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martiniluvr · 22 days

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18+ minors dni

1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy 💫

warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.

dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.

B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.

dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.

this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.

E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.

we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.

dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.

G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.

dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.

H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.

dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.

I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.

he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.

dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.

say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.

the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.

M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.

dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?

N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.

I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.

you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.

P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.

dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.

Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.

if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.

R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.

dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.

dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.

T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.

ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.

U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.

dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.

V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.

dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).

dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.

‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.

Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.

dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.

Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.

he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.

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il-miele-che-scrive · 2 months

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the one where Y/n and Lando used to hookup and then fell out... or did they?

lowkey inspired by the interview where Oscar talks about spending time with his gf and Lando goes "awww" cus it got my brain making up scenarios

yourusername Maybe I was too much but you could've been more and we both know it

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yourfriend1 Situationship survivor 💔

username1 Ah, she's posting half naked pics means they're done

yourfriend2 Girl I didn't cry that much over a 3 years long relationship

↳yourusername I'm not crying lmao

yourfriend2 We need to go on a girls trip

yourfriend1 I second this!!

username2 Lando's loss tbh

username3 Not Carlos nonchalantly in the likes 👀

↳username4 I can't believe he would take Lando's leftovers

username5 You two can chill, Y/n and Carlos have been friends, they're not gonna end it because of a failed situationship

username3 Exactly! Maybe they'll become something more...

username5 Carlos is Lando's best friend, he wouldn't do it to him

username3 I mean it's not like Y/n was his gf or anything, they were just hooking up

username5 Yeah maybe also say it was her fault she caught feelings after he did all the things mentioned on the 2nd pic

username6 How could he not wanna make it official with HER?

↳username4 He's rich and famous, he can have 10 girls like her if he wanted to

username7 It makes me feel better about being in a situationship myself knowing Y/n also went through it

↳yourusername Girl it's a sign to leave him, don't waste your time

username7 It's just for the plot 🤭

yourusername NOT worth it

username8 Stay strong, I promise it gets better and one day you'll find someone who'll truly care about you

↳yourusername Already did ❤️ @/yourfriend1 @/yourfriend2

username9 Well, I guess a relationship was a bit too much for little Lando Norris

landonorris Catching little feelings, thought we had arrangements

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username1 HOW DARE HE????

↳username2 I guess men just have the audacity 🥲

yourfriend1 When you act like you're in a relationship with her so she thinks you wanna be in a relationship with her 🙄

↳username3 That's Y/n's best friend right there 😭

maxfewtrell Drunk Lando is the worst Lando I've ever had to deal with

↳landonorris we both know that's a lie cmon

angryginge13 I forgot how fun it is to go out with you

↳maxfewtrell I swear something got into him lately, like sure he always loved to party but have you seen how drunk he was?

angryginge13 tbh I barely remember that night lol

username4 AHA so Lando is also going through it

username5 as 👏 he 👏 should 👏

username6 What's wrong with men these days? All I see are situationships, fwbs, ons, what happened to feelings? What happened to love?

↳username7 I guess dating apps messed up our perception of relationships

username6 This is sad.

username8 Well, at least Y/n isn't out getting drunk

↳username9 We can't be sure, we know all she wants us to know, her life can be totally different than what she shows on social media

username10 They had arrangements as he said, it's her fault she fell in love

↳yourfriend1 Oh will you all just shut up?

username10 Someone's mad lol

username11 So many people idolizing Lando just because he can drive a fast car in circles but in reality he's just your average brit in his 20s with commitment issues

↳username12 He's still young, he doesn't have to get in a serious relationship if he doesn't want to

username11 But it was wrong of him to lead Y/n on

username12 Just as someone said already - not his fault that she caught feelings. These typa things aren't for everyone. Or maybe she was hoping he'll fall in love or something

username11 Yeah? How is it that men these days want the benefits of a relationship without the responsibilities?

username12 Did he force her into it? Nope. She could've said no it's not my thing bye. But she didn't. She stayed with him

username11 If you wanna have sex without commitment just pay for it, it's still a thing. You can't have stuff like this for free, at the cost of another person's feelings

A month later

yourusername Kisses to my exes who don't give a shit about me

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yourfriend1 I'm glad you feel better now ❤️

↳yourusername I feel so much more alive now

username1 They all slaaaaay

yourfriend2 Remind me, why haven't we done this kinda trips before?

↳yourusername Cuz we're stupid 🫶

yourfriend1 We're not stupid, we're sillymates

yourusername Fuck soulmates when you can have sillymates

yourfriend2 Stupid choices were made tho

yourusername Neither of you stopped me lmao

carlossainz55 Wasn't it a little too cold to sit on the balcony like this?

↳yourusername The wine warmed us up!!

carlossainz55 Text me if you're ever curious about other ways to warm yourself up *this comment has been deleted*

carlossainz55 Good to know you're having fun!🍷

username3 Carlos, everyone saw that comment you deleted...

username2 Where's the person who said Carlos wouldn't do that to Lando? WHERE?!

username4 Y/n should post to the song enough for you, particularly this part "cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else"

↳username5 Ngl I feel like most Olivia's songs would fit her situation right now

maxfewtrell That looks familiar...

↳username5 Nah boy, get the hell out of this comment section

username6 Wait, let him speak, maybe he has new information

username7 I need to know what stupid choices is Y/n talking about and what Max means 😭

↳username8 They're feeding us breadcrumbs and they know what they're doing

landonorris ice spice ❄

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charles_leclerc Ice ice baby 😂❄️

maxfewtrell The gossip pages gonna love this one

↳username1 So that's what Max meant when he said it looked familiar

username2 I'll wait for further explanation 😶

username3 I refuse to believe Y/n went through all the heartbreak just to hook up with him again in Finland

↳username4 Well, she liked this post so...

username3 She got the Stockholm syndrome or what? 😭

username5 At this point she deserves this

username6 @/yourusername I am very disappointed in your actions

↳username3 Bro casually tagging Y/n like she's gonna answer

↳username3 Btw it's not confirmed that they hooked up again

username7 Pls don't break her heart again

username8 I get a little heart attack every time Lando posts

username9 Guys it doesn't make sense, Y/n wouldn't go to Finland with Lando AND with her girls

↳username2 What if they went there separately and just happened to run into each other?

username9 Yeah, because there's no other places to go skiing. Someone had to arrange it or something, it cannot be a coincidence

username2 Look, the universe works in weird ways, do you know the invisible string theory?

username9 Oh no you're one of these people? 🤡

username2 All I'm saying is to me they seem like 'right people, wrong time' and maybe finally the timing is right for them

username7 No no no Y/n deserves way better, Lando is too toxic for her

username2 Do you know him? Maybe he was going thru something and it just wasn't the time for him to be in a relationship

username9 A delusional yapper is what you are

yourusername Back home with a new passion

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yourfriend1 You gotta stop feeding me these 😭

↳yourusername What, you don't like them? 🥹

yourfriend1 I love them, that's the issue!!

username1 And Lando isn't with her

↳username2 Why would he be?

username1 I think everyone thought they're together again after Finland

username2 They were NEVER together

yourfriend2 Can you get your asses out of here?

landonorris Looks delicious (the food too)

↳username3 DON'T GIVE ME HOPE

username4 Don't worry, it's just an average text from a situationship you'd get after weeks of no contact

username5 Usually followed up by "you busy tonight?"

