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sugugasm · 6 months ago

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“NERDS DO IT BETTER.” | satoru gojo

⟡ tags : nerd! satoru + popular! yn, gojo loses his virginity at the hot cheerleader’s house party - content includes : reader uses she/her pronouns, fem! reader, riding, fingering, inexperienced! gojo, pet names, etc. also shout out 2 my fav @ramonathinks m’ so proud of this piece bae i hope you luv it jus as much as i do !!! MDNI 19+ 3.7K WC

satoru adjusted his glasses nervously as he and geto approached the sprawling mansion, music and laughter spilling out into the warm night air. “i don’t know about this, man,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “parties aren’t really my scene.”

geto rolled his eyes. “come on, live a little! when was the last time you got out and socialized? besides, you-know-who will be here . .” he elbowed gojo with a knowing grin.

gojo flushed, ducking his head. “like [★] would even look twice at me. she’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.”

“well yeah, not with that attitude!” geto chided. “you’re a catch, gojo. smart, funny, stupid handsome. any girl would be lucky to have you. just talk to her, be your charming self. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she could laugh in my face?” gojo suggested glumly. “or have her quarterback boyfriend beat me up?”

geto sighed in exasperation, slinging an arm around his best friend's shoulders. “you’ll never know if you don’t try. [★] is single and i’ve seen her checking you out in class when she thinks no one’s looking. trust me, you’ve got a shot. don’t waste it being a pussy.”

gojo took a fortifying breath as they crossed the threshold into the packed house. “okay. i’ll talk to her. but if i crash and burn, you owe me a whole tub of ice cream and a weekend of binge gaming, no complaints.”

“deal,” geto agreed easily, scanning the crowd. “now let’s get you a drink and go find your dream girl.”

and within only an hour and several red solo cups later, gojo could be found sandwiched between two jocks on a couch, only half-listening to their drunken debate about the upcoming game. his eyes kept flicking to where you held court across the room, radiant in a barely-there crop top and mini-skirt as you laughed with your girls. you were a vision, beautiful hair and glowing skin and dangly earrings catching the light. ethereal, untouchable.

what would a goddess like you possibly want with a loser like him?

and as if on cue, your gaze met his and your glossy lips curved in a small secret smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. his breathing hitched and he looked away quickly, face heating. okay, maybe geto had a point about you noticing him . . .

“who wants to play seven minutes in heaven?” your bubbly friend tiffany trilled over the music, brandishing an empty vodka bottle. “let’s make things interesting!”

wolf-whistles and drunken cheers met her suggestion as people began arranging themselves in a loose circle. gojo watched you toss your hair over your shoulder as you joined, a strange fluttering in his stomach. he jumped when geto clapped him on the shoulder.

“dude, this is perfect!” geto crowed. “the ideal low-pressure way to get some one-on-one time with [★]. let's get you in that circle.” he started pulling a sputtering gojo up off the couch.

“wha-geto, no way!” gojo protested, but it was too late. geto had already shoved him into the circle, right across from you. you quirked an eyebrow at him and his stomach somersaulted. was that a pleased gleam in your eyes?

the bottle made a few uneventful rounds - geto got seven giggly minutes with the head of the drama club, a blushing band student got dragged off by her fellow tuba player, and then . . tiffany passed the bottle to you with a significant look. gojo’s heart started smacking against his chest as you placed it in the center and gave it a deft spin, slender wrist twisting gracefully.

he watched with bated breath as the bottle rotated, transfixed. it seemed to spin for an eternity before finally slowing . . and stopping. neck pointed directly at gojo. blood roared in his ears as hoots and hollers erupted around the circle. you were looking right at him, a small smile playing about your glossy lips. “guess s’ jus’ you n’ me, cutie,” you said with a wink, getting elegantly to your feet.

in a daze, gojo stumbled upright, barely registering the good-natured ribbing and back slaps from the other players. you held out a hand to him and he took it automatically, skin tingling where it met yours. your fingers laced intimately through his as you tugged him away from the group . . . and toward the stairs?

“um, [★]?” gojo asked, voice cracking humiliatingly. “isn’t the closet that way?”

you threw a smile over your shoulder and his knees nearly buckled. “i got a better spot in mind. somethin’ more . . private.”

by the time his sluggish brain processed the implications of that, you were leading him into a bedroom. your bedroom, if the riot of pink and stuffed animals everywhere was any indication. you flicked on a lamp, bathing the space in soft flattering light.

gojo stood awkwardly by the door, heart doing double-time as he drank in the adorable organized chaos. various raye, boygenius, and sanrio posters on the walls, rainbow lego sets on the shelves. it was delightfully telling and somewhat . . surprising, so at odds with your smokeshow attitude and queen bee reputation. he was utterly charmed.

“sorry about the mess,” you said, sounding uncharacteristically shy as you perched on the edge of the lacy bedspread. “i know it’s a lot.”

“no, i love it!” gojo blurted, then winced. real smooth. “i mean, it’s really cute. suits you.”

“yeah?” you asked, sounding pleased. you patted the space beside you in clear invitation. “i don’t bite . . unless i’m asked nicely. c’mon, come sit with me, gojo.”

on slightly unsteady legs, he crossed the plush rug to sink down next to you, hyperaware of the warmth of your bare thigh against his denim-clad one. “so, um, i don’t really know how this is supposed to go,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. “i’m not exactly a seven minutes in heaven expert.”

“well, we’ve got some time to figure it out together,” you said, angling your body toward his. “maybe we could start with just talking? get to know each other a little?”

so that’s what you did. you started off with the typical small talk - classes, hobbies, favorite bands. but the conversation quickly deepened and expanded. you found yourself opening up to him, confessing your secret dreams and fears, things you rarely shared with anyone. in turn, he revealed his geeky passions, his insecurities, his hopes for the future.

the more you learned about the sweet, clever, quietly funny boy beneath the nerdy exterior, the more your heart softened and warmed. he was so genuine, so different from the jocks and rich boys you usually ran with. being with him felt comfortable, natural, intoxicating.

at some point, you’d shifted closer to him on the bed, your folded legs overlapping his, shoulders brushing. as you giggled your way through an anecdote, you rested a hand on his strong thigh without thinking. he tensed slightly and you felt a little thrill, a flicker of heat. you squeezed gently, fingertips pressing into firm muscle.

“m’ probably boring you,” you said with a wry smile, glancing at him through your lashes. “jus’ rambling on about myself. we could do something else, if you want. maybe, y’know, uphold the seven minutes tradition . .”

he inhaled sharply and you thrilled at the effect you were clearly having on him. “you mean . . you want to kiss me?”

“i mean, i definitely wouldn’t object,” you murmured coyly. “i like you a lot, satoru. in case it isn’t already obvious.”

his blue eyes darkened behind his glasses. “i really like you too, [★],” he said, voice low and rough. “an embarrassing amount.”

“yeah?” you breathed. “so are you going to kiss me, or . . do i have to beg?”

his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “well, um. i-i’ve never really done anything like that before,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle. “i don’t even know how i’ve gotten this far.”

“that’s okay,” you assured him, placing a hand on his knee and feeling him tense slightly under your touch. “we can take it slow, figure it out together. m’ not exactly an expert either.”

he nodded, looking relieved and grateful for your understanding. emboldened, you leaned in, giving him time to pull away. spoiler alert, he didn’t. his eyes just fluttered closed as you brushed your lips softly over his. they were warm and smooth, molding sweetly to your own. after a moment of stillness, he started to move his mouth tentatively against yours.

you let him set the pace, parting your lips in silent invitation. his tongue shyly traced the seam of your mouth and you opened for him on a sigh. he licked inside carefully, exploring you with gentle curiosity that made warmth bloom through your veins. you stroked your tongue along his, encouraging, and felt him shudder against you.

slowly, you sank back into your mountain of pillows, pulling him down with you. he settled over you carefully, a pleasant weight, strong and solid in all the right places. your fingers tangled in his dark hair as the kisses deepened, wetter, hotter. his own hands skimmed down your sides to settle on your hips, squeezing gently as he rocked subtly against you.

when you finally broke apart, you were both flushed and breathing unsteadily. “is this okay?” you checked, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “we can stop anytime if you’re uncomfortable.”

he shook his head immediately, eyes dark and intense behind his slightly fogged glasses. “no, i don’t wanna’ stop. i want you so bad, [★]. i’m just nervous i’ll do something wrong.”

your heart melted. “you won’t, satoru,” you promised. “we’ll go slow, i’ll show you. s’ all a process, ‘kay? jus’ do what feels good.”

he nodded, some of the tension easing from his frame. you pulled him back down for another kiss, lush and lingering. as your mouths moved together, you fumbled for the hem of his shirt, rucking it up his back. he broke away just long enough for you to pull it over his head and toss it aside before his lips found yours again.

your hands roamed his bared torso greedily, marveling at the lean muscle, the heat of his skin. gojo might look like a lanky nerd at first glance, but his body told a completely different story. you wanted to map every ridge and plane with your hands and mouth, discover all the secret places that would make him shake and gasp and moan. he shivered as your fingers skimmed over his ribs, his stomach, thumbs just brushing his nipples.

he made a hungry sound into your mouth when you lingered there, circling the tender buds questioningly. taking the hint, you tweaked them gently, rolling the sensitive flesh between your fingers. he jolted against you as if electrified, a moan vibrating in his chest.

“y’like that,” you guessed, doing it again and feeling his hips stutter forward helplessly into the cradle of your thighs.

“y-yeah,” he breathed, sounding almost surprised himself. “it feels really good.”

spurred on by his responsiveness, you devoted yourself to taking him apart, finding all the places that made him twitch and pant and whimper so sweetly. you kissed across his collarbones, scraped your teeth over his pulse point, soothed the sting with your tongue. you felt dizzy with him, drunk on the salt of his skin, his scent of clean and arousal, the incoherent sounds he made under your touch.

before long he was squirming restlessly against you, hard and insistent against your hip. “please,” he mumbled into your hair. “i need . .”

“what do you need?” you coaxed, nipping at his jaw. “tell me.”

he shuddered, hands flexing on your hips as he ground subtly against you. “i need — fuck, i need to touch you. need you to touch me. god, [★], i don’t know, i just . . please?”

“shhh, don’t stress, honey,” you soothed even as heat surged through you at his breathless plea. “let me take care of you.”

hooking a leg around his waist, you flipped your positions in one smooth motion, straddling his hips. he gazed up at you with something like awe, eyes wide and dark, lips kiss-swollen. your heart tripped over itself at the picture he made, wrecked and wanting in your rumpled sheets. quickly, before you could lose your nerve, you stripped off your own top and unhooked your bra, baring yourself to his heated stare. his hands came up immediately to cup your breasts, palming the soft weight greedily before catching your nipples between his fingers.

“aah!” you gasped, arching into the touch as sparks shot down your spine to throb between your legs. your hips rolled down against his, your clothed sexes grinding together deliciously. “y-yes, gojo, jus’ like that!”

emboldened by your encouragement, he explored your body just as thoroughly as you had his, broad hands and curious fingers finding all your most sensitive places. you were panting and mewling by the time he reached the button of your skirt with a questioning glance.

“please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips to help him shimmy the fabric down your legs. your panties quickly followed, leaving you bare to his burning gaze. and slowly, almost reverently, he reached out to touch — he couldn’t help it, fingertips skimming up your inner thighs. you shivered and parted them further in silent invitation. his eyes locked on yours as he carefully traced your slick folds, circling your aching entrance before moving up to swirl over your clit.

“show me how you like it?” he rasped, voice low and rough with arousal.

biting back a whimper, you covered his hand with your own, directing his movements. “like this,” you instructed breathlessly, guiding his fingers in tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “a little firmer, mmm . .”

he followed your lead perfectly, rubbing and stroking until your thighs were quaking and you were moaning brokenly. it felt good, so good, but you needed more. “inside,” you pleaded when coherent thought became difficult. “gojo, please, put one inside . .” he swore under his breath at your words but quickly obeyed, carefully sinking one long finger into your fluttering heat. you cried out sharply at the intimate penetration, hips canting down to take him deeper. he watched your face avidly as he started to pump in and out, curling and twisting gently as he went.

“m-more,” you gasped, head thrown back as he found a particularly sensitive spot. “another, toru, i can take it.”

he groaned like he was the one being pleasured as he pushed a second finger in alongside the first, stretching you so exquisitely. he scissored gently, working you open, before crooking them just right to rub firmly against your g-spot.

you collapsed forward onto his chest with a fractured moan, fingers scrabbling at his heaving shoulders as he massaged that magic button with devastating accuracy. you knew you could easily come just like this, spitted on his clever fingers, but it wasn't what you wanted. not for your first time together.

“gojo,” you panted, catching his wrist to still his movements. “i wan’ you inside . .”

his eyes widened with understanding and he swallowed audibly. “a-are you sure?” he asked hoarsely even as his hips twitched up against yours eagerly.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” you said fiercely, holding his gaze so he could read the sincerity there. “i wan’ you, all of you. please.”

he nodded jerkily. “i want you too,” he said, voice low and intent. "so much, you have no idea.”

then he was kissing you again, hot and urgent, his tongue delving deep as large hands palmed your ass, rocking you against his straining erection. you moaned into his mouth, already imagining how he would feel inside you, stretching and filling you so perfectly.

together, you managed to wrestle him out of his jeans and underwear, your focus narrowing to the breathtaking sight of him laid bare beneath you. all long limbs and lean muscle, skin flushed with arousal, cock thick and hard against his taut stomach. he was beautiful, exquisite, unreal.

“let me . . .” you murmured almost to yourself as you shifted down his body, wanting to taste, to tease. but he caught your shoulders, stopping you.

“next time,” he said with a slightly shy smile at odds with the high color in his cheeks, the stark arousal in his gaze. “i don’t think i’d last right now and i really, really want to be inside you when i cum. if-if that’s okay.”

oh, that was more than okay. it was basically the hottest thing you'd ever heard. “definitely okay,”you confirmed a little breathlessly, reaching for the condom you’d stashed optimistically in your nightstand.

with trembling hands, you opened the packet and rolled the latex down his rigid length. he twitched in your grip when you gave him a few strokes, thumb swirling through the bead of moisture at his tip. “fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back. “you gotta stop or i'll . .”

“i know, baby. i know,” you soothed, moving to straddle his hips once more. your eyes locked as you notched him at your entrance, his hands coming up to grip your hips almost hard enough to bruise. “ready?” at his jerky nod, you sank down slowly, taking him inch by careful inch. he stretched you exquisitely, walls fluttering to accommodate his girth. when your hips met his, you were both panting, pulses racing, skin flushed with pleasure-pain.

“god,” he choked out after a long moment, sounding absolutely wrecked. “you feel incredible. so fucking tight.”

you clenched around him experimentally, walls hugging him ever so sweetly, and he bucked up into you with a low groan. “gojo,” you gasped, nails digging into his chest. “you’re so deep, so big . .”

“am i hurting you?” he asked, brow creased with concern even as he visibly struggled to keep still.

“n-no,” you assured him. “no s’ perfect, you feel fucking perfect. jus’ . . go slow. lemme’ adjust.”

he did, rocking into you with shallow little thrusts that gradually deepened as you relaxed around him. soon you were moving together, finding a rhythm, the drag of him in and out sparking pleasure along every nerve ending. you leaned down to kiss him messily, all tongue and panted breaths as your hips rolled and ground in tandem.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted between kisses, hands roaming restlessly over your back, your breasts, your ass. “wanted you. still can’t believe this is real.”

“s’ real,” you promised breathlessly, rising and falling faster on his cock as the tension coiled tighter in your core. “i’m real and i’m yours, gojo, all yours . .”

he made a rough sound, fingers digging into your hips as he started thrusting up harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you on every stroke. “mine,” he agreed, voice gravelly and low, sending shivers down your spine. “my [★], fuck, you’re absolutely perfect . .”

you could only moan in response, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you, hitting you so deep, stoking the fire in your belly to an inferno. your thighs burned, sweat blooming on your skin as you chased your peak, so close, almost . .

gojo was close too, you could tell by the telltale twitch and throb of him inside you, his thrusts going erratic. “m’ gonna’ cum,” he warned hoarsely, fingers scrabbling at your hips. “m’ gonna’ cum, m’ gonna’ cum . . i-i can’t h-hold —”

“yes - yes, yes, yes,” you gasped, grinding down hard, fingers flying over your clit. “cum in me satoru, wanna feel you, baby . .”

his hands grip your ass cheeks, spreading them apart before giving you two more sharp thrusts, leaving him cumming with a guttural moan of your name, pulsing hot inside you as you clenched and rippled around him. the feeling of him throbbing and spilling in you was enough to tip you over the edge, a cry tearing from your throat as you shattered around him, cumming so hard you saw white.

you collapsed onto his chest as aftershocks rolled through you, his hips still rocking shallowly into yours, drawing out your mutual pleasure. for a minute, you just panted together, sweat cooling on your skin, pulses calming. you felt him soften up and slip out of you and winced a little at the loss, a tender ache between your thighs. you’d have beard burn too, you just knew it. but it had been more than worth it.

satoru’s hands continued to stroke your back, your hair, as if he was reluctant to let go. you felt the same, luxuriating in his warmth, his scent, the sound of his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath your ear. you never wanted to move.

eventually though, he shifted beneath you and you lifted your head to find him gazing at you with soft, wondering eyes. “hey,” he said quietly, brushing your now-wild hair back from your face. “so, are we like, y’know . .”

