date?” one of them teased, clearly sensing how smitten he was.

Jude froze. His stomach dropped. He didn’t have your number. He didn’t even know your name.

The realization hit him like a brick wall, and his stunned expression sent his friends into fits of laughter.

“Wait, you didn’t even get her name?!” one of them managed between chuckles.

Jude groaned, running a hand down his face. Usually, he’d fire back with a quick retort, but this time, his friends had a point. He had been completely out of his element, letting you walk away without so much as a way to find you again.

On the way home, Jude replayed the night in his head, trying to figure out how to fix his mistake. He refused to let this be the end. He’d start by asking around at the jazz club, see if any of the regulars knew you. If that didn’t work, he’d make it his weekly ritual to stop by in the hope that you’d show up again.

When he got home, still brooding over his missed opportunity, he tossed his keys on the counter and reached into his pocket for his phone. Instead, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Pulling it out, he found a folded napkin. His heart raced as he opened it, revealing a note written in elegant handwriting:

For the guy who runs for a living, call me if you need any cocktail recommendations.

Beneath it was your number, complete with a lipstick mark stamped beside it.

Jude couldn’t help the wide grin spreading across his face. His heart pounded as he bit his lip, a mix of relief and excitement flooding through him.

You’d left him with just enough to keep the connection alive — your charm lingering even in your absence.

Yup. He was definitely calling for some cocktail recommendations.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jb5 x reader #jb5 #jb10 #jb22 #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football player x reader #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic

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ethearecals · 8 months ago

Text

escapism.

MINORS DNI - 18+ NSFW

band!poly!marauders x leadsinger!fem!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: this fic contains: smut, punishing kink, degrading kink, finger fucking, manhandling, being tied up, daddy kink

summary: when you and the boys get into a slight disagreement, during one of your shows you sing a song you KNOW they don't like you singing. and lets just say you get a... stern talking to.

contents: fem leadsinger!reader, i don't know how to write smut..., bassist!remus, drummer.james, guitarist!sirius, cussing

a/n: as i've implied previously this is my first attempt at writing smut, so Imk if its good!!

YOU KNEW THIS WOULD END BADLY... your boys were going to be pissed at you, but somehow you couldn't find it in your heart to feel guilty or bad. they hurt your feelings, so you'd just hurt them back.

it was certainly not the right way to go through this.

but there was something so thrilling about it, about singing this song. up on stage. with thousands of people to see. and you could bask in the glory of pissing off your boyfriends.

was it really your fault? the feminine urge to sing this song was overwhelming and... let's just say you had totally recorded it behind their backs. when you first showed Remus the lyrics he was skeptical.

"Love, I admire the tempo but don't you think it's a little too dirty for our genre?" You knew he was probably just jealous about you saying those kinds of words for everyone in the world to hear.

James was next, and James could be blunt.

"I adore the intro, sweetheart. but I don't like you talking that way unless its with us." you remember him shrugging.

Sirius, ohh god, Sirius.

"No."

"Why-"

"I'm not letting you play that at a show.

bingo, they were jealous of the lyrics they were hearing.

so when you had that argument, you knew this was the perfect way at getting them back.

the show started out as usual, playing the normal set. but not making eye contact with your boys.

you set up a track before you went on.

"You guys can leave the stage now." you looked up at James.

"Aren't you going to leave aswell? your body needs rest-"

"I'm fine, I had coffee." You snarked, stepping back onstage. the crowd cheering for your return.

"Alllright... this last song- honestly isn't pg at all and i'm probably going to get murdered for this but-"

the track starts, the boys can hear it from backstage. Sirius is pissed, sexually.

"sleezin' and teasin', i'm sittin' on him-"

"all of my diamonds are drippin' on him."

"i met him at the bar- it was 12 or somethin'"

"i ordered two more wines cause tonight i want em'"

"that bitch-" Sirius slurs.

"a little context- if you care to listen."

"just a heartbroke-bitch, high-heels six-inch."

"in the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne."

you had done it, sang the whole song with the audience going absolutely insane. and your boyfriends were pissed to say the least.

after you had finished, you wandered off stage when you got lectured.

“WHAT THE FUCK was that??” Sirius barked, and you slowly turned to face him.

“it’s my choice was i sing.” you scoffed, trying to walk away until James’ iron grip locked around her wrist.

“you do not get to walk away, y/n.”

