#bulk kids t shirts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creamflix · 2 months ago

Text

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 3/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [in this chapter: oral (f. & m. recieving), whole lot of teasing, dirty talk ohohoho, praise too, very crack/fluffy/soft, first time], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: we're on the last couple of chapters aaaa!!!!! this has been such a ball to write, thank you all to everyone who has been patient with me and my work <3 if you're wondering why my ao3 "has more chapters," that's because i split the story's chapters on the basis of setting, if that makes sense? but the content posted here & there stays the same! hope this makes sense, or you can just hop on my ao3 and read it there if you're confused.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you watched suguru disappear through airport security, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

he’ll be okay, right?

you kept telling yourself he would be, that he was suguru, and if anyone could handle this gracefully, it was him. his quiet resolve when accepting the wedding invite was proof enough… but there was still that little worry.

then, of course, there was your own life to consider.

you had a lot on your plate, and maybe that was why you didn’t have as much time to let your mind dwell on suguru’s situation. because just as suguru was closing one chapter, a whole new world of chaos was opening up for you.

the explosion of “mating with the dragon king” on social media had brought nothing short of madness for the team at gojo-sonic. toji’s voice acting was all over the place, going viral within days, with fans clamoring for more and turning audio snippets into memes, thirst tweets, fan edits — the whole nine yards.

toji had gone from your secret boyfriend/situationship/“is this a real thing?” guy to a sought-after voice icon practically overnight.

and that, in turn, meant everyone at gojo-sonic was running overtime. gojo and shoko were handling the bulk of the social media cross-posting, with gojo obsessively upgrading gear and insisting on “maximum quality,” dragging shoko into his whirlwind plans. there were sound tests, new mic placements, adjustments to soundproofing in the studio, and — thanks to a trend gojo had seen online — experiments with “immersive audio.”

then there was the fan engagement: gojo insisted on answering every single question in the comment section, which kept shoko up at night to keep up with the influx. she even started experimenting with a few out-of-the-box ideas herself, like limited-time merch drops (her idea, of course) that ranged from mugs and t-shirts to an official “mating with the dragon king” plush.

but your role was far from a background one.

no, you had a looming deadline for the sequel of “mating with the dragon king” — one that fans were now waiting on with an impatience that bordered on feverish. because once the sequel was out?

toji would inevitably be back in the booth, bringing it to life with that deep, rumbly voice that had captured everyone’s attention.

oh, god, you thought, a sudden wave of panic hitting you. you had imagined the sequel, sure.

but had you imagined it being this big? and this soon?

you could already picture toji smirking as he teased you with lines from the new book. the idea of him bringing your words to life again was thrilling — and terrifying, all at once.

what if i can’t finish it in time? what if it’s not good enough? what if fans hate the new direction?

and still, you had to admit… something about the insanity of it all was exhilarating.

it was one of those late, cozy nights where the three of you — megumi, toji, and you — were all huddled in your apartment, which was sparklingly tidy since toji’s last visit, thank you very much. no empty cans of mountain dew rolling under the table, no fast food bags piling up in the corner. you even caught him glancing around with this pout, practically bemoaning the absence of lingerie on your lampshade.

“dramatic ass,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he stretched out on the couch, shaking his head as if you’d betrayed him by cleaning up.

“you know, i miss the… ambiance of the place,” toji teased, one eyebrow cocked as he stretched his arms over the back of your couch. “nothing quite says ‘writer’s den’ like takeout and underwear draped everywhere.”

you snorted, turning back to your laptop. “sorry i deprived you of such art. maybe i should throw my socks around the place just for you.”

“wouldn’t be the same,” he sighed, leaning back and watching you type away.

and then — surprisingly — toji started… actually giving you advice. as you typed out the next few scenes of your book, he leaned in, reading over your shoulder with a squint that softened into genuine interest.

“you know,” he started, “if you’re gonna have the dragon king confront the knight here, shouldn’t he be a little more… i dunno, cocky?”

you paused mid-keystroke, surprised.

“cocky? you think he’s not cocky enough?”

“yeah, i mean, he’s the dragon king,” he said with a little shrug. “doesn’t need to hold back. if he’s as powerful as you say, he’d probably be flaunting it more. show the knight he’s completely in control, get into his head a little.”

you considered it, nodding slowly. “huh. i hadn’t thought of that. but that’s actually… kinda perfect.”

he grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “see? this is why you need me around.”

“oh please,” you scoffed. “you think you’re an expert now because you read, like, half a chapter?”

toji chuckled, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “just callin’ it how i see it, sweetheart. think i might know a thing or two about intimidation.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “okay, sure, ‘intimidation expert.’ so… what do you think should happen next?”

“well,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “what if instead of outright threatening the knight, the dragon king pretends to befriend him? y’know, make him lower his guard. he could talk about how ‘understanding’ he is, maybe even share a drink or something, but all while he’s setting up the knight to fail.”

“you’re onto something,” you said, eyebrows raised as you typed up a few notes. “i could use that to build tension between them.”

“exactly. you get it,” toji said, leaning back with a smug smile.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. “who would’ve thought you would be helping me with plot development?”

“hey, i’m full of surprises,” he winked, giving you a little nudge. “besides, i like helping my girl out.”

your cheeks warmed, but just as you were about to respond, a small voice piped up from behind you.

“why can’t the dragon king be friends with the knight?”

both of you looked up to see megumi standing there, his arms crossed as he squinted at your laptop screen.