“dating?” you finished, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “yes, but only if you want that.”

his answering smile was like the sun coming out. “y-yeah, yeah. i want that. i’ve always wanted that.” he leaned up to kiss you slow and deep, tongue delving languorously into your mouth. “thank you. for showing me. for everything.”

“right back at you,” you murmured against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst. “m’ glad i got the chance.”

“me too.” he nuzzled his nose against yours sweetly. “so . . whaddo’ you wanna’ do now?”

you pulled back slightly to search his face, seeing both hope and trepidation there. “well, i was thinking . . maybe we could cuddle for a lil’ while longer. then, i dunno’, raid the flooded kitchen for snacks. come back up here n’ skip the party . . we could watch a movie? kinda jus’ . . see where it goes.”

relief and happiness shone from his eyes. “i’d really like that. a lot.”

“good.” you pecked his lips once more before settling back onto his chest, ear pressed over his heart. “s’ a date then.” you knew you’d have to leave this little bubble eventually, face the real world and whatever challenges it might bring. but right now, you didn’t care about any of that. right now, you had gojo, warm and solid beneath you, his fingers laced gently through your hair as exhaustion started to pull you under. you had this perfect moment, and the promise of more to come.

as you drifted off, lulled by his heartbeat and even breathing, a small smirk played about your lips.

damn, guess the rumors were true.

nerds really did just do it better.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent.

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cevansbrat0007 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, I do not think I have asked this before, but if I have please ignore it. I have seen on social media where the wife will ask the bf, or husband to leave the room, so they can get changed. I was wondering what would Ari, and, or Andy's response to this be?

Guessing Games

Summary: Ari doesn't like being kicked out of your bedroom. Also be sure to check out Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Body Image, Manhandling, Discussions of Lingerie, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Wisps of steam curl around you as you step out of the shower. Snagging a nearby towel, you take your time drying off before reaching for your favorite body butter, leisurely applying it all over your thirsty skin. Once you’re finished, you carefully don your robe and make your way into your bedroom.

Of course you’re not the least bit surprised to find your bounty hunter laying on your bed, eyes closed, with one brawny arm tucked behind his head. To the average person it would appear that he was sleeping. But you knew better.

Last night you’d promised to take a day trip with him to a classic car show that was happening a couple towns over. And, ever the early riser, your man was itching to get on the road. Which meant he was trying to keep a handle on his patience so that he didn’t accidentally piss you off while trying to hurry you along.

The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a car while you pouted for two hours. Having experienced it once before, it was definitely not his idea of a good time.

“You were in there so long I was beginning to worry you might’a drowned.” Although his tone is deceptively light, there’s no missing the hint of impatience.

“The hot water felt extra good this morning. Besides, it's not gonna take me long to get dressed.”

“Eh,” he sighs, adjusting his position so that he’s now sitting up in bed, his big body resting against your numerous decorative pillows. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you make a beeline for your closet. You’d already picked out your outfit the night before, which made things a hell of a lot easier. Grabbing one of your more colorful sundresses off the rack, you hold it up to yourself in the mirror.

“Well, that’s certainly a pretty little number.” Ari muses, sitting up a little straighter so that he can get a better look at your dress. “Christ, I already know if I bring you to the show wearing that, every fella in a ten mile is gonna forget all about those damned cars.”

His words make your cheeks heat. Even though you were pretty sure he was exaggerating just a tad, it still made you feel good. But just in case…

“Um…” Turning to face him, you once again hold the garment up to your chest. “Do you think I should maybe wear something else then?”

“Hell no.” He growls, tossing a pillow into the air and catching it with ease. “Let ‘em look. I don’t give a fuck about you showing off those gorgeous legs – as long as you remember you’re coming home with me.”

“Now how could I possibly go and forget a little detail like that, sugar?” You giggle, blowing him a tiny kiss which he then pretends to catch. As gruff and rough-and-tumble as your man could be at times, he also had no problem making you melt.

It was just part of his irresistible charm.

“You’d better not, baby. Otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens if I’m forced to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my truck.” He gives you a hard look before reaching for his phone, letting you know he’s not kidding.

It might sound crazy, but the longer you two were together, the more you’d begun to realize that there was a small part of you that got off on riling him up. Not all the time, mind you…

But you’d also learned that sometimes pricking your bounty hunter’s temper was well worth whatever punishment would ultimately come your way.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to refocus on the task at hand. You needed to get dressed rather quickly so that you could spend a little extra time in the bathroom putting on your face. Even though you planned to go for a more natural look today, you still wanted to give yourself enough time to be satisfied with the results.

However, before you did all that, there was one more thing you had to take care of. And you were better off doing so without the benefit of an audience.

“Alright, Beast.” You hum, gingerly draping your dress across the end of your bed. “How about you give me a little privacy so I can go ahead and get changed?”

During your latest social media deep dive, you’d come across videos of women asking their significant others to leave the room while they changed their clothes. Many of the reactions had ranged anywhere from confusion to concern. Although there had been a few who seemed not to care one way or the other.

And while you were pretty sure that Ari would fall into the first category, there was a part of you that wanted to see for yourself. So what better time to try it than on a day where you already planned on teasing him for the next few hours anyway?

“Huh?” He sets the device on his chest so that he can give you his full attention.

“Ari.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “I need you to step out so I can get dressed.”

“Oh. Right.” Your man grunts dismissively before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. “Guess I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

‘Wow.’ You think, cocking your head in surprise as you watch him give a brief stretch. You honestly hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Sometimes this man really was something else.

“Wait a minute – hold on.” Ari rumbles, dragging a hand through his shaggy locks. “How come I gotta go?” The roughness of his tone alone is enough to make you want to clench your thighs together.

“Because I wanna put on my clothes.” You reply innocently, as if it should be obvious.

“And why the hell would I need to step out for that?” The tell-tale tick of his jaw and flare of his nostrils lets you know that he’s not happy.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Maybe because I’m not really in the mood for an audience right now?”

“Baby. Swear to God.” He groans, briefly closing his eyes long enough to count to ten. “I have seen every inch of your body more times than I can count. And let me be the first to tell you, it has been the honor of a lifetime.” “I…um…okay.” You hadn’t really been expecting him to say that.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to hide from me.” Your man continues, gifting you with a dazzling smile. “I love your curves, Bird. Love explorin’ every sweet, soft inch of ‘em every chance I get.”

“Beast…”

“I mean, how many men can really say that they’ve actually gone and found the woman of their dreams?”

The sheer adoration in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Unable to hold his gaze, you choose to look away as you work to swallow the lump in your throat. While you weren’t entirely sure what you’d done to deserve someone as wonderful as Ari, you had no plans on letting him go.

Come hell or high water.

“Seriously. No matter how you shake it, I’m a lucky man.” He gently lobs a pillow at you, making you squeal. “And I plan to keep saying it until the day I die.”

“Jeeze.” You sniff, dashing away a quick tear with your thumb. “You, uh, really know how to boost a girl’s confidence.”

“I only care about my girl and her confidence.” Comes his gruff response. “That’s it. Everyone else can kindly fuck off.”

“Duly noted, handsome.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bashful. “But I, um…” Tamping down a giggle, you try to choose your words carefully. “I’m not kicking you out because I’m ashamed or anything. I’m kicking you out because I bought you a present…for later.” You toss the pillow back at him. It hits square in the chest before falling to the floor. “And I’m not ready for you to see it just yet.”

“Oh, is that right?” A wolfish grin spreads across his features as understanding dawns. “Go on and lemme see. Give me a little somethin’ to look forward to.”

“I just said it’s a surprise.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If I guess right, will you let me see?” Ari tries again, not bothering to hide his excitement as he launches himself off the bed.

This man loved watching you walk around wearing nothing but lingerie, almost as much as he loved peeling it off of you.

“No, Ari.” You can’t hold back your laugh as you take a step back.

“Is it red?” You’re forced to bat away his eager hands when they reach for the belt of your robe. “Maybe with a little ribbon and some silk?”

“None of your business!” You squeak.

“It’s my surprise. Meaning it’s meant for me.” Grabbing your hips, he pulls you flush against his hard chest. “Which definitely, most certainly, makes it my business.“ He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

God, he was such an incorrigible menace.

“Be a good boy and go downstairs so I can finish getting ready or we’ll be late getting to the show.” You tell him, squirming in his hold.

“What about something tight, black, and lacey?” His voice dips an octave as his hands to the globes of your ass, giving them a proprietary squeeze. “I’m thinkin’ with a set of thigh highs and garters. You know - like the ones you wouldn’t let me buy at that shop back in Crendlewood.”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see — stop that, damn you!” You cry when Ari begins nibbling along the column of your throat in between teasing kisses, making you giggle.

“C’mon now, darlin’.” He rasps, his thick fingers digging into your tender flesh. “We both know I’m not gonna last that long.”

“I believe in you.”

Undeterred, your stubborn bounty hunter decides to change his approach. Abandoning your neck, his advances move lower, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as he does.

“It’s your fault I already have such a hard time keeping my hands to myself.” He tells you as he nuzzles his nose against the thin fabric of your robe, his warm breath making your nipples pebble. “You can’t just tease me like that without giving me a taste.”

A sharp nip of teeth has you rising on your toes, unintentionally giving him better access to his intended target. Followed by your strangled moan when you feel him release his grip on your ass so that he can undo the ties of your robe - finally revealing your nude body to his heated gaze.

“Fucking beautiful.” He snarls reverently, making your core spasm. “And all mine.”

“Yes, yours.” You agree, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Later.”

“Now.”

“Beast.” You breathe, doing your best to ignore the slick coating your thighs. “Later.”

Grumbling under his breath, Ari levels you with a glare as he takes a step back. You didn’t have to ask to know that he was currently weighing his options.

On one hand, he really did want to go to the car show – almost as much as he wanted to unwrap you his surprise. At the same time, he also hated whenever you made him wait for a taste of you. It always made him so damned impatient.

“Fine.” He grunts, his face looking like he just swallowed something supremely unpleasant. “I’ll go. But you gotta give me a hint first.”

“I do?” You reply, sounding both amused and exasperated.

“‘Fraid so. You either give me that or no deal.” Ari crosses his arms over his broad chest, making it clear that he’s not moving until you give him what he wants.

“Fine.” You parrot, before spinning on your heel to retreat to your closet. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Tossing a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s not looking, you pull out the gift bag you’d hidden under a pile of blankets. Digging through the tissue paper, it actually takes you a few seconds to find what you’re looking for. Clutching the item in your hand, you return to stand in front of your bounty hunter before handing it over, pressing it into his palm.

It’s a pale pink garter. That came with a matching colored bustier and g-string. A fact that your man would no doubt appreciate later.

“Well shit, Duchess.” Ari groans, staring down at the lacey scrap of fabric in his hand. “I think I might’ve just changed my mind about this whole darn trip–”

“Nope!” You swiftly interrupt, snatching back the garter. “A deal is a deal, cowboy. Now, out you go.”

“But what if we–”

“I will meet you in the living room.” Ignoring his protests, you waste no time shooing him out of your bedroom before brazenly shutting the door in his now-pouting face. “Go watch TV or something until I’m ready.”

“This isn’t fair.” Your grumpy bounty grouses, banging his fist against the wall.

“I promise to make it up to you later.” You tease, allowing your robe to fall to the floor as you begin putting on your jewelry. “I might even let you take a few pictures if you ask nicely.”

“Damn it, baby!” Ari hisses as he finally heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time while he debates the best way to go about dealing with his increasingly uncomfortable hard-on.

It was going to be a long fucking day, especially now that he’d gotten a glimpse of what you planned to wear underneath that flimsy little sundress. Opening your freezer, he wonders if it’s too early to consider icing his balls. Perhaps he’d be better off waiting until after your road trip.

“God, I am so fucked.” He mumbles as he fishes out a half-frozen bottle of water before twisting off the cap and taking a sip. “And all because my girl has the nerve to look so goddamn pretty in pink.”

END

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sakurapandadreams · 6 months ago

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⪩⪨ ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PT 3

Please take all of these predictions with a grain of salt I'm not a professional astrologer.

And here's my masterlist

NATAL OBSERVATIONS

☀️ Neptune trine Pluto can also have exceptional psychic abilities [except they keep dismissing their abilities as mere coincidence]

☀️ Most dancers in many kpop groups tend to have Aries Sun or prominent Aries placement in their chart.

☀️ Pisces Moons tend to overdo their confidence, trying to hide the insecurities they have deep down.

☀️ Pisces Sun's are also good at manifesting provided they know that their good at it.

☀️ In many cases if you and your siblings have opposite rising signs you may look completely different from each other.

For example : If your a Taurus rising and your siblings is a Scorpio rising you both will look so different people can doubt your even siblings

☀️ Debilitated moons can signify unhealthy attachments towards the mother.

☀️ During your birth if your Moon left its previous sign and just entered its next sign, again you guys could also share the qualities of both those signs.

For example : Moon left Capricorn and just entered Aquarius you can have the traits of both Capricorn as well as Aquarius.

☀️ Check where you have Aquarius in your chart you feel like an outcast more in that place.

☀️ Capricorn risings are so much interested in crime documentaries, murder mysteries, solving criminal cases.

☀️ Pluto in the 3rd house can get bullied when young, being bullied for your intelligence, people considering you dumb hence they can also have trouble communicating their feelings with others most will keep to themselves.

☀️ Mars in the 7th house [men] tend to like women who are ultra feminine.

☀️ Venus in Leo in 8th house tend to get in laws that have a higher social status than them.

☀️ Leo Moons look up or learn from their mothers more than their fathers. Their mothers are also quite controlling and dominating towards the child as well as the natives father.

☀️ Mercury - Pluto aspects have a harsh way of talking sometimes they don't want to come off as rude but they still do. Often times whatever they say is incorrectly interpret or misunderstood by people.

☀️ Same goes for Mercury Square Saturn except these people have mastered sarcasm, they aren't blunt like Pluto rather sarcastic.

VEDIC OBSERVATIONS

☀️ A person having Rahu in Bharani nakshatra may end up evoking a desire in the opposite gender unintentionally.

☀️ 3rd house Ketu 🤝 never running out of hard cash.

☀️ Also if your 1st house lord sits in the 7th house then that can at times give you a low self esteem same goes for Sun in the 7th house.

☀️ Purva Phalguni moons tend to have a good childhood but they have to adjust and sacrifice alot in their married life.

☀️ Also Purva phalguni moons [women] tend to love their spouse more, but that love isn't much reciprocate.

☀️ Purva Ashada Nakshatras are so good at teaching and also at research work. In group projects they end up giving excellent ideas. They also get the due recognition for the work they do.

☀️ Many a times if you have a Nakshatra that shares itself with two signs you can have qualities of both those signs in you [Chitra Nakshatra shares itself with both Virgo and Libra].

☀️ [Now this is my opinion and it can be wrong but still ☺️] I feel all signs attract envy in their own way, Scorpio and Leo's attract alot because their ruled by such fiery planets like Mars and Sun.

☀️ If Mars is aspected by Rahu or in conjunction with Rahu it can also give a person tendencies to doubt their own strengths and talents.

☀️ Hasta Moons or Rising both are soo good at drawing, mehndi, creating best out of waste, handicrafts, hand embroidery. More than cooking their good at cutting vegetables and decorating dishes. Also great at hairstyling. However they can be great dentists and surgeons as well [They get less credit for this]

☀️ Shravan Nakshatra is one of the most intuitive nakshatras, their another walking lie detectors.

☀️ Uttara Bhadrapada gives you blessings for the good karma you did in your past life.

☀️ Sun as your darakaraka can also give you a husband who would often show you off to others.

☀️ Ketu in the 7th house doesn't mean one won't get married they can get married but they will stay away from each other, like having jobs in two different places [long distance marriages].