↳username6 Ariana what are you doing here

↳username7 Man saw that comment Carlos deleted and decided to gatekeep

username5 Bet that's not the only thing he did when he saw that

username7 wdym 😭

username5 There's no way they didn't fuck

↳username8 fr a way to mark his territory

↳yourfriend1 She said she blocked you after Finland

landonorris She didn't😁

yourfriend1 I'll make sure she does now

landonorris She won't😌

username7 We need to know what happened in Finland 😭

username1 I wish he would share the secret

username2 Yeah, Oscar, don't be shy, share it with the class

username3 My bet is Y/n let Lando manipulate her again

↳username4 They're both adults like Y/n sweetie just say no it's that easy

username5 I'm gonna manifest Y/n and Lando announcing a relationship soon 🕯

username6 I mean have y'all seen Lando? I'm NOT surprised Y/n keeps coming back even if he's doing just the bare minimum

↳username7 He's average. The fact that he's famous and has money makes him more attractive

username6 Do you think he pays Y/n for... you know?

username7 🤷‍♀️

username8 Words cannot express how much this man gets on my nerves

↳username9 Same like man stop being blind and see that Y/n is gf material, not some hookup to be used and left

username10 I wish Oscar would've spoken😭

username11 Get your shit together Lando

↳username12 Well maybe Y/n doesn't mind

username11 It didn't seem like it

username12 People change 🤷‍♀️

username11 I wish Lando would've been the one to change 🙏

username13 Lando has NO RIGHT to speak on other people's relationships being a walking definition of commitment issues himself

↳username14 chill yo tits, I think he truly thought what Oscar said was cute

yourusername We turned out to like each other way more than we originally planned

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yourfriend1 I'm tired of you both already

maxfewtrell It's gonna be one of those "they still together?" kinda relationships

↳yourusername We plan on being an insufferable pain in the ass together just for you 🫶

maxfewtrell I see Lando is already changing you for the worse

landonorris the process began way earlier

maxfewtrell But you didn't have the balls to commit

↳yourfriend2 She deserves so much better

yourfriend1 Yeah @/yourusername deserves so much better, I wish she would've read the comments

carlossainz55 Congrats, you finally tamed him👏

yourusername I hate you both ❤️

↳landonorris wow, I love supportive friends

yourfriend2 Who said we're your friends?

yourfriend1 We have to tolerate your ass but it doesn't mean we're suddenly friends

↳landonorris You've been waiting to see this happen

carlossainz55 Of course, I've been telling you to get a girlfriend for so long now

↳username1 ekhm...

↳username2 We will never forget

username3 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM?

username4 Miss girl needs to share her manifestation techniques with us

oscarpiastri Don't have to thank me

↳landonorris Yup, you did nothing

↳yourusername Thank you Oscahhh

username5 I MANIFESTED IT 🕯

yourusername For our 6 months anniversary we forced our friends to go camping with us 🏕

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yourfriend1 It wasn't as bad as I thought

↳angryginge13 Worse?

yourfriend1 Oh definitely

landonorris I'm really surprised they got along

↳maxfewtrell What other choice we had?

↳yourfriend2 Anything for Y/n tbh

↳yourfriend1 Still doesn't mean we don't hate you

yourfriend2 Yeah, good friends will always say 'but she deserves better' (she really does)

maxfewtrell I didn't expect you to last that long

↳yourusername Excuse me? 🤨

maxfewtrell You know, it's Lando

yourusername I guess you're right lmao

landonorris Now what is that supposed to mean?

yourusername Nothing, don't be mad❤️

↳landonorris That's what she said

yourusername NO IT'S NOT WTF 😭

oscarpiastri What if I tag along the next time?

↳yourusername I'd be happy 🫶 if you bring Lily as well it would be perfect

username1 WAR IS OVER

username2 I love how winter break is always pure chaos and summer break is just fun and chill

danielricciardo When can I join you though?

↳landonorris I promise next time I visit you in Australia it'll be with Y/n

yourusername You didn't even ask me...

landonorris Well, do you wanna go?

yourusername DUH

↳username3 No cuz these pics have strong Danny Ricc energy, I'm surprised he wasn't there

username4 The friend groups were forced to unite, I'm afraid they're together for life (I'm manifesting🤞)

↳username5 I hope they are, I feel like Lando really matured with Y/n by his side

username4 He went from "I don't wanna mature, I'm happy where I am" to this 😭

username6 I wish all situationships would turn out like this

↳username7 World would be a better place

username8 Right people right time❤️

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #F1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au

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subwaysurf45 · 1 year

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She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience!

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk.

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had.

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.”

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?”

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.”

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word.

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer.

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late.

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question.

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees.

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you.

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from.

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table.

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table.

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times.

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?”

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.”

“You’re calling me a liar?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.”

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child.

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.”

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.”

And he did.

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place.

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked.

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house.

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap.

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again.

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often.

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important.

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.”

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone.

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door.

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.”

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward.

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered.

He walked you back home and cheered you up.

Just like he said he would.

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse.

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless.

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong.

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you.

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view.

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you.

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants.

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms.

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you.

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more.

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game.

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment.

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment.

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now.

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again.

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response.

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.”

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip.

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.”

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded.

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder.

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall.

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.”

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up.

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.”

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?”

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs.

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you.

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to.

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you.

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder.

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table.

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots.

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why.

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom.

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.”

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend?

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.”

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup.

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing.

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night.

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying.

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him.

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids.

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back.

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb.

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep.

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it.

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him.

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted.

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly.

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage.

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down.

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look.

And my god was it worth it.

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear.

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed.

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around.

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him.

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more.

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat.

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers.

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully.

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV.

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game.

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck.

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.”

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?”

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.”

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand.

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.”

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this.

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.”

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset.

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.”

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?”

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well.

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him.

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it.

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you.

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time.

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it.

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him.

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day.

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser?

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either.

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place.

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later.

You: sure, it ends in an hour.

Bucky: I’ll be there.

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there.

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out.

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible.

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?”

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?”

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?”

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?”

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense.

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.”

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt.

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?”

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?”

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?”

“Then what were those condoms for?”

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.”

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.”

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?”

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.”

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands.

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you.

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong.

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back.

“I’m all good,” he shrugged.

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him.

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how.

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world.

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed.

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door.

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.”

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say.

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.”

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?”

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken.

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up.

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it.

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?”

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes.

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?”

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest.

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.”

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry.

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you.

“You’re very safe,” you whispered.

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you.

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.”

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going.

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.”

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.”

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.”

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.”

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension.

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair.

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep.

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close.

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done.

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you.

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing.

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered.

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?”

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen.

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it:

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksanddrinkingtea-blog @linzc-reader @hotleaf-juice @honeybunchesofbucky @seybox @yaszx @happyt0exist @striving4averagegirl @searchf0rtheskyline @aya-fay @wbyss @luvrsbian @albertdabuttler

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zeldasnotes · 5 months

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PART 31 🎁

MASTERLIST

Having both 10th and 8th house placements is so annoying. If there is something an 8th houser need its privacy and thats the one thing 10th houser will never get.

Venus Square Pluto in a mans chart is the ”the girl i was in love with in my teens rejected me and I never got over it” kinda energy. Very often there is some kind of bitterness towards women.

Projection is not only projecting negative stuff onto others, its also projecting positive qualities on to people, something that neptune energy tends to do. They be like ”nooo she would never do that”.

People with Neptune/Pisces 2nd house are so confused when it comes to money. The ones to buy a Guccibag when they dont have a bed.

Pluto conjunctions in composite can indicate a relationship that never ends. ”We are not done with eachother” kinda energy. You might be in your teens now but trust me you will bump into eachother again when you are like 40. Not even moving to different countries can separate this bond.

Venus aspecting Neptune people are so damn artistic. Especially when Uranus is involved. My friend have the conjunction to both Uranus and Neptune and everything she wears look so good and unique. And she finds the clothes nobody else have.

People with 8th and 12th house energy needs to be careful because they attract people who are addicted to their energy. People who dont even like them wants to be around them bc of it. Same can be said about 2nd house placement and their possessions.

Mercury trine Ascendant makes someone a good actor because their body language and what they want to communicate works perfectly together.