“and?”

“since when do you not care what we think?” Remus inquired, though he couldn’t really resist the amusement of the stunt his girlfriend had just pulled.

“since i decided that i didn’t give a fuck on what you blokes think about what i sing in public just because you’re jealous.”

oh yeah, you fucked up.

all the boys had to do was give eachother a look and James started pulling you along to the hotel you had been staying at.

“guys—“

“shut up, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes.

“you know, we can punish you right here right now for all of london to see if you keep this shit up.” Sirius hissed.

“i—“

“shh..” Remus’ nimble fingers and palm locked around your lips for the remainder of the walk.

you peered around at your surroundings and stumbled uncomfortably in your heels.

and you severely wished your panties werent seriously (haha, get it?) soaked.

once you arrived at the hotel and got into your room, you knew it was over.

a quick shove onto the bed and the rummaging through a suitcase was all you needed.

“g-guys let’s talk about this—“

you attempted to reason with them, while you wanted it (you couldn’t ignore the ache between your thighs).

“you disobeyed us, so this is what you get.”

James tugged the tough rope around your wrists and hung them above your head on the bedpost above you.

“now, tell me, y/n. if you really don’t want this, then why are your panties so wet?”

Remus asked innocently, leaving you to become a stuttering mess.

“i—… erm.. it’s—“

“that’s what i thought.”

Remus’ cold and scarred fingers wrapped around the waist band of your panties and tugged them down your legs.

“so fucking wet for us, puppy.”

he commented, before engulfing two of his fingers into your wetness.

you shuttered, your head thrown back in a pleasured manor.

“you like this, huh?” James ran his lovely fingers through your hair and tugged gently.

“s-stop…” you squirmed hopelessly, and all Sirius could do was pin you down.

“we’re just helping you learn a lesson, pup.”

“this’ll teach you not to disobey us, understand?”

you couldn’t answer, not since Remus ducked down and his lips locked around your dripping clit, sucking on it selfishly.

“Siri asked you a question, puppy.” James reminded cruelly.

“y-yes i- i understand—“

“good.”

he was quick to remove your shirt and bra, as he brushed his thumb against your sensitive nipple.

“ohfuckk— R-Remus f-fuck..” he very much enjoyed the sound of you moaning his name.

“let it out, puppy.” James stroked your restrained arm.

Remus had his hand in his trousers, his damp fingers wrapped around his hardened cock.

he stood up, his hair disheveled. he tugged his trousers down and took out his erect member.

“R-Remus..” you wished you could say that you didn’t want it.

“come on, puppy. you can take me.”

“can you take Moony, babes?” Sirius rested his chin against your thigh.

“y-yes..”

“good girl…”

Remus fucked into you thoroughly, by the time an hour had gone by you weren’t even sure how many orgasms you had in that time.

They took turns, pounding into you with their cocks.

“you’re such a slut for us, puppy.” Sirius stated, cupping your ass as he kept a nice rhythm.

he loved the feeling of your walls clenching in onto him.

“d-daddy…” you whimpered, your tiny little sobs earned nothing but cruelty.

“you’re just a stupid slut, isn’t that right?” James went back to sucking on your thighs, littering marks all over.

once Sirius was done that had been three rounds for each of them, and you had fallen so deep into your subspace.

obviously having three amazing boyfriends, they had amazing aftercare.

you practically collapsed onto James, feeling utterly helpless. Sirius stroked your hair gently.

“did we go to hard, puppy?” Remus caressed your tear-stained cheek.

“n-no i-im sorry…”

“y’just gotta listen sometimes, princess.” James kissed your forehead lovingly.

“we were a bit jealous.” Sirius admitted sheepishly, tucking some of your hair out of your face.

“everything hurts.” you groaned, leaving James to pull you into his lap.

“would you like a bath, princess?”

you nodded tiredly, your eyes still glossy.

once you were cleaned up, you fell asleep quickly. swaddled between Remus and James with Sirius’ iron grip locked around James’ waist.

Your head rested on Remus’ chest, falling asleep to the lovely rising and falling of his chest.

so… was it worth it?

yes, yes it was.

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fanfiction #marauders smut #james potter x reader'#james potter smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut

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dolliethv · 4 months ago

Text

One Of The Girls.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 6k

You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.

You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.

You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.

After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.

"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Curious about what he was actually dressed as?

Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.

You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.

Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.

But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.

Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.

"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.

"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.

You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.

Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.

"It's me."

Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.

Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.

Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.

"Why the bad attitude?"

Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.

You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.

"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.

Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.

Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".

"By the way, you look amazing."

It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.

"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.

Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.

Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.

However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.

When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.

Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.

"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."

You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.

How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.

"People were staring at us."

Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.

Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.

"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."

You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.

"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."

But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.

You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.

It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.

You couldn’t get there just yet.

"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.

"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."

You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.

And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.

"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."

You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.

"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"

Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.

Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.

And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.

So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.

"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."

As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.

As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.

"I think that’d be an abuse of power."

Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.

Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.

"It isn’t if you enjoy it."

Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—

"Bellingham!"

Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.

"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Good party, man."

You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.

"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.

"Thanks."

You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.

However, you started to feel anxious.

Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.

Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.

Oh, okay.

"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."

Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.

You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.

"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.

Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.

She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.

If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.

"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."

Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?

A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.

"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"

Me?

The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.

Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.

There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.

Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.

"I got lucky tonight."

Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.

Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.

You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.

"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.

You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:

"I’ll be waiting."

And with that, they left.

The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.

You despised him.

None of this was part of the plan.

Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.

He was wrong.

Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.

"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.

-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.

Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.

You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.

Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.

"No."

It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.

"Mm, I think it is."

"Good for you."

Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.

"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"

You closed your eyes.

But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.

Not again.

“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”

If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.

Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.

“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.

His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.

“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”

“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”

“Should I?”

The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”

Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.

“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”

You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.

“Oh, wow.”

He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.

“Don’t touch me.”

You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.

“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”

With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.

When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.

“We can go to my room…”

He whispered against you, before moving lower.

“Talk…”

He pressed a kiss against your chin

“I’ll make you laugh…”

And then one on the side of your jaw

“I can make you cum…”

You shuddered at the proposal.

You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.

“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.

Another kiss, just below your ear.

“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”

You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.

The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.

You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.

“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.

With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.

(...)

“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”

The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.

You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.

This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?

There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.

The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.

But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.

Is he not interested? You asked yourself.

A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.

“Let’s dance.”

Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.

You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.

You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.

So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.

If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.

Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.

"Having fun?"

A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.

You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.

Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.

"Don't you want to talk to me?"

Silence.

"Okay, I'll go then."

Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.

"You're still not jealous?"

You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.

"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."

Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.

"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.

When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.

He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.

"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"

He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-

"Punish you."

It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.

Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.

He was actually very intrigued.

You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.

It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.

Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.

He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.

"You know..." you started saying.

Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.

“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”

It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.

Oh. Interesting.

The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”

You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.

“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.

“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”

Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.

You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.

“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.

You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.

Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.

“My name isn't ‘baby’.”

You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.

As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.

"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.

The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.

-Even her grunts are cute.-

"Shut the fuck up."

It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.

"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."

You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.

And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.

Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.

You did it. I got you.

"Good choice."

With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.

You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.

“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”

“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”

You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”

“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”

“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”

“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.

Pure shit.

There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.

“You know my legs are always open for you.”

"Baby..."

"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."

Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.

"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.

"You want it around your cock?"

Holy shit, did you really say that?

"Yeah."

You hummed, acting like you were considering it.

"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."

"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."

You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.

“Yes, baby. So bad.”

His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.

“You wanna see what I got under there?”

“Show me how pretty you are.”

But you didn’t take off any clothes.

You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.

“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.

“And why would I do that?”

God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.

“Baby…”

“Suck.” You claimed.

Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.

“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”

Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.

You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.

Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.

“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.

He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.

Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.

You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.

But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.

So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.

Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.

“Untie me this very instant.”

He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.

You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.

“No.”

"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."

"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."

You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.

"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.

"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.

Jude Bellingham is totally lost.

#jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham stories #spotify #jb5 #jude bellingham #jude x fem reader #bellingham latest #jb5 x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham smut #smut #jude #bellingham x reader #bellingham

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wooahaeproductions · 2 months ago

Text

Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with.

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal.

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed.

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep.

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus.

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound.

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red. Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in.

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there.

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register.

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe.

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more.

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly.

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus.

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand.

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know.

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly.

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings.

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded.

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple.

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher.

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now.

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more.

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.”

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.”

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall.

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom.

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second.

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side.

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now.

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo.

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving.

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing.

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap.

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

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