#i didn't want to get my haircut today? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairyysoup · 4 months

Text

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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landograndprix · 1 month

Note

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

With lando?

idk why I'm so nervous to post my writing lol but bear with me, it's been years since I've actually, really written something, also, this is me whenever my guy gets a haircut || feel free to request something from this prompt list or something you want to see.♡

It wasn't a secret that the mop of curls on top of the Brit's head were one of your favorite things, lando found out the hard way when you claimed him to be a ‘different man’ and a ‘stranger’ the minute he walked back into the house and how you'd refused to talk to him for two days straight after the barber cut his curls a little too short.

And so he'd feared for his life and his relationship when he looked into the mirror earlier today– too short again but he thanked the barber nevertheless and with a heavy heart shuffled back to his car, aggressively ruffling his hair with both hands as he'd tried to fix his hair in the small rear view mirror.

Debating if he should send you a text to warn you in advance and risk coming home to every door being locked and with no way to enter his own house or not send a text at all and let you live through another ‘traumatic event’ as you had dramatically claimed it to be the first time.

you didn't say a word when he'd met you in the kitchen, not a comment made but the quick glance at the top of his head before going back to stirring the pasta sauce in the pot behind you was enough for lando to know you weren't pleased.

“I’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still.”

There it is.

Lando had felt your eyes burn into the side of his head all night– you finally cracked.

“It's too short.” the words fall from his lips in a whisper and from the corner of his eyes he can see the growing pout on your lips as every attempt at fixing his hair fails.

“Lando, you're basically bald.” you whine in defeat, making one last attempt to fix his curls.

“muppet, you're being a bit dramatic–” Lando chuckles but his sentence gets cut short by your scoff.

“No I'm not!” You cry out “I don't know who you are anymore!”

“Babe–”

“I might as well cut it myself!”

“Okay, let's not do that.” Lando snorts and reaches for your hands in his hair. You're getting too aggressive with sorting his hair out “I will actually end up bald.”

“yeah well, i'm not a barber, that's my excuse. What's his excuse? They should revoke his license.”

“I'll let him know it was too short next time.” Lando reassures and tries to calm you down by pressing a soft kiss on your temple but the huff that comes from deep within you tells him you're not done with this yet.

“No, I'll let him know because I'm coming with you next time and if he cuts it too short, I'll cut his balls off.”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando blurb

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sophsbookstore · 24 days

Text

Exchanged Glances

Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Read pt. 2 here

A/N: Not super edited, I wanted to get it posted before the Grand Prix!

Word count: 1,581

Normally when Charles goes back home to Monaco he has his mom cut his hair. Like clockwork he will arrive at his moms salon, say hello to the various hairdressers and then go to his moms station to get a fresh cut. Only, this time things were different.

A couple days before he was to arrive home Charles called his mom and asked what day she was free to cut his hair, with the upcoming Monaco Grand Prix it, and with it being his home race he was more available for a haircut than ever.

After their brief greetings to one another Charles’ mom told him that she would be out of town up until the day of the race. For the first time since joining formula one his mom wouldn't be able to cut his hair for him before the Monaco Grand prix.

“Don't worry Cha, I can refer you to another hairdresser at the salon.” She offered, trying to give him another solution.

“I don't know, you've always cut my hair, no one else.”

“Then this will be a perfect time for you to step out of your comfort zone. Don't worry I know the perfect person, she’s new, around your age and she's magic in the salon.” Trusting his mom this easies Charles' nerves slightly.

“Ok maman.” The driver sighs in defeat.

“Wonderful! When you go to the salon ask for Y/N.'' With that his mom bid him farewell, telling him when to be at the salon, not going into any more detail about this mysterious hairdresser.

Before he knew it the day had come, he was going to step out of his comfort zone and have a complete stranger touch his hair. He hoped his mom wasn't lying when she was hyping up Y/N and her skills, he didn't want to go to the paddock looking a mess.

Charles enters the salon, all the employees giving him waves and greeting him. He's known some of these people his whole life, whenever he stepped foot in the salon it was like he was being greeted by family.

“Hello Charles, what can I help you with today?” The lady at the front desk asked.

"Hello, yes, my mom told me to ask for Y/N?” The boy shrugged in confusion.

“Oh of course! I'll go get her.” The lady that once sat in front of him was now off searching for the mysterious magic woman that was going to cut his hair.

Charles felt like he was waiting for hours, the salon wasn't that big was it? Maybe it was all in his head. He stood to the side of the waiting area, too consumed with stress to sit down and relax. Before he knew it the front desk lady came back, the woman he assumed to be Y/N trailing behind her.

This is when he finally got to have a good look at her. She was beautiful, why didn't his mom tell him that they started hiring part time models at the salon. The two stood awkwardly, both taking in one another, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Hello Charles, I’m Y/N. just follow me back to my station and we’ll get started”

Charles was too dumbfounded to respond, instead the man stuttered silently before nodding and following Y/N to the back of her salon. During the short walk to her station, Charles thought of questions to ask the beautiful girl, desperately wanting to hear the sound of her voice again.

“Thanks for trusting me with your hair today, your mom told me that you don't really let anyone else cut your hair.” She giggled.

“Oh! Yeah, she's been cutting mine and my brothers hair since we were kids.”

“That's so sweet. I understand where you're coming from I don't let anyone cut my hair, only myself.'' This put Charles at ease. Knowing that she thinks the same way he does, even about something so simple as hair.

After some comfortable small talk Y/N led Charles further back into the salon, sitting the boy down in a chair before leaning him back and washing his hair. The driver seemed to melt in her touch as she ran her fingers through his hair.

When Y/N pulled her hands away to apply more product Charles felt incomplete, like he was missing a sense of stability and peace within himself. Just as soon as she removed her hands she placed them back, continuing to massage his scalp with the shampoo.

Y/N pats Charles’ shoulders signaling to him that the wash was done and that they had to make their way back to her station. Y/N led the way, Charles trailing behind the girl before taking his spot in front of her in the salon chair.

“Are you excited for the grand prix?” Y/N questions taking some of his hair between her fingers, beginning the cut

“Very. I have a good feeling and my son will be there, hopefully we secure P1 and P2.”

“You have a son? What's his name?” Y/N questions, his mom not mentioning anything about a grandson.

“Oh! My apologies he's not really my son. He's a driver on the grid that I've somewhat adopted for the race weekend so that he can claim the Monaco grand prix as his home race.” Charles looks at Y/N hoping she doesn't find what he said both weird and confusing.

“HA!” The hairdresser laughed out loud. “Well congrats to him, I hope he has a fun and successful home race as well. I'll be sure to congratulate your maman about her newly found grandson.”

Charles sat up a little higher in the chair, “Are you coming to the race?”

“I wish I could but I have to work, don't worry though, the salon will be playing the race so everyone can watch.” Y/N stopped cutting for a moment, looking at Charles through the mirror placed in front of them before giving him a warm smile.

Y/N picked up another section of his hair, continuing to snip away leaving Charles to examine the girl through the mirror. Y/N looked up from behind him, making a quick glance at him before the pair broke eye contact, looking separate ways.

Slowly their eyes started moving back to the mirror. The scissors snapping shut as the pair hold eye contact. Charles felt the tip of his ears getting hotter, the pair both noticing one another's subtle hints of red creeping onto their faces.

“Notice anything Mr. Leclerc?” Y/N questions, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

Charles opens his mouth to speak but words don't come out.

“Don't think I haven't noticed the subtle glances, there is either something on my face and you're trying to figure out how to tell me, or something going on in this head of yours.” She turns her attention back to his hair, the haircut almost over.

“I-” he clears his throat, “I was admiring you. You're very good at what you do.”

“I deeply appreciate Charles, truly.” Y/N made her final touches to the haircut. Unbuttoning the cloth that was draped over Charles, before dusting off his shoulders of any hair. “You're all finished, let me find a mirror so you can see the back.”

Y/N walked toward an unknown part of the salon, Charles' eyes following the girl through the mirror until she came back. This is it, if he doesn't say anything now he might never see her again.