Venus can shows a body part you like to take a little extra care of. My mom is a pisces Venus and growing up i always saw her do foot baths, etc. Libra Venus might like to work out their butt at the gym etc.

I just have to laugh when I see people with Lilith 11th house take the bullies side because trust me honey it will be your turn next.

Women with Cancer/4th house placements are the kind of women who are seen as good mothers by outsiders no matter what they do. Especially Fama(408) in Cancer. Might also hide behind their mom image when you accuse them ”I would never do that Im a mother for god sakes”

Moon Square Mercury is super exhausting to have. A lifelong battle between heart and mind.

A mix of Libra and Cancer in the inner planets in a womans chart almost always guarantees popularity. Especially if its Libra Sun with Cancer Moon.

People with Lilith 4th house might have had a mother who had issues with them being home alone. Their mom might not go to work when the lilith 4th house person is sick and home from school even tho the kid is over 15 and can be at home by themselves. Constantly in the kids face.

People with 6th house placements tend to be naturally gorgeous. A lot of them look better with no makeup or light makeup.

Moon Square Uranus people might cut the bond out of nowhere. A person in my town with this aspect is even known for this. She become best friends with someone and have these sleepovers and are constantly close to them then out of nowhere something happens and she never talks to them again. Uranus Square can make someone just snap out of nowhere.

People with Nessus(7066) conjunct Mercury have a habit of wanting to mentally undress people and make things into something more serious than it is. You wear a maxi dress and they be like ”you dont like your legs” uhm no honey I just thought this maxi dress looked good.

People with Jupiter in the 1st house can sometimes be a little too laidback and not make an effort because they always attracted attention without doing anything. They never had to ”fight” to get attention, social contacts, fame etc. This can make them socially lazy.

Pluto aspecting the Ascendant can give you the kinda energy that nobody will try you, but it can also do the opposite. Pluto either scare the freaky people or pull them in.

People with conjuntions to Chiron = being turned off by people who likes them and chasing people who will never want them instead. (Especially moon and Venus)

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #ascendant #birth chart readings #asteroids #astrotidbits

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bubblegyu00 · 2 months

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riize as boyfriends !

riize x femidol!reader

a/n: currently in my rum pum pum pah talk saxy era 😋

———————・✦

• shotaro

boyfriend shotaro and idol shotaro are basically two different people. the members have mentioned that shotaro is a bit stern and serious during practice. but all of the frustration leaves his body once he sees his girlfriend stopping by after practice. goes from leader osaki shotaro to clingy baby taro in a millisecond.

is such a happy pill to you, but when you go without seeing him for more than 24 hours, then you suddenly become sad and depressed.

his favorite pass time is to talk about you, and he has proven that many..... many times. the members always get annoyed when the room is silent he and suddenly groans " man, i really miss my girlfriend ". but the poor boy can't help that you're always on his mind 😕

he definitely loves to annoy you, but only because he knows that you won't get angry at him. he thinks that you don't get angry at him because you basically let him do anything he wants ( which is true ), but it's really because even though taro likes to tease,, he never crosses the line.

if you would ever be at an awards show together, he wouldn't even try to hide your relationship — meaning the boy is quite literally gushing over how good you look. pokes you in the side and giggles quietly to himself as he watches you stiffen and try not to flinch.

" shotaro! what was that?! we were live! "

" it was so funny! "

———————・✦

• eunseok

boyfriend eunseok may seem nonchalant and tsundere ( yes i used that word, what're you gonna do about it 😛 ), he actually cares about you so much.

is on the verge of tears when he's cleaning a wound for you ( it's literally a paper cut ). will help you do everything for the rest of the day like you just got out of the ER or something.

makes you laugh all the time because he just wants to see you smile. his life goal is to protect you at all costs, and treat you like an absolute princess.

loves loves lovessss when you play with his hair or scratch his back. he can put up the tough guy act all he wants, but the minute you offer to rub or scratch his back he'll lay right on your lap and won't get up for another hour.

and even though he isn't as expressive, he gives you compliments like no other. he praises every little thing you do, and compliments you on every single piece of clothing you wear.

" you look so good baby "

" i'm literally wearing pajama pants and a tank top seok..? "

" i stand by my earlier statement "

( are my daddy issues showing yet? )

———————・✦

• sungchan

boyfriend sungchan is so cute i want to throw a rock at him. alright that made sense in my head.

he's so so so in love with you i don't think he could possibly put it in words. he probably wants to throw a rock at you too.

like you could literally glance at him for one millisecond, and that's a kiss in his book. he still gets giddy over the little things like holding hands and hugging and it's just so endearing 🙁

sometimes he forgets how handsome he is, and only remembers when he gets a scolding because he didn't know a girl was hitting on him.

no but seriously sometimes the fact that he is so insanely attractive leaves his brain. and the amount of girls that mindlessly flirt with him — even though his girlfriend is right there — double the amount when he's at the gym.

so he dosent leave for the gym until he gets sprayed with a bunch of your perfume, has a picture of you two in his phone case, a scrunchie on his wrist, and a pink bow around his arm. ( the last one is just cus... why wouldn't you try to tie a bow around sungchan's arm?? )

" maybe i should buy you a shirt with a picture of me on it "

" or i could just act like i'm gay when girls come up to me "

" oh my gosh yes! "

———————・✦

• wonbin

boyfriend wonbin is the beginning of the sassy man apocalypse. i say this from the heart wonbin 🤍

no but it's really a good thing because you needed someone who would overdress everywhere with you 😋. he still has never overdressed you ofc, he knows his limits 😼

most people thought you guys were just this big glamorous couple who slept glamorously, went on big glamorous dates, and just breathed in glamorous air.

this, however, is a big lie. most of the time you had dates at home, in bed, eating takeout, and watching horror movies.

although wonbin is very very very very hot in every way, most of the time you just saw him as a guy who was born to be a cutie patootie, but was forced to act like the mysterious hot guy.

wonbin only let's you see the soft side of him because he can really open up to you, and you understand him so well.

if wonbin is ever having a bad day and won't open up to anyone, the members call you immediately since they know that you'd be able to calm him down in five minutes tops.

" go away "

" binnie, baby it's me. you can open the door "

———————・✦

• seunghan

boyfriend seunghan most definitely was best friend seunghan before you "accidentally" made out one night

your love language is annoying each other and pissing one another off <3

you two are most definitely the couple everyone brings over to have a good time. the both of you together is quite literally is the best combo you could put together for having fun.

seunghan will annoy you, but make it up with the dozens of gifts he gives you for no reason. you showed him something online? he bought it. you thought something was cute at the mall? he's already whipping his credit card out.

he's not necessarily clingy, but will be touching you most of the time just to make sure you don't disappear. whenever you're at a party, or in public, he'll have an arm around your waist just for reassurance. he does in fact think you'll get kidnapped if you're not in his line of vision.

boyfriend seunghan most definitely calls you the most out of pocket nicknames just for fun. he thinks it's gold comedy.

" i'm home cucumber! "

" how was your day tissue? "

———————・✦

• sohee

boyfriend sohee makes me want to go into a cuteness aggression not gonna lie to you. the biggest simp out of the seven.

has you as his lockscreen and homescreen, has your photo card in his phone case, your birthday is his phone password, and his password for all of his accounts is the day he asked you out. ( he's a bit obsessed ngl )

sohee is usually very smiley, but he never ever smiles as wide as when he's with you. you're the only one who gets to see his fully pearly white smile

is still really shy around you, but it's so endearing. like if you say "i love you" he'll say it back but his neck, ears, and face will be a shade of red. or if you kiss him it'll still take him a minute to calm down because he has the reddest face ever right now.

like shotaro, sohee talks about you too much too. but honestly he only does it sometimes to make them mad or annoyed, but sometimes he really does just to talk about his perfect girlfriend.

will make sure you NEVER eat alone. he just thinks it's so sad that his girlfriend would eat alone when she could be eating with him.