“what’s that, kid?” toji asked, leaning over to ruffle megumi’s hair, but the boy dodged it with a huff.

“i think they should be friends,” megumi repeated, tilting his head as he studied your document. “it’d be cooler if they were best friends, even though they’re supposed to be enemies.”

you looked at toji, who blinked, then shrugged as if to say, well, he’s got a point.

“friends, huh?” you mused, considering it. “but they’re, like… sworn enemies, ‘gumi. they’re on different sides.”

“so? friends can be on different sides,” he replied, completely serious. “maybe the dragon king can teach the knight things about dragons and fire, and the knight can show him sword stuff.”

toji chuckled, folding his arms. “sounds like he’s thought this through more than we have.”

you leaned back in your chair, nodding thoughtfully. “you might be onto something, megs. maybe they could start off as enemies, but end up working together at some point.”

megumi’s face lit up, clearly thrilled that you were taking his suggestion seriously.

“yeah! like, maybe the knight is only fighting the dragon king because he doesn’t understand him. and then they talk, and he realizes the dragon king isn’t so bad.”

toji let out a low laugh, raising a brow at you. “well, looks like we have ourselves a new co-writer. you hiring, sweetheart?”

you laughed, ruffling megumi’s hair. “you know what, maybe i am. you wanna help me write this book, megumi?”

megumi grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “yeah! i’ll make them the bestest friends ever.”

toji smirked, pulling megumi onto his lap as he sat back, arms around him. “guess we’ll have to make this a regular thing, then. family book nights, huh?”

your heart melted a little at the sight of them together, and you couldn’t help but smile. “sounds like a plan.”

the word family rang in your ears, echoing over and over, refusing to quiet down.

family book nights.

it sounded so casual, so… certain. as if the three of you already were a family. like the idea of you, toji, and megumi spending evenings together was just normal. something he assumed you’d keep doing.

a gentle warmth crept over you, but it mixed with a twinge of confusion, and maybe a bit of worry, too. megumi clearly saw you as someone close — close enough to leave his prized legos on your shelves alongside your makeup, which you had given a special spot as if they belonged there. and you’d gotten used to him padding around your apartment, lounging on your couch like it was his second home.

but what about you and toji?

what did it mean, the two of you making quiet breakfasts with megumi’s chatter filling the space, or all those little private moments, where he’d pull you close and kiss you in a way that made your heart race? it was something that felt like commitment, like you were both slipping into each other’s lives piece by piece.

yet… you’d never actually talked about it.

about what any of this was, what the kisses or the way he always wanted to be around you really meant.

it wasn’t like you were just casual, either. toji had been there for you through your chaotic schedule, your looming deadlines, even giving surprisingly thoughtful advice on your writing.

and you’d been there for him, too, sharing these quiet, vulnerable moments that went beyond a simple fling. but despite all of that, there’d been no explicit commitment. no labels, no official this is what we are conversation.

and maybe you hadn’t minded, up until now.

but toji’s offhanded mention of “family” — it had shifted something. your heart was suddenly tied up in knots, and you found yourself wondering if you were just reading too much into it, or if maybe, just maybe, he thought of you in the same way you were beginning to think of him.

lost in thought, you barely noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched him with megumi. your mind buzzed with a hundred questions, each one sparking new uncertainties and hopes.

is this what we are? a family?

is that what he wants, too?

“hey, you okay over there?” toji’s voice broke through, his eyes glinting with amusement as he noticed your far-off expression.

you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, cheeks warming under his gaze. “yeah, i’m… just thinking.”

“about what?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he gave you that familiar smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

you opened your mouth to answer, but found yourself hesitating.

what would he say if you just blurted out everything you were feeling?

if you just asked him what this really was?

instead, you gave him a little shrug. “oh, just… book ideas. plot twists.”

with megumi finally dozing off in the middle of your bed, the soft sound of his steady breathing filling the room, you and toji tiptoed out to the living room.

time to tackle the smut section, you thought, dreading it a little. this part always managed to be equal parts thrilling and exasperating to write. and tonight?

you were completely, hopelessly blocked.

every draft seemed stale, as if you'd used the same recycled phrases one too many times.

toji noticed immediately. he always did.

leaning back on the couch, he smirked as you groaned in frustration at yet another blank page.

“y'know,” he said, voice a little too casual, “if you’re really struggling here, i could offer some… hands-on help.”

you shot him a warning look, rolling your eyes as he just grinned back. “oh, real helpful, mr. cliterature.”

toji snickered, unaffected by the jab to his ego. “i’m just sayin’. i happen to be good at this stuff,” he drawled, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch, looking entirely too smug.

“and i’ve got a lot of ideas. call it… creative inspiration.”

you gave a small laugh, even though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. was he serious?

toji caught the look on your face, his grin turning almost… inviting. “look, maybe it’s not writer’s block you’re dealing with,” he teased, leaning in just a bit closer.

“maybe you’re just… unmotivated.” his voice was low, coaxing, and damn if it didn’t make your heart beat a little faster.

“so… should i help you get in the right headspace?”

for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had a point.

the minute toji offered his “help,” he felt a little like a perv. a line had definitely been crossed, but what was he supposed to do? you were asking for inspiration, and he just happened to have a few… ideas of his own.

sure, he knew you were kind of jittery when it came to the physical stuff, but god, if he didn’t want to see you beneath him, to hear you whimper and moan. he was getting ahead of himself, though; this was supposed to be about writing, right?