The hairdresser came back, handing Charles a small hand held mirror for him to examine the back of his head. He admired her work, impressed with her skills. Placing the mirror down on a ledge near her station he got out of his chair and turned to her.

The two stared at one another, practically chest to chest. “Will you come to the grand prix?” He asked breathlessly.

“Nothing would delight me more but I have to work.” Y/N sighed looking away for a moment before her attention was pulled back to Charles.

“If you can't come to the race can you accompany me for dinner after?” Y/N looked at Charles, her cheeks getting ever so pinker.

“Mr. Leclerc are you asking me on a date?”

“That depends, would you like to go on a date with me?” Charles asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes Charles, I would love to.”

Charles smiled from ear to ear, desperately wanting to bounce off the walls with excitement, stopping himself before he could embarrass himself. “Then I will see you tomorrow.” He nodded in satisfaction.

“See you tomorrow Charles.” Charles walked away from the hairdresser, giving her a quick glance back before making his way back to the lady at the front desk.

“Hair looks great! What did you think of Y/N?” She asked, ringing him up so he could make his payment.

“She's fantastic, I think maman will have some competition.” The two laughed, Charles paid, giving her a quick goodbye.

As soon as he exited the salon he called his mom, updating her on his post race plans, greatly thanking her for offering Y/N to cut his hair.

#charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader

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kajibunny · 5 days

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⊹ . ݁ ⟡ the kaji fanclub (ren kaji x reader) ft. kusumi ₊✩‧₊˚

✿ summary: you and kaji’s vice captain created your own fanclub, a kaji fanclub. kaji finds out about it, so long story short, he gives you his honest feedback. ✿ contains: fluffy crack (is that a thing), suggestive themes (only on bonus part), kaji is your boyfriend, teasing and nonstop praise for kaji (i could talk about this man all day watch me) ✿ a/n: my first wb fic!! kusumi would absolutely be the best wingman for you and kaji! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) i really like kusumi and his character design! he is so underrated but he's one of the cutest! ✿ wc: 1.2k

ren kaji knew that you had been up to something lately.

you and his vice captain kusumi have been busy giggling nonstop and checking your phones like a bunch of middle school girls, with you gushing and gasping about "how cute!" and "that's so perfect!" while looking down at your screen, showing only kusumi what was on it, receiving a reaffirming nod from the vice captain.

at first, kaji was fine with it and did not care at all. he found it nice that you got along so well with kusumi, but after an hour of you two still going at it and not paying full attention to him when he tried to tell you something, he swore he was about to throw a fit if you didn't quit it.

what kaji didn't know was that you and kusumi are the co-presidents of the "kaji club" on social media, where you post pictures of daily kaji updates.

at first, it was just because you found everything about your boyfriend so insufferably cute - his bowl haircut, his blond hair that he dyed all by himself, his unreadable expression, his never ending supply of lollipops, his iconic high kick, his sharp little canines (that sometimes you received little love bites from), his unpenetrable eardrums that were exposed to such loud music everyday, and much, much more.

you wanted to give the whole world a glimpse of that cuteness - but that goes without saying that only you got the full package to yourself.

so you thought about how funny it would be if he had his own fanclub. well, why not? if people loved him enough to vote him as their grade captain, then for sure he'd have lots of fans, right? and eventually, your idea turned into a reality.

kusumi would send you the pictures he took that day, and you would manage the fanclub account. this time it was of kaji jumping into the water to save a cat while on patrol (as well as him patrolling topless afterwards - needless to say that particular picture was saved in your phone in a heartbeat, but you never uploaded it, it was for you and only you, his lover, to see and appreciate.)

eventually, the kaji fanclub blew up to be an overnight sensation, mostly members of bofurin and the townspeople of makochi are among his biggest fans, but of course, you will always be ren kaji's number one fan.

"what the hell are you two laughing about?" kaji huffed in annoyance, trying to get a peek at your phone screen.

you smile sweetly at him, letting out a "hm?", acting all innocent and telling him it was nothing and that he shouldn't worry about it.

kaji, still having his suspicions that you were up to your shenanigans again, grabbed your phone from your hands and took a look at what you were so fixated with - it was a picture of kaji drinking from his bottled water with the caption "here is our super cool grade captain reminding everyone to always stay hydrated!~" then next it was a close up of kaji holding his lollipop. "today's lollipop flavor is peach! fun fact: it is also ren kaji's favorite fruit." it says.

oh. so that's what it was.

it was so random, that kaji couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards, almost smiling. he found it so unexpected and ridiculous but managed to keep a straight face.

"delete it." he cleared his throat, trying to fight back his amusement at the two of you coming up with something like this for him.

"no! give it back, ren! it's for our kaji fanclub! it already has more than a hundred likes, see! umemiya even commented-" you started, whining and pouting at your boyfriend, who rolled his eyes at you.

he hands you back your phone and sighs. "i don't need a hundred likes." kaji says, firmly. "because i already have the one like i need right here."

you gasped when you realized that kaji was referring to none other than you, his "one like" that he needed. kaji, upon becoming aware of how lovestruck he probably sounded, turned his back away from you and put his headphones back on.

you fangirled so hard at that moment, all giddy and smiling at your boyfriend, teasing him about how you were of course his number one fan and that you wanted to have his autograph.

kusumi was sitting across the both of you, and snapped a picture when you were rubbing your cheek against kaji's, him side-eye glancing at your overjoyed, smiling face. kaji is still so fond of you, even if you did silly things like this.

kusumi, beaming from ear to ear, shows the both of you the picture he took, and typed a message on his phone. it read: "you two are so cute, my favorite couple! <3 get a guy that looks at you with so much love the way kaji does! >///< #couplegoals" he adds "i really ship you two!"

you and kaji read the message on kusumi's notes app. when he finished reading, he let out an exasperated sigh. kaji points at you and kusumi. "i have no idea what a "ship" is, but right now i just want to ship you two off to somewhere far away."

he was kidding, of course. you knew that he would let you do what you wanted anyway, as long as he could see your lovely smile and how happy he made you, kaji wouldn't ask for nothing more. because plot twist, ren kaji is also your number one fan.

ꕤ bonus ꕤ

once you got home, kaji made sure to let you know his exact thoughts regarding your fanclub.

"tch. you don't need to have my face on your phone, you know. you can have the real thing right here." he leans in closer to you, pulling his lollipop out of his mouth and replacing it with your lips.

the next morning, after waking up from a long and eventful night with kaji, you expressed your shock upon gazing at yourself in the mirror and finding out you've been marked up by little purple bruises and love bites that left some of kaji's teeth marks littering everywhere, but most prominently on your neck, thighs and chest area.

"ren kaji! what the hell is this!" you exclaimed, waking him up with a jolt, you pointing at all the parts he left his marks on.

he stared at it for a second, admiring his handiwork. "you said you wanted to have my autograph."

"i didn't mean it like this!" you sighed, wondering how in the world you would be able to go out looking like this, all bitten and marked up by kaji.

"i can always sign it again for you if it fades. i'm all yours, after all." he said it with such a straight but smug face and he was so unapologetic about it that you wanted to smack him. or have him devour you again. or both.

you can't be the only one showing him your appreciation, because kaji has his ways of showing his too.

#wind breaker #kaji x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji ren #wind breaker x reader #kaji #ren kaji #wind breaker (satoru nii)#nii satoru #windbreaker #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker fic #wind breaker x you #wind breaker scenarios #windbreaker crack #windbreaker imagines #ren kaji my babie <3

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arminsumi · 10 months

Text

it's the hair.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: lol this is just a dum fluff drabble i wrote instead of studying

SUMMARY — your childhood friend and classmate satoru positively kills you with his new haircut. but he misunderstands your reactions and behaviors, thinking he did something wrong.

WARNINGS — lowercase used, not proofread, misunderstandings between u n gojo, angst if you squint ??

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.3k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

you've been eyeing out gojo all day. he's not sure what to make of your expression — it's something mixed between comical worry and genuine distress.

"what? what is it?" he keeps asking you each time you give him the side eye look-over. "do i have something on my face?"