" have you already eaten? "

" yes "

" aw, i wanted you to eat with me "

" oh, i haven't eaten yet, what do you want? "

" but you just- "

———————・✦

• anton

boyfriend anton makes me want to skip around my room and sing " look at the grass, the dirt! just like i dreamed they'd be! "

he gets really shy when you compliment him, but will compliment you on every single thing you say or do. like he'll literally say you look perfect when you're in sweatpants, and it makes you wanna do cartwheels and swoon over him.

he will so lose it every time you dress up at all. like he's literally drooling with goo goo eyes and he will NOT leave your side.

he feels so small next to you even though he's literally a whole shaq o'neal 2.0. he still can't believe how he pulled a bad bitch like you.

his love language is physical touch, but he is too shy to make the first move. for example, when you're sitting on the couch, about to watch a movie, he'll keep his hands to himself even though he wants to lay on your chest and have you play with his hair so badly.

people figure out your dating because when he's on live he'll bring you up every chance he gets. like every time he reads a comment, he somehow finds every single one to have something to do with you.

" anton what's your tmi? "

" um, my tmi for today is that i watched y/n's performance at mcountdown in person today and oh my god- "

❕

#bubblegyu00 #riize #riize imagines #riize x reader #kpop

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uncle-fruity · 1 year

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HEY! HEY, YOU! YEAH! YOU!

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Your friends aren't your therapists"?

If you've been on the internet enough, I think it's a sentiment that's pretty difficult to miss.

But you know what that means, right?

It's meant to warn people not to place too much personal baggage onto their friends when they should be unpacking it with a professional. It's to say that venting to your friends shouldn't be your main source of coping. That is to say: most of your friends are probably unqualified to untangle complex emotional & mental health problems, and if you expect them to endlessly listen to your problems & have them help "fix" you, then that's usually going to end up in stress and tension in your relationship (or worse).

Do you know what "Your friends aren't your therapists" DOESN'T mean?

It DOESN'T mean that you shouldn't ever seek any emotional support from your friends or that you should keep all your problems to yourself.

Yes, it's important to establish boundaries in all your relationships. If there's something you'd rather not hear from your friends (and vice versa) that should be talked about if it ever becomes relevant. If your friend is easily overwhelmed by a lot of emotion/stimulus, then you shouldn't dump serious emotional things without checking in to see if it's okay first. Over time, in a healthy communicative relationship, you get a feel for what's okay and what's not.

But goodness fucking me when I see folks say that they don't deserve to express their harder emotions because "friends aren't your therapists" I just... I mean woof y'all!

What kind of friend is a friend that doesn't care if you're upset? What kind of friend sees you struggling with something and tells you to deal with your own problems because they don't owe you anything? What kind of friend comes around only if you hide your pain at all times?

A fair-weather friend, that's what kind. A friend that's only around for the good times, and goes away during (metaphorical) storms.

If someone only wants to be a fair-weather friend, that's their prerogative. But I'm telling you all that you deserve the kind of friendship where your friends actually give a fuck about you. You deserve to take up space sometimes. You deserve to get heavy things off your chest with someone you love and trust.

If you want better, stronger, healthier friendships, it's important to understand that intimacy is about Knowing and Seeing and Experiencing someone authentically. Taking off whatever mask we wear to get through the world and being ourselves and sharing that with another person. Anger, pain, grief... tackling these issues with each other builds trust and intimacy and makes everyone involved feel more important & needed & cared about. Isn't that what all this is for?

Anyway, this is all to say: be open about your emotions. Communicate with your friends (& tbh in all your relationships). Learn each other's boundaries, but don't shut each other out just because emotions are scary to navigate at times.

Please be kinder to yourself. Seek intimate friendships, AND seek professional help when you need more support than your friends can provide. Just don't assume your friends can't give you any support! Assume that they love you and trust that they will tell you if they're at their limit. And if they *are* at their limit or if they just aren't comfortable with some conversations, respect that & don't try to force it onto them.

This has been a PSA. Thank you.

#psa #therapy #friendship #relationships #mental health

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bonny-kookoo · 3 months

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Jungkook

Princess | Short #1

There's something happening between you two.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues

Length: 1.6k words

A/N: I will force feed you this AU and you will like it 👿

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Despite Jungkook having agreed to help you, he still continues to work on that choreography the same way as before, ruthlessly pushing you further and further despite your very much constant complains.

Apparently, according to him, it’s not about the whole contest anymore. But instead, to teach you ‘something’. What it is, he won’t say- but you’re sure that’s all just an excuse anyways to torture you.

But you’re not going down so easily.

“How many times do I need to tell you that you have your own snacks?!” Jungkook complains, showing the empty bag of crackers to you, at the sight of which you simply sit in the middle of the practice room, tail happily wagging as if you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “And I’m sure you drank my water too.” He accuses, and you just shrug.

“Maybe.” You answer. “The crackers sucked though. Way too bland. Do you always just eat old people snacks?” You question, irritating him further. It’s clear that you’re testing your boundaries with him, and most of all his patience- because lets be real, its funny as hell to make him angry. Mostly because you know he’d never actually get too upset with you- if he was to ever do so, you’re sure he’d give you a fair warning way before that line has actually been stepped over.

Though, clearly, you’ve not really realized yet that you two have actually become closer up until this point- and that also means that Jungkook no longer tries to stay as far away as he can from you.

So when he returns to the practice room with new snacks of his own and a bottle of sweet electrolyte juice, you’re already up on your feet, happily looking what he’s got himself- before he suddenly takes off his hoodie, catching you entirely off guard and freezing you in place for a good second, because wow.

He’s got an extensive collection of art beneath the skin of one of his arms up to his hand even, and his physique is definitely also not to be played around with. Years of serious dancing and working out have clearly created the man he is today-

And suddenly, your world is dark for a good second, as he pushes his hoodie over your head.

You’re confused, when he suddenly pulls on the sleeves your arms are not yet pulled through, as he instead ties them behind your back, successfully immobilizing you. He picks you up and sits you in one of the chairs after he's done, leaning in close once you're seated, summoning the audacity to smirk at you.

“Timeout, you gremlin.” He tells you, before he sits down next to you to eat his food, all while you can’t do anything but watch, wide eyed and completely confused.

And instead of arguing, you just pull in your legs after toeing off your shoes, pouting to yourself while enjoying his scent. You’d never openly admit it, but he does smell nice- both the laundry detergent he uses for his clothes, and, well, his own scent. You blame it on the fact that throughout your career until now, you’ve barely had any close interaction with another male hybrid like this- so it’s probably just the fact that you’re not used to this.

“Take it off.” You demand, and he shakes his head.

“Nop.” He denies, and you swing your legs on the chair as you’ve let them fall down again.

“I need to go pee.” You tell him, and at that he sighs, before he unravels the sleeves-

Just for you to slip your hands through them, and steal his bottle of juice as you run into the hallway, hearing his footsteps loudly right behind you, hand having slapped against the door you’d tried to swing close behind you. You don’t get very far when he suddenly grabs the back of the sweater, pulling you closer again to try and lift you. “No- No no, I really need to go pee!” You deny, standing in front of him now after having avoided his grip.

“Alright, let’s go then.” He says, grabbing the hood of the sweater to drag you to the restrooms, taking the bottle away from you. “Go pee.”

“I don’t have to anymore.” You say, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Too bad.” He denies. “Go squeeze something out, I’m not gonna take you again.” He threatens, and you reluctantly go anyways, before you re-emerge, glaring at him, until you have an idea. He watches as you stand in front of him, putting on your best puppy-dog eyes, and holding your arms out upwards to him. “What.” He asks, arms crossed.

“Carry me?” You ask, and he thinks about it for a good second, before he agrees.

“Alright.” He nods.