“you sure you can handle it?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes.

you shot him a nervous look, your fingers hovering above the keyboard. “well, it’s either this or staring at a blank page forever,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

cute, he thought.

“exactly. so let’s start simple.” he leaned in, capturing your neck between his lips, pressing soft kisses that sent a jolt down your spine. this was nice, you thought, trying to focus on the sensation instead of the racing thoughts in your head.

“m-maybe i should… um… write this down?” you managed, hands shaking slightly as you fumbled to adjust the laptop on your knees.

“no need to rush,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. “just feel it.” he nibbled softly at the curve of your neck, and you nearly dropped the laptop.

“toji!” you gasped, trying to keep your composure while your heart raced in your chest. “this is… um, kinda distracting.”

“good. that’s the point,” he replied, his lips continuing their exploration. “i’m just setting the mood, babe. think about how this feels.”

you let out a shaky breath, the heat pooling in your stomach as you tried to jot down your thoughts, but all that came out were half-formed sentences that didn’t make sense.

“this is supposed to be… research!” you squeaked, but the way he was sucking and nibbling at your neck made it hard to think straight.

“isn’t research supposed to be hands-on?” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with mischief.

this was definitely a line crossed, you realized, but god, did it feel good.

“y-you’re a terrible influence,” you breathed, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but the playful smirk on his face told you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“and you love it,” he shot back, diving back in to plant more kisses along your neck, and all you could do was gasp and try to write through the haze of pleasure.

you were trying desperately to type something coherent, but your fingers were like they had suddenly developed a mind of their own, hitting keys at random and producing a glorious mess of gibberish.

great job, you genius, you thought sarcastically. get all hot and bothered over a few neck kisses — what’s next?

your concentration shattered as you felt toji’s hands slide beneath the hem of your loose shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

oh, lovely. just what you needed.

now, instead of articulating the tension between characters, you were supposed to describe both sensations — his mouth on your neck and his hands groping your tits.

“you’re making this a little hard, you know?” you managed to squeak out, trying to keep your voice steady while your heart raced.

your fingers fumbled over the keyboard, and all you could think was how you were definitely going to get a solid “F” for focus on this assignment.

“oh, really? hard, huh?” toji’s voice was laced with playful arrogance as he continued his exploration, thumbs pressing into your chest, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

so much for being a good influence, you thought dryly, almost wishing for a second that you had stuck to research papers instead.

“look at that, you’re not even writing,” he teased, pressing his palm against your chest, a bold move that made you gasp. “where’s that award-winning author i’ve heard so much about?”

you glared at him, half amused and half exasperated. “she’s currently being distracted in the middle of a very important research session.”

he laughed, the sound rich and infectious. “who needs research when you can have a firsthand experience?”

“this is supposed to be about character development!” you protested weakly, trying to make sense of the disjointed words on your screen. “how am i supposed to write about a dragon king and a princess when you’re busy turning me into a blushing mess?”

“focus on the feelings,” he replied, his hands moving with a confidence that made it hard to concentrate. “feelings are important, right?”

well, you thought, he wasn’t wrong.

your cheeks flushed hotter as he squeezed gently, the sensation conflicting with your need to maintain some semblance of writerly dignity.

“i guess i’m just…trying to find the right words,” you mumbled, practically squirming as he continued to toy with you.

“good luck with that, babe,” he said, an infuriatingly charming grin spreading across his face. “but i can assure you, all that gibberish on the screen isn’t gonna help. sometimes you just need to let go.”

let go? the idea sounded almost freeing, but the practical side of your brain was still wrestling with the fact that you had a deadline looming.

“what if i don’t get my manuscript finished?”

toji leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “then i guess we’ll just have to come up with some creative solutions, won’t we?”

you groaned internally, realizing you were in way over your head, but the way he looked at you made it hard to care about anything else.

“this is not how i envisioned my writing process,” you sighed, but even as you said it, the thrill of his touch made your resolve waver.

what a disaster, you thought, but at the same time, a part of you was absolutely here for it.

the heat radiating from your laptop on your thighs mixed with the warmth pooling in your core made you feel dizzy, and suddenly, the manuscript didn’t seem to matter at all.

screw the deadline, you thought wildly. screw the manuscript.

you needed this hunk of a man right now.

without thinking, you pulled your shirt off, feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline and regret.

oh god, what have you done?

the cool air hit your exposed body, sending chills across your skin, but it was nothing compared to the look on toji’s face. his jaw dropped comically, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you in your bra.

“well, hello there,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent. “are you trying to kill me? because it’s working.”

“i — uh — ” you stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson.

you are not a main character. why the hell did you just do that? your inner monologue was spiraling, but the heat of the moment overshadowed any logic you might have had.

“what? do you expect me to be cool about this?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes practically devouring you. “you just stripped in front of me! how am i supposed to react?”

you fumbled to cover yourself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. “i thought… maybe it would help with the writing? you know, get in the mood?” you mumbled, feeling ridiculously silly for saying it out loud.

“get into the mood?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-incredulous. “baby, you just put me in a state of absolute chaos! this isn’t about mood anymore; it’s about survival!”

survival? you thought, but then you caught the glint of mischief in his eyes, and suddenly, the weight of your insecurity felt a bit lighter.

“you could just, um, you know, not look?”