"no. it's nothing." you reply curtly.

he squints skeptically at you.

from class to class, he ponders alongside suguru. did he say something? were you mad at him? was it because he stole your soda from the vending machine yesterday? but he always does that, so why would you be mad now? maybe you were just not feeling well? did you not sleep well?

and suguru's ears flooded with all these theories.

"did i say something to y/n? she's acting strange today."

his best friend stifles a smirk. "dunno, did you?"

"i think she's mad at me. was it because i stole her soda? but y'know it's not my fault we like the same soda! and i promised to buy one for her next time!"

suguru now lowers his head into his arms, resting on the desk, trying so hard to keep his laughter in.

"maybe it's the weather — probably the flu — yeah, definitely the flu. i'll go get something for y/n at the store, d'you need anything, suguru? what! what are you laughing at!"

"nothing, nothing. i don't need anything from the store, thanks — unless maybe something spicy that catches your eye. 'better run quick, store's gonna close soon."

satoru furrows his brows in confusion, and eventually his entire expression becomes serious, like an old philosopher in deep thought about the universe. but it's not the abyssal void beyond the stratosphere that's in his thoughts, no, it's you — you're pervading his entire mind as he walks across the roads of tokyo, to the station, and boards the train.

holding onto the handles as it shudders and sways, shoulders taught as they always are when he's in thought. were you really sick? what if he did something bad? maybe it was nothing at all, and he was just overthinking it. maybe it didn't even involve him. did it have to do with suguru? or perhaps you were upset about something in the past, something irrational and long-forgotten, like the fact that he didn't attend your 7th birthday party. it's not like he had a choice, his parents barely allowed him to visit your side because they didn't want their prodigy son hanging out with...

he texts you.

satoru — are u home yet

he stares and waits for you to come online, then watches as those three dots move up and down and you start typing.

you — no why

satoru — where are u

you — bridge

satoru — what are u doing

you — lol so many questions

you — the sunset looks rlly good today i'm taking pics

satoru — wtf without me??

you — lol sorry didn't think u wanted to waste ur time watching the sunset

satoru — see u there

he's just boarding off the train, coming through its doors, when he texts you that. thank the benefit of his long legs for speeding to the store in time before it closes. he picks up your favorite.

when you see him come into view, you're waiting with your arms draped around the railing of the bridge.

"trying out for the track team?" you laugh, as he practically runs up to you. "did you run this whole way?"

he's catching his breath, clutching a plastic bag of goodies.

"are you sick?" he asks.

"what? no?"

"i thought you might have the flu." he's asking with genuine concern, it's bizarre. he usually doesn't talk like this unless he knows he's in trouble with you, or if something's really wrong.

"i'm fine." you blink, "i've just been watching the sunset. you missed the best part."

"i didn't know you enjoyed sunsets."

"why didn't you invite me!" he groans, coming over to assume an oddly attractive position by the railing. he slacks against the metal, leaning his weight on it. he lets the plastic bag with yours and suguru's favorites in it thud to the ground.

the cityscape is so pretty, and yet he's still prettier, you think.

"i don't care for them." he admits, "but of course i'll enjoy a sunset if you're watching it with me."

you look at him. he's not even facing the sunset. was something on his mind? you can hardly theorize, because you're giving him that peculiar look again.

he catches you looking at him, "what!"

"what?"

"did i do something wrong?" his breath is stable now, "are you mad at me?"

"no? why d'you think I'm mad at you?" you ask confusedly.

"because you keep lookin' at me like that!"

"like what?" you feel your cheeks warm up.

"like something about me is offensive to your eyes."

you break out laughing. "no! i'm not — it's not — you misunderstand me, like always..."

"what the hell?" he whines, "is it nothing serious? i've been worried. you've been looking at me weird since sunday and — oh... OH MY GOD."

you giggle, chin pressing on the railing. "did you just realize something?"

"is it the haircut!"

"it's the haircut."

"why do you not like it!" he fumes, that familiar satoru playfulness coming back now as he was put at ease knowing he didn't upset you. "you know it cost a lot, 'n i styled it and everything."

"i didn't say i didn't like it! it's the opposite."

"so you like it? then why do you look at me like you're having an internal crisis?"

you groan, "because you're giving me a crisis! you know i'm weak for undercuts!"

he shuts up. his heart races a bit. oh, so he misunderstood you not a little bit but entirely. oops. now why didn't he realize that his haircut would have this effect on you? when he subconsciously went to get an undercut because you mentioned you liked them in passing one school afternoon.

"oh."

"you're so dumb, satoru."

"well sorry!" he rolls his eyes.

now there's silence. he stops leaning his back against the railing and turns to face the final stages of the sunset. the streetlights come on, one is gleaming not too far from you two. it casts a dreamy light on his hair.

it really is a good cut, and it's styled in such a way that... well it gets your daydreams going, let's just say that. and here gojo was worried when he came out of the salon, thinking it was too short now. truthfully, it was a bit short compared to his other haircuts, but he wore it well. of course he did.

"so you like it?"

"i love it."

"well if you love it, then show it love." he teases.

"what on earth d'you mean?" you laugh shortly.

"fluff my hair." he says.

"no way, lice-boy."

"hey!" he pinches your cheek in retaliation, and your reaction endears him as much as it always has since you two were kids. "that was one time, i haven't ever had lice again."

he pouts. you look over. he is pouting. pouting. he's a nineteen year old boy pouting about not getting his hair fluffed by his childhood friend who he maybe sorta kinda has a crush on.

and then he encourages you. he leans his head on your shoulder. his hair tickles your cheek.

"damn. you're like an attention-starved cat." you joke.

he places your hand on his head himself. the brief warmth and glimpse at the size difference between his hand and your hand made him giddy.

you ruffle his hair lightly, and then he wears a satisfied smile. now early night has settled. it's quiet at the bridge except for the distant city sounds and lull of the highway.

"i was really worried that i did something wrong." he admits.

"i'm sorry."

he sighs, snuggling your shoulder. there's a nice silence between you and him.

then he breaks it.

"hey, i didn't say stop fluffing." his deep voice reverbs in your chest. he's playful and lively, but you can tell he's also tired from running all the way here.

"you're a menace." you tell him.

"but you like me, right?" it's more of an insecure question. he wants to hear you say it back, not as a playful joke.

"of course i do."

"good, good."

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ciwzing · 28 days

Text

༉ 𝗚𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗽 𝗕𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀

🎀 incld: satoru, sukuna, choso, & geto

🎀 gn! reader

🎀 ‟there's no better quality time than gossiping with your boyfriend ”

𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂

biggest gossiper

literally has a time of your guys day specifically for where you guys just sit on your guys bed cozy, wrapped in each other's arms to talk shit or spill some tea about other people.

has a code name on everyone he and you guys don't like

“ain't that dora over there”

“yeah that's them, that wack ass haircut really stands out from the crowd"

will always make an eye contact with you whenever you guys hear or see something ridiculous, trying to hide his snickers with a cough

“baby, did i see that correctly”

“definitely, saw that shit clear as day”

AND you know you're gonna hear about it once you guys are home.

if he ever enter your home with a loud thud and a call of your name always followed with a giddy giggle YK THAT HE BOUTTA SPIT SOME SHIT🤭

“Baby!! you never guessed what just happened!”

ALWAYS gives you the best reaction to your gossip, never failing to let out the most exaggerated gasp ever

prob has those senses if you have gossip to spill, if Spiderman has spider sense, he has a bitch’s sense and it never fails him.

𝗞𝗮𝗺𝗼 𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗼

didn't really grasp how gossiping works the first time tbh ╥﹏╥

“didn't we hate this person? why did you just talk to them then?”

baby it's called playing nice

type of bf that if you hate someone, he gotta be their hater too

GIVES THE MOST FUNNIEST YET CUTEST REACTION EVER

“Baby guess what, remember the girl that I told you about yesterday that's been soft launching her man?”

“Yeah?”

“Her man is actually her COUSIN!”

“∑(; °Д°)”

every time you keep dropping bomb after bomb his expression just became more concerning

“oh my god, baby are they okay? (;° ロ°)”

“its fine, we hate this person”

“oh, fuck them then”

“yeah fuck them!”