“Wait, really?!” You ask, surprised- when suddenly, your world is upside-down, with him carrying you over his shoulder, one arm holding onto your legs so you don’t tip over and fall off his back. And he hears you laugh about it most of all, your fluffy, curled tail wagging right into his face if it wasn't for his other hand holding it down as well, his own lips turned into a smile.

Because honestly, this is what your life is supposed to be like. Happy, fun, and most of all, normal.

It’s clear to him that you’ve simply never really had any proper interactions before that could’ve taught you how to socialize and get used to general manners- if anything, you most likely always got what you wanted just to have you shut up and be quiet. And eventually, when you grew up into an adult that you are now, things simply had gotten stuck like this.

The reason why he thinks this, is just how.. Helpless you seem at the simplest of interactions. From simple questions about your hobbies, to normal touches like a hug for a greeting, everything appears to be foreign to you. And you mask that insecurity and lack of understanding with attitude- because up until now, most likely, this must’ve been your best defense. Everyone would leave you alone if you got cranky, and so, these days, you must feel extremely confused and without any direction, considering that this doesn’t work with him.

But you’ve got to learn. Not just basic manners, but also the fact that not everyone in the world is out to get you.

Especially not him.

Back in the practice room, you’re now on his lap, where he’s got your hands behind your back, held by your wrists in his hand, grip strong. “We gotta practice.” You whine, but he knows that’s not what you’re going to do once he lets go.

“We do.” He agrees. “And we will, once you’ve finished your tantrum.” He tells oyu, and you scoff.

“I’m not having a tantrum. You’re being an asshole!” You tell him. “Who cares if I eat your snacks? You can just get new one’s!” You complain, and he shakes his head at that.

“It’s not about that. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. If I want to take something from you, I’ll ask. If you want something from me, you’ll have to ask as well.” He explains, and you kick out your legs, trying to get off- but he’s got a strong hold on you, so you’re stuck in place.

“I’m not a child!” You bark, slipping off of his legs to instead lay on the floor now. He raises a brow.

“You’re sure acting like one.” He says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have boundaries that you’d like respected?” He asks, looking down at where you’re laying on the floor at his feet, and you stare at him for a second with an unsure gaze, before you slowly sit up, eyes glossy. It’s obvious that sentence must’ve hit a sore spot for you, because you’re visibly fighting another emotional outburst as you try and swallow down any tears that want to escape.

It’s quiet. Mostly because you don’t want to break down, and he doesn’t want to say anything that might set you off. He hates seeing you like this- but he knows that one way or another, you’ll have to face these things.

“I’ll respect any boundary you give me.” He tells you. “I promise you that. But you’ll have to do the same for me, because that’s fair, right?” He asks, and you take in a deep breath, before you lean against his leg, head resting against his thigh.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, and he reaches out to out a comforting hand on your head. “I’ll be more fair.” You say, and he smiles.

“Thank you.” He offers, before you look up at him.

“Can we practice more now?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“If you want to.” He says, and you nod.

“It’s.. Actually fun. If you don’t nag all the time.” You playfully argue, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m just trying to get you to do your best.” He denies, and you smile brightly at that, tail wagging on the floor, a sight he’s come to really like.

“Thank you.” You say, and for the first time, he has to admit-

You can actually be really fucking cute, if you want to be.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

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yeyinde · 1 year

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OK but i need to know if price allows his wife to trim his beard …can you please write a drabble on it to feed my price addiction

Oh, absolutely!! I bet it’s easier for him to have someone he trusts cut his hair for him. His beard, though—I imagine he grooms it himself (too many oh, sir, you should cut it this way—), and he prefers a straight razor over a blade. If he really, really trusts you, he'll let you do it for him, but he's been grooming his beard since he was 28, and so. No one does it better than he does.

His hair, however? He considers it a free cut.

》 WARNINGS: Um. Just some domestic bliss, really. Bantering. Allusions to sexual content, PTSD, and trust issues (not as serious as it sounds; just briefly mentioned). This is basically just gratuitous fluff. This was written with absolutely no discernible characteristics for the Reader—gender-neutral reader 》 WORD COUNT: 1,9k

"Hold still."

"Holdin' as still as I can, love."

His words are thick—little more than a grumble rasped into the collar of his shirt, distorted from the tilt of his head, chin resting on his sternum.

To someone else, his tone might be misconstrued as waspish; a scathing snap sawed between his clenched teeth, and coloured in a thick paint of impatience.

But you know him more than most, and the huffiness of his tone only serves to amuse you.

(Your irascible man.)

Still.

Your fingers snake through the overgrown locks on the top of his hand until you have a fistful trapped tight between each of your digits, and then you tug just so. A warning. Not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough that it makes him tense—makes him groan.

His voice loses the surly pinch, and sounds decidedly breathless—a fact that makes you stifle a grin.

"Gonna start somethin' you can't finish, you bloody minx."

"Gonna cut your skin if you don't stop wriggling around," you volley back.

He huffs, shoulders slumping down with his sharp exhale. "Just get on with it. Getting stiff sittin' like this."

You ease off the clutch of his hair, but keep the locks between your fingers, eyeing the length, before nodding to yourself, and bringing the scissors close to the tuffs spilling out.

The snipping sound of the shears cutting through his hair fills your small washroom. His shoulders seem to relax, if only slightly, as you work.

You cut the locks between your pinky and ring finger shorter than the rest, and wince.

"You know," you murmur, brows furrowing as you try to gauge whether or not it's passable enough to be overlooked, or if you'll need to cut all of it shorter to match. "You could go to a barber. A professional."

He grunts. You know what he's going to say before he says it, and you wordlessly mimic the words that leave his lips:

"Cheaper this way, ain't it?" He drops his chin when you nudge his head.

Cutting his hair has become a small tradition between you, one that started a few months into your relationship when he showed up at your door, three hours late to a planned date with a bucket hat on his head, and a package of forget-me-nots in his hand (seeds, he said, because flowers will wilt and die in a day but if you plant them in your garden, they'll regrow forever). His hair was longer than usual, curling just under his chin, and the sight of him—so frazzled and unkempt compared to how put together he normally was—made something inside of you ache.

He'd rushed here as soon as he could, complaining that his flight was delayed, and his barber quit on him, and all the while, your fingers itched with the urge to run them through his overgrown locks, to feel the silken hair against your palm.

(To grip tight and not let go.)

The words slipped out with very little conscious thought: I can cut it for you.

He seemed almost caught off-guard, but the obvious discomfort of having his hair tickle the nape of his neck made his acquiescence much easier.

You discovered that night just how much you liked having his hair in your hands, and he seemed to realise that fucking you against the wall, while you tugged on his freshly cut hair, in lieu of payment was much more preferable than dealing with a barber.

"No," he grouses. "They're always goin' on 'bout undercuts, and tryin'a get me to shave my chops, and I ain't dealin' with that when I 'ave you."

"Free labour?"

"Hardly." He scoffs. "Gonna break my damned back one of these days, you bloody—"

"—hold still, love," the stolen endearment makes him shudder, but he quiets when you rest the flat of the blade over the crest of his ear, cutting the overgrown hair around his sideburns. "That's it. Good boy."

"Keep playing with me, love, and I'll show you who's a good—"

Another tug. His scorching words taper off into a growl.

"You don't seem to complain much when you pull me in for another round—ah, ah—" You tug his hair again when he moves, fighting a wide grin. The plastic handles of the scissors slide back until it arches off the back of your hand, thumb brushing the loose hair from behind his ear. "God, you're so stubborn. You want to get cut, don't you?"

"Trust you not to leave me a bloody mess by the end of this."

With his chin dipped so far down into his collar, his words are honey-thick and robust, and the deep cadence alone makes your toes curl in your slippers.

"Trust me that much, hmm?"

Despite the transparent barb, the tease in your slightly breathless tone, he doesn't hesitate. "With my life."