“and miss this view? no chance in hell,” he smirked, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “besides, why would i want to miss the chance to admire a beautiful lady?”

your heart raced at the compliment, battling between feeling flattered and mortified. “but you said i write gibberish!” you retorted, the words tumbling out before you could think better of it. “how am i supposed to be taken seriously as a writer when i’m sitting here in my bra?”

“oh, you’re serious, alright,” he said, unabashedly leaning closer again. “and if you keep this up, you’re going to be more than just a writer.” he paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “just think of all the inspiration we could gather right here.”

you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. “toji, you can’t just say things like that!”

“why not?” he challenged, amusement dancing in his eyes. “if you wanted me to shut up, you shouldn’t have given me a show like that.”

you felt your insides fluttering, a strange mix of embarrassment and thrill surging through you.

what was happening?

“i didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, unable to articulate your thoughts, feeling ridiculously caught off guard.

“oh, don’t even play coy with me now,” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence. “besides, the real question is: what do you want?”

your mind raced at the implications, suddenly realizing the gravity of your actions.

what did you want?

you thought you wanted to write, but right now, with him leaning in, the idea of writing seemed worlds away. maybe you wanted this?

the thought was tantalizing and terrifying all at once.

“i —” you began, but your voice faltered as he reached out, brushing a thumb against your bare skin.

“just say it,” he urged softly, his gaze steady and inviting. “what do you really want?”

you took a shaky breath, caught in the moment, knowing you were dangerously close to stepping into a territory you had only ever written about. but you were here, in the flesh, and he was waiting for an answer.

“i want…” you started, feeling both exhilarated and terrified.

the moment you said you wanted him, toji nearly cheered.

it took everything in him not to let out an actual whoop of excitement, but he had to remember the little sleeping figure in your room. megumi was tucked away, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away on the sofa.

and here you were, about to lose your v-card to your super hot colleague.

“so, uh, just to be sure,” toji started, trying to play it cool even as his heart raced. “you know we have to keep it down, right? can’t wake the kid.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you looked up at him, and damn, you looked so cute it nearly drove him wild. how could you be so oblivious to how breathtaking you were?

“right, good,” he said, clearing his throat, his brain whirling with the implications. “and just so we’re clear — this is what you want?” he leaned in closer, the air between you thick with anticipation.

“yes, i want this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. god, you were so cute.

“okay, okay, but…” he paused, feeling the weight of the moment. “i need a pinky promise.” he held out his pinky, the humor of the situation almost making him chuckle.

his massive frame was caging you against the sofa, and yet, here he was, asking for a pinky promise.

“are you serious?” you laughed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement lighting up your face.

“hey, it’s important! this is a big deal, alright?” he insisted, trying to keep a straight face. “pinky promise me you want this. like, for real.”

you reached out, your smaller hand wrapping around his pinky, and he felt an undeniable rush at the gesture.

“pinky promise,” you said with a grin, your confidence shining through.

“alright, then. let’s get to it,” he replied, his voice low and steady, even though he felt like he was about to explode.

he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, teasing kiss, savoring the taste of you. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you melted against him, and it only fueled the fire in his belly.

“just remember,” he murmured against your lips, “we’ve gotta keep it quiet.”

“right, quiet,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he trailed kisses down your neck.

he couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the thrill of the moment.

“you know, this is definitely not how i pictured your writing sessions going,” he teased, pulling back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“yeah? how did you picture them?” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

“i don’t know,” he said, smirking, “maybe less —” he gestured to your exposed torso, “ —and more brainstorming about literature.”

“this is literature!” you protested, your cheeks flushed with heat.

“sure, sure,” he laughed, leaning in again, capturing your lips once more. “but it’s not just about writing. it’s about the experience.”

your breath hitched again, and he felt your body responding to him, the way you leaned into him, craving more.

“so, you’re saying i should take notes while you —”

“now you’re getting it,” he interrupted with a chuckle, pressing another kiss to your lips before continuing down your neck, relishing the way you squirmed beneath him.

“this is so distracting,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to keep your focus.

“distracting?” he echoed, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “that’s the idea. if you’re gonna write about it, you might as well get some real-life experience, right?”

“right, but — oh!” you gasped as he nibbled at your skin, sending sparks shooting through you.

“just relax,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry. “i’ll take care of you.”

this was going to be one hell of a writing session.

you were trying your absolute best to keep track, really, you were.

you had a job to do — a manuscript deadline that was breathing down your neck, and this was… well, technically research, right?

but as toji’s mouth pressed hot and needy kisses along your shoulder, then to your collarbone, the exact order was getting fuzzy.

was it the nip to your bra-covered chest first and then that delicious pressure against your pulse point, or the other way around?

honestly, at this point, even your notes looked like gibberish.

“mm, you’re really focused, huh?” toji’s voice was smug, with a lazy grin that could probably melt glaciers. he glanced down at your not-so-steady hand trying to type one-handed on the laptop next to you and chuckled. “this part of the book that important?”

you swallowed, nodding as you scrambled to refocus, even if every nerve in your body was firing off for entirely non-work-related reasons.

“y-yeah. research. gotta… capture the sensations. the character dynamics.”

but god, your voice wavered, betraying exactly how not on top of things you were.

“uh-huh,” he said, raising a brow as he leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with that wicked look. “and do these characters also get this close?” his hips pressed insistently against you, the not-so-subtle hardon pressing against you making it extremely difficult to focus on anything but him.