Credits for the images and dividers goes to the rightful owners.

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gladiatorcunt · 8 months ago

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- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

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meazalykov · 27 days ago

Text

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic.

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands.

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat.

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh.

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer.

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins.

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation.

“give us something.”

you smirk.

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully.

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically.

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing.

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion.

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin.

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up.

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly.

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands.

“this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game.

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light.

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads.

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly.

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back.

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease.

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

liked by lj10, samanthakerr20, and 101,927 others

y/n.l/n hello 2025

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y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

~view all 2,039 comments~

you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment.

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy.

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated.

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important.

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be.

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium.

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea.

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat.

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet.

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature.

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead.

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself.

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip.

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place.

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse.

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer.

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended.

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying.

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly.

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort.

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment.

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now.

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else.

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit.

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now.

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered.

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside.

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

{tagged: y/n.l/n}

liked by y/n.l/n, lucybronze, and 131,216 others

lj10 recent

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

❤️ *liked by author*

y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

~view all 10,378 comments~

the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye.

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold.

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated.

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention.

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions.

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen.

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

{tagged: lj10}

liked by lj10, lucybronze, and 211,746 others

y/n.l/n good evening

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❤️ *liked by author*

lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

catarina_macario 🤩

random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

user72929 LOVE

random2728 there's something off about this..

random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

~view all 4,290 comments~

the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks.

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass.

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you.

“thanks,” you murmur.

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass.

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her.

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes.

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it.

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension.

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk.

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting.

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease.

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives.

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off.

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming.

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence.

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more.

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren.

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her.

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation.

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words.

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back.

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more.

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question.

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber.

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you.

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward.

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to.

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you.

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought.

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur.

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind.

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking.

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative.

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be.

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do.

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings.

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours.

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away.

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance.

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air.

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days.

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling.

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident.

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary.

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish.

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game.

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv.

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious.

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious.

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively.

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly.

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together.

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration.

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens.

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer.

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat.

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours.

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you.

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up.

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening.

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming.

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it.

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you.

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful.

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch.

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real..

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

#lauren james #lauren james x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #chelsea fcw #engwnt #lucy bronze

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foreingersgod · 9 months ago

Note

hi bb!! im glad you’re backkk

could you do reader coloring in emilys tattooos??🥰🥰

Coloring Book . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

A/N: this was such a cute idea! i hope i did it justice :)

my masterlist → here

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

soft music hummed in the background from your phone. a random playlist shuffling songs as you and your girlfriend, emily, sat atop your shared bed. the sheets were tucked neatly, pillows haphazardly pushed back as emily laid against them. she wasn’t wearing a top, just her sports bra paired with her shorts to display her array of tattoos. you were sat on her lap, your legs straddling her waist.

there was a variety of different markers scattered across the bed. the scent of xylene wafted throughout the room, filling your nose. you had one marker in your hand, its cap lost somewhere beside you as you got to work.

after quite some convincing, emily was finally letting you color in her tattoos. you had seen the trend on social media a while ago and thought it was so cute. for days you begged her, eager to pull out the markers that had been forgotten in your desk, to let you do it. she wasn’t amused by the idea at first, she thought it was silly if she were to be honest. but when you gave her that look, pouted lips and bright beautiful eyes, she knew she couldn’t resist you. so here you were, on a sunday afternoon, finally getting your wish.

the sun poured in through the window with a calming 5 o’clock glow. it illuminated her skin perfectly, allowing the thick lines of ink on her body to stand out. you were leaning forward slightly, neck craning downwards to get a better view of the tattoos on emily’s arm. she propped her arm up for you to give you better access.

“ok ok, i’m done with the blue, what color should i do next?” you asked, blowing away the strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face. you put the cap back on the royal blue marker and placed it neatly back in the box.

“whatever you want, baby” emily smiled at you. she had to admit she was actually enjoying this, seeing you so enthusiastic made her heart flutter “you’re the artist here”

“well in that case” you rummaged through the markers for a moment, trying to find the color you were looking for. as you leaned across the bed, emily’s hands found their way to your hips, gripping them to hold you in place “i think i’m gonna go with red”

“perfect choice”

you grinned, glancing up at her briefly before turning your attention back to her arm. you began to color in the lines with the bright shade of red. emily watched as you colored her skin. she couldn’t seem to get enough of the sight. how your hair kept falling in front of your face, and how you would brush it back behind your ear. how you stuck your tongue out ever so slightly as you tried to concentrate on coloring. even how the ends of your lips pulled into the cutest smile when you were pleased with the work you’d done. she could stare at you all day if she could.

although she loved looking a your gorgeous face, she couldn’t help but feel inclined to take a look at your progress. with one of your hands wrapped around her bicep, the other clutching the marker that ran across her skin, she managed to take a peek. you had already filled in parts of her tattoos with pinks and blues and the occasional yellow. in some spots, you had colored outside the lines, but to emily that just gave it more personality. as she admired the bursts of color you let out a satisfied laugh, catching her attention and causing her to look back up at you.

“all done!” you clasped your hands together “what do you think?”

you seemed so proud of your artwork, biting down on your lip in excitement as you awaited her response.

“it looks so good, babe” she looked at the scribbles on her arm once more “you did such a good job! i love it”

“thank you for letting me do this,” you had now completely disregarded the markers, leaving them as a mess for future you. you had adjusted yourself on emily’s lap and scooted closer to her, placing your hands on either side of her face “you’re such a softie”

she shook her head and chuckled under her breath. god you were gonna be the death of her “only for you”

you let your body lean into her, face inching closer to hers as you pulled her into you. with eyes gently closing, you pressed your lips to hers ever so sweetly. you felt her relax into the kiss as she sighed into you. her lip’s curling into a smile as she kissed you once more.

“this isn’t going to wash off easily, will it?” she murmured against your lips.

“nope”

you both burst into laughter, imagining how long it was going to take for her to scrub the vivid colors off her arm. emily could already see it, her teammates teasing her, reminding her just how whipped she was for you. but she didn’t mind, not one bit, just as long as she got to she her girl happy.

#emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #i love emily engstler #wcbb #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb #wbb #wnba #wnba imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #lesbian imagine #lesbian #foreingersgod #fic #rpf x reader

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desperate-gay · 1 year ago

Note

because of jenni’s insta story…

jenni, your shared home gym, & “baby girl come sit on my thigh”

Home Gym

Jenni Hermoso x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

summary: gotta read and see!

“Jenni, you have been in there for hours! I need cuddles right now-“

As you turn the corner into your home gym, your complaints die out when you see your girlfriend sitting down and flexing in the mirror, taking a photo most likely for her socials.

You’ve always known Jenni has been muscular and well-built but somehow she’s been building up even more muscle, so seeing her flexing has you speechless. Your jaw is dropped as your eyes trail over every crevice and vein that sticks out along with her tattoos that glisten in sweat. The ache in your legs begins to become more apparent by just looking at the Spaniard.

“Hola, bonita. What were you saying? You were too far so I couldn’t hear you.” Jenni asks innocently, turning her body towards you and giving you her attention.

You quickly clear your throat before waving her off. “It’s nothing, nothing at all. Just miss you.” A smile tugs on the brunette’s face while she puts away the weights that were sitting on each side of her.

Noticing your eyes never leaving her, she puts on a little show slightly flexing off her arms when she puts away the dumbbells. You remain in the same spot, standing by the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest and lip between your teeth.

“I love it when you check me out, princesa.” Your head shoots up hearing the forward statement while also being surprised thinking you were somewhat discreet when you were the complete opposite. When Jenni sees your mouth open and close without knowing what to say she chuckles with a shake of her head.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You shrug, trying to continue your oblivious front only to be stopped by a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Be honest.”

“You’re just so fit.” You admit as if all the wind got knocked out of you. Jenni grins and adjusts her position on the bench, now manspreading her legs and waving you over to her with a finger.

“Come sit on my thigh, baby girl.” She demands while her eyes blow with lust. The Spaniard almost laughs at how quick you are to obey, already sitting on her lap after a couple of seconds.

Her hands grip your waist and flip you around so your back is against her chest and now both facing the large mirror. The thumps in your chest become faster in excitement along with the wetness between your legs to pool from seeing her arms rub up and down your body.

“I bet you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” Jenni whispers in your ear, biting and kissing after you nod. “We better take care of that then.” She smirks at you through the mirror as you mindlessly nod and grind against her muscular thigh.

Her lips patch onto your neck, suckling at your skin wherever she can reach while her hands work on tugging your shorts down. You let out little breathy noises as she sucks at your sweet spot and lifts your hips so she can slide the fabric covering your underwear off.

“I can see you’re soaking through your panties.” She mumbles against your neck and then dips her fingers under the lace fabric with a groan. Your hand immediately grips her wrist when she rubs your clit with one of her fingers.

The sight of you in the mirror with your mouth wide open in silent pleasure is something Jenni will never get over, no matter how long the two of you have been together. And for you, the sight of your girlfriend suddenly becoming very buff turns you on beyond belief.

“Please do something, baby.” You beg, continuously grinding your hips with her fingers until she pulls them away with a tut.

“If you want something, you’re going to do it yourself. You disturbed my workout because of your neediness, so you’ll get off on my thigh.” She says tauntingly through the mirror with her chin resting on your shoulder and her hands on your hips.

You quickly gulp but put up no fight knowing that if you do, you won’t be receiving anything anytime soon. Jenni gives you her regular cocky smile before using her two hands to rip your thin panties, making you jolt in shock.

“I’ll buy you a new pair, don’t worry about it. Now vamos.” Her heavily accented voice sends shivers down your spine before you begin to grind against her thigh. You have to angle yourself a little more forward than usual so your clit will be stimulated.

Jenni’s tattooed arms make their way under your t-shirt of hers that you always steal and grope both of your boobs in each of her hands. When you start to cry out she smiles in triumph, watching you pathetically hump her leg to get off because you’re so needy for her and only her.

Not even too long in, you already feel close. Your clit is swollen from becoming so turned on in a quick amount of time and watching Jenni and her muscles through the mirror helps a lot too. The pleasure becoming intense, your hand grips hard against Jenni’s hand.

“Are you gonna cum on my thigh? Like a little needy slut?” Your hand turns white from your tight grip and your hips grind hard and fast, trying to reach your high.

What pushes you over the edge is when Jenni’s arm wraps around your midsection and you can see her bicep on full display. The sight itself has you soaking her thigh and silently screaming in pleasure with your legs shaking.

“So beautiful. My beautiful girl.” The brunette whispers, placing tiny kisses on your forehead and shoulders while you calm down.

“Don’t ever let me see you workout or this will be the outcome every time.” Your chest heaves as Jenni laughs at your confession. Once you both die down from laughter, you guys look into the mirror at each other with soft smiles and loving gazes.

“We’re doing this way more often. Maybe I should wear more shorts and tank tops to show off my godly figure.”

“Jenni, you are ruining the moment.”

#jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso smut #woso

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felassan · 8 months ago

Text

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[There are also a series of 'lil snippets' posts where I was just chucking together bits and pieces that I saw at other times: one, two, three, four, five, six]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and/or played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a ‘regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

For notes in here on community council things in particular, I recommend to listen to the vid directly, it's always better hearing things first-hand ^^

Character Creation

"The diverse body and gender options make it an industry leader by a signifcant margin" [source]

"BioWare was keen to highlight the hair strand technology that looked very similar to that seen in FIFA and EA FC, also made under EA's roof" [source]

"Fine tuning sliders that allowed for microscopic adjustments of nose angles, it was clear that a lot of options exist to get the smallest possible body parts exactly right" [source]

"There's no specific genital customisation to be oversold as CDPR did but, much like Saints Row, there is an option for bulge customisation" [source]

Pronoun choice, gender identity, body type, and voice choice are 4 separate options, not tied together [source]

Height is customised on a slider [source]

Size is customized on a triangle like in Saints Row: the 'points' are fat, slim and muscular [source]

The different lighting options are 4 different settings: clean, bright, dim, sunset [source]

In CC you can also try out what Rook looks like in their starting rags, in typical mid-game armor, and some level 50 gear (class appropriate for each one) [source]

There's a way for you to modify your character's look once the game has started if you want to make some tweaks [source: the official Discord]

You can be any class and choose any backstory/faction, any race, any gender [source]

Story and lore

On meeting Neve in the opening, if Rook chooses to say the positive dialogue option (I think this is the thumbs up one, "You rescued yourself, I see") they say something like, "It looks like you're doing pretty well by yourself huh?" [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF, the game has a Mass Effect 2 Suicide Mission feel to it [source]

The Shadow Dragons are kind of an anti-Venatori faction, sort of. [source] A freedom force. [source]

The Mourn Watch are kind of like the police for the Grand Necropolis [source]

The Veil Jumpers are kind of like weird magical investigators, weird magical nerds [source]

The moment right after the gameplay video ends is 👀❗❗...? [source]

On the timeskip, the Community Council were told that they were going to make it about the same amount of time in-game as the amount of time that passed in real life from the time most people would have last played DA:I [source]

Rook's faction is also referenced outside of the intro segment of the game [source]

In the gameplay reveal video that we saw, some of the Evanuris statue assets at Solas' ritual site are doubled up in error, i.e. some of them have the wrong heads. This is not supposed to be the case, they are supposed to each have a different head (bear in mind this was an early build and isn't the final build of the game) [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Go [here] to see some DA:TV doodles of the characters that a dev drew this year and last year. :> the hidden doodle is a version of Rook, hidden as they have not yet shown any of the possible hairstyles for Rook outside of the gameplay reveal video. [source]

It is Lucanis who has the purple wings [source]

His name is pronounced "Loo-khan-ess Day-ah-MORT-ey" [source]

Lucanis is hands-down "the sole dumpster fire of the crew". Mary "wrote him specifically to be a bisexual disaster of a human. You're welcome." [source]

As a name 'Rook' is closer to 'Inquisitor' than 'Hawke' [source]

The Community Council highly requested there to be 4 voices for Rook. They kept bringing it up [source] (there are 4 voices for Rook)

The Solas face model has been tweaked "a hundred times" [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Rook can jump [source: the official Discord]

Rook can sprint [source: the official Discord]

Warrior gameplay (or at least one build of this) involves doing the right parry timing to lead to a certain attack [source]

Warriors have a dropkick ability, enemies can be dropkicked off cliffs using this [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF said that the game ran smoothly and didn't have any bugs [source]

Companions can have an ability that heals Rook even when they are not mages [source]

Sword and shield warrior's ranged skill is like, boomeranging their shield over there [source]

In terms of the 'the game isn't open world, it's mission-based' stuff, it could be likened to Trespasser in this regard [source]

The first time the Community Council played, they asked if there is a photomode. BioWare said no, and the Council were like 'aw that really sucks, we really wanted one'. The next time that they went to play it, BioWare introduced them to a dev and said "Okay, we have photo mode, all thanks to this guy". "So there is one particular dev we all need to be kissing the feet of" because he figured out photo mode. [source] [nb, more on the Photo Mode situation here]

The current build of the game is not the final build of the game. A few things are currently being vigorously worked on [source]

Other

Someone who played the game at SGF was told that all of the choices and consequences were in the game, and that basically the team are just polishing things up right now [source]

The number of community members on the Community Council is in the double digits and they are from all walks of life. They don't have any contracts which say that they can only say positive things; they can be as negative as they want about DA media. Not every member of the council has said publicly that they were part of the group, there is nothing mandating them to do so [source]. They have not played the full game [source] and they tested it on consoles [source]. A lot of them ended up liking the gameplay [source]. They played some of the main story but they don't know how it ends. At one point they did three days of playtesting from like 9am-4pm daily. "I liked the quality, I liked what was going on, I was very invested. I did have some worries from the first playtest that were completely resolved in the second". "If you are someone who is into the story, I think we're safe, in the clear, I think we're okay. What I saw, I was really enjoying, I'm really excited about" [source]

The name change also surprised the community council. They aren't keen on the 'the'. There are a lot of things that they said to BioWare which, sometimes things just cannot change as it's too late. [source]

They did not see the finished game trailer before it released, and at that time it might have had a different song in it. They fed back that the version of the trailer that they saw was fine (what they saw was a bit different) [source]

BioWare have data on the percentage of people who used tactical view in DA:I and it's in the single digits [source]

Upkeep of the The Keep is a lot and it goes down like once a month. There have been times when it was down for weeks at a time [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect #lgbtq #solas #some overlapping info in these posts but i figure it's better to say a snippet twice than miss sth :>

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twisted-tales-of-all · 2 years ago

Note

OKAY SO

May I request a morning cockwarming with Yunho please? 👀

[07:31]

Last night, your boyfriend came home absolutely exhausted. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and you made sure not to wake him when you joined him about an hour later. Although he hadn't woken up, your movements made him squirm under the blanket, throwing an arm around you to stop you from moving more. You giggled at how cute he is, even while asleep, and eventually fell asleep beside him.