(｀∀´) (⋋‿⋌ )

learns some of the most juiciest gossips BUT ALWAYS FAILS TO ASK FOR DETAILS

“That one clingy couple in our class just broke up suddenly, and they look they hated each other's guts”

“WHAT, WHY?!”

“I don't know I never asked”

𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗥𝘆𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻

you don't how he does it, but whenever you have some anger or tea to spill, he's ready every fucking time.

“who we gonna hate today, pretty?”

LOVES gossiping, not because he cares about other people, but because he loves talking shit about them

has the most creative insults tbh

you sometimes have to pause to take in what he had just said

doesn't remember all the ppl you shit talk about, you have to remind him with the stupid names he calls them

“Remember the guy that I told you about last week?”

“Baby, you have to be more specific about that”

“Omfg, the one you compared with megamind!”

“oh that motherfucker, yeah i remember him, all that forehead and can't think for shit, that's crazy”

probably the type of person that purposely points at the person you just talked about to tease you.

𝗚𝗲𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂

a secret gossiper tbh

ALWAYS has something interesting going on with his gossips, you could never guess just what shit he's about to say next

drops the most gasping bombshell like it's your random Tuesday

“oh yeah, one of our professors just got fired since he allegedly had an affair with one of his students”

the type of person that's quiet but he knows all of the shits about so many people, like How'd you get this information sir? (°△°|||)

ppl trust him too much that they spill so many things in front of this man, but they don't know you're the first person he goes running back to talk about it.

“they said I can't tell this to anyone…but you know that girl-”

gives the biggest stank eye when the person y'all hate walks past him AND HE AIN'T TRYNNA HIDE IT

Can and will shit talk about the person right in front their fcking face.

"Heard you talking shit about me?"

"Want me to tell you again? you might missed some details"

likes and reblogs are appreciated<33

#reader insert #gn reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jjk satoru #jjk choso #jjk sukuna #satoru fluff #sukuna x reader #choso x reader #geto x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk drabbles

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octuscle · 3 months

Note

Dear Chronivac Support,

I am a nerd who doesn't get high grades, despite studying a lot my grades are not the best, and my roommate is a smart jock. He's muscular, handsome, well-groomed, and intelligent. I find this an affront to the balance of stereotypes. How can I adjust the Chronivac so that he slowly loses intelligence until he becomes a traditional dumb jock with grades much worse than mine?

We are in the Holy Week… And envy is a mortal sin. You're not seriously asking me to punish your roommate just because he's smarter, more handsome and more charismatic than you are? But we can do something about the fact that you look like a nerd but are more of an intellectual jock! We can equalize that!

When you wake up the next morning, it's somehow no longer your room. There are posters of ice hockey and football players on the walls. There are lots of dirty clothes, pizza boxes and beer cans on the floor. It smells a bit. But it could also be you. A deep breath from your armpit. Yep, you're not entirely innocent of the smell. You didn't shut down your computer last night. The porn site is still open. And you haven't wiped away the wank stains on the keyboard either. You're a bit disgusted with your own place right now. But only for a few moments. Hey, you're young, you're having fun, if the dirt bothers you, clean it up. And your cool flatmate doesn't mind. Even if he's a lot tidier himself.

No clean clothes in your wardrobe again. You could now ask your bruh if he has anything for you. But unfortunately, his clothes wouldn't fit you anyway. You are separated by a few kilograms of pure muscle mass. But if the lectures are boring again, you'll go to the gym and try to catch up with your muscles. And the next lectures will be boring. So you can actually go straight to university in the clothes you want to work out in afterwards.

As you stand in front of the mirror in your smelly, dirty tank top and old, washed-out sweatshorts, you think for a moment about how silly you look. The clothes are two sizes too big for you. And with your nerdy pot haircut, everything looks even worse. You grab one of your flatmate's caps. Much better! And off you go.

Shit, you chose business studies so you wouldn't have to do so much math. It's a hell of a lot of math. The exams are back today. C-. Shit, damn it! You've got so much… Well, to be honest, you haven't studied at all. Even though he's sitting three rows in front of you, you can see your roommate grinning. You can already imagine what kind of grade he got.

You took your bad mood out on the weights. Hehehe, three hours in lectures, four hours in the gym. Good ratio. If only your parents knew. They would certainly cut your monthly allowance. But who's going to tell them?

When you get home, your flatmate is snoring on the sofa. His exam is on the table. A-. Well, everyone has a bad day. His snoring is contagious. You just manage to make yourself a protein shake and down it. Then a proper protein fart. Yeah, that was a good one! And then you collapse onto the sofa.

You dream that you are a nerd. But not one of those who have a doctorate in physics after two semesters. One who is clumsy in sports and dumb in math. Someone with just two single hairs on their chest. One with a fluffy, fuzzy beard. And one with no muscles at all. Crazy dream! Although, the part about being dumb at math… That's true!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #tank top #nerd to jock #jock tf #ai image

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sundeathh · 4 months

Text

Trimmed

ONE-SHOT | MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!Reader • Words: 1,6 K

Summary: A haircut tale

Tags: slice-of-life, cute, fluffy, romantic stuff

CW: none worth mentioning. SFW

The apartment was cloaked in the cozy ambiance of evening, the soft glow of lamps casting warm pockets of light in the living room. As the door creaked open, announcing Aizawa's return, the air seemed to shift with expectancy.

It wasn't the kind of anticipation that made a person’s heart leap. Instead it felt more like the sort of expectation that came from people waiting for their loved ones to get home at regular basis for weeks on end, filled with both excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside.

Even after years of marriage, you still had butterflies for him whenever he entered the room you were in.

"I'm back," Aizawa's gravelly, deep voice resonated through the space, carrying the weight of a taxing day. He unburdened himself of his shoes and bag, the fatigue etched on his features. The journey down the building's hallway felt like a gradual shedding of the day's strain.

"Hey, Sho, welcome back!" You called from the kitchen, your voice a gentle melody amid the quiet that once reigned in the place. "Long day?" You asked, your eyes landing on his tense figure.

He nodded, pausing at the kitchen's doorway before offering a small smile. "Yeah, you could say that."

The smell of cooking food wafted towards him as his gaze swept over the room. The counter was covered in various ingredients, some in the middle of the cooking process and others just sitting there in piles, ready to be added to the mix when needed.

"Did everything go well today?" You asked, turning around from the stove to greet him properly with a kiss on the cheek. He returned it affectionately, leaning against your body for comfort and security, but only for the briefest moments before pulling back to take a look at you.

"Yep," he responded, the same way he always did every time. He was never one for long talks or unnecessary details about his day, preferring instead to focus his attention on how you were doing instead.

"How are you feeling today? Anything interesting happened while I was gone?" He questioned, reluctantly pulling away from your welcoming embrace to remove his binding cloth from around his neck.

"I'm feeling alright." You answered truthfully before proceeding with a small shrug. "And not really. The highest point of my day was going grocery shopping. It was a tiring work though, so I didn't do much after that."

"Ah, right," the hero nodded knowingly, his cloth now hanging around one of his arms. "Next time you go grocery shopping, remember that I have to be there too." Aizawa reached out his free arm and gently pulled you into another tight hug.

Your arms wrapped around his torso in return, your face pressed against his chest. "And put even more tasks on your overly busy day? No way." Your tone was playful, but there was an undertone of concern that Aizawa picked up on instantly.

"If anything, I should be the one getting all the chores done on this end, since you're not here as much as I am. I don't want you working yourself too hard," you protested.

His head rested on top of yours, his hair tickling your skin lightly. "Still, I'd rather it be me than you," he said firmly. "Besides, it makes me feel bad knowing I'm making it so hard on you due to my workload."

You sighed fondly. "You know I wouldn't mind helping out if I could." You stated, hoping to make it clear to him that you didn't mind. But there was nothing else you could say to change his mind, so you simply agreed with him with a small pout.

You carefully untangled yourself from his tight but gentle grip, searching for his eyes. "C'mon, sexy, go wash off the sweat and dirt that's clinging to your face. Dinner is gonna be ready soon," you told him with a soft voice.