“it’s… it’s a… a very passionate story,” you managed, trying to keep up some semblance of professionalism, but the words came out more like a breathy whimper. you could practically feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed along your jaw, his hands wandering in ways that made coherent thought feel like a long-lost friend.

“just remember, babe,” he murmured, low and teasing as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “you’re the one who asked for hands-on help. gotta commit to the scene, right?”

you bit your lip, focusing — or at least trying to. “yeah, i just… need to remember every step for… for later.”

as if you could even think straight with him leaving trails of kisses down your neck, his rough fingers skimming over the bare skin of your waist.

“oh, every step, huh?” toji’s mouth moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses over the fabric of your bra. “you’re gonna write about how the dragon king’s all riled up too?” he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“because ’m guessin’ he’d be… pretty hard to ignore, wouldn’t you say?”

you swallowed, cheeks flushing hot as your eyes flicked down to where his hardon pressed against you, demanding attention.

“y-yeah,” you managed, cheeks burning. “can’t ignore him at all.”

he chuckled, low and sultry. “that’s my girl.” one of his hands reached up, teasing along your sides, slowly moving up until it found its way to your bra strap.

“you, uh, want help describing this part too?” his tone was innocent, but the glint in his eyes was anything but.

“toji,” you squeaked, shooting him a glare despite the warmth pooling in your core, the heat from his body practically radiating into you. “i don’t think the dragon king was this forward in chapter fourteen —”

“oh, he’s forward in this chapter,” toji murmured, his lips quirking up as he let his fingers trail along the edge of your bra strap. “trust me. he’s been waiting.”

“right,” you said, your voice embarrassingly shaky as his lips found their way back to your neck, a little nip to your skin that had you gripping the sofa beneath you.

“he’s… he’s definitely waiting…” your voice trailed off as the pressure of his mouth sent a spark straight through you. you could practically hear your own characters’ voices narrating it in your head—

damn it, you were turning into your own leading lady.

“you know,” you muttered, desperately trying to find some control here, “this is technically a writing session. so maybe you should… y’know, help me keep notes on this?”

toji grinned, fingers skimming down your waist. “oh, i’m helping, alright.” his thumb brushed over the skin of your hip, pulling you just a bit closer. “but if you need the full experience babe, you gotta put that laptop down.”

“the full experience?” you repeated, breath catching as his mouth found your collarbone again, your hands tingling as you felt every inch of his warm, solid weight pressing you into the couch.

“you know i’m not a —”

“a main character girl?” he interrupted, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “yeah, right.”

his gaze softened, though, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “trust me, sweetheart. you’ve got that in you. just… let yourself have it.”

the laptop was abandoned — gently tossed to the coffee table, where it settled with a thud you barely registered. all you could focus on was the feeling of his rough hands tracing your shoulders as he finally slipped the clasp of your bra free. you could practically hear him exhale, a low, reverent sound that was part sigh, part growl, as he took in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, beneath him.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost to himself, his gaze intense, drinking in every inch of exposed skin like it was some forbidden treasure. he looked at you like he could hardly believe his luck, and for a moment, you swore you saw his focus waver.

it was… endearing, actually, how his usually cocky confidence stumbled when faced with you, bare and vulnerable and trusting.

“toji,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, as his hands skimmed down your sides, drawing goosebumps in their wake. he chuckled, a warm, raspy sound, but you could tell he was just as rattled as you.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat. “and here i thought i was supposed to be the big, bad dragon king.”

you snorted, half-dazed, your hands moving to grip his shoulders instinctively. “well, this isn’t very dragon king behavior, is it?”

“oh, trust me, babe,” he growled, fingers trailing lower, making you shiver under his touch. “’m just… gettin’ warmed up.”

then his mouth was on you, lips closing over your nipple, and you had to actively bite down on your lip to muffle the high-pitched squeak that escaped your throat.

you’d been prepared for his hands, the calloused fingertips brushing over you, but his mouth — hot, teasing, so much more than you’d expected — was a whole new battlefield.

“t-toji!” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your entire body. he chuckled, a low rumble, mouth curving in a smirk against your skin.

“now, now, you were supposed to be quiet,” he whispered, voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. “megumi’s right down the hall, remember?”

you glared at him, though it was probably more of a pitiful attempt given how out of breath you were.

“you — god, you’re the one making all the noise…,” you muttered, squirming as he only doubled down, his mouth leaving trails of heat across your chest, lingering in a way that made you feel absolutely undone.

he paused, lifting his head just enough to grin down at you, his eyes gleaming. “oh, you’re blaming me, huh?” he teased, raising a brow. “thought you wanted my… hands-on help.”

“yeah, but…” you trailed off, cheeks burning, as his mouth moved lower again, tracing around your tit again.

“not like this,” you whispered, and it came out more as a whimper than you’d intended.

“oh, trust me, it’s exactly like this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his hands came up to hold you steady as his lips found their way back to your tit, tongue flicking over your nipple just enough to draw out another, higher-pitched squeal.

you could barely focus, let alone remember how to breathe, as he skillfully coaxed more sounds out of you, like some damn orchestra conductor who knew every one of your weaknesses.

“okay, that’s… not fair,” you choked out, fighting the urge to arch into him. “i thought i was supposed to be taking notes.”