"Aren't you a charmer?"

"Almost done? I'll show you how charming I can be—"

"Nearly. Would've finished an hour ago if you'd keep still."

He grumbles again, but the words are swallowed by the snip of the scissors. An impasse blooms in the scant space between your front, and his broad back. Comfortable, like all silences with him have become. Despite your griping, cutting his hair is soothing—intimate in a way you'd never come to expect it to be.

It might be the explicit trust he places in your hands when you direct him to tilt his chin for you at a mere tap against his jaw, or the crown of his head. Wordlessly following your commands as soon as they're conveyed.

To anyone else, such a display is commonplace, but you've been through the thick of everything to know that exposing his neck in such a vulnerable way to you, and so soon after a mission, is more meaningful than any declaration of trust could ever be. The innate drive to protect his fragile pieces from harm often leads to him flinching away from the sharp end of the shears, but it diminishes just as quickly as it rears, and he sits, docile and accommodating, for you. Allowing you this minuscule power over him.

Maybe that's why he refuses to see a barber, opting to let you chop his hair in whichever style you deem attractive instead. Explaining to someone else why he's so tense, why he sometimes can't stifle the small jerk when cold metal kisses the nape of his neck, seems tiresome. The unneeded opening of a barely healed scab.

It was a battle getting him to open up to you, to let you invade his space, and squeeze through the splinters in his resolve when it became clear that you weren't going anywhere that wasn't with him.

The thought of it alone warms you. The ache in your joints from holding your hands still, cutting through the thick tufts of hair, feels like a small burden in comparison to what he's shown you with this.

It's been barely five hours since he touched down at Heathrow. His duffle bag is still packed. His fatigues are still on. He hadn't even showered off the stench of the mission, or scoured the blood and dirt from between his nails, and yet—

You tap his cheek. His head lifts, and then lists to the side. The smooth curve of his neck is exposed. His exterior vein throbs through his sun-kissed skin.

Affection blossoms in your chest.

"Missed you."

The words are barely a whisper, but his eyes peel open, icy blue finding yours as you lean over him, getting the last patch of hair near his temple.

John says nothing in response, but he doesn't have to. You see it all—feel it. The vein in his neck throbs more intensely as his heart rate picks up, and that alone is more than an echoed sentiment in return. It's enough.

But still:

His hand lifts with a deliberate slowness until the pads of his fingers kiss your wrist. He burns red-hot—skin just as fiery as his temper—and the warmth of his rough skin bleeds into you when he wraps his full palm over your arm, thumb brushing your flesh in a distinct pattern.

When you recognise it, you falter.

It isn't quite Morse code, but it's something he taught you on the eighth date when you asked if the wordless hand signals were accurate in the movie you'd just seen. His hand found yours as he led you out of the theatre, and down the cold, wet streets of Liverpool.

"No," he snorted, derisively. And then spent the three blocks back to your flat showing you the different commands they used in the SAS, and the ones he taught his men. "If you can, skin on skin is better. Less likely to be seen. We save it for hostage situations. Like this—"

Blisteringly intense cerulean never wavers from yours as he lets you feel the words he rasps over your skin.

You try not to tremble with the shears pressed too close to his skin, and quietly pull them away. He watches as you place them on the ledge of the vanity, hand never releasing yours.

You brush the loose hair from his shoulders, trying to hide a smile.

"All done."

John hums, the noise a crackling ember that fills the hush in the room, and notches between your ribs where it sticks against your thudding heart.

"What's the verdict?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

Loose hair falls from his shoulders when he stands until it dusts across the tile below his feet. He leans over the sink, shaking his head above the basin, before settling, angling his chin as he takes in your shoddy handiwork.

"Looks good."

You snort. "Sure. I'll have to go over it once you finish showering because someone wouldn't sit still long enough for me to clip around your crown, and—"

He turns to face you, and the playful diatribe is cut off when his warm palms fit against your hips. It's his turn to tug, and he does so with a sharp jerk of his wrists, pulling you taut to his chest.

His eyes bore down into yours, mirthful blue. "Yes, yes," his eyes roll briefly toward the ceiling, lips curling into a soft smirk. "But someone kept tryin'a clip my ears, and pullin' on my hair."

"Someone, eh?" You volley coyly, reaching up, and curling your fingers into the bristles of hair spilling from his cheeks.

At your gentle touch, his expression shifts to contemplative. His chin tilts when your nails graze his skin.

"You like my beard, don't you?"

Your brow lifts in question. "Yes, you know I do. Why? The boys making fun of you for it?"

"Gaz said I looked like an Edwardian lord—" you snort at the comparison. He pinches your side. "Watch it."

"Is that all?"

"Soap said they're grabable."

"Yeah, they are," you purr, taking in as much as you can in your fists. "Very steerable, too. But why is Soap concerned about that?"

"Said someone could grab 'em. Drag me by 'em, and—"

"Like his mohawk?"

He concedes your point with a flash of teeth. "You don't think I need to trim 'em?"

"And lose my handlebars? No way—"

His darken. "Dirty little thing, aren't you?"

"For you? Always."

"Mmm," he tilts his chin down, and presses his mouth to yours, teeth nipping your bottom lip. "Insatiable little minx."

"You love it."

"You know I do." His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. When you peer up at him, his pelagic gaze turns turbid with desire. "Now, about your payment…"

#captain john price #john price x reader #fluff only on a yey fic??#inconceivable #UM #i promise i'll edit this later #(maybe)#captain john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #captain price #cod drabbles #cod price #price x reader #price x you

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pia-nor481 · 3 months

Text

Max Verstappen NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

I feel as though he likes to be very sweet and soft so aftercare is very important to him. He's very fond of cuddles and running his hands all over his partner's body, maybe she resting against his chest. He really likes showers together so I think that's really common when at home.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

As strange as it sounds I think he really likes his leg (have you seen his thighs and calves? Hot) so I believe he may like thigh riding for that reason. Furthermore, he must really like his girlfriend's thighs, keeping his hand resting on them, slapping them lightly in normal situations. Perhaps fucking her thighs from time to time.

I also think he likes his partner's lips, just so pretty. But also when they're around his cock.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

I actually think he likes to cum in a condom. He doesn't like to be messy, so that would help with that. But he would really like to cum in his partner's mouth. However I think he has a soft spot for facials.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think, back in the day, he really wanted to have a threesome with Daniel. He never actually asked, but he would still be open to it

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

I think he may actually be very experienced, quite a lot of hook ups too. I'm not sure why I think this but you know. Not to be evil or anything but I think the first few times he would have to be guided a bit.

F- Favourite position

I think a position where he can see her face, so mostly positions where his girlfriend on her back. But I feel as though he would like to hook her legs over his shoulders. Or maybe where she has her legs around his waist and hands on the back of his heads. So things like 'the drop box' and 'counter top'

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

I think he'd be a lot more serious, even though (off track) he can be a silly, he's a very funny guy. But at the same time I also imagine some very unserious situations- I'll touch more on this in kinks. Over all I think it's 50/50 as his job is very serious all of the time, so he would want something different to that.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

He's one of the odd few whose pubic hair is actually lighter. I also feel as though he's lazy with trimming it, I'm not sure why, but he doesn't strike me as someone who shaves/trims every few weeks.

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

He definitely likes to be more romantic, it just in his nature to be caring and loving (not to get into daddy issues or anything) so I see him as someone who really wants to pleasure his partner. But of course there are many times where he just wants to cum, whether that be post race or especially post-interview/ media work. (And he deserves it!!!)