He let out a tiny chuckle before walking towards the bathroom, a fond, small smile adorning his lips. You smiled at the warm feeling in your chest, and then went back to your cooking, the sound of running water following shortly thereafter.

As he retreated to the bathroom, a cascade of garments left in his wake, and the warmth of the shower soothed his sore muscles as he rinsed away the dust that had accumulated during his arduous workday.

Shower felt even better than normal after a tiring and long day, and his shoulders loosened as he stepped under the steaming showerhead.

He had his eyes closed and his mouth partially open as he used it to breathe while the water poured over his head, rinsing the shampoo away from his scalp. It was an intimate and vulnerable moment. It was also calming.

After cleaning himself up, he stepped out to dry his body and get dressed in his sleepwear – a pair of loose pants and a simple t-shirt.

Upon checking to make sure everything was alright with his appearance, Aizawa stared at his reflection in the slightly fogged-up mirror. His gaze lingered on the unruly curtain of long bangs that veiled his eyes, now being an unintended consequence of neglect amid the demands of his work.

The weariness etched in his features was momentarily eclipsed by a bemused frown. Aizawa ran his fingers through the disheveled and damp strands, a silent acknowledgment of the overdue task at hand.

He brushed his hair, aware of how his bangs were almost reaching his chin. Putting the hairbrush down, he tried his best to comb them again with his fingers, trying to make his hair less wild and disorderly.

After a few minutes of struggling, he sighed exasperatedly, giving up his attempts. What good would a couple of extra combing do him anyway? It was getting too long. It was bound to become an issue sooner or later.

In defeat, Aizawa emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders, his usually unkempt hair dripping slightly. He stood in the doorway again, gazing at you with a hint of weariness.

"Is dinner almost ready?" He inquired, his eyes flicking towards the culinary ballet that persisted while he was in the shower.

You glanced over your shoulder, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Almost. Just finishing up. Why? Hungry?"

He scratched the back of his head, a familiar gesture of contemplation. "Not just that," he admitted, his gaze turning to the bathroom's door for a moment. "I think it's time I did something about this." His hand gestured towards the curtain of his disheveled bangs.

Your eyes followed the unspoken cue, understanding what he meant. Setting down the spatula, you approached him, your fingers lightly grazing the strands that shielded his eyes.

"Want me to do something about it?" You asked, your tone teasing yet sincere. Aizawa's eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you, and he muttered. "If you don't mind."

You tiptoed, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek, and smiled. "Don't be shy," you murmured. With a gentle gesture, you guided him to a chair at the kitchen table, the aroma of the cooking dinner enveloping both of you.

As he sat down, you walked over to the bathroom, searching for a comb and for the box that held secure your sharp hair scissors.

"Ready for a change?" You teased, after coming back to the kitchen and getting closer to where he sat, standing in front of him. Your fingers ran softly through his damp hair.

Aizawa huffed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just don't cut it too short, please. I like it longer."

The corners of your mouth quirked slightly, and you nodded in response, combing his hair in a bun before tying a elastic around it, securing the bun as a temporary fix to prevent his locks from getting in the dangerous way of the scissors.

As you moved on to combing his fringe next, you noticed Aizawa closing his eyes, the tension in his frame gradually decreasing. The sight warmed your heart, and the peaceful atmosphere settled around you as you focused on combing his hair, gently moving the comb through his bangs, careful not to damage it.

You gently lifted his chin to get a better look, and after a minute or two of gentle combing, your hand finally stopped its motion to reach for the scissors you had placed on the table. "Don't move now, okay?" You whispered gently, the words accompanied by a gentle touch to his head.

"Mhm," Aizawa hummed softly in agreement. He kept his eyes closed and continued motionless, the tactile sensation of hair falling gently through your hand heightened the intimacy of the moment.

He finally allowed himself to relax under your touch. The occasional snip of the shears resonated like a quiet melody, punctuating the soothing ambiance.

"You're surprisingly good at this," Aizawa remarked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You chuckled. "I've had some practice. Plus, it's a small way to take care of you."

He hummed once again, his hands resting loosely on top of his lap, now completely relaxed.

You carefully trimmed away the last remaining locks of hair, brushing his hair until only half the mess remained.

After taking a small step back from your handy work, you admired it. "Done. I didn't cut it too much. It'll still keep its fluffy quality, don't worry."

Aizawa opened his eyes and gazed up to meet yours, and his eyes softened, his expression becoming more serene by the second.

Taking the scissors from your hand and placing them back on the table, he grabbed your other hand into his, pulling it towards his lips in a gentle hold. He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. "Thank you. That was very kind of you."

You shook your head, smiling in amusement. "No need to thank me, love. We both know I'd help you with whatever you needed even without you saying anything. You deserve to be taken care of every once in awhile." You squeezed his hand slightly as he leaned forward, pressing another chaste kiss onto your knuckles, his stubble tickling the soft skin of your fingers.

After pulling away from touching your hands, he stood up, a gentle smile on his face. "Let's finish up with dinner," he said, ready to assist you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

#my hero academia aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #bnha fanfiction #mha aizawa #mr aizawa #aizawa shōta #aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #aizawa fluff #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bhna x reader #bhna

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stars-and-the-min · 3 months

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (3) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n some band dynamics and a mini reunion in toyko

masterlist | last part | part 3 | next part

INSTAGRAM

emptybottlesbar

liked by cameliazzz and 99,284 others

emptybottlesbar Hey! Our awesome lead guitarist turned 23 today AND it's on the first night in Jakarta 🫨 Be sure to give our boy some love! P.S. we couldn't find old birthday photos without Lina (1: Kas' 23rd birthday, 2: Kas' 17th birthday, 3: Kas' 14th birthday) tagged: emptybottles_official, lukaszhang and selinabui

selinabui i'm sorry i was like his only friend growing up?

28kaslina24 kaslina 🩷❤️🩷❤️

emptybottles_official Beach City International Stadium

liked by lukaszhang and 299,726 others

emptybottles_official Snaps from Jakarta, you guys were an amazing crowd, we hope you had as much fun as we did 📸 📸 next stop: Tokyo, Japan

cameliazzz kas and aid both need haircuts why did i not notice this ↳ selinabui @ cameliazzz maybe bc ur behind them all the time

TWITTER

lila💚 @kasdanrights · 2h in honour of the next stop of the 'twelve more days' tour being tokyo, here's the best thing to come out of the 'overtime' tour (before it got cancelled):

↳ lila💚 @kasdanrights · 2h look at kas serving in that polka-dotted scarf

↳ lila💚 @kasdanrights · 2h the greatest discovery was that kas and aid shared rooms the whole tour

↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 2h did we ever find out about the sushi train thing? ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 2h lina and cami went to an all-you-can-eat sushi train and almost missed night 2 because they were throwing up backstage ↳ li(n)a @meliabelrose · 1h why is this giving "pam and i feed off each others energy..." "she said that?" energy 😭😭 ↳ abby <3 @devilvows · 1h can't believe this was 4 years ago???