“oh, you’re taking notes, alright,” he chuckled, pressing a final, teasing kiss to your chest. “bet this’ll make one hell of a chapter, don’t cha think?”

you froze for a second, realizing that while here you were, topless and feeling vulnerable under his heated gaze, he was still fully clothed.

well, almost.

toji was lounging in just his gray sweats and that black compression tee stretched over his ridiculously broad shoulders, hugging every line of muscle like a second skin. and you, like a fool, were only just now noticing how unfair this was.

"wait a second," you muttered, hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling the firm warmth of him through the fabric. "why am i the only one halfway undressed? where’s the equality here?"

toji’s lips quirked in that half-smirk of his, eyes glinting with amusement as he tilted his head.

“oh? so that’s how it is, huh?” he teased, his hands tracing light circles along your waist, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “you just wanna see the goods?”

"maybe," you mumbled, a little breathless despite yourself. your fingers slipped down to the hem of his shirt, tugging just enough to let him know you weren’t kidding.

“well, since you’re asking so nicely…” he leaned back and, in one fluid motion, pulled the compression tee over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him.

and wow.

your jaw might have actually dropped.

your eyes traced the defined lines of his torso, all hard muscle and taut skin, shadows dipping into those sharp v-lines that disappeared into his waistband. each detail seemed sculpted to perfection, his pecs broad and firm, abs visibly tense, and his shoulders…

good lord.

toji fushiguro looked like he was carved straight out of a fantasy.

you swallowed, heat pooling in your stomach, very aware of the way his gaze was fixed on you, almost predatory.

“so? what’s the verdict?” he asked, voice cocky but still a little rough as he watched your reaction with clear satisfaction. he shifted, arms tensing a bit like he was showing off — not that he really needed to, honestly.

you tried to play it cool, but your voice came out breathy, betraying you. “well, uh… equality’s restored,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

he chuckled, leaning back in closer, and his breath was warm on your neck as he murmured,

“oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to hold back on my account.” his lips brushed the shell of your ear, teasing. “go on, touch all you want.”

you swallowed, hands trailing over his chest, tracing each ridge and groove of his muscles with your fingertips. every time your fingers brushed over him, he’d inhale a bit deeper, his muscles flexing in response.

"didn’t know you were hiding this under all those sweaters and hoodies,” you murmured, lips twitching into a grin as you kept tracing along his torso.

“mm, well, if i’d known it’d get me this kind of attention…” he grinned, hands tightening on your waist as his voice dropped to a rumble. "maybe i’d have stripped down sooner."

you rolled your eyes, still taking him in. “you’re insufferable, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are, practically drooling over me,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“you wish,” you retorted, but it was weak, considering your hands were still exploring every inch of his chest like it was your personal map.

“oh, i know,” he said, and before you could sass him back, he dipped his head to press a trail of hot, slow kisses along your collarbone, his voice dropping even lower as he murmured, “now, where were we?”

the air felt thick, heavy with every shared breath, each soft whimper from you met with toji's low, gravelly groans that reverberated through his chest and straight into you. there was nothing between you now — just skin on skin, the heat from his body practically searing into yours. his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, almost as if he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance between you.

you both let out a sharp exhale at the same time when that familiar, aching throb in your core made itself very known. you could barely focus, hips shifting slightly, seeking… more.

and then you felt it — a certain twitch against your thigh that made your cheeks flare up instantly.

“shit,” toji mumbled, pausing just for a second to meet your gaze. his pupils were blown, gaze dark, and yet he somehow looked almost surprised himself. “you feel that, huh?” his voice was rough, low, like he was barely holding himself together.

you could only nod, biting your lip, feeling that throb intensify in response.

you wanted to say something clever, something to keep the mood light, but all that escaped you was a quiet, desperate “yeah…"

he chuckled breathlessly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “look at you,” he murmured, one hand trailing down to squeeze your hip, his thumb tracing small circles just to keep you even more on edge.

“you sure you’re ready for this?”

“toji…” you practically whimpered, squirming in his grip, his voice sending another jolt straight down to where you ached. “you’re the one who offered, remember?”

“mm,” he hummed, his voice going even lower, the words barely a murmur as his hand trailed up your thigh. “i did. and trust me… i’m gonna make damn sure you don’t regret it.”

the throb in your core turned into a full, needy ache, and from the way he was looking at you, it was clear he was just as affected, every breath deep and slow like he was savoring this moment.

it took every ounce of self-control not to just… well, throw yourself at him, but he was giving you that little smirk that said he was definitely going to take his sweet time with this.

oh god.

you didn’t even get a chance to formulate a comeback before he had your pants halfway down, those dark eyes glinting with way too much satisfaction at your wide-eyed, barely-composed look.

this man was on a mission, and your brain was rapidly short-circuiting.

“matching set, huh?” he mused, a smug grin spreading across his face as he glanced from your discarded bra back to the lacy underwear you were currently trying to keep from absolutely melting in. “dare i say you were planning this, sweetheart?”

oh, you wanted to snap back. something witty, maybe a sarcastic quip — but his hands settled at the curve of your hips, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to send a shiver up your spine, and it’s like every coherent thought just fizzled out right there.

"don't push your luck, fushiguro," you managed, voice barely a whisper, trying your best to sound confident.