You wake up before him, grab your phone off the bedside table, and scroll through social media while waiting for Yunho to wake up. When he begins moving around, you kiss his forehead to say good morning, only to be met with a low groan. He sloppily throws his body on top of yours, mumbling incoherently. Although you try to make out his words, you can't piece anything together.

As he continues, he tugs on your shorts, asking permission to take them off you. You laugh, asking how he can want sex when he's not even fully awake, but he just nods into your chest. Wanting to see how the situation plays out, you lift your hips and let him pull the shorts down.

This sparks a bit of energy into the tall man, getting him up to take off his pajamas as well. He looks at you, his face looking like a question mark personified, asking about condoms. You grab one from the drawer nearby and help him put it on him. Once it's in place, he fumbles his way to line up with your entrance.

"No foreplay today, eh, Yuyu? Too sleep?" You joke, knowing how much he usually loves the act.

He doesn't respond, only reacting by burying his face into your collarbone and slowly pushing himself inside. Although your body knows the feeling all too well, you still grip tightly onto his biceps until he bottoms out. He stills, letting you both adjust to the sensation as usual, but when you let him know that you're ready for him to move, you get no response.

Rubbing his back, you smile, wondering just how exhausted your usually high-energy boyfriend must be to fall asleep while inside you. Moving your hand up to play with his hair, you hear him mumble again.

"Mm, two minute... so warm~..."

He moves slightly, adjusting after being so rudely woken up, but then he freezes. Realizing why it's so warm, he fully wakes up again, looking up with puppy-dog eyes.

With a nervous laugh, he apologizes, "Sorry, bun. I must've been really exhausted. Let me take care of you properly."

"It's okay, Yunho; you can stay like that if you want. You're really precious when you sleep," you admit as you brush his hair away from his eyes.

His appreciative smile morphs into a quick peck onto your lips, then he nuzzles back into your shoulder, promising not to fall asleep again but wanting to enjoy the position a little more. He slowly grinds his hips, giving you both a more subtle but sweet sensation from the movements. This only lasts a few minutes, however, as you hear his growls as he tries not to get too into it.

"Babe, you okay there?" You tease, making him raise his head again with a massive pout.

"I think I'm awake now. Can I?" He asks with one single sharp thrust that makes your voice catch in your throat.

"Mhm~ I was waiting for y-"

He cuts you off with a deep kiss as he prepares to treat you like royalty for his morning workout.

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winchesterwild78 · 4 months ago

Text

A Shattered Heart

Master List

Jensen x Reader (girlfriend)

Warnings: Lots and lots of Angst, language, Jensen being a dick (sorry)

A/N: Just kinda in my head and feelings today…This story just popped in my head. Not sure if it’s going to be a one shot or a few chapters. I’ll play it by ear. I had to get this out before I could finish any of my other stories. 🫤 This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. All work is my own and absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. No idea why my head is filled with this story…..it’s brutal. I wrote it fast-like 30 minutes, and didn’t do a great job editing. Please overlook any errors.

Minors DNI 18+

The soft glow of the lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the room. Jensen and you had been dating for a few months now, and while there were moments of pure bliss, the weight of his recent divorce often hung heavy in the air. His ex-wife had been particularly cruel during the proceedings, leaving him emotionally scarred.

You’d tried to be there for him, but he would often push you away to deal with things himself. He tried to keep things civil between him and Danneel, for the sake of the kids, but it proved to be a daunting task at times.

After months of back and forth, they finally arrived at a custody agreement. He would get the kids when he wasn’t filming, and for some holidays. She kept the house in Connecticut and he got the one in Austin. Danneel tried to get both, but the judge decided she had gotten enough from him. Between child support, alimony, half the brewery and half the production company, she was practically set for life.

You had absolutely no problem with the child support, but you felt it was ridiculous she received alimony too. Jensen didn’t put up a fight about that. You respected him so much, the only thing he did fight for was his children.

After the divorce was final, you moved in with him, into his Austin home. He told you to make any changes you wanted, because as he put it, “It’s your home too.” So you made some changes here and there, but keeping all of the things that were Jensen and of course his children.

Danneel barely spoke to you, and would often refer to you as a homewrecker, trash, or some other derogatory term she could think of. It pissed Jensen off, because the two of you met after they split up, and you didn’t move in until after the divorce was final.

You tried to pretend it didn’t bother you, but it really did. You fell in love with Jensen when you saw him at a convention, but you didn’t pursue him until after you heard they had split. Well, you really didn’t pursue him, you two just hit it off and got to talking. You both flirted, alcohol was free flowing, and then you kissed. That was it. Days later, after the convention ended, Jensen reached out to you on social media. You thought it was a joke until he sent you a picture and then video called you. After that you were completely smitten by him.

So now here you were months later, living with him and falling deeper in love with him. You hoped he felt the same way about you. The only obstacle was his filming schedule. It was something you weren’t used to yet, and sometimes it caused tension between the two of you.

As Jensen’s marriage started to fall apart he purposely spent more time away from home. He took guest starring roles, did more conventions, and even started some new projects. It became a habit that was hard for him to break.

So now even though your relationship was good, he had commitments he had already made. It’s been an adjustment to say the least. Jensen was off filming again, and you were left alone, again. Your heart ached for him, your arms ached for him. The longer he was gone the more in your head you would get, and that was never a good thing.

After a month-long shooting schedule, Jensen returned home looking haggard and exhausted. you could see the toll it had taken on him. The two of you had spent the evening cuddling on the couch, with you trying to soothe his weary soul. You made his favorite dinner, steak and potatoes, and even baked him a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

“Thanks sweetheart for dinner and dessert. You didn’t have to go all out for me.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Yes I did, you’ve been gone for too long and I wanted to show you how much I missed you. Besides, who can say no to chocolate cake?” You winked at him. The two of you spent the rest of the night snuggled together under the blanket and talking while the tv played softly in the background.

He told you about the latest project he was on, how he’d been called back to guest star in Tracker again. You could see his excitement, but part of you felt a pang of sadness, because that meant more time away from you. You bit your lip to prevent the tears from flowing. You were so proud of him and all his projects, but part of you wanted to be selfish and have him to yourself for a little bit.

Just as you were about to settle in for the night, his phone rang. It was Danneel. You could hear the anger in her voice as she berated him about his absence and how the alimony check was 2 days late. “Fuck, Danneel, it was only 2 damn days. You act like it’s the end of the world. Maybe if you got off your ass and worked it wouldn’t be that big of a deal! I was in Canada and the mail takes longer. Yes, it has to be a check. I want a paper trail to prove I paid it! Bullshit! You would throw me under the bus if you could. You’re just waiting to screw me over!” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You sat in silence as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. “No! I already told you I’ll be filming. I can’t keep the kids for spring break. That’s not fair, Danneel. Fine! Do whatever the fuck you want!” He hung up with a growl.

You stepped closer to him and touched his arm, trying to offer some comfort. He shrugged you off, “Not now, Y/N! Fuck!” You flinched at his anger and his words. He’d never spoken to you like that before. It took you by surprise and it hurt. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I was just trying to help.” Your voice came out softer and smaller than you’d ever heard. “Well don’t! You’re not a part of this, you can’t help! Unless you know how I can continue to work and see my kids, while supporting them, my ex and you!” You gasped at his words. “What?! You don’t support me? I work, I make my own money.”

Jensen scoffed, “Yeah right. Your little paycheck, honey I make that in a fucking day!” Tears filled your eyes and you let out an audible sob. Jensen turned and looked at you as you cried. His eyes were full of rage, his jaw tight with anger. You had no idea why he was taking his anger out on you.

He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated growl. “Fuck this shit! I can’t handle my bitch ex wife and now you crying like you are. I’m going out!” He grabbed his jacket and keys and left.

As he stormed out of the house, you crumbled onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. His words, his anger playing over and over in your head like a record. Each harsh word, like a punch to the chest. You felt incredibly hurt, so betrayed, and so utterly alone.

You eventually moved off the floor, when the tears refused to fall anymore. Exhaustion overtaking your body, your head pounding from the crying. Hours passed as you laid on the couch, curled in a ball. You checked your phone, hoping for a text or a call from Jensen, but nothing. As the hours ticked on your heart broke more.

Around 4 am you were startled awake by the sound of the front door opening. Jensen came in, drunk. You could smell the whiskey on him. You sat up and looked at him, “Jensen, do you have any idea what time it is?” You asked softly.

“Nope, don’t care either. Why are you still here? I figured you’d be gone by now.” Jensen asked through slurred speech. You bit your lip and swallowed hard, “You don’t mean that Jensen.”

You stood up and walked over to him. He stepped closer to you, saw your red, puffy eyes, “Yes I do, darlin’. I thought I made it clear I don’t want you here anymore. It’s only complicating things with my kids.”

You scoffed as the pain and hurt shot through your body, “Okay, I’ll leave. Just know you’re the one who asked for me to leave, Jensen. I love you.” You walked upstairs without looking back at him. The tears were flowing freely now. Your heart was shattered. You’d given him everything, including your heart, and he just threw it all away.

Walking into your shared bedroom, you looked around at the life you two had created. You grabbed a suitcase and started filling it up with things. You glanced at Jensen’s side of the bed and saw the picture Chris took of the two of you at the convention you met him at. You saw the love in his eyes and in yours.

As you left the bedroom you walked back downstairs and found Jensen sitting on the couch. He glanced up at you and saw the suitcase in your hand. You walked over to the kitchen counter, took your key off the ring and set it down.

Before you walked out the door, you turned around and locked eyes with Jensen. “I love you Jensen, please don’t forget that. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.” You swear his breath hitched at your words, but you turned so quickly you weren’t sure.

You put your suitcase in your car and climbed in. Putting the car in drive you pulled out of the driveway, looking in the rearview mirror at the life you were now left to mourn.

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cherrrydragon · 6 months ago

Text

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (LET ME GET WHAT I WANT)

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SUMMARY ↳ ;) Damian and Jon are easy to spot, standing together near a large decorative display. Jon's bright smile is a beacon, and Damian's more reserved demeanor contrasts starkly with his friend. They’re standing in front of a window. It paints the image of being surrounded by snowfall as they chat away. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: threats of bodily harm wc: 4.3k

Nothing quite says party like a Tony Stark party. You distinctly remember your first one. You weren’t even planning to come, but when Tony saw you in bed with pajamas he bullied you into getting dressed. He said that you ‘needed to get out more’, which was bull, but whatever. As payback you drank as much alcohol as you could sneak. The scolding from Steve you got was worth it seeing Tony’s appalled stare.

This time, you intend to stay in bed.

Bruce Wayne has decided to throw a New Year’s Gala, for whatever reason. You think it doubles as a charity, but you don’t know why else he would throw it, nor do you care enough to find out. He did invite you, but you’re not too keen on being perceived by society.

“You look nice,” you muse, seeing Damian in his little formal wear. He’s made a quick stop in your room, for whatever reason. He’s a cute sight, so you’re not complaining.

Damian adjusts the cufflinks on his formal wear. "Thank you," he mutters, glancing away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "You should come.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Nice try, hun. But I’m really not in the mood to be around a bunch of snooty elites."

He sighs, looking slightly disappointed. "It would be more bearable with you there."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you tease, reaching out to straighten his tie. "Besides, someone has to stay and hold down the fort. Unless, of course, you’re asking me to be your date?”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t dignify your comment with a response. Finishing fiddling with his tie, you step back from him. You see his hands twitch just a tad.

“Hi, [Name].” You turn to see Jon poking his head through your doorway, smiling cutely. He steps in, letting you see that he too is dressed up for the party.

“Well shit, look at you,” you grin, eyes roaming his figure.

He spreads his arms out, bashful. “Look at me,” he says, hands coming up to fidget with his tie. “I wasn’t sure about the tie, though. Damian said it was too flashy.”

You chuckle softly. “He’s just jealous he can’t pull it off like you.”

Jon laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you glance between Jon and Damian, both looking unexpectedly nervous in their formal wear. It’s a stark contrast to their usual confident selves when they're out on patrol or facing down villains.

“So,” Jon starts, his tone casual, “are you coming with us?”

“Absolutely not,” you grin. “I do not have the energy to deal with people right now.

Damian huffs softly, exchanging a knowing glance with Jon before turning back to you. "You're missing out on Father's attempt at social philanthropy," he remarks dryly, clearly not a fan of the gala idea either.

Jon nods in agreement, his smile widening. "True, but I guess we'll have to suffer through it together."

You chuckle at their banter, appreciating their effort despite your reluctance. "Well, make sure to bring me back a good story or two. Preferably involving Bruce embarrassing himself on the dance floor."

Jon grins mischievously. "Deal. We'll keep you posted."

As they leave your room, Damian pauses at the door, looking back with a faint smile. "If you change your mind," he offers quietly, "you know where to find us."

You nod, blowing them kisses as they leave. You settle back into your cozy spot, grateful for the quiet evening ahead. From here, you can hear the chatter and glasses clinking from partygoers downstairs. You sigh and sink into your bed with no further plans for the night. Just as you start to drift into a more relaxed state, your thoughts briefly return to Damian and Jon.

Damian. Damian is so complex. So rich in character. He carries an air of absoluteness around him. Every now and again you have that realization that everybody around you is living their own complex lives. You guess that realization hits harder, since you had never entertained the thought of him being real. Foolish on your pat, with what you know.

Jon, Jon exudes a warmth that contrasts with Damian's reserved nature. His easy going manner and quick smile charm you so. Only he, who gets his powers from the sun, could shine so bright. He's the kind of person who can brighten any room he enters.

The sounds of the party drift up faintly, a reminder of the world outside your cozy sanctuary. For now, you're content to enjoy this peaceful moment to yourself, letting your eyes drift close.

“Hello?” a voice echoes out. It’s yours. An amalgamation of bright lights closes in on itself behind you. Footsteps echo as you walk down the alley. You don’t hear any civilians walking and talking or any cars going down the roads. New York is quiet tonight.

Swinging up onto a building, you began making your way across the city. The eerie silence is unnerving you. The usual hustle and bustle is conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling calm. In fact, New York is… completely dark. Not one apartment light is on.

Avengers tower looms over the city. It’s the only building with—some—light. The building… isn’t really a building. Half of it is gone, jagged and broken edges pointing skyward. Cracks litter the walls, glass broken.

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach the tower. The air feels heavy with a sense of desolation. There’s pieces of broken armor and weapons. Flickering lights casting eerie shadows.

As you move through the ruins, a faint voice calls out—a whisper carried on the wind. You turn, but there's no one there. The silence intensifies, punctuated only by the distant sound of your own breathing.

Suddenly, a figure appears before you—a spectral image of Tony Stark, his armor battered and glowing faintly. His eyes meet yours with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"You were supposed to be here," he murmurs, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. "Where were you?”

You reach out, but your hand passes through his ethereal form. He fades slowly, leaving you alone. You see a broken red, white and blue shield in the distance.

“No, no, nononono. This wasn’t supposed to happen–”

There’s a woman behind you. She seems familiar. “You left us.”

You left them. All to die.

There’s a piercing scream as you're sucked into an explosion of colors below you. You try to reach out, to grab onto something, but there’s no one there.

You sit up with a gasp, suddenly at a loss for breath. Your body is tense and sweaty and you’re breathing heavily. Your heartbeat is booming in your ears. It feels like it’s going to burst from your chest. The sensation of falling fades as you orient yourself to the familiar surroundings of your room.

You glance around, reassuring yourself with the reality of your peaceful sanctuary. The sounds of the party downstairs continue to drift up faintly, a distant reminder of the world outside your door. You rub your temples, trying to dispel the last traces of the unsettling dream.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for a glass of water on your bedside table, sipping slowly to calm your nerves. “Karen, how long was I asleep?”

“Only an hour.”

You bury your face in your hands, breathing. Sometimes you think your mind is your biggest enemy. You should’ve figured, really. You haven’t had a proper nightmare since you’ve gotten here. It was only a matter of time.

“Might I suggest heading to the Den to take your mind off things?” Karen's voice is soft, achingly so. It’s comforting.

You don’t respond verbally, only nodding your head. You throw off the covers sluggishly, still trying to ground yourself. You put on the first clothes you find. They’re definitely not gala material, but that’s fine. You’ll only pop in to tell someone where you’re going.