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris and 109,182 others

oscarpiastri Still not over this weekend

selinabui see you soon stranger 💖 ↳ pastry81 HUH LINA WDYM SEE YOU SOON???

zhouguanyu24 the last picture 👀

landonorris great to be home, eh?

emptybottlos papaya stuff, papaya stuff, papaya- lina??? ↳ piastri_lina @emptybottlos gagged us all WHERE'S THAT COMMENT THAT SAID OSC DIDN'T CARE FOR HER

logansargeant "I did great at my home race" "the fans were amazing" "also I got to watch my girlfriend's sold-out tour's opening show" ↳ oliviafufu @ logansargeant OPENING SHOW??? HE WENT ON THURSDAY AS WELL?

selinabui Tokyo, Japan

liked by eb_jonno and 118,972 others

selinabui in the daytime (and early evening)

oscarpiastri Well, that's a completely flattering angle of me, thanks :D ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri omg i think so too 🥰

jemma.wren lina as linabell oh she's so cute <3333

2cami4lina serious question here, does he wear anything other than orange? ↳ cameliazzz @2cami4lina from when i've seen him? no

aidan_ebass Who won billiards? ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass ur kidding right? don't you know how amazing i am? (kas did) ↳ 28kaslina24 @ selinabui kas was there? oooh osc*lina never beating the pr relationship allegations 🤭

oscarpiastri just posted to their story

TWITTER

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 17h OSCAR PIASTRI WHAT THE HELL??? ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 17h i need to know what he said pls what did he say for her to react like that ↳ june @linafesting · 17h "mr piastri why are you wilding rn" HAD HER USING PROPER 'YOU'S??? ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 17h "Wdym 😇" he's sick for that now we all want to know what he meant

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2d if my math is right... we could get lina supporting oscar in suzuka ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2d last tokyo show: friday, april 5th suzuka gp: friday, april 5th to sunday, april 7th first sk show: friday, april 12th BONUS: osc's birthday is april 6th 🥸

conNUH @chickenbirch · 39m idk what world im living in anymore ↳ conNUH @chickenbirch · 38m lina pls... he's just another pasty white guy i--

↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 18m oh shit im realising my 'im totes interested' face is lacking ↳ president linami @ linaminami · 16m AHHH??? ↳ lila💚 @kasdanrights · 1h HELP i didn't realise she was totally blanking out as kas was yapping ↳ june @linafesting · 1h she truly looks like she'd rather be anywhere else ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 2h kaslina stans realising the new kaslina content is this 🤡 ↳ lila💚 @kasdanrights · 1h first pic is the exact same way i look at my brother (sheer 'stfu' energy)

BONUS : the unedited insta dm

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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marvelouslizzie · 1 year

Text

are you mine?

summary: You have been seeing Bucky Barnes for while. Actually seeing doesn't cover what you two are doing but you don't know what else to call it. You just didn't give the relationship a name, yet. One day, you get a voice message and a photo from your best friend which makes you think, Bucky Barnes, the man who you fell head over heels in love with is cheating on you. Jealousy takes over.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 5.1K

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, unlabeled relationship, misunderstandings, suspected of being cheated on (BUT THERE IS NO CHEATING), jealousy, feeling insecure, unintentionally hurting the person you love, mentions of roleplaying, adult language, pet names, dirty talk, light deep-throating, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do it in real life these two know each other), emotional assurance, no mention of y/n.

a/n: This was a random idea I had and with the help of @notafunkiller and @es1dit, it turned into reality. I thank them for helping me through my writing journey, beta-reading, and even for the photos and the gif! You two are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission. Every like, comment and reblog is highly appreciated.

“Hey, girl.” Your friend's voice sounds different than usual. You wonder what’s wrong because she usually doesn’t send voice messages. “I really don’t know how to say this. I wanted to call you and explain everything, answer all your questions, but I have a meeting in five minutes.” You look at the time and see the voice message was sent more than ten minutes ago. “I thought texting is worse so I decided to go with a voice message.” She stops for a second to take a deep breath. “I really hate to be the one to tell you this. I really do. I hate to break your heart but if I were in your place, I’d like you to tell me. It’s better to know instead of getting fooled, right?” She sounds like she is trying to convince herself, not you and you can’t help but wonder what she is talking about. “Okay, here we go: I saw Bucky with a woman. They were hugging so I couldn’t see his face clearly at first. I thought the guy was just looking a lot like Bucky, so it made me stop. I thought how many guys should have this haircut? It turns out it was really Bucky. He was hugging her so tight, it was just confusing. Then after they broke the hug, she put her hand on his chest and I went ‘wait a minute, who is this redhead?’ I got my phone and right before I took the photo, he laughed so loudly. I couldn’t believe it! Bucky Barnes, the guy who gives everyone a death stare, was laughing with his whole body. I managed to take a good picture, but I could not see the face of that woman. The only thing I can say for sure is that she's a redhead. Oh, and she has an amazing body. Even from behind…” She stops for a bit when she realizes she’s praising her while telling you Bucky is cheating on you. “Sorry. I just can’t believe what I've just witnessed. I thought you should know. I’m sending the photo so you can see it with your own eyes. I’m sorry for dropping a bomb like this and running into a meeting. I promise you I will call you after I’m done with work and we will talk, alright?”

From the moment you first listened to this message, you couldn't think of anything else. You keep looking at the photo, zooming in on the woman countless times in hopes of magically figuring out who she is and how she managed to make him laugh that hard. You don't remember him mentioning meeting any woman today. Especially one that seems so close to you.

You also listen to the voice message over and over again, but nothing makes sense.

Is he... is he really seeing her behind my back?

Your heart is beating so fast, you can’t focus on your thoughts or hear anything else. Breathing becomes so hard that you feel like you are drowning. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. You hope taking deep breaths might help, but not even that helps. It actually makes you feel even worse. You just drop your body onto the couch and suddenly you notice you aren’t afraid or anxious like you initially thought. You are just… hurt. So hurt that the pain you are feeling is actually physical. You never felt this way ever in your life.

If Bucky Barnes pointed his gun right at your face now it would hurt you less. If he shot you without blinking once, it would hurt you less because you would know for sure that he is brainwashed and turned into the Winter Soldier by someone again. And he wouldn’t be hurting you on purpose. This… Whatever this is… feels like he’s hurting you on purpose and it's unbearable.

Now, you aren’t so sure of who he is. This guy, who is hugging someone else like that and laughing, who lets another woman touch her so freely like this can not be your Bucky. Or maybe he was never yours to begin with, who knows?

You have no idea how much time passed between the moment you got this message and Bucky arrived at your place. While you are drowning in your thoughts and feelings, he lets himself in.

“Hey, doll.” He sounds really happy, which is rare and mostly when he’s around you. Now you know you aren’t the reason for his happiness and it stings. He must have had a good day with that redhead. Whoever she is.

You look at him without saying a word. That’s when you see that he’s holding a big bouquet of flowers. Your favorites. God! He is really cheating on me. He felt guilty and bought flowers on his way here, you think. While growing up, you remember hearing something over and over again: When a man feels guilty because they're cheating, they start to treat their partners better. Bucky always treated you well and bought you flowers but you aren’t in a place to think clearly anymore. You just assume he’s cheating, therefore he got you flowers to feel better about it. It’s clear as day.

“Are you okay?” He sounds concerned already because he knows how you would normally act. Whenever he arrived at your place, you ran to him and gave him a huge hug. Sometimes you literally jumped in his arms and he lifted you up with no effort. He would just hold the flowers until you got down. In the rest of cases, you would give him a kiss, thank him for the flowers, and put them in your favorite vase. But right now all you do is glare at him, taking a deep breath before standing up.

Your knees already want to just give in and let you fall, but no, you aren’t gonna go down that easily. You are going to face him first and let things play out. If you are gonna fall on your knees, it’s gonna happen when you are alone and defeated, and you can cry yourself to sleep.

“I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?” He just puts the flowers away.

“Are you cheating on me, James Barnes?” The question flies out from your lips easily. And you are surprised you managed to get it out without choking or crying.

Bucky’s expression is hard to read at first. You have no idea what it means. Then it slowly changes into something you are familiar with: concern. Anytime he is even a little bit concerned, the lines between his brows become so visible… But this time, they don’t stay that way for long. Instead, you see a little smile creeping up his lips, and a wave of anger washes over you. Before you're able to say anything, he speaks.

“Since when we are in a relationship, darling?”

Oh my fucking god! The audacity of this man!

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you: since when are we in a relationship? I thought in order to cheat on someone you have to be in a relationship first, and I don’t remember us discussing the nature of our… friendship.” The bastard sounds so smug until the last part. Then he seemed unsure for a second like he was trying to find the right word. Friendship… That wasn’t the right one for your relationship. You were friends, of course, but the word doesn’t cover it all. You were also exclusive. Or, at least, that is what you thought until now.

“I guess…” You sniff. “I had the wrong impression…” You stop again to collect yourself. “About our… friendship.”

That’s when he notices the tears in your eyes, threatening to fall down any second, but you are holding yourself back. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want him to see how much he broke you. Instead of approving what you just said, Bucky closes the distance between you two.