"oh, i'm not pushing anything...yet." he smirked, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned over your exposed skin, and oh god, was he eyeing your underwear like he was already halfway through devouring you with just his gaze?

as if it couldn’t get worse — or better — he hooked a finger around the waistband, tugging just slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“tell me when to stop,” he murmured, teasing, waiting for a sign, a word — anything.

you gulped, feeling the air go heavy, and the words came out before you could even stop yourself. “don’t stop.”

toji could swear he heard a damn orchestra kicking off in his head the second he finally got you out of those damn panties, his eyes fixed on the sight of you bared beneath him.

honestly, he felt a little dizzy — a grown man, practically undone by this — and he was not about to mess it up. yeah, he was ready to dive in.

but god forbid he skip over anything as important as making absolutely sure you were okay with it.

his breath came out uneven as he leaned closer, warmth fanning over your core. "you... you're sure about this, right?" he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, his thumb grazing your inner thigh as his other hand tightened its hold. "you can stop me anytime, really. swear on our little pinky promise." he gave a small, reassuring squeeze, but you could hear the faintest tremor in his words.

“toji,” you murmured, breath coming out in frustrated little puffs, but he just kept talking, checking and re-checking because he wasn’t about to mess this up.

"just gotta be absolutely sure, sweetheart," he said, now with a crooked smile, eyes twinkling like this was both the most serious and hilarious thing he’d ever done. "if this is too much, just tell me." he pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh, half-expecting you to push him away or maybe even change your mind.

instead, he felt your hand on the back of his head, fingers gripping tight and — oh.

well, that was his answer then, wasn’t it?

“just — stop talking,” you mumbled, shoving him down in a way that left no room for ambiguity, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he finally made contact with your cunt.

that was all he needed.

any restraint he’d been clinging to snapped, and he closed his mouth — well, not literally — because he was about to put it to much better use.

the minute toji’s mouth latched onto you, your brain might as well have been yanked out and replaced with static.

this was nothing like what you’d written — no, this was raw, needy, almost overwhelming.

in your books, eating out had been... gentler? polished, even, with words like “savor” and “caress.” things like “he licked her like she was the sweetest dessert,” and even “he lapped at her like she was honey.”

but this?

this was... messy. desperate.

each flick of his tongue sent jolts through you that words could never do justice to. “velvet-soft licks” and “feather-light touches” — pfft, no, you were beginning to realize how off the mark you'd been. where was the “velvet softness” in the rough warmth of his tongue, the almost urgent pressure he was putting on you?

you could practically see your own overly-romanticized lines flashing in your head as if taunting you: “gentle ministrations left her a quivering mess.”

yeah, you were quivering all right, but the way he worked his mouth was anything but gentle. in fact, the “gentle assault,” as people liked to call it, felt like he was trying to unravel every last nerve. every hum he let out against you sent another wave of heat straight to your core, and every swipe of his tongue was this maddening blend of rhythm and chaos, hitting spots that made you gasp and clutch at his hair with abandon.

“you really wrote all that poetic stuff?” he mumbled between licks, barely lifting his mouth from you, smirking against your skin like he knew exactly how thrown you were. “guess you’re gonna have to rewrite it all, huh?”

you wanted to retort, but words were beyond you.

instead, a strangled, nonsensical sound escaped, and he chuckled, letting his mouth return with more insistence, even nipping lightly just to see you jolt.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. ’m just givin’ you some material to work with,” he whispered, eyes flashing up to meet yours, clearly relishing in how absolutely wrecked you were under him.

not even a couple minutes in, and already, you were close to cumming — so close that all your earlier attempts at keeping it together turned into outright babbling.

“oh — god, toji, that — right there, don’t you — ah!” you whimpered, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as his tongue found that one spot that made your thighs start trembling around his head. “don’t... oh my god... don’t stop — please don’t —!”

your fingers clawed into his hair, trying to keep him right there, as if he even needed a reminder. and if your writhing and half-coherent pleas weren’t enough encouragement, toji could feel the telltale quivering of your legs, see the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath.

yeah, you were gonna cum, and he knew it.

“that good, huh?” he muttered against your folds, the vibration making you moan even louder. “wanna tell me what you’re feelin’ right now so you can remember it for that research of yours?”

“t-toji, please — just —” you stammered, your brain too fried to give him anything but desperate babbles. “need you to... oh — just keep going, don’t — don’t talk, just...”

he chuckled against you, but his mouth never slowed. in fact, he redoubled his efforts, tongue pressing firmer, alternating between those long, slow drags and quicker, flicking strokes, every one sending electric shocks through your body that you could barely process. all you could do was clutch at his hair, unable to find the words to tell him how close you were.

he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of this, watching you like this, your usual sharp wit and composure reduced to nonsensical pleas and gasps, and all because of him.

“come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, slipping his hands under your thighs to hold you steady, his fingers digging in just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. “you’re so close, can feel it. don’t hold back — show me how good it feels.”

and that was all it took.

your body seized up, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the tension finally snapped, sending a wave of pleasure that left you reeling. you barely registered your own voice, the words spilling out somewhere between a plea and a demand.

it took a solid sixty seconds for reality to come crashing down on you — that the whole time, you’d been squealing like a lamb to the slaughter, blissfully unaware of the fact that megumi was literally sleeping in the next room over, across the hallway.

god, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. you’d just hit new decibel records, loud enough that anyone within a two-room radius would be alerted to the whole scene unfolding out here.

you covered your face, cheeks blazing as post-nut clarity came barreling in like an uninvited guest at a party.

the first realization: holy hell, you’d just had an orgasm coaxed out of you by another person.

and not just any person — nope, the man looking at you with that trademark smug look, his brow cocked as he tried to keep from laughing.