Titus is loitering the halls, but he comes to you when he sees you out and about. He sniffs you, gruffing like he’s disturbed by something. Maybe he can sense that you’re a little unnerved right now. You give him good pets before moving on past him.

The grandeur of the gala spills out into the hallway, the lights casting a warm, inviting glow. Chatter floods your ears as you arrive just outside the entrance to the grand room. The place is perfectly lit up and shiny. The sounds of laughter and conversation form a stark contrast to the silence of your dream, grounding you.

Damian and Jon are easy to spot, standing together near a large decorative display. Jon's bright smile is a beacon, and Damian's more reserved demeanor contrasts starkly with his friend. They’re standing in front of a window. It paints the image of being surrounded by snowfall as they chat away.

You hesitate at the entrance, your eyes drawn to Jon and Damian standing together. The way Jon's eyes light up when he looks at Damian, and the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugs at Damian's lips in response, speaks volumes. They stand close, their bodies angled toward each other.

Damian reaches out to brush away a curl from Jon's face. Jon smiles, mouthing something. He talks animatedly, eyes bright. Damian watches. Fondly, you realize, he’s watching. There’s even a little small smile on his face. It puts a matching one on your face. It reminds you of Pepper and Tony, the way they look at each other.

Like they’re in love.

…

Oh.

Holy shit, they’re in love, aren’t they? Holy shit. How did you not notice? Well… you’re not often hanging out with both of them at the same time, are you? You know they hang out on their own without you. They were friends before they knew you of course. Since they were children. Oh God, you hope they aren’t, like, secretly dating or anything. You’ve been flirting with them, but it was playful! You swear!

God, what have you been doing?

You need to get home. You’re not supposed to be here. You should be at the tower, playing darts with Clint, or looking for colleges you want to go to. Not here, not pretending like everything is fine, everything is normal, everything is how it’s supposed to be. You’ve forgotten yourself, gotten too comfortable. You feel a sudden detachment, like a thread just snapped. This is a borrowed fantasy.

Like clockwork, you put on a grin, baring your teeth. You take a step back, the sounds of the party fading into the background. It's as if everything is moving in slow motion, every sound is distant and every breath is drawn out. The party fades away as you turn, making your way towards the exit. Each step feels heavy, like you're carrying a weight you can't quite name.

All you hear is a constant ringing in your ear as you swing from building to building. There are people in the streets, no doubt celebrating the incoming new year. The city seems especially alive, lights twinkling. You’re grateful you can’t feel the biting cold air thanks to your suit. You fear you’re already feeling too much right now.

By the time you reach the familiar tunnel, your stomach is in knots. You’re on autopilot as you move the rubble, climbing in. The cute fairy lights feel too bright now. Your mask retracts, letting you breathe in.

You grab a screwdriver, not yet knowing what you’re going to do. “You might be able to finish before midnight,” chimes Karen.

Really? Had you been that far along in your progress? Oh. Maybe you knew and just forgot. You don’t really know right now. Your legs feel stiff as you approach the particle accelerator, screwing in a part tight. You work methodically, hands steady despite the turmoil in your mind. Each screw, each connection, each calibration is a step closer to completion, closer to... what? A return to your old life?

Karen's voice interrupts your thoughts gently, "You're almost done. Just a few more adjustments."

You nod absently, tightening another screw. The particle accelerator is nearly ready. Your mind drifts to the dream again—Tony, the absence of life, your home that you don’t recognize. "You left us," echoes in your mind.

Finally, the last screw is in place. You step back, wiping a hand down your face, and take a deep breath. The machine hums with a soft, steady power. It's ready. You're ready. Or at least, the machine is.

You stand back, staring at the particle accelerator with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The steady hum of the machine fills the air, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. It's a portal, a bridge to another reality (the start of one, at least) another chance to set things right—or at least, to find some semblance of peace.

You insert a prism into it, making sure it’s secure. “Initializing…” hums Karen. The particle accelerator hums, lights flickering on and running down it. Sound whirls as you grab the little wheel you attached to it. “Approaching maximum power.”

The machine shakes as you turn the wheel. The prism turns, guiding a light. The light cuts through the space, producing fire and sparks where it hits. It cuts an old pipe in half. Whoops.

In front of you, lies an object akin to that of Tony Stark's arc reactor. Of course, it’s not actually an arc reactor, it’s just there to hold the new element. The light pierces and cuts until finally, it reaches its target. You think you hear the prism chime as the light hits the little triangle in the holder. You know that that’s the case when the chime gets louder as the light gets brighter. Brighter, brighter, brighter—oh.

You turn the machine off, looking at the glowing creation. The light fades, showing you the bright glowing triangle that is the new element. You sigh in content.

You duck under the particle accelerator, approaching the mimic arc reactor. Your fingers flex in anticipation, reaching out. The claws of your suit clink against the tiny triangle as you pick it up.

“Congratulations, [Name]. You’ve successfully recreated Tony Stark’s new element.”

You hum. “Well, couldn’t have done it without you and your awesome know-it-all abilities, my dear.”

A symphony of crackles, pops, and booms that fill your ears. Each pop rattles off as it fades. Oh, the fireworks. Is it…

“What time is it, K?”

“It is currently twelve AM, on the dot. I think this was an appropriate way to start the new year, don’t you?”

You chuckle, bowing your head. “Happy New Year.” You wonder if Damian and Jon… no. Probably shouldn’t think about that.

“Happy New Year, [Name].”

“...Happy New Year…”

You whirl around, fist tightly curling around the badassium. There’s no one there. Um. Were you imagining things? Oh, you see now, a figure there in the corner. A figure, somebody. Somebody that looks like…

Looks like…

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now…”

How did your senses not pick up on them?

“I… don’t know what I’m doing here myself.”

They’re stepping closer to you.

“I guess… well. I don’t know.”

It’s… it’s…

“But I do know… that I’m sorry. I was… I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

It’s the spider… the one from the warehouse. The reason why you’re here.

“You…” Suddenly, you can’t breathe.

They clasp their hands behind their back, looking around the room. Then they look at you. Stare at you. The eyes of their suit squint as they take in your face. “Pretty cozy place. More cozy than mine, that’s for sure.”

You put down the badassium, afraid you’ll break it in your fist. They turn to look at it, then at the particle accelerator. “You work fast. Faster than me. It took me way too long to make that big stupid thing. I didn’t have any blueprints or even confirmation that it would work, but–”

A scratchy yell erupts from your mouth as you pounce at them. They dodge, fucking spidey senses.

They hold out their hands. “Woah woah woah, wait–”

You don’t wait. You lunge at them again, claws swiping out to them. It lands, leaving behind red. They don’t have an armored suit like yours. You have the advantage.

They scramble out of your way, knocking over things as they go. “Please–”

You grab their suit at their collarbone, pulling them to you. “You!”

“Me?” they squeak.

“You’re the reason I’m fucking stuck here!”

“I know I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I was being stupid! I just–”

“I don’t care,” you growl, showing your fangs. Your shoulders flex, releasing the nano spider legs. They emerge hauntingly, their sharpened points glinting, poised and ready to strike.

“You know, I’m not really like the other spiders. Most of ‘em anyways,” you drawl. “Apart from being the only [Name] I know, my moral compass is a roulette wheel. I’m a hero of course, I save who need saving, and punish who needs punishing.”

“Truth is,” you lean in, eyes wide and flickering with hot pink, “I am much more keen to violence than the others. I’ve killed people. A couple of people, actually,” you admit, voice low and intense. “Doesn’t make me a true good person, of course, but it does make the world a bit safer for those that are.”

They try to struggle free, but you hold them firm. "I'm going to figure out what you need. So tell me, what the fuck are you doing?”

They sniff, taking in a deep breath. “I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t hurt people.” Their hands quiver as they latch onto yours. “I just wanted to go home, and I thought you were gonna stop me–”

You growl and they yelp. “It’s not an excuse! I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s my explanation. I just.. I felt bad. I was…” they pause.

“I was working on this machine. A particle accelerator,” they sigh, oblivious to the way your ears start ringing. “I was messing around, and I got stuck in your universe. I tried to go back home. I tried for so long, acting like everything was normal, like I belonged but I… I had to go back home.” Their voice gets wobbly. “I spent so long there, I got desperate.”

They start sniffling, and you know they’re crying. “I thought, if I could find where you went… I could help you get back to your universe. So what happened to me won’t happen to you.” They take a step back. Oh, did you let them go? “I can’t take you with me. Other things can't pass through my portal without turning to dust, but…”

They reach into a pocket, pulling out a small, intricate device. It glows softly in their hand, emitting a faint, steady pulse.

“...What is it?” you croak.

"It's a catalyst," they explain, their voice still shaky. "It’s what I used to stabilize the rift. You know, so my atoms wouldn’t get scattered across space.”

Your gaze narrows, skeptical of the device in their hand. "Why should I trust you?" you demand, voice edged with exhaustion and anger.

They take a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a mix of desperation and sincerity. "You shouldn’t,” they admit. "But I know what it's like. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone."

You stare at the catalyst, the faint pulse mesmerizing. "And if this doesn't work? If you're lying?"

You feel their eyes on you through their mask, voice filled with regret and determination. "Then you can do whatever you think is necessary. But I promise you, I'm not lying."

Your silence hangs heavy between you. The sounds of the fireworks outside are distant echoes, reminding you of the world outside this tense moment. Finally, you reach out and take the catalyst from their hand, feeling its weight and the subtle hum of energy within.

“You really want to help?” you whisper, fist curling around the catalyst. “Find Miguel O'Hara from Earth-928.” Your grip tightens around the catalyst as you step back, letting the weight of the moment settle in. The stranger stands still, their eyes fixed on you through their mask. You can see the weariness in their posture, the heaviness of their own burdens reflected in their stance.

“Find him, and tell him where I am.”

They nod slowly. “I’ll find him. I promise.” Their voice holds a note of determination.

You step back and wave an arm. “Just go.” You’re well and truly done with everything at the moment.

They stand for a moment, looking at you. Looking through you. Then they turn away, and all you see is an eruption of bright and colorful light, before it’s gone just as fast as it came. The Den feels unfamiliar to you now.

You sink to the floor, mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. Sound is distant, the only thing you hear is a loud ringing. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving. Your face feels wet. Ah, it’s tears. You’re crying. Why are you crying?

“–me]! [Name]! Come on, come back. I’m here, it’s okay–”

“Jon?” Is that your voice?

An arm curls around your shoulder and crowds you into his embrace. His warmth contrasts starkly with the cold dread that had settled in your chest. He holds you tightly, his presence grounding you. You cling to Jon like a lifeline, his warmth grounding you in the present.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hand smoothing down your back.

Sniffling, you sink into his embrace. “What are you doing here?” you mutter.

“Where else should I be?” With Damian. “I stuck my ear out, heard your heart beating fast. And the sound of you… well.”

You sigh heavily, cheek against his chest, listening to his own heartbeat. It's strong and steady, everything you want to be. “My heartbeat?”

He nods against your head. “Your heartbeat.”

You sigh again, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Oh, Jon...”

"Shh," he soothes, his hand still moving gently along your back. "You don't have to say anything right now."

"I don't deserve you," you murmur into his chest, your voice barely audible.

Jon tightens his hold on you, his voice firm yet gentle. "Don't say that. Please don’t say that."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the night’s events settling over you. Jon’s presence is a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, Jon.”

He tilts your chin up gently, his blue eyes filled with concern and determination. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”

You don’t say anything, simply resting your head against him. His lips press against your forehead, gently and warm.

“In other news,” you sniffle, moving to get out of his embrace. He holds on to your for a moment, uncertain. But a persistent tug from you makes his arms drop. You reach up, grabbing the small glowing triangle. “Look what I made.”

He eyes the small thing in your claws. “What is it?”

“The badassium. The new element that I’ve created.” You rock it around gently. “I did it.”

Jon's eyes widen with surprise and admiration as he gazes at the glowing triangle in your hand. "That's incredible," he says, reaching out to gently touch the shimmering surface.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering heaviness in your chest.

He looks up at you, his expression softening with concern. "Are you... okay?"

You hesitate, unsure how to answer. Instead of words, you hand him the glowing badassium, letting him examine it closely. The warmth of his touch is grounding. He studies it, turning it this way and that, before looking at you again. He puts it down where it was, coming back to you to hold your hand.

“You’re incredible,” he breathes. You don’t have any words, so you keep your mouth shut.

“...Wanna go home?” he asks tentatively. You nod. He slowly steps forward, kneeling down and hooking his arms under your legs and back when you show no sign of hesitance. Jon lifts you effortlessly, cradling you close as he stands. You rest your head against his shoulder, eyes feeling heavy.

“I'm not invalid, Jon.”

“Just let me take care of you.” He shouldn't say things like that.

He makes sure that the Den is properly blocked and hidden by the rubble. After that, all you feel in the cold air biting at your cheeks as he flies you across the city. The lights below blur into streaks of color as you soar through the night sky. You cling to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his flight beneath you.

People are still at Wayne Manor as you approach, lights shining bright. Jon serves around the side, pulling up to your room's window. You sigh in relief as he gently sets you down in your room.

You see Damian rush over to you both, suit jacket forgotten. Was he waiting here for you?”

“Where were you?” he demands, hands coming up to rest on your arms. His concern is evident, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Jon steps forward, his hand resting on Damian's shoulder. "It doesn’t matter now. They’re okay," he reassures Damian, who nods slightly, though the crease in his brow doesn’t go away.

"Sorry," you say sincerely, looking at both of them, "for worrying you." You gently push Damian’s hands off you and go to your bed. Your clothes are comfortable enough, you decide. The soft pillow feels heavenly as you sink into the mattress. Hands come up the pull your blanket over you, lightly caressing your forehead before leaving.

Hushed voices bickering are the last thing you hear before darkness pulls you in.

notes: so... how we feeling? LOL

ngl i feel like the reasoning is cheap but how y'all liking the parallel? it'll make more sense later on, i promise ;)

also am i evil for using the "oh. oh." in that context? yes. yes i am

#damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

209 notes · View notes

runningfromaghost · 23 days ago

Text

Roommate

This is my first fanfic on here so let me know how ya’ll like it!

Summary: You are Bucky’s new roommate after he had posted an ad in the newspaper. The super soldier hadn’t thought many people would contact him about the room available as nowadays most- if not everybody did everything online. He was right though; you had been the only one to respond in the two weeks that the ad was in the paper. But there is a reason you used a newspaper to find housing and a payphone to contact Bucky.

“Hey doll, how was your shift?” Bucky asks as you walk through the door coming home from your shift at the diner.

Initially you had been intimidated by James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky as he prefers to be called. With your recent history, you were weary of men in general but within ten minutes of being around Bucky, he made you feel comfortable and welcome and even safe in his presence. Three things you had lacked to feel in a long time. You moved in a couple of weeks ago so the two of you are still getting adjusted to the other for the most part, but it’s been easy going so far.

“Hey Bucky,” you give him a small smile as you close and lock the door. “Not bad, went quickly actually. I’m gonna shower and change, I can make dinner when I get out if you’d like?”

“Sure doll, if you tell me what to get ready, I can set everything out to help.”

“That’d be great,” you nod. “If you could pull out the chicken, bacon, spinach, and the heavy cream please?”

Bucky stands up and is quick to get to work, pulling out all the ingredients before frowning to himself. He’d like to offer you more help than just setting everything out so he walks down the hall to your bedroom and knocks gently, hoping you haven’t jumped in the shower yet as he can hear it running. You had just gathered your fresh change of clothes when you hear Bucky knock on the bedroom door, so you open it while tucking the clothes under your arm.

“S-sorry. I just wanted to know if I could do anything else to help?” Bucky’s asks shifting from foot to foot.

“You can chop up the bacon and cut the chicken into bite size pieces if you’d like,” you tell him. “And then in a pot start cooking the bacon on medium high heat.”

Bucky absorbs the information you give him, nodding and dunking away with a smile on his face making you laugh softly. You make your shower quick just in case he has any other questions. Going through the motions of your shower, you get out quickly to dry off and towel dry your hair before dressing in the cotton pajama shorts and t-shirt.

Bucky damn near drools when he sees you walking into the kitchen dressed in your little pair of shorts and simple shirt. He didn’t think you could get any more attractive- and since he hasn’t seen you dressed up aside from work… seeing you dressed so comfortably in front of him… well let’s just say it does things to him that makes his jeans uncomfortably tight.

“Are you okay?” you ask Bucky as you notice he hadn’t moved when you walked into the kitchen to see what all he’d gotten accomplished.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine,” he nods. “You?”

