Based on this request: Hi, can you do a Buck fic where he and the reader are dating, and obv he is really strong. But maybe she’s gained some weight or smth, cus Buck bakes so much. And she starts feeling self conscious, and it’s just fluff with how Buck just holds her and whisper how much he loves her? Thank you!

tw: body image issues!

You looked different.

You were happily in a relationship with Buck, and with the relationship came delicious baked goods. Cakes, cookies, no-bake desserts, Buck has truly become a whiz in the kitchen.

"Maybe I'll just follow you to the bedroom?" You offer self-consciously.

Buck looks at you, bewildered. The two of you had been making out on the living room couch, when Buck suggested the two of you take it to the bedroom. Usually, you'd jump and wrap your legs around his waist or Buck would waste no time carrying you bridal-style. So you suggesting this was very much not the norm for the two of you.

Buck tugs you so that you were facing him on the couch, sitting criss-cross apple sauce in front of each other. "What's going on?"

Based on this request: Hey sweetie! You know the prank trend where the girlfriend asks her bf "permission to eat'? That would be so hilarious with Eddie. The horrified look on his face would be priceless, especially if it happened in front of his Tia 🤣🤣

As Eddie's partner, you think it is your duty to ragebait and fluster him. So you tend to do it whenever he lets his guard down, like at a Sunday night dinner with his Tia.

You, Chris, and Eddie were seated at Pepa's house, stomachs growling as she comes out with dish after dish into the dining room. The three of you had been shooed out of the kitchen earlier, Pepa not accepting any help, but you don't waste time in pulling her down to sit next to you and actually eating her masterpieces.

As Eddie starts passing around the dishes, Pepa asks whether you want elote. You take a beat, before turning towards Eddie. "Babe, am I allowed to have the elote?"

Eddie, who had already been spooning a handful of rice into his mouth like an animal hibernating for winter, looks at you in disbelief and abject horror.

Chris, who's very aware of all TikTok trends (much to his father's dismay), snorts. Eddie whips his head at his son in betrayal.

"Edmundo." Tia says, warning in her voice. "Why are you being asked permission?"

"Because I'm engaged to a menace, Tia."

You beam innocently back at him. "Get ready for a whole lifetime of this, babe."

"Marry me."

You blink back at Buck, entirely gobsmacked at the question.

You had come to Buck's place for your typical Friday night of pizza and badly made action movies. You had not been expecting this random question, or rather instruction? from your best friend, who you did not share any romantic ideas for, nor would you ever.

(So your brain hasn't caught up with your heart, yet, alright? They'll come to an agreement eventually.)

"What?" You ask after a beat of silence, when Buck doesn't continue talking or laughing the two words off as a joke.

Buck sighs, then finally meets your eyes. You see anxiety and fear pooling in his baby blues, which you furrow your brow at. "I want to foster Theo. I know that my income and support system makes me a good candidate, but being married would make me even better, so I was think -"

"Yes."

"Yes?" Buck repeats in awe, not expecting you to agree.

the millions of people that call out to him for help, every day, all the time on earth? think of that scene in a new hope when obi-wan senses all of those voices snuffing out after the death star destroys alderaan—while he’s on the millennium falcon lightyears away.

clark literally cannot escape it. the force flows through everything—including the stars. clark can’t just leave the atmosphere for a few precious moments of peace like he could in regular canon. the force follows him, and he follows the force. he hears every scream, every cry for help. he feels every death and birth and knows what it is to feel the loss of an entire planet.

like zor-el is like, jor-el is so fuckin' weird.

“Yes! That’s the spot! Don’t stop, Bruce— Oh!”

Your husband couldn’t help his quiet chuckle. You were so sensitive. Don’t get me wrong! Bruce thought it was cute, really, endearing even.

It was just ironic, because you were the one who had insisted on wearing those high heels all night. And that, even though he’d brought you a pair of more comfortable shoes—ever the thoughtful husband.

“Oh, it’s fine, Bruce! I’ll survive,” you had said then.

Now, you wished you would’ve listened to him as blisters scattered the soles of your feet from dancing all night, and your thighs ached terribly.