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't believe he masturbates very often, if he does then it will be because his partner is not with him, or she just isn't in the mood. (We love a consent king)

I feel like he masturbates mostly in his drivers room tbh, with a locked door ofc. But that's where he needs a quick release

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Acarophilia- becoming aroused from scratching. This sounds strange however, I think he may have seen a lot of media that expresses "if you've got scratched on your back you've done a good job" so I feel as though it's stemmed from this, and it gives him a sense of pride

Cock worship- he likes praise, give it to him. Both verbally and physically, he doesn't like to be edged though

Snow balling- passing of body fluids from mouth to mouth- but I don't think of it in this context. He likes to make out after giving head, or getting head. Can be kind of linked to a spit kink. At the end of the day he does really enjoy dominance (in all aspects of his life) so this is one of them.

Switch- now, I think he can just about be called a switch, as it is very rare for him to sub. He just likes giving up control every now and then. Mostly in winter and summer breaks from racing. This may link with power/role play, as people who dominate and make a lot of decisions in their day to day lives are like to want to give up control in their sex life to ‘get a break’

Role play- he likes his girlfriend to dress up, his favourite is police woman or nurse. He likes to give her a role that had authority.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I think he might really like hotels as he doesn’t have to clean up any of the mess in the room (he tips real good though) He probably favours more ‘domestic’ places, like the sofa (couch but I’m British so sofa)

Yes he is apart of the mile high club, but he felt as though they needed to be really quiet.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

Begging, his girlfriend telling him how desperate she is for him, and that he needs to fuck her, he’s just so pleased with himself, and her, that he can’t help but immediately get hard.

Or just generally getting felt up.

N- No (what turns them off)

Anything actually dangerous. For example asphyxiation- he wouldn’t mind having his hand around her throat, or restricting blood flow to her head for no longer than three seconds, to give that breathless/choking feeling, but he would try to steer away from it.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

He loves receiving as much as giving. I see him as a pleasure dom so he loved to eat pussy. But who is he to deny an orgasm from her mouth? I feel like he’s quite confident and capable

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

Definitely more slow and sensual as he would really want her to feel how much he loves her. He makes love, he doesn’t fuck. But if you wanted it hardcore he’d be happy to oblige.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I don’t think he likes them very much. He’s actually quite patient, and so wants to take his time admiring and giving praise. Ofc he does have quickies here and there, mainly in his drivers room, or if he’s running late but still needs some pleasure.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He won’t try it if he doesn’t think he will like it. His mindset is pretty fixed. However if you were to really explain how much you want it and how good it would make you feel, he would be persuaded. But if he felt genuinely uncomfortable he would definitely say he doesn’t want to do that again. But he’s willing to try a few things.

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

Again I think he can last for a long time, just not may rounds. Maybe two in a day. He just can’t cum more than that or he’ll be shooting blanks.

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

He never used to, but if he found out that she owned a vibrator of some kind he’d really like to see her use it. Then he’d like to use it on her, he wanted to know how different the orgasm felt when he was giving it to her. But I don’t think he’d use many on himself. Maybe a cock ring during a role play or when he’s subbing. He does really warm up to them and is willing to try all different kinds to see what makes her cum fastest or hardest.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

In my mind he hates teasing himself, but he knows a little edging can heighten the orgasm so he would never be apposed to it. However it won’t be a spur of the moment thing, he will need to think about it for a while prior to the sex

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

I don’t believe that he is overly loud, very quiet grunts and groans. But he loves to hear his partner, it gives him a sense of pride

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

A little later into the relationship, where he’s developed a fondness for toys, he though about buying a sex toy advent calendar (he had already bought one before telling her) and he was so excited throughout December as he wondered what was behind the door and how loud her moans would be

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

I think Max is of average length, but he’s very thick. And was very pleased to hear that’s what a lot of women prefer. I think his cock may turn right ever so slightly

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

I’d say he has a pretty low sex drive, maybe 4/10 he doesn’t see that as a main part of a relationship so he doesn’t think about it as much as people expect

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

If he was subbing, he’d fall asleep so quick, defiantly still covered in cum. But if he was dominant, I think it would take a while as he really likes quality time, so he’d like to just talk, whisper sweet nothings, and cuddle for a while, until he gets too hot. (I found that interview so funny)

Let me know any thoughts you have, I’d love to hear.

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #33 max verstappen #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #MV:33 #f1 fic #f1

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astroboots · 10 months

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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rizsu · 4 months

Text

professional guide on how to boyfriend jujutsu kaisen ( men ).

⤹ list ﹢ gojō satoru, sukuna ryōmen, chōsō.

﹙ syn ﹚ having near-to-zero experience with serious romantic relationships, it's time to teach them how to romance. the journey won't be easy, but the results will hopefully be fruitful.

extra. songs: betcha (bbh), seven (jk), very nice (svt).

week one : how to flirt as if you were shakespeare. note. refrain from using big words because they sound ‘cool’.

GOJO SATORU — "you're hating on my vocabulary?"

slowly, but very surely, you can feel your stress-meter rise to its peak. if someone were to animate your current expression, there will be three veins protruding out on your forehead to show your stress. it's almost as if it's second-nature for satoru to be annoying. he isn't doing it on purpose, unfortunately, it's just the way he is.

i should've ignored his call, a voice in your head speaks, i really should've. you were enjoying your own presence, simply lazing around during your off-day when three rings disrupted the peace. groaning, you reluctantly picked it up.

"hello—"

"come to enha's bakery, PLEASE," satoru's rushed voice spoke, immediately ending the call after his request-demand.

annoyance dawned and slowly transitioned into confusion. first, he needs to fix his habit of cutting you off. second, with the tone of his voice, maybe you should go.

big mistake.

not only was he chewing your ears off with talking, he also ate half of your pastry. you weren't able to get a full sentence in, he just kept going. dressed in suit and tie, hair styled and gelled up, satoru looked handsomely professional. according to what you've gathered from his rambling, he's been set up with one of the higher ups' daughter for business purposes. he needs to woo her or he's gonna lose a significant amount of pay. the problem? well, his flirting skills aren't all that. his confidence can help him, but it'll only help for a fraction of the date.

"what's the issue? you're handsome," you started, sliding your pastry back to you. "you should be able to woo her with your face alone."

"you are not wrong—"

"i'm never wrong," you cut him off.

"let me speak. anyway, i was informed that she isn't one for looks alone. i don't care about her, but she's the daughter of some high fucker," his voice reeked of defeat.

you weren't well-knowledged in satoru's field of work, but you knew he had it against the "higher ups." well, you had no choice but to know. satoru often thought of you as someone he can be free with — so, in conclusion, you were the victim of his word-vomit moments.

the two of you fell silent, thinking about solutions to save satoru. eyeing the pastry, you pondered your brain. there has to be a way to help satoru. perhaps some walkie-talkies? no, those are too loud. follow him into the restaurant and monitor his behaviour? no, that's too much work. crash his date and ask him why he's cheating on you? no, that'll probably end in your death.

satoru himself is deep in thought, already annoyed at the date that's going to become the bane of his existence in eight hours from now. should he bring you with him? maybe, but you'll deny his offer. should he ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend? no, he'd rather ask without the "pretend."

oh he's fucked.

i'm so fucked.

"wait," you leaned into the table, sporting an expression that says 'i have an idea'.

"yes?" satoru mirrors you, eyes speaking 'tell me'.

"what if i teach you how to flirt? we should have enough time to teach you how to boyfriend, right?" your idea was good. it turned the gears in both minds.

satoru opens his mouth but presses it into a thin line. there's an obstacle in the way of making this idea perfect.

"sounds good but.. the date's... tonight."

"you are fucked."

he nods at your response, feeling the salt rubbing in his wound. i guess i should just—

"but, if we go now we'll have enough time. it's 11AM, we can do it," you tapped your index finger twice on your phone's screen, showing satoru the time. if you move now, success is evident.

"let's go then," agreeing, he stands up, stuffing his car keys into his pocket and opening his wallet.

—

you've run out of pillows and whiteboard markers. the last two hours were spent either scribbling nonsense on a mini-whiteboard or throwing objects at satoru. the teaching isn't working. every lesson you've gone through ended in satoru's failure. is it on purpose? you hope it isn't.