You let out a soft laugh as you nod as well while pulling out a second pot to fill with water for the penne noodles.

“Get to do anything exciting today?” you ask while placing the pot of water on the stove to boil, getting to work on finishing up the bacon before draining most of the grease into an empty coffee container and tossing in the chicken.

“Met Sam for breakfast, nothing exciting,” Bucky replies. “I think he’s gonna try to get me to socialize again,” he grumbles unenthusiastically.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I have enough friends,” Bucky tries to defend himself.

“Oh yeah?” you arch an eyebrow with a smile looking at him. “How many friends do you have?”

Seasoning the chicken well, you salt the water and wait for your roommates reply patiently. From the short time the two of you have been around the other, he’s told you about Sam and that’s it.

“Two! And that’s plenty enough for me,” he smiles smugly.

“Oh?” you say in a surprised manner. “Who is this second friend that I’ve heard nothing about?”

Bucky smiles wider at you as you continue cooking. “Oh, uh, well she is about this tall,” he raises his hand to measure your height before continuing, “same hair color and length as yours…”

You laugh and can’t even hide your smile. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Bucky nods. “Oh, did I mention the eye color?” you shake your head slightly in response. “Well, she’s got the same eye color as well. Ironically the two of you have the same name.”

“Huh,” you pretend to think, tapping your pointer finger on your chin. “Wonder if I know her.”

Bucky chuckles. “You’d know her if you saw her. She’s smart, beautiful, caring…”

“Sounds like she’s lucky to have a friend like you,” you tell him honestly while replacing the chicken with spinach to cook that down and seasoning that as well.

“The other way around actually,” he smiles while bumping you gently.

You feel your face redden with the compliment, keeping your face trained on your task for the time being with a smile. “How about we’re both lucky for arguments sake?”

“I can live with that.”

You’re not sure when you began to develop feelings for your very handsome roommate, but with living with him for two months now and spending all your free time with him… well it’s definitely taken its toll on your feelings. You haven’t had a crush of any sort since going on the run from your past. Honestly, you can’t afford to have a crush on anybody- much less your roommate.

“Here you are sir, is there anything else I can get for you?” you smile as you drop off your customers order of fresh hot pancakes and syrup.

The gentleman shakes his head with a tightlined smile. “No thanks.”

Nodding, you give him extra napkins just in case before walking away and tending to the other customers in the diner. The bell dings, signaling someone has walked in making you look up and smile to greet the customer.

“Hey there doll,” greets Bucky with Sam next to him smiling brightly with a head nod towards you.

“Hey guys! Dinning in or just a pit stop?” You question while pouring a cup of coffee for the older couple.

“Brunch today,” answers Sam, shoving Bucky out of the way. “This one has been hogging you so I figured this would be the place to see your lovely face.”

“Have not,” grumbles the super soldier.

“Pick a table guys,” you laugh with a shake of your head.

The older lady you had refilled the coffee for clears her throat gently so you look at her with a smile. “I’m sorry I kn- “

“No dear,” she smiles sweetly at you as she holds her hand up and motions you closer to her so you lean down. “He’s in love with you, you know.” You pause, not knowing what to say but she continues with, “The bigger guy in the gloves. I can see it in his eyes. You love him too, don’t you sugar?”

“He’s my roommate,” you say in a small breath. What did she mean she can see it in his eyes?

“Keep telling yourself that sugar,” she giggles and pats your hand gently.

By the time you make it to Sam and Bucky, you’re so deep in thought they give you a funny look when you actually take their order instead of placing their regular orders automatically. You bounce back when the older couple leave though and you shake it off with a grain of salt. Making your rounds again, this time with some checks, and to-go coffees, you notice the one man with pancakes staring hard at Bucky and yourself.

“Can I get you anything else?” you try to ask in your normal customer service voice with a smile.

“Just the check, thanks,” his voice is hard but you quickly take out his bill to slip it to him and as you go to take his empty plate and cup he grips your wrist tightly.

Your heart lurches into your throat, palms going sweaty instantly while panic rises too quickly for your liking and your eyes shoot to his shitty brown ones. “I’d appreciate it if you let me go,” you say softly as to not alert the two former Avengers across the diner.

“I was told to give you a message,” the customer says. “He’ll kill my family if I don’t do what he wanted, I- I’m sorry.”

You swallow thickly, understanding why this man was acting strangely the whole time he’s been here. Your past has finally come back to haunt you… to kill you. Nodding at the man you take a deep breath and slowly release it.

“What is the message?”

Luckily the man before you releases his hold on you, slowly standing up he reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet and takes out cash for his bill while simultaneously pulling out a note as well.

“I don’t know what it says… but there’s a USB drive too,” he tells you.

Grabbing what he gives you, you shove it in your apron pocket. “Is he in the city?”

“I live an hour away.”

Still too close for your liking. “Did you know him before?”

The man shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles with emotion.

Anybody who has the unfortunate luxury of crossing paths of John Walker tends to regret it sooner or later. What you didn’t realize was how much you would come to regret ever accepting the help of John and how much you would come to regret his courtship. The two of you met at a club- you had been trying to wrangle off the affections of an overly drunken man at the time, but he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. John, while looking like a knight in shining armor was just a monster in disguise.

He had taken you to turn you into one of the many women you would soon find out that would be sold on the black market. But he kept you for himself after spending one night with you. After realizing how isolated and alone you actually were. You were easy to break and mold into what he wanted you to be.

“I said no, you jerk!” you shout at the obnoxious man, trying to shove him away.

“Oh, come on sexy, let’s go back to my place- “suddenly he is shoved to the side with a firm punch to the face by a tall handsome blonde man.

“I believe she told you ‘no’. Beat it!” the savior growls at the drunk.

You can’t help gawking at the man in front of you, where had he come from? Hell, where had he been all your life? Subconsciously you press your thighs together all the while your tongue darts out to moisten your bottom lip.

“Thanks for that,” you say crossing your arms. “He wouldn’t leave me alone, clearly,” you huff a laugh.

“You’re welcome,” he smiles brightly at you. “I’m John, by the way. John Walker.”

John Walker. You regret ever meeting him. But you don’t know that yet.

You can’t help your own smile and telling him your name, blushing when he tells you how beautiful sounding it sounds. The two of you leave the club that night together to go to a smaller bar- one where you would later find out he initially tried to drug you at before changing his mind.

The next few weeks were spent connected at the hip and not even thinking twice about when he just knew something that you hadn’t thought you told him. He showered you in expensive shopping trips- ones you tried to tell him wasn’t reasonable as he hadn’t known you for more than a couple days when he suggested it. Everything from manicure and pedicure to hair care, and a new wardrobe with shoes to match- if you so much so as looked at something John made you get it.

You knew John had a great paying job for him to have such luxury things for himself and for him to spend so much on someone like you without batting an eye, he really must’ve been well off. What you hadn’t known was what it was John did for work after his nine to five job. All you knew is he worked for a high-tech company and got paid more than well.

John had been acting funny after some strange man came over and made a comment about you walking around the kitchen freely. You hadn’t said anything as you quietly proceeded to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before turning around and walking right back out.

“Mine to do with as I please, yes?” you heard Johns reply as soon as you were out of the kitchen.

Later, after that man John had been meeting with left, you would confront your boyfriend of six months. Slowly his true colors have been unfolding right in front of you, but his damage has taken its toll on you already. You’re in too deep now as he had already isolated you from the handful of friends you had before. With no parents or siblings to check in on you, you were just a chess piece waiting to be moved into play.

Around eleven that night is when John decided to come to bed, all the while you were rehearsing what you were going to say to him. Leading up to this point, he hadn’t put his hands on you… up to this point, that would change.

“John...?” you ask hesitantly, nervously as you wrangle your hands in your lap as you sit up in bed on your side.

“What?” he harshly answers throwing his dress shirt into the hamper before stripping out of his slacks.

Already the tears threaten to disrupt your vision so you are quick to blink them away and biting your bottom lip. “I- I think we should take a break,” you say in a rushed breath. Even you were surprised you had managed to say it without the sentence coming out terribly butchered and/or run together.

The bedroom is eerily silent. As you look up however, you are met with John’s stone-cold face standing right in front of you and in a split second, just before he begins beating every inch of your body, you see pure rage take over his face. You don’t remember much from that night, it’s a blur after the fourth hit to be honest.

The next day, you wake up to an abundance of flowers along with a new jewelry set and a love note telling you sorry he overreacted and that he’d be seeing you for lunch on the terrace to talk things over. You rolled over like the dog he trained you to be. You ate right out of the palm of his hand just like the good girl he taught you to be. Things changed though. The beatings became more severe, words more abrasive, different men coming to the house like the one who made you begin to question John in the first place… John kept you under lock and key- never allowing you out of sight when those men would come, however he could care less whenever they weren’t around.

That’s exactly how you ended up with all the dirt on John Walker. The biggest most feared ringleader of human trafficking. His specialty being women of course. Video after video and document after document you went through and made two sets of copies of, keeping the originals for yourself and stashing one set while you mailed the other to a PO Box wherever you move to. Biding your time until you could make your move, you ended up waiting until he had to take a business trip for his actual job- or so he said two months later after compiling your plan together.

The night before he left you were a wreck, your nerves going into overdrive and your whole body feeling as if it could explode with how much anxiety that seemed to be exuding from you. That is exactly why you chose to do what you did next…

“John?” you say quietly, coming to stand just behind your… soon to be ex. Your heart is pounding in your chest, hands shaking as you try to decide where to place them.

“What is it?” while John’s voice isn’t harsh, you still flinch out of knee-jerk reaction anymore.

‘This is a dumb idea!’ You think to yourself as you get flashes of previous night’s here you had rejected this man of any sexual advances, they turned into worse fights than the last. John had turned around when you kept silent and was surprised to say the least when he saw you standing in such proximity to him. Narrowing his eyes at you, he tilts his head to try to figure you out.

You lick your dry lips as you watch him before mustering up the courage to make a simple request. A simple, DUMB request! “Make love to me,” you whisper.

That is the last night you let his body bring you pleasure, and you can’t even justify why you gave in that night when you put up a good fight all the other ones. That was the last time you slept next to John Walker, but it wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him.

The USB drive contained a short video of John Walker explaining what he would do that man’s family if you didn’t meet him in the club the two of you had met in Arizona. You had played it on your boss’s computer with his headphones in right after the man left. Right after you watched the video, you snuck out the back after telling your boss you had a family emergency to tend to. He let you go with no questions asked and helped out the other waitress with tables until someone came in to cover the last hour.

Meanwhile Sam and Bucky had been subtly checking for you after seeing you talk to the man earlier. You had served a couple other tables but hadn’t gotten back to your two friends- which was fine, but after fifteen minutes of not seeing you anywhere… even Sam had thought it to be odd. So, when your manager is the one to come with the bill and not his roommate, Bucky is ready to tear the city apart to look for you.

“What happened to our waitress?” Bucky questions as your boss walks up.

“Some type of family emergency,” the older man grumbles. “She’s never had to leave before like this so I’m covering.”

Bucky tosses cash on the table quickly, more than enough to cover their meal and tip and then some before bolting as quickly as possible out of the diner. Sam looks just as shocked for a moment before nodding at the man and running out of the diner after his friend.

“Yo, wait up!” Sam shouts after Bucky but he doesn’t listen. “What’s up? She had a fami- “

Bucky growls and comes to a stop in his run. “You don’t get it, Sam! She doesn’t have family!”

Sam frown, “Then why would she tell her boss that?”

“Run and talk Sam!” The two of you take off into a sprint. “When- when she had come here, it was under false pretenses. I sensed she was running from something,” Bucky shakes his head as you two reach the apartment building and hightail it up the flight of stairs.

“Well did she tell you?” Sam pants, running out of breath. Don’t get him wrong, Sam is very fit and in shape, but he is nothing compared to the super soldier next to him.

“Boyfriend. He must’ve found her and spooked her, she’s running,” Bucky damn near tramples down his apartment door.

Sam leans against the kitchen counter panting while Bucky is hardly breaking a sweat.

“Doll face?” Bucky hollers loud enough for you to hear had you been in your bedroom. “You home?”

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

Bucky doesn’t bother knocking on your door, he opens it to find some items missing and a note on her bed neatly placed with Bucky’s name on it.

‘Hey, Buckaroo,

I’m sorry to leave like this. The crazy ex I told you about found me, and I don’t have time to pack. Please don’t be mad at me, I know you said you could help but there is so much you don’t know. If I get somewhere safe, I’ll send you a post card and note with next months rent and grocery money.

XO’

Across the city, you walk through the Avengers tower in hopes to see someone you recognize from Bucky’s photos. Luckily you don’t have to look long nor do you have to go too far into the building before you see the tall red head you’d been hoping for. She’s even walking your way.

“Excuse me!” you shout slightly just before she is going to walk by you with another Avenger you don’t think you’ve seen before. “Hi, s- sorry,” you continue as the red head turns to look at you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Uh- yes, hi,” you stammer, pulling out your baggy full of USB’s. “I- my- “

“Do you need a doctor?” she asks with a tilt of her head looking concerned as the man she had been walking with takes a step closer.

“Oh, hey you’re Bucky’s roommate,” he comments.

You nod. “Yes. I- I mean yes, I’m his roommate- was.” You shake your head with a deep sigh. “Your Natasha?”

“I am. Is Bucky okay?” Natasha asks suddenly concerned for her friend as you stand her so… weird.

“Yes, he is. Um. I- I know you don’t know me but, can you do me a favor?” finally the reason you’re here is thrown out as you shove the baggy of USBs into Natasha’s hands.

“What are these?” she frowns down at the baggy.

“Enough evidence to put away a lot of bad people for very mundane things in comparison to what you guys do,” you tell her honestly. “My time is running out and I need someone who can deal with this, who can upload everything and make sure it’s taken care of. You did it once before right?” you question, your eyes begging her. “Please?”

“We’ll look through it,” she tells you as you look at the time for the umpteenth time.

“If you see Bucky, tell him I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You should get started on those,” you nod to the drives before turning around and sprinting out the building down half a block and hailing a cab.

The drive to the airport is nerve wracking, you wish you could go back home and watch a movie with Bucky while playing the card game ‘war’. The flight itself goes smoothly, there isn’t any delays and since you only have your small carry-on bag you make quick work on making it out of the airport and into the heat of Arizona.

While you had just left the Avengers Tower, Natasha got to work on the USB drives as quickly as she could get to her office upstairs. It had been Clint that was walking with Natasha and he’s the one who got a hold of Bucky before the two Avengers opened the first USB drive.

“Hey, Clint, I’m sorry I don’t have time for a social call right- “Bucky had picked up the phone call on the third try to be cut off by Clint.

“Shut up and listen, Barnes. Your girl was here,” Clint rushes out before Bucky thinks about hanging up. “She dropped off USB drives to Nat, wanting her to go through and upload them. We’re going through them now- “

This time it is Natasha that cuts off Clint. “Buck, whoever this woman is, she is up shit creek. You need to get here as soon- “

Natasha breaks off as he comes bursting through the office door with Sam who looks like he’s ran a marathon and then some.

“She’s running from an ex-boyfriend,” Bucky has the decency to pant as he walks up. Both Natasha and Clint wear the same shocked expressions at seeing you so quickly, but they shake it off as they make room. “Tell me exactly what she said.”

The pair of current Avengers tell the two former Avengers everything you had said and done.

“Wait, wait, wait, go back,” Clint says to Nat. “Isn’t he the one we’ve been after? All the missing women- he’s the one behind it.”

“Holy shit,” Natasha whispers as she quickly pulls up the file for the job, they’ve been working on for six months. “It is! And… and…” Natasha looks up at Bucky.

“You can’t be serious right now,” Sam says, disbelief coating his voice.

“We have to find her before it’s too late,” Bucky says.

Entering the club, you shake off the cold chill that runs down your spine the moment you step through the threshold. When the door slams shut you are hit on the back of the head with something hard enough to knock you out. When you come back to your senses, you have a killer headache, and you are tied to a chair in the middle of the clubs basement.

“Have a nice nap baby?” John sneers, taking a swig from his bottle of scotch.

There are a couple of men in the basement with you seemingly standing guard while he continues to set up his table of torture devices. Your breaths are coming out in pants as you can’t help but panic slightly.

“No,” you reply.

“Good,” he smirks picking up the pack of cigarettes and lighting one up before taking a deep drag and slowly walking up to you. “Where are my drives at baby?”

Straight to the point then. You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about John. Maybe you need to lay off the alcohol,” you tell him earning you a hard smack across your cheek making you gasp.