After arriving home, you’d immediately thrown yourself on your shared bed. After shaking his head at your whining with a smile, he stepped closer to you and took off those heels for you. When you winced at the sensation, Bruce hummed soothingly.

His hand moved upward, and for a moment you thought that he was going to help relieve you from the pain in a different way, but once he began kneading the flesh there, you were moaning regardless.

You didn’t even have to ask Bruce to massage you; he had just started doing so silently—no complaints or gloating about how he was right.

Your eyes fluttered shut while his touch eased your pain away slowly but surely. Bruce spoke your name softly, and you opened your eyes begrudgingly. The sight of him was definitely worth it, though.

He had unbuttoned his dress shirt by now. Tie hanging around his neck loosely, his fingers worked their way through the tense muscles of your aching thighs that lay over his lap. You were sure you were in heaven.

What had you done in your past life to deserve a man like Bruce? Intelligent, built like a greek god, and owner of magic hands, clearly!

“Is it better now, my love?” You were about to scoff at his question when his fingers dug deeper into the tender tissue of your left thigh, and your lips formed into an O-shape instead. “Yes!” you squealed.

“Good. Because I think I have another idea to help you with the pain.”

Oh, so he was going to help distract you like that.

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“C’mere, sweetheart.” Oh, you would come, all right.

I mean, goddamn it, how could a person’s voice be that deep and raspy? A flush was working its way across your cheeks just from hearing those few words already. You were running hot, and your heart was pounding against your ribcage erratically. Fuck, were you really that easy now? An amused, little smirk and a lilt, and you were giddy?

It wasn’t like you to be so easily wooed. Not at all, actually. Perhaps you had an espresso martini too much, or maybe two. Either way, if there was any man in the world that would justify such an unusual lack of restraint, it would have to be Bruce Wayne, Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor. Well, that is until you would dig your claws into him, at least.

You weren’t planning on letting this man go anywhere any time soon. Unless he would go home with you. That, you would be okay with.

Now that you thought of it, what else could Bruce possibly do with that sweet mouth of his? Or his long, thick fingers— “Did you not hear me?”

You snapped out of your increasingly dirty-minded thoughts as Bruce inched closer to you. Had you forgotten to reply? Oh well. “Hm?” A hum was all you could offer as a response. Blown pupils locked onto the man towering over you as you swayed forward, before catching yourself—hands landing on Bruce’s chest. You contemplated giving the rock-solid muscles a squeeze when Bruce took ahold of your chin.

Gently, he raised it and took a good look at you. A dopey smile spread across your face upon receiving his undivided attention now. “How much have you had to drink?” A playful giggle slipped past your lips.

“Why? Y’want to buy me a drink, handsome?” Pretty bold question for someone who was practically slurring every second word leaving her mouth. Cute though, Bruce thought involuntarily. Shaking his head in visible entertainment, he denied your suggestion, “I don’t think you could handle another one.” There was a glint in your eyes when you countered his claim, “I can handle much more than you think.”

Bruce could barely contain his chuckle at your innuendo. “Oh, yeah?” he asked you—his tone almost challenging. Nodding, your face neared his. Bruce could see the way you were looking at him; like he was a prize you weren’t willing to let anyone else stake a claim on. Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure if he should feel flattered or slightly offended, but luckily for you, he was leaning towards the former.

“Want me to prove it?” Now you were really just asking for it. Calloused fingers left your chin to travel across the burning skin of your cheek, before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Bruce cocked his head to the side. The motion was subtle but devastating in its effect on you.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked, but in your mind this was more of an invitation than an inquiry—one you were eager to accept.

“Come and find—” You were in the middle of yet another attempt at seducing Bruce into going home with you when suddenly you stopped short, your face scrunching up into a frown. Oh no, were you going to—

Blegh! Okay, so there went Bruce’s new pair of black dress shoes.

Best believe you didn’t drink another espresso martini for two months after this incident. At least Bruce didn’t have it in him not to take you home after seeing the state you were in. Win some, lose some, right?

em’s masterlist | bruce wayne masterlist wc: 0.6k request: no

˙⋆✮ a/n: uhh kinda nervous, but i’m making a tumblr comeback after my unintentional break!! rly sorry for having been gone for so long!! :(

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