"satoru, for the last time, that does not sound like a real word!" your hand slapped the table, physically showing your frustration.

groaning, satoru throws his head back, "you said use poetic words!"

"what part of scrumdiddlyumptious sounds poetic to you?!" you deadpanned at him.

he slouches further down the couch, grabbing his phone to search the word on google. it took him only one minute to find the word and its definition. raising up from slouching, he leans over the coffee table, stretching an arm out to show you the word.

"scrumdiddlyumptious — adjective · informal 1. (of food) extremely tasty; delicious. 2. (of a person) very attractive."

reluctant to admit defeat, you weaponized the word being informal against him, "it's not formal! you will not use it."

satoru's high of being right dies down immediately. his mouth twitches, eyes looking at you with disbelief.

"babe, you cannot be serious right now."

"babe, i am so serious right now," you mocked him, not thinking too deep into his nickname. there's no meaning behind it anyway. you, too, use babe as platonic name.

eventually, satoru tuned out your voice. he returned back to his previous slouching position, staring at you blankly as your words go in one ear and out the other.

it didn't take long for you to notice his dejected aura. does he hate it that much? you wondered, feeling a slight pity for him.

"don't worry, satoru. it's just one date."

"i will be worrying," satoru counters you, already sour at the date-to-come.

if he were to be honest, the date isn't the problem, nor is the flirting. he believes his flirting skills to be at a decent level. he also doesn't mind spending money on others. it's just that he doesn't want to entertain her. maybe, just maybe, if it were you, he'd be more excited.

you didn't say anything after him, only shooting him an annoying smile. seriously, you don't know what's worrying him. he's basically every girl's eye candy — not to mention, he looks so much like a boyfriend right now. that doesn't make a lot of sense, but if others can see what you're seeing, they'll understand. his white fitted tee accentuates his upper body's muscles, the black sweatpants do its job, his hair that's still styled, and the silver wristwatch on his hand. simple, yet sexy.

SUKUNA RYOMEN — "i'm too old for this shit."

sukuna, your sweet sukuna. your sukuna who's most likely weighing out which option is the better one to shut you up. he doesn't know why he agreed to listen to your rambles at midnight, but he's too far in to call it quitsies.

according to what you told him, you gained the idea of teaching him how to update his romance. it all came crashing to you when you were in the third-quarter of an episode of some random dating show. you blanked out most of the episode, not paying attention as the main objective of watching it was to not stare into nothing while eating.

the show itself didn't interest you, but the concept did. the participants were blindfolded, being told to use their judgement of character to choose their date. they'd have to rely on their personalities and voices to attract someone — a pretty neat idea. looks aren't everything. unfortunately, they might just be for sukuna if he doesn't work on his attitude.

often does sukuna act like he's a fifty-five-years-old office worker named penelope in the management department: old, easily annoyed, and always has something to complain about. you're probably the only human on earth who can handle sukuna for more than a day. of course, this is due to you being similar to him — if not then exactly like him. your attitudes fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

sukuna's hands are clasped together behind his head, one leg raised on the bed, and torso out in the open for everyone to view. he's actively listening to you, giving his judgement here and there.

you're sitting with your legs criss-crossed, a pillow in the middle of your thighs, and hands speaking their own language. the habit of using your hands expressively when talking will never leave you.

"...so, if you were to find a girl, you neeed to be kind! no one likes a man with a stick up his ass," you warned sukuna, moving your index finger side-to-side.

"you do," sukuna says, raising an eyebrow at you.

unfortunately, he left you speechless — but not for long! you soon regained your speaking skills after realizing you don't have a good comeback.

coughing two times, you started your lesson again, "anyyyway, always tell her she's beautiful, gorgeous, breathless, or whatever. everyone loves a little compliment about their appearance!"

almost as if it's an automatic setting, sukuna replies, "what if she's facially challenged?"

"OH—" your jaw dropped. "sukuna, you can't just say that!"

he re-positions himself, this time laying on his side with his arm supporting his head.

"if someone's visually impaired i'm telling them."

you sighed, feeling disappointed at his brutual honesty, "what do you even mean by visually impaired?"

"they're ugly," he shrugs.

his tone isn't serious, implying that he's joking but you know he isn't. sukuna's a man of his word; the truth is what leaves his mouth every time. you shouldn't worry — you really, really shouldn't, but what if that's what he thinks about you? are you facially challenged in his eyes? you've gone silent, allowing yourself to drown in the thoughts.

sukuna notices your silence, sighs, and jabs your side with his foot.

"if you're thinking that i believe you're ugly, then stop," he begins, continuing the foot-jabbing-at-your-side-movement when you don't respond. "you're beautiful, believe me. you know i don't lie."

that catches your attention. you feel a sudden heat creeping up the back of your neck. keeping your voice low, you questioned him, still unsure of whether he's being truthful or not, "are you lying?"

"i swear," his voice is firm, reaching his free hand out to your thigh. physical contact to him is very important!

you return to the silence, only this time you lock your eyes in sukuna's. it's up to you to believe whether he's lying or not, and honestly, you don't care. you know he never lies, and you rather enjoy your fantasy instead of the harsh reality ( if he's truly lying ).

CHOSO — "man, fuck all that."

throughout your entire life you never expected to meet someone like choso. he is, in your words, a bitch boy. acts like a bitch, very expressive with his facial expressions, sarcastic, a male, and the worst of all, a little thief.

you humbly thought baking with choso would've been a good idea for celebrating the end of your finals. oh you were so wrong. he's messy, ate half the chocolate chips, and has been stealing spoons of cookie batter. when you confronted him, he simply said, "we can always make more," and shrugged. the audacity!

there's only so much choso someone can handle before they explode.

"you dumb fuck, how can you get a wife with this behaviour?!" you scolded, slapping his hand away from the freshly baked batch of cookies with a whisk.

he immediately retreats his hand, looking at you with an expression that says 'have you gone insane?'

"don't look at me like that," you warned, raising an eyebrow at his very well-hidden annoyance at you.

choso rolls his eyes, this time reaching the uninjured hand for the sprinkles. he sneakily slides the packet to him, intensely watching you to make sure you don't happen to see him committing such a crime. mouthing a little "yes!" at his victory, he empties half the sprinkles in his hand and throws it into his mouth.

"an’ wha’ if i ‘on't care about a wife," his words are muffled due to his mouth being filled with the sprinkles. he tries his best to hide the crunch sound, lowering his head each time he needs to crunch on some.

your back's still turned to him, simply too busy with monitoring sugar-soon-to-be-caramel on the stove.

"you're gonna have to care soon. you don't wanna die alone!" you nagged, making a point to him.

his right eyebrow raises at your words, lips ready to move at your hypocrisy, "you yourself said you don't want a partner!"

"at this point," you stopped, turning around to face choso. "i'm gonna have to teach you how to be a romantic young man."

"what are you implying...?"

"it's time for dating lessons."

"no, thank you."

unfortunately, choso has no say in this household. he had to listen. you sat him down on the chair, making sure he focuses with all his attention and doesn't steal any of the desserts. believe choso when he said he tried to take you seriously. he really did, but your messy apron along with vigorously hand-mixing batter with a serious expression as you talked his ear off caught him off-guard.

"sometimes you even have to get on your knees, choso! i'm telling you."

"i'm not doing all of that," he disagrees.

"oh, trust me. when you're in love you will," you spoke, resting the hand-mixer down to draw an invisible heart in the air.

he doesn't give you a verbal response. instead, he squints his eyes at you. when one's gone, another is born. when one stress is gone, another is born ( your nagging ). he doesn't like it one bit, but at least it's coming from you. he'd rather have you down his ears — whether it's by using your vocals or channeling your inner mother and scolding him.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna fluff #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #sukuna x you #jjk x fem!reader

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