“Make this easy for yourself,” John seems to beg you. “Be a good girl and tell me where they are!” he yells.

“You always were a bad drunk, John,” you say instead earning you punch in the gut this time.

You gasp for air. John walks back to his table of torture devices, carefully selecting a pair of brass knuckles and sliding them on with ease.

“Last chance baby,” John sighs heavily, eyes darting to one of the guards who come walking over. You can hear a chain getting tossed around and your heart races faster for what’s to come. “Tell me,” his face is so close to yours that you can feel his grown-out beard.

Spitting in his face, you see the pure hatred coating every inch of his once handsome face before it turns into an evil smile.

“That’s okay,” he bobs his head up and down while pulling out a handkerchief to clean off his face. “Jason, hook her up.”

Suddenly the man named Jason is roughly cutting the ties from the chair to quickly yank you up and has you in thick chain cuffs. Your arms are above your head, and you are stretched in a way that you have to balance on your tip toes if you don’t want to pull your arms out of their sockets. John Walker begins to really show you what he had done after his nine to five job. It’s not long until you can’t contain your agonized cries of pain and all the while your ex-boyfriend has a sadistic smile on his face.

“They were right,” he tells you after some time. “Should’ve just fuckin’ sold you like the whore you are. Would’ve made me money instead of wasting it. Fuckin’ bitch,” he laughs.

“Fuck you,” you spit a mouthful of blood at his feet.

The beating continues. Brass knuckles, kicks, and now burns.

“Okay!” you cry out in defeat. “I- I’ll tell- “

You’re cut off as the power to the whole building shuts off, leaving you in complete and utter darkness. Scuffling can be heard about just before a lot of what sounds like gunfire. There must’ve been a lot more men who had been with John than what you saw as there is a lot going on around you. It’s been a long night for you up until this point, so nothing is quite clear until some lights turn back on. Bodies litter the basement floor and John who hides behind you, cocks his gun and points it to your head.

“Doll?” you hear a familiar voice ring out.

Forcing your eyes open, you see Bucky in full tactical gear looking as if he could kill with his eyes if he was able. You can’t seem to keep your eyes open for too long, your body is too heavy for that at the moment and you mumble incoherently.

“I suggest you put the gun down,” you can hear Bucky say.

“Seems like she’s my only ticket out of here,” John replies roughly. “You’re going to let me- “

For some reason John is cut off mid reply and his body knocks into you, knocking you roughly forward which jolts you conscious once again.

“I thought we agreed on a signal, Nat?” Bucky says angrily as he carefully lifts you into his arms.

“His voice was fucking annoying, Buck,” Natasha defends herself. “If I had to listen to one more second of it, I was going to find a way to saw off my own ears.”

When Bucky unhooks you from the chains, he carefully sets the two of you to the floor to assess you over. “Come on doll, I need you to open your eyes for me,” Bucky says in what sounds like a far-away voice as he very carefully and lightly taps tap the only clear part of your face.

“Mm?” you mumble. “Bucky?” Your voice is strained, he can hear the way it sounds like you’re gargling with each breath you take.

“I’m going to get you out of here doll, don’t worry,” Bucky promises, quickly looking over you for external bleeding injuries and anything he might need to splint until they get you back to the Avengers Tower.

“Everyone is accounted for and in custody,” Sam speaks over the earpiece.

The team had a doctor with a whole medical supply come along, so when you guys emerged from the club basement to the makeshift ambulance truck, he got right to work. Bucky was hovering obnoxiously close; Sam had to pull him away from you when you began to code in front of him. Sam and yourself had gotten closer, sure, so it was no walk in the park for him either watching you like you were, but Sam wasn’t the one who was in love with you.

Luckily, by the time Natasha gets the truck to the Quinjet, the doctor has stabilized you for the time being. Unfortunately, by the time the Quinjet touched down at the Avengers Tower, you had coded for a second time and had been even harder to get back. While in the operating room, with Bucky not leaving the window to watch you the whole thirteen-hour surgery for the extensive internal bleeding repair among other things, you had coded two additional times an hour apart.

“She’s going to be okay,” Sam tells his friend confidently this time. All the other thousand times, even to his own ears it had sounded forced; sounded like a lie.

She’s been in recovery for two days now, still unconscious, but at least you’ve been stable since the doctors finished. Bucky is made to shower and eat; he won’t leave your side for nothing unless forced. When Bucky had asked the doctors when you would wake up, they had told him it’d be dependent on you and when your body was ready. Your body wasn’t ready for another four and a half days. During which time Bucky stayed by your side the whole time, either holding your hand or rubbing your arm gently.

The first thing you noticed when your eyes fluttered open was that your body felt like you had been run over repeatedly. Your throat felt like it was on fire and your whole mouth felt dryer than the Sahara Desert. The third thing you noticed was you couldn’t move your left hand as you find Bucky has it grasped in his own hand with his head laying on his crossed arms. Squeezing his hand startles him slightly as it was a foreign feeling that he hadn’t been expecting you to wake up, let alone wake up before he could before his small nap.

“Doll!” Bucky exclaims, a smile breaking over his face while tears spring to his eyes. “Let me call the doctor in,” he says, reaching over for the little button next to you.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” the doctor smiles at you. “Doctor Grady by the way. How are you feeling?” he begins to examine you.

“Like shit,” you manage to rasp out.

Bucky had jumped up to grab you a cup of ice water with a straw and brings it up to your mouth.

“I want to keep you here for another day or so for observation since your body has been through the wringer,” Dr. Grady tells you while Bucky pokes the straw gently in your mouth. “If you are good and out of the woods, we will transfer you out of the ICU and they’ll determine when you get to be set free.”

“Drink, doll,” Bucky demands gently.

“You got very lucky,” Dr. Grady begins.

Dr. Grady spends the next hour explaining everything they had to do to save your life, not leaving out any detail as Bucky keeps a hold of your hand. You try to listen carefully, you really do, but all you can pay attention to is how nice it is to have Bucky holding your hand. His lips even gently press against your knuckles, and you can’t even be sure if he is aware he’s making those actions or not. The doctor leaves after checking your vitals and making sure that you get some lunch ordered.

Exhaustion hits you as you shift uncomfortably in bed, trying to get in a new position. Bucky stretches, his bones and joints cracking as he does, and your eyes can’t help but stare at him. You missed him. It sounds silly, you know it.

“See something you like doll?” Bucky smirks at you.

Your face reddens, you know it does, but you don’t care anymore because you could’ve lost all chances at seeing his handsome face ever again. There is a knock on the door just before it opens showing Sam walking through with a look of surprise on his face.

“You’re awake!” he smiles. “Next time you decide to dip out on us, do me a favor and take Mr. Brooding here with you.”

Your laughter is short lived as you begin coughing, tears welling up in your eyes from the pain shooting through your body. Sam comes walking up to the side of the bed and carefully slides your legs over to sit on the edge.

“How you feel short stack?” Sam asks seriously.

“I’ve been better,” you tell him.

“Nat got every video and document uploaded.” Sam has been curious as to how you would react to this news.

“Sam!” Bucky hisses harshly, his eyes hardening.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you whisper sadly.

“No! You need to rest,” Bucky all but growls at you as his eyes glare holes into Sam’s face. “We don’t need to be talking about this right now,” he says definitively.

Reaching out your good hand, you are able to grab Bucky’s hand in your own and squeeze for comfort. Your touch grounds him, pulling him back down to you once more allowing him to breathe better. Yawning lets the two men know just how tired you are as your eyes begin to droop closed on their own accord.

Since you had such damaging injuries and especially having to be revived multiple times, you had to stay at the hospital for nine days just to be safe. Bucky never left your side. You had to tease him that he’d be the one getting a scrub down by a nurse if he didn’t go shower every couple days at least and you didn’t mind one bit. Right now, Bucky is driving the two of you home and you can’t help but feel a little nervous as just days ago you had fled from the very apartment leaving nothing but all your things and a note.

The two of you hadn’t spoken about anything related to your ex and whenever Natasha Romanoff or Clint Barton- who was the man you hadn’t known tried to ask you some questions or nonchalantly probe you for information while Bucky was in the room, he kicked them out automatically no matter what.

You needed to heal and relax and answering their questions right then wouldn’t allow you the healing and much needed rest your body still needed. So lost in thought, you hadn’t notice Bucky had pulled into his normal parking spot and had been watching you now for five minutes. Swallowing thickly, you turn your head to face him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours doll?” Bucky questions, his voice slightly raspy.

You shake your head slightly. “I just,” you feel the tears well up in your eyes. “I didn’t think I’d be coming back here.”

Bucky frowns at you. “You haven’t gotten rid of me that easily,” he lightly jokes, clearing his frown quickly.

“No, I meant… I didn’t think I’d be alive to come back,” you whisper looking away.

“Did you forget who you live with,” Bucky arches an eyebrow. “Even if you had simply skipped town on me,” there is an edge to his voice, something you can’t quite figure out as he continues, “I would’ve found you and convinced you to come back.”

Letting out a broken laugh, you shake your head while unbuckling your seatbelt. Bucky makes sure you’re settled inside the apartment on the couch with a bottle of water while he brings up your guys’ bags. You can’t help but feel at home once more in the comfort of the apartment- subtract the fact that it is in fact your home, you would have thought it wouldn’t feel the same.

“Still in dreamland, hm?” Bucky’s voice draws you out of your head, making you look at him with a startled expression. He can’t help but laugh at you. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I wish I knew what went on in that head of yours.”

You breathe a laugh with a shake of your head. “If I make your head want to explode now, imagine how much more it would feel like exploding if you got just an inch inside.”

Plopping down beside you, Bucky carefully shifts your body to lean against his gently. “I suppose you’re right doll,” he recedes. “Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be worth it though. Now how about a movie marathon with my best girl?”

Later in the evening, when the two of you had gone to your respective bedrooms, you lay awake glaring at the door waiting for something- someone rather, to barge in to kill you. You lay away until one in the morning until you groan and shuffle your way to Bucky’s bedroom. Timidly you knock on his bedroom door three times as you struggle to hold your body upright.

Bucky hadn’t fallen to sleep unbeknownst to you, in fact, he had stayed up just in case you needed him but were too afraid to do anything. He was ten seconds away from saying ‘fuck it’ and going to your bedroom to check on you when he heard your groan just before the shuffling of your feet towards his bedroom. You don’t even have to say anything for him to know what you want, instead, he ushers you inside his room and guides you onto his bed.

Something about being engulfed by this man’s scent comforts you, and the way his body tucks around your own as if the two of you were made for one another is out of this world. Bucky tucks you securely into his chest facing away from him, his arm draping over your torso to reach between the valley of your breasts and palm your face. There is nothing sexual in the way the two of you are laying you remind yourself as butterflies begin to form and you exhale contently, allowing your body to relax.

“Night, Bucky,” you whisper just before exhaustion overtakes you.

Bucky has to readjust himself a couple of times to keep from waking you up throughout the span of the half hour he remains conscious. He had decided while Sam and himself were on their way to get you, that he’d tell you how he felt, he wouldn’t hide anymore. You were too precious to him. It took too long for him to realize it but, he did.

“I love you, doll,” Bucky whispers thickly in your ear just as he allows sleep to overcome his body.

Waking up the following morning, you stretch as best you can which is a bit difficult as Bucky has not only his thick muscular arm wrapped around you still, but his leg is draped over you as well. Twisting in his hold causes him to shift slightly and grumble.

“You’re disturbing my peace,” he mumbles while scrunching up his nose.

You giggle. “I couldn’t help it, you’re basically on top of me.”

“Not my fault you kept freaking out in your sleep,” he peeks an eye open to gage your reaction.

Flashes of your nightmare rush through you making your breath catch in your throat. You can’t help but feel bad. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, diverting your eyes to his uncovered chest.

Had Bucky been shirtless all night long? You suddenly wonder what he tastes like and erase the thought to lick him like a lollipop. In a move so quick that you’re not sure how he does it, he has the two of you sitting up with you between his legs facing him.

“Woah, Buck,” you say grabbing ahold of his arm to steady your spinning head. “Warn a girl next time will ya?”

Laughing he nods in agreement. “Sorry doll. How about I go make us some breakfast and we sit down for a talk?”

“…A talk?” you question hesitantly. Is this when the floor is ripped out from underneath you?

Bucky’s eyes softens as he cups your cheek gently. “Nothing bad. Chocolate chip?”

“S-sure,” you stutter.

Bucky places a lingering forehead kiss on you, causing a ripple of butterflies to breakout in your stomach. Your face heats up as he pulls away and gently shifts you onto the bed once more before leaving the room. Letting out a breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding; you make your way to your bedroom for a shower, trying to clear your head of what Bucky had unintentionally done to you.

By the time you are dressed and your hair is towel dried, you can smell the food wafting from the kitchen making you stomach to grumble. Bucky hears the sound of your footsteps walking towards the kitchen just as he is plating up the food he made. Chocolate chip waffles, bacon, and eggs with coffee already brewed and a cup of orange juice already on the table. You definitely don’t deserve a guy like Bucky Barnes. But that doesn’t stop the thoughts of wanting him… of needing him. Of course, you’d never tell him as to not ruin your friendship and besides, you really don’t want to move again.

“Feel better doll?” Bucky shoots off as soon as you round the corner.

“Much…” you reply softly. “I’m sorry I woke you up last night.”

Bucky turns around holding the two plates of food, motioning you to sit down, not saying anything yet about last night. Poking at your food, you decide eating small would be best as you don’t know what your roommate wants to talk about. You do, however, drink your body weight in coffee by the time he’s done with his first cup. By the time your food is cold and you feel like vomiting what little you did eat along with the abundance of coffee you funneled, Bucky is taking the plates and quickly washing up all the while you’re positive he is getting off on the way your heartrate is doubling in pace and you can feel a panic attack setting in. Turning around, Bucky frowns at the state you’re in and is spreading your legs slightly to kneel between them… innocently unfortunately.

“Deep breaths for me doll,” he instructs in a soothing tone.

Oh. Oh! You had stopped breathing all together in your panic, not realizing that was contributing to why you began your downfall. You suck in a much-needed deep breath. Now you’re just embarrassed. Can’t even remember to oxygenate yourself without a reminder. No wonder Bucky is going to be dumping you out on the streets. He never said that! What else would he want to talk about?

“Concentrate…” Why is Bucky’s voice sound like it’s under water?

At this rate you just know he is looking up the nearest fire station to drop you off at. He lied when he said it wasn’t a bad talk he wanted to have, of course he did, he wouldn’t want me- Bucky isn’t him!

“Fuck it,” Bucky mutters under his breath before smashing his mouth against yours.

This is what he wanted to talk to you about after breakfast, he didn’t want to wait any longer, but this isn’t exactly what he had in mind when he thought that. It’s just… well, with you so far in your head and unable to listen to him… Bucky did the only other thing he could think of and kiss you. He moans as soon as he gets a taste of you. You’re his doll now. As you had been in a full-blown panic attack, it takes a few moments for your brain to process what is happening and during that time, Bucky pulls away only to reattach his lips. Finally! Your own small moan is let out and suddenly your hands are tangled in his hair tightly, his body being pulled forward closer to your own by you.

Once you had registered Bucky’s lips against your own, you said ‘fuck it’ as well. You’ve wanted this moment to happen for a while it finally is, not in the moment you would’ve liked however, it is happening. When Bucky’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip seeking entrance, you oblige. His tongue dominates yours quickly but you don’t mind, you would rather him be in charge especially of your body right now…

Suddenly you are lifted into the air and into Bucky’s arms where you are quick to wrap your legs around his mid-section. Next you are laid down on a pile of blankets, your head resting comfortably on what smells like Bucky’s pillow. Bucky is careful to not allow his raging hardon to not come between the two of you, he’s not sure how… reciprocated that would be even if he can smell your own arousal.

It seems like hours that you two are in a deep heavy make out session, before you have to pull away for proper air. Bucky’s lips don’t leave your skin though. They find themselves skimming across your jawbone, your ear, neck, peppering kisses all over your face. Bucky files away your small mewls and bodily reactions to certain spots everywhere his mouth wanders.

When you’re calmed down enough Bucky returns to your mouth with a much more tamed kiss. Slow and sensational, dragging it out just in case you reject him which even he thinks is a long shot at this rate. With one last kiss to your now red and swollen lips, Bucky presses his forehead against yours as a content smile plays on his own lips.