“Darling…” His tone has completely changed, that smugness vanishing completely. “Are you crying?” He tries to touch your face and probably wipe the tear away, but you don’t let him. With a quick step back, you put distance between you two while looking directly into his eyes.

“It’s none of your business.” The lines between his brows are back and they are deeper than ever. Confusion is written all over his face.

“Baby, I don’t understand what’s wrong. Please, talk to me.” He sounds completely broken now and you can’t believe how he could just change his emotions like that. Like there is a switch inside him and now he decided to act a bit more appropriately.

“I already told you, and your answer was clear enough.” The coldness of your voice creates a cold shower effect on him.

“Wait…” It finally sinks in. “Do you really think I am cheating on you?”

You give him a dry humorless laugh. “You've just asked me since when we're in a relationship twice and technically said it wasn’t cheating.”

“I thought you were roleplaying.” He desperately tries to get closer to you, but you raise your hand to stop him. “I had no idea you were serious.”

“Roleplaying?” You can’t believe this man. “Do you really think I would accuse you of cheating for the sake of roleplaying, James?”

“Please, stop calling me James.” He knows you only do it when you are angry. That’s why he doesn’t like it. “I don’t know. I thought…” He tries to collect his thoughts. “I thought it was a bit weird, but I was like if that’s what she wants to do, I can give it a try.” You can't believe this man. Is he really clueless or does he try to deceive you?

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Darling… I don’t know why you think that, but I would never ever cheat on you. I can never…” He chokes on the words and you finally notice he might not be lying to you. He might not be deceiving, but what about that photo? What about that redhead who made him laugh so fucking hard?

“You told me we aren’t in a relationship, Bucky.” He notices this time you didn’t call him James and that’s a good sign. Small but important. That encourages him.

“I was acting my part. I thought that’s what you wanted. Baby…” He tries to move closer once again and this time you let him. He carefully holds your hands while looking into your eyes. “From the moment you said yes to me, I considered us as a couple. I know we did not talk about it and I can see it was a huge, huge mistake, but please believe that you are the only one for me.”

“You did?” You can’t help but ask. You need to hear him say it again. You wanna believe him so much, but there are so many questions on your mind, waiting to be asked and answered.

“Of course I did. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you believe that I could cheat on you with another woman while my heart belongs to you. Not just my heart, I belong to you. Body and soul. I’m yours, darling. Please, believe me.” This… this sounds like your Bucky. The way he talks, the way he looks at you, the way he just looks so sad and broken.

“I want to believe you, Bucky. I really do. I just can’t delete that photo from my mind. I can't stop thinking about it. That woman was touching you and you were laughing! You laugh so rarely, especially around others, and I– I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

“What photo?” He doesn’t sound defensive or blindsided, only confused.

You quickly reach out for your phone and open the photo. As soon as you turn the screen towards him, his eyes focus on it for a second, and then he bursts into laughter.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Your voice comes out so defensive, but you don’t even realize.

“This is Natasha!” He looks at you. “Remember? I told you about her and how we have similar experiences.”

“That’s how you two actually bonded.” You repeat the words he once said to you. God! She is Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. The woman Bucky told you about so many times because he felt like he finally found a sister. The first person who made him feel like he isn’t alone in this world. He isn’t the only one who got tortured, turned into a killing machine, then managed to get out and start over. And you just got jealous of Natasha. God, you feel like an idiot.

“Yes, exactly!” He approves. “I told you like a week ago that Natasha will be in town and we will meet for a coffee. Remember?”

“Oh god…” You let out a loud groan, remembering exactly the moment he told you, but then so many things happened during the last week. You just… forgot and made an unnecessary scene. You accused him of cheating. If things were reversed, you'd be so hurt. So fucking hurt.

You feel your cheeks burning in shame.

“You even asked me if I wanted to meet her and I just said you go ahead and tell her about me first.” He approves with his eyes and small nods. “God, I am such an idiot!”

“No, you are not.” He quickly responds. “You haven’t met her yet and in the photo… her face isn’t visible.” Then he stops for a second as something comes to his mind. “Who sent you this photo?”

Oh, shit.

“What makes you think someone sent it to me?” You don’t want to snitch on your friend, she was just trying to have your back.

“Because if you were there, you wouldn’t just take a photo and leave. You would come and call me out. Someone sent you this photo.” He stops for a second again. “Alice sent this to you, didn’t she?”

You don’t say anything, but you look guilty without intending and it’s enough confirmation for him.

“Look, I am not mad at her. You can tell me that she sent you the photo.” Your eyes meet his while he keeps talking. “I’m glad your best friend has your back. I just wish you gave me the benefit of the doubt.”

Oh. He sounds hurt again, even more than before.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” You close the distance between you two completely. Your body is pressed against his and the warmth of him starts to calm you down. You just hope it will do the same to him. “She sent me a voice message and she sounded so… I don’t know… shaken. I couldn’t believe you could hug someone and laugh so hard with someone else. I couldn’t believe… that you would do this to me.”

“I understand that feeling, but I am just… hurt.”

“Can I make it better?” You ask immediately while reaching for his cheek. Your fingertips move towards his lips slowly. “Please, let me make it better.”

“What are you suggesting Ms. I doubt we have a relationship but I am gonna accuse you of cheating anyway?”

You laugh because of that long-ass but rightfully deserved nickname. You should've talked about your relationship with him before anything like this happened. You should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt because he never made you doubt him before. Yet the jealousy you felt was so powerful. Actually, you can still feel it. That strong sensation is inside you, running through your veins, only getting calmed down by the loving words spilled from his lips. For the first time in your life, you notice what a jealous person you are.

Instead of answering his question, you raise up on your toes and give him a kiss. Your intention is clear, but you don’t want to push him. If he needs a little time alone, he can end the kiss any second without feeling bad about it. That’s why you keep your kiss light and sweet, but in a couple of seconds, you realize that’s not what he wants.

He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer, then tilts his head just a little to deepen the kiss. That’s when you let a moan out for the first time. His tongue is moving so sweetly you get lost in the freaking kiss. While you are enjoying the taste of him, Bucky moves his metal hand toward your ass and grabs it a bit harshly, which instantly makes you gasp. Before you can do anything, he lifts you up with no effort. God, you love it when he does that. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist and enjoy feeling him this close to you. Despite still having your clothes on, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It just makes you feel safe. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep kissing him like your life depends on it. You are just glad he’s on the same page as you.

In a matter of seconds, you are on your bed waiting to find out what’s next. Usually, Bucky starts with getting you ready. That means either kisses, licks or sometimes when you are already very close to being ready, sucks. He gives you whatever you want, but this time it feels different. He moves away from you unexpectedly and takes off his shirt pretty quickly. Then he looks directly at you while his hands start to work on his belt.

“I've just realized…” He speaks while unbuckling. “I don’t think you deserve my attention yet.”

His words catch you off guard. He never said anything like this before. Deserving his attention? God… Those words make the blood rush in your veins.

“What can I do to deserve it again?”

“Well, I can think of a couple of things.” He unzips himself suggestively and oh dear god… He wants you to do something you suggested before! This man… He can’t be real.

You move closer to the edge of the bed and stand on your knees. Before he can take his pants off, you move your hand inside his boxers and gently grab him.

“Something like this?”

He lets out a low moan before answering. “Something like this.”

You push his pants and boxers down, his already hard cock bouncing a little. God… You really want to do this. You can feel your mouth watering just at the thought of it. You take him in your hand, running your fingers all over it, getting mentally ready. He is already making such delicious sounds while you are doing the most basic things. You try to imagine how he'll react when he is deep inside your mouth.

You are excited about all the possibilities, but you still take your sweet time. The first step is moving your hand away and replacing it with your lips. You don’t take him inside your mouth or give him a lick. No, you are going to start really slow. Instead, you give him kisses all over. You avoid his hard cock for a while and focus on what’s around. Then your lips move to the place where he’s aching the most. While he’s expecting more kisses, you give him a big lick, which makes him moan loudly. Even though you've just started, you already feel like a winner.

You keep teasing him with your tongue for a while until you feel ready. You look up at him before taking him inside your mouth and he gives you one of those killer smiles.