“So,” you pant softly, your face not only red from improper use of your lungs but, excitement as well. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

Bucky chuckles, his own face slightly heating up, his ears definitely getting painted a pretty shade of pink to show off his slight embarrassment. He hadn’t wanted to do this the way he felt he had to in the moment, it’s just he felt like he had no other option. He couldn’t stand seeing you in such turmoil because of something he had said even though he had told you it wasn’t anything bad. This wasn’t the first time seeing you like this, let alone hear it and not being able to do anything about it aside from trying to be someone you can talk to. This time was different. This time he wasn’t going to let you suffer alone while he watched and did nothing and while he would’ve liked to have at the very least had a first date before kissing you senseless, he can’t say he regrets it.

“Well,” Bucky begins almost shyly. “I wanted to- well I mean – you see,” he huffs, suddenly tongue tied. “Wouldyouliketogooutwithme?”

You smile brightly at Bucky, almost squealing in delight. “I’d love to go out with you, Buckaroo.”

Bucky groans at the nickname you’ve given him but it is quickly silenced with your lips pressing against his own. Yeah... you're definitely stuck with him now.

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader

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reverieblondie · 1 year ago

Text

Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, but there will be eventual smut, Pining, and teasing. For now- Fluff and Miguel struggles with grumpiness and realizing his touched started, but he's just over worked. Alternating POVs

Summary: People say many things about you're co-worker, and sure he's not the most social but you won't give up being friends with him! Little do you know Miguel is juggling so much in his life, and getting used to you is proving to be more difficult than he thought.

A/N: I am so excited to be finally be making this series! The Alternating pov's is different than what I normal do, but I think it works best for this story! This is heavily influenced by the song Be Sweet by Japanese Breakfast. Unsure how many chapters this will be, so look out for updates! if you would like to be tagged please comment to let me know!

Word count: 3,447

Part 2

“Y/n, I need you to organize the samples and make sure that all the documents are in order before the meeting.”

Giving a slight huff you stop your work, turning on your heels to face your coworker.

“Okay, but what's the magic word?” you playfully tease with the slightest hint of condensation.

Turning his head you see the unenthused glare in his eyes despite them being shaded behind the round tinted glass. You're still not fully convinced he needs those things inside, some kind of light sensitivity he's explained once but you suspect he might just like the cool guy aesthetic it gives him. Though you wouldn’t blame him if that was truly the case, it does look kinda cool.

Face scrunched in that way you have gotten used to seeing over these past few months since working here at Alchemax. Chiseled jaw clenched shut, his full lips pressed in that iconic frown, thick brown hair styled back to try and tame the unruly waves, and tall bulky figure that you used to be intimidated by, (okay, sometimes you still are) but you have slowly adjusted to your co-worker: Miguel O’Hara.

He stared at you for a beat before turning back to his work without another word, his oh-so-subtle way of telling you to shut it and do as you're told. “Alright alright, I’ll get it done. Don’t have to tell me twice.”

One thing you have learned about working with Miguel is he may not always speak with words so if you want to create an effective work area with him you have got to be good at reading his expressions. Working with a guy like Miguel had its challenges, for one his mood: he's not exactly the easiest to get along with, and people call him cold or cocky depending on the day.

Then there was how busy he kept himself, always working on something, typing on screens, working with experiments, or tapping away at that clunky watch of his. Even on the days he’s not around due to him ‘working from home’ you can tell just by his face that he hadn’t given himself time to rest. What on earth could keep a man so busy? Well…you had an idea or two…

Despite his grumpy demeanor you were determined to become friends with Miguel. It didn’t matter what others would tell you about him or how much he distanced himself, you saw the subtle glances, the repressing of smiles, the slight cracks in the shell, You two would become buddies you were sure of it. Maybe he just needed someone to show him the effort, to be sweet to him, then maybe he could lighten up and bring his walls down.

Pulling out all the stops nothing was going to stop your attempts, you were always nice (even on days where that was particularly hard) Helping with things he didn’t ask of you, organizing and cleaning up behind him. Coffee was always a winner, you knew exactly how he liked it too, you kept making different attempts then stopped on the one where he wasn’t making a face while he took his first sip. -Success!

Then there was the friendly encouragement, pats on the shoulder, and high fives. Sure he seemed hesitant to them at first but he slowly became used to them, baby steps.

Every passing day was closer and closer to your friendship blossoming!

Magic word…was she serious? Why should he say please? It's her job to listen to what he tells her and do what he says considering he’s worked here longer. Miguel keeps typing away at his computer, lamenting in his mind how his co-worker was quite the character.

Miguel couldn’t deny that having a co-worker who was tasked to help him in all his research did help him out more than he would ever admit. Having to juggle the secret identity of Spider-Man, being the leader of the spider society protecting the multiverse, and having to keep his role as head geneticist in Alchemax. Everything could get taxing very quickly on him. Layla was a great AI assistant but she was limited, so having an actual person tagging along to help him with work was bearable, though…you were a bit exuberant and that was taking some getting used to.

The jokes, the odd habits, your clumsiness, the smart remarks you mumbled under your breath, your overwhelming friendliness. All this he could begrudgingly handle, but the thing that was still overwhelming him was the touching! Sometimes it wasn’t even touching at all you would just be so close.

First noticing it when you would stand so close that he would accidentally bump into you, if he was looking at a sample you were leaning over him to watch. You had no spatial awareness, running into him, running into things! The first month of you working here you broke so many things by running into them he thought they would run out of beakers.

Then the friendly gestures started happening. Miguel was used to people keeping their distance, meeting his gruffness, but you…oh no…you must have seen it has some challenge! The encouraging words, patting of his shoulder, spontaneous high fives, squeezing past him in tight areas, adjusting his coat for him, dusting off crumbs from his chest! Your Friendly proximity made him tense, it was…new and different, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Though it could be worse, you could be a completely useless idiot. To Miguel’s surprise you did have a brain in that head of yours, so the trade-off for actual decent help was some playfulness from you he would just deal. It’s not like he wasn’t used to playful coworkers, the spider society made sure of that. Still, you were different…and that blossoming tingling your touch would leave on him…it was…annoying.

Miguel's eyes move over to you as he watches you begin the task of organizing the samples and getting everything prepared for the meeting. Begrudgingly he was tasked with having to explain the recent studies and developments the two of you had made. The meeting was honestly bullshit, he hated having to report to the chairman, but they liked to keep a thumb on Miguel, making sure he was still their best brain. In fact, you had offered to take over and run over the presentation for Miguel but they denied that, had to be him…bastards

For a moment you turn your head and look towards Miguel meeting his eyes, you shoot him a thumbs up and a smile, that friendliness still shining through. With an annoyed huff, he turns away getting back to his work. Still adjusting…

The two of you worked diligently for a couple of hours, in silence of course, there was no time to get distracted with chatting when so much needed to be done. Rubbing his hands over his face he could feel a wave of extortion taking over him. Sleep was something he wasn’t getting regularly, there was just never enough time in the day so sacrifices must be made.

Eyes growing heavy and vision slightly blurring he feels himself slipping, but he can’t, he won't. Then a shrill alarm begins to blare from Miguel's wrist snapping him back awake. Miguel is quick to place his hand over his watch and sneak out of the lab unnoticed, lucky for him you were too concentrated on your work to notice his absence. Checking the message on his watch, it is a local emergency, something he can handle in fifteen minutes tops. With a quick few cracks of his neck, he's leaving to save the city again.

Stretching feeling accomplished in yourself getting everything prepped single-handedly. Roaming your eyes around the lab you note the lack of bulk in the room. Huh, no Miguel? He must have done one of his disappearing acts again, probably just going to lunch without you. Invite yourself to lunch with him one time and now he doesn't even tell you when he's going. Matters on that guy, oh well, you might as well go get something before the meeting anyway. Coming to a stopping point you gather your things for a nice quick bite in the cafeteria.

“I can’t see how you can work with him.” Ah, so much for a nice quick bite…

Sitting there trying to enjoy your lunch it’s the usual suspects who come to sit next to you, talking more at you and around you rather than to you. You can’t help but think that this annoying tinge you feel is what Miguel felt when he was ambushed by you. Though you couldn’t have been as annoying as these people. Complainy and gossipy types are not the best combos with your meal.

Their subjects range from many topics like complaining about work, to failed experiments, personal problems, idol gossip, then it lands to the one directly aimed at you…Miguel. As soon as the question is asked you're looking up from your food to see all eyes on you. Chewing quickly and swallowing to ask your question.

“I’m sorry what?”

Sophia groans, “O’Hara, how can you work with him?”

“Uh, well he does his thing, I do mine?”

Julius chimes in “Isn’t he a total dick to you though?”

Cassidy is now giving her input to the topic, “Oh I can only imagine what you go through on the daily.”

“Well ac-” trying to interject, you can’t even get a word in till you're being cut off by one of them.

“Yeah! Like I bet he is always bossing you around.”

“And probably insulting you in some way,”

“One time he called my team brainless idiots because we messed up one small thing” -it was not a small thing, that took you and him an all-nighter to fix…

“That was-” you try again only to be cut off once more.

“Oh, and he is always being rude!”

“God, how can you work with that monster!”

With that last comment you had it, the noise wasn’t meant to be as forceful as it came out but they kept cutting you off and then bad-talking your research partner, you were fed up. Slamming your hands on the table with a hash slap, effectively silencing them, you rise from your seat grabbing your tray in the process.

“If you have issues with him you should speak to him like he’s a person. He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance... I've lost my appetite, excuse me…”

With that, your lunch break was over.

“Spider-Man!”

“You saved us!”

“He’s a hero!”

“But…he’s kinda a jerk…”

“Didn’t he punch an old lady before?”

“I thought she punched him?”

Uhhgg…would anyone ever get that story right? Miguel is prying the last bus hostage off him as they cling tightly to him. The vulture from his dimension was up to his usual antics but he made quick work of him and was now cleaning up the shocking mess. Having to save the people from the bus was no big deal, it was the pushy reporters, camera lights flickering in his face and the clingy person keeping themselves pressed to him that was the pain to deal with. Taking deep breaths he’s trying to keep his cool, but he can feel himself threatening to boil over.

How come he can’t just ever save people and leave? Why was there always this extra crap to deal with? Finally getting the person off and seeing that all of what he could do was done he's trying to get out of there, but people can be so pushy…

Questions, Comments, Flashing lights, Praise, Criticism…he couldn’t help but snap,

“Get out of my way! Leave me alone! And for shock's sake, try to learn to protect yourselves!”

The crowd was shocked by this sudden outburst, but this should have come as no surprise from the grouchy hero. Spider-Mans in other dimensions were always known for being friendly, witty, funny, and nice to all they saved, Miguel didn’t exactly follow this blueprint. Miguel didn’t exactly mean to sound rude, just being a hero gets exhausting and patience was something he needed to work on.

Miguel hears the gasp and murmurs amongst themselves about how he’s a dick, a jerk, arrogant, blah, blah…

Rolling his eyes, hidden underneath his mask he couldn't help but think of how irrational these people could be, say one thing the public wasn’t fond of and they are at your throat. It’s all of a sudden no longer how he just saved a busload of people, or saved the city by defeating a villain; No, now it’s about how rude he was.

“Jerk!”

“Boo!”

“I hate you Spider-man!” -great…this just makes everything so much better with this thankless job.

Swing off before the police come to further irritate him. As he swings back to Alchemax he’s wrapped up in his thoughts. This hero thing was not easy…everything he did wasn’t right, not what people wanted…he was always messing up in some way…nothing was ever good enough, he had to stretch himself thinner and thinner, keeping everything together. The pressure is immense…

Getting back to Alchemax, he changes and tries to resume back to his work, the fight had successfully woken him up but now he’s starving. Eating like sleep has also become a thing he has had to cut for the sake of time, but something quick should be fine before he gets back to work.

Stopping by the cafeteria Miguel immediately spots you sat by Sophia, Julius, and Cassidy, not good company for you to keep. Well honestly anyone, they might catch their stupid. Making sure to be as unnoticed as possible last thing he needs is you trying to wave him over to your table. Coffee with a bagel is all he needs to grab so he can make his escape back to the lab. Grabbing a coffee that thankfully wasn't made by you, his sensitive ears can’t help but catch what's being said at your table. No surprise it’s about him.

Listening in he is catching fragments of the conversation sipping his coffee trying his best to ignore the meaningless conversation, till a remark of him makes him pause at the threshold of the entryway.

“How can you work with that monster!”

Monster…huh…is that how people see him? Mutated, sure, grouchy, and tempestuous maybe, But a monster. A ping in his chest makes his hands tighten around the cup. Talons threatens to poke through but he resists. If they want to see him as a monster then so be it…he doesn't care…

Suddenly, a slam, followed by your familiar voice catches him by surprise,

“He’s not some monster. Sure, he is not exactly social, but if this is how people talk about him behind his back it makes sense why he keeps his distance”

“Not some monster…” Your words can’t be helped from echoing through his head. You sound so angry, you never sound angry. Looking over he sees your face furrowed in a glare. He didn’t think your face knew how to do that. Watching as you walk away in a haste away from the table he's leaving to his usual eating spot hidden away from others.

Taking his shades off in the empty break room he dims the lights down as he sinks into one of the chairs. Finally getting even a moment of a break, even taking time to peacefully relax he finds he is unable to. Even sitting leaning back he still feels teased, irritated, stressed. Trying to shut his mind for even a moment, a second of a break he finds it to be an impossible task. But as he sits, his usual stresses fade to be replaced by your words. Miguel could have cared less about what those idiots had to say about him. The surprising thing was that you were defending him…not that he needed it… but it was…kind of you…

Taking a bite out of the bland bagel he groans to himself, annoyed.

It's almost time for the meeting and you're pacing outside the doors with everything ready to go, except you haven’t seen Miguel anywhere. Running behind is a thing you are not used to from him, he’s usually so timely but you haven’t seen him at all since he left for what you thought was lunch. Did he get caught up doing something else?

Minutes tick by and you're growing more anxious by the second. Would he just not show up? It’s a possibility, but he would be putting both your asses on the line, though he didn’t have to worry much about that, they wouldn’t fire their best brain, but…you're a bit more expendable.

Before you can continue thinking about your ass being on the chopping block Miguel is rounding the corner adjusting his coat and walking in a casual strut. Looking at him as he approaches you notice his appearance looks a bit different. That shirt does seem a bit wrinkled and his tie is completely messed up from earlier. What has he been doing? Mid-day workout? Did he have an accident in the lab and have to go change? But the clothes are the same, just wrinkled.

Or was he doing something else… Thinking for a moment over what you could be doing that would cause messed up clothes an image of a sweaty grunting Miguel pops into your brain. Pushing down the thought with an internal slap to yourself you decide to greet him as friendly as possible.

“You're running behind Miguel” -okay you can’t help but tease him a bit. Friends rass each other all the time.

“Yeah, got…caught up in something…” he speaks hesitantly, suspicious…

Miguel gets ready to go inside but you quickly grab him by the shoulder to get his attention “Hold on there, you can’t go in there looking like that”

Turning to face you, he looks at you confused then looks down at himself, “What? I look fine.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and point to his chest where his tie is haphazardly knotted together in a rushed fashion.

“Your tie” Before he can protest your hands are already getting to work losing his tie gently, “Let me help you”

With the silk tie undone hanging down his chest, you're moving your hands to raise his collar. As you concentrate on the task your eyes are fixed on his neck you observe that as your fingers slightly brush over his warm skin his body teases slightly. Straightening his neck, you know he’s about to say something.

“Why are you nice to me? I know what others say about me, so how come? Are you trying to pity me?” His voice is stern and this isn’t what you were expecting out of him right now. Did he hear you earlier?

The slight laugh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. Moving your hands you cross the two ends to tie in a classic Windsor knot. “Leave it to you to think someone being nice to you is just a ruse to pity you. I just want to be nice to you.”

Remaining silent you continue to loop and twist the tie, your knuckles blushing over him, you swear you see his skin pickle up for a moment with a slight shiver. Finishing up, you tighten it to his neck and carefully fold his collar back down, keeping your eyes on your work at hand, you watch as his Adam's apple slightly bobs as you adjust it properly.

Sliding your hands to the silk tie you brush your fingers down the soft fabric straightening it while laying down flat against his chest. The feeling of his chest tightness under your fingertips and his breath seems to be slightly slow, you don’t know if he is hating this or being relaxed by it.

Meeting his eyes, they are unshaded for you to observe their burgundy hue. His face is still stern looking but you know this one has that slight softness in his eyes, meaning his listening, he is waiting for you to speak again.

“I want us to be friends, simple”

Miguel's lips slightly part as if he was about to speak, but before he could the conference room doors opened with them calling Miguel in. Turning to you there is a look on his face you're not completely used to, but that will have to wait for now. Giving a quick pat to his chest you smile up at him.

“You got this Miguel, good luck.”

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