“If you wanna stop, tap on my thighs, alright?” His tone is completely different: so soft and caring, which makes you wanna try this with him even more.

“I will.”

You take a deep breath before taking him. This isn’t the first time he’s inside your mouth. This isn’t the first time you are giving him a blowjob, either, but you never took him so deep and let him fuck your mouth. Giving away all the control you have is a little scary but also exciting.

He lets you work at your own pace. You take him inside your mouth inch by inch, trying to relax and just not think much about it. Of course, that’s easier said than done, and triggering your gag reflex doesn’t take long. He takes a deep breath, trying to contain himself. His hands are already in your hair, just tangled between the strands without pulling.

“We don’t have to do this right now, you know…” He reminds you.

Hell no. You are the one who wanted to try this. You aren’t gonna give up that easily. You simply shake your head while your mouth is full and keep going. Taking another big breath through your nose and moving your head a bit more. A couple more inches of his hard cock disappear inside your mouth. That’s when you feel him touch the back of your throat.

Holy shit! Your mouth is full of him!

You look up, feeling proud of yourself. You can see it in his eyes that he’s so fucking lost in the pleasure already.

“Are you ready, doll?” The raspiness of his voice shoots strings of arousal down to your lower belly and you feel the wetness between your legs growing. You give him the confirmation with your eyes and he starts to move.

At first, it isn’t overwhelming as you imagined. It’s just a pressure you aren’t used to. You let him use your mouth however he wants, but notice that he’s still being careful. Yet the sounds he’s making just… drive you crazy. They turn you on even more and you can’t believe that’s actually possible. As he starts to move a little bit faster, getting lost because of the pleasure you feel the wetness growing even more.

“God…” He’s louder than before. “This feels– amazing. It’s… it must be– a sin to– feel this good.”

Oh, how much you wanna reply, but your mouth is too occupied for that. Instead, you whine and moan. The vibrations of the sounds amplify his pleasure for a second.

“Fuck!” He’s losing the little control he has for sure. “Your fucking mouth!” He thrusts a little harder than before and you start to feel the tears building up in the corners of your eyes. “Wet.” He trusts. “Hot.” Another thrust follows. “And mine.”

Just like that, you feel his come shooting down to your throat with a loud moan that fills you with the feeling of victory. He slowly takes himself out of your mouth and you notice how his cock is covered with thick spit. While you are trying to go back to normal, he is breathing loudly. So loud that it's all you can hear.

“That was…” He tries to speak, but his voice gives out in the middle of the sentence.

God damn, I made a super soldier lose his cool.

This isn’t the first time you did it, but it’s the first time it’s this visible.

“Good? Great? Amazing?” You play a bit arrogant thinking you deserve it.

“Earth-shattering.”

The voice in your mind instantly goes: Fuck yes!

“Does it mean I deserve your attention now?” You keep your tone as innocent as possible like you aren’t talking about sex at all.

“Definitely. Lay back.”

You love when he gets all demanding for the sake of your pleasure. You do as he says and watch him climb on top of the bed and take off your pants. He drops them without care and his middle finger finds its way between your folds over the underwear.

“Oh, poor thing.” The teasing is so fucking obvious in his voice. “You are drenched. Do you need a hand?” This time his palm slowly brushes down and god… you never needed to feel a hand so badly as you do right now. As you nod, he continues. “Let me show you how you are the only one for me then.”

He grips your underwear on both sides and suddenly takes it off. Your wetness is even more apparent now as he moves his middle finger between the folds again. It feels so damn good even without him touching your clit, but he does. He touches it so lightly, his fingertip only brushing, bringing all the wetness up so he can make you scream. You let out a deep moan, pushing yourself against his finger.

“So impatient, aren’t you?”

“I am.” you don't feel any shame. This is the man you love and you want all the pleasure he can give you.

“Since you are so honest… I won’t let you wait.” He pushes a finger inside you as he is talking and you gasp loudly in return. He moves it inside and out a couple of times before he adds the second one. “You are so fucking wet for me. You don’t even need stretching at all.”

You make an approving sound. You really would love to have his cock inside you right now but you know how talented he is with his hands. You can already feel the approaching orgasm and you desperately need it.

“I love it when you are so open like this.” He pushes his fingers a little bit harder than before. “Tell me…” He dramatically pauses for a second. “Do you want the third finger?”

“Yes!” Your answer is instant. “Please.”

“You wanna come already?” You nod eagerly. “Alright, darling.” He pushes the third finger inside, all three brushing that extra sensitive spot now, making you see stars. You don’t even notice how you lose control. He listens to your panting and moans and lets you beg for more knowing damn well all you need is him keeping up the same pace and he’s right. In a matter of seconds, you feel the pleasure explode inside you. It takes you in, makes you swim over the clouds, and then relief washes all over you.

Bucky gradually slows down while letting you ride your orgasm until the last second. You take a couple of deep breaths and then look at his pretty face as he glances back at you with the warmest smile. Then your eyes drop down and you see he’s hard again. It doesn’t surprise you anymore like it used to. It’s one of the biggest benefits of the super soldier serum: having the best recovery time ever. His hardness waters your mouth again, but you know that it’s time for something else. You gotta do something about that wetness between your legs. Your mouth can wait.

Finally, you rise to your knees again and move on top of him.

“My little doll wants more.” He places his hands around your body, moving them slowly as he talks. “What do you want darling? You wanna ride me?”

God, the way he speaks does things to you. Over the course of the flirting phase with him, you discovered that shameless part of yourself and you don’t care anymore. You don’t care if you are being too open. You don’t feel shy to accept that you want to ride him because you know he’s there to give it to you. Whatever you want.

“Yes.” You push his chest a little knowing them well you can’t do anything unless he lets you. And he always lets you. He falls on his back voluntarily. “Just enjoy the show.”

“Oh, I will.” He smirks and puts both of his hands behind his back, getting comfortable.

“No, no, no.” You reach for his hands and bring them to your breasts. “I want you to touch me.”

“Gladly.” He squeezes both of them before you move up a little. You open up a bit of space between you two, grabbing his cock and aligning it to your entrance, and with one swift movement he’s balls deep inside you.

“Fuck–ing hell.”

All you can do is moan as you feel so deliciously full and stretched even without moving at all. Your hands are on his chest, trying to support yourself while getting used to the feeling of him inside you.

“Move, darling.” He sounds so impatient, so wrecked, so needy.

After a couple of breaths, you start to move slowly with your hands still on his chest, helping yourself keep the slow pace you are building. It feels so good, so fucking good to be on top. Not only do you feel full of him, but you are also fully in control. He’s a big strong man, much more stronger than any other and yet he just lays down and lets you do whatever you want to him. You wanna ride him? You can. You wanna torture him? You can. The power you have over him makes you feel invincible.

His hands are all over you: massaging your nipples, caressing your tummy and grabbing your waist. When you start to move a little bit faster, his hands settle on your ass, trying to help you very subtly. It may be subtle for him but it makes a huge difference for you as he starts to hit the right spot inside you. You feel it and he definitely feels it because he makes sure to do it over and over again. Both of you are shaken because of the pleasure such a small change creates. Your moans get louder while he’s taking sharp breaths to hold himself back.

“I’m– I’m gonna–”

“I know, baby.” Your answer is quick because you can clearly see how the veins on his neck are extra visible and how his eyes are rolling back in pleasure. He doesn’t have to say it. You already know. “Me too.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs as you gear up. When the first wave of your orgasm hits, he stops holding back. Instead, he starts to thrust back while you're still moving.

“Fuc– Bucky!” The words slip out without intending. It feels so fucking good.

“Keep going! Keep going!” He instructs while thrusting inside you. In a matter of seconds, you are both moaning loudly.

“Oh, fuck!” He curses before he starts to spill inside you. He keeps going, just to prolong your orgasm, and what an orgasm it is! As you hold on to him, you feel breathless. He watches you as you get down from that high, tired but looking blissed out.

“You are so fucking pretty.” He closes the distance between you two and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss. “And you are mine. All mine.”

“And are you?” You ask while still breathing heavily. “Are you mine?”

“All yours, darling. As long as you want me.”

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