“what?” he asked, his tone as infuriatingly self-satisfied as ever, his lips glistening with the very evidence of your... uh, situation. “you look like you’re about to combust or somethin’.”

"no! i just... can’t believe... that really happened,” you stammered, swallowing the absurdity of it all, hardly able to meet his eyes.

“and with you, of all people.”

“oh, yeah? who were you thinkin’ about when you were writing that smut of yours?” he grinned, lounging back, way too pleased with himself.

you swatted his arm, finally managing a scowl. “oh, shut up! this wasn’t — i wasn’t — this was supposed to be a research exercise.”

“well, you did get a little, uh, hands-on learning,” he teased, eyes twinkling, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“toji! i was practically screaming,” you hissed, scrambling to pull a pillow over yourself, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “megumi’s in the next room! do you know what i’ll do if he heard that?”

he just chuckled, completely unfazed. “oh, he sleeps like a rock. trust me. he’s not gonna hear any of this. but if you’re worried about it, guess we’ll just have to work on our volume control next time, huh?”

next time?

you almost spluttered at the very idea, but there was something addictive in the way he said it, like this whole scenario was already just the beginning of some ongoing arrangement.

and you?

well, after that, the idea of another round didn’t sound half bad — embarrassment and all.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not into the idea,” he teased, catching that glimmer of interest despite your efforts to seem outraged.

you sat there, a confusing blend of irritation and... something else, as you noticed toji’s situation.

his hard-on was still very much an issue, evident in the way his sweatpants strained against him. at first, he tried to play it off, waving his hand like it was no big deal. “eh, don’t worry about it,” he muttered, attempting nonchalance despite the clear discomfort in his voice.

but that just felt like a challenge.

“oh, so you’re just gonna sit there like that?” you asked, a mischievous smirk curling at your lips.

toji cocked a brow, clearly sensing where this was going. “what are you gettin’ at?”

you scooted closer, feeling a surge of confidence at the sight of his expression changing, almost as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

"well, since you put so much effort in, maybe i should... return the favor?” you murmured, your fingers slipping down to graze the waistband of his pants.

the second those words left your mouth, toji practically choked, his composure unraveling just enough for you to catch a flicker of nervous excitement.

“careful what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he rasped, voice thick, though you could see the flicker of a smirk.

but when you tugged his pants down, just enough to free him, that cockiness took a swift exit.

“you’re serious, aren’t you?” he breathed, his usual bravado slipping as you took him in hand.

“oh, don’t act like you’re not excited,” you teased, shooting him a wink as you started slow, savoring the way his head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips.

by the time you took him fully, sliding your mouth down and earning a strangled, “shit — fuck, careful, sweetheart,” you knew you were onto something.

his fingers found your hair, gripping lightly, though you could tell he was barely holding on, his muscles tense, jaw clenched.

“if you keep goin’ like that, i swear... i won’t last,” he ground out, practically panting. but that only spurred you on, determined to make him unravel completely.

and toji? with the way his hips bucked, his hand clenching and unclenching, he was clearly in blissful agony, barely holding back.

it was almost surreal, really — the flashes of every single “m oral” scene you’d ever meticulously crafted in your stories were running through your head. it was like you’d written these moments for a thousand characters and now, finally, you were experiencing one yourself.

only… no scene you’d ever written could’ve fully prepared you for this.

the way your mouth stretched around him, the warm weight of him against your tongue, the salty taste mixing with the faint scent of him — it all just felt so real.

and “death by dick?”

well, you’d imagined it a hundred times in jest, but with toji... you couldn’t think of a better way to go.

him, on the other hand, looked completely floored, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you, mouth parted in disbelief.

“this… your first time doing this?” he asked, almost incredulously, voice hoarse and breathless, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact.

his question earned a sly, humored look from you, but you didn’t stop, dragging your tongue along his length in a way that made his grip tighten in your hair. “shit, babe, you… you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, though there was a distinct pride laced in his tone — like the idea of being your first made him want to last as long as he could and cum in a few minutes all at once.

“you’re too damn good at this,” he rasped, brows furrowing in concentration as he struggled to hold back, the feeling of your soft lips and the light suction nearly enough to make him lose it right then and there.

toji was doing his best to keep a gentle rhythm, letting you adjust, guiding you slowly — because damn did he want you to be comfortable.

but the closer he got to cumming, the harder it was to hold back, and before he knew it, all kinds of filthy words were slipping out of his mouth.

“you’re really using your colleague for this, huh?” he rasped out between heavy breaths, his voice low and rough. “actin’ like you’re all sweet ‘n innocent, but here you are, puttin’ that pretty mouth to good use…” his fingers tightened in your hair, every word spilling out dirtier than the last as he fought to stay coherent. “couldn’t wait to see what it’d feel like, huh? what i’d feel like?”

you could only hum in response, both stunned and electrified at how he spoke to you, a thrill shooting through you with every low, teasing word. he alternated from murmured praise, telling you how good you were, how perfect your mouth felt, to more degrading words that made your cheeks heat up, his voice dripping with that gruff, amused edge.

“never thought my sweet author would be down on her knees, looking so — ah, shit — filthy.” his grip on your hair grew firmer, his breaths coming out quicker, as if he was barely holding himself together. “look at you… chokin’ on me, takin’ it like a good girl…”

and just as he’s about to cum, his body moved on instinct. his hand tightened in your hair, and he pulled you down until your nose brushed against his stomach, feeling him pulse against your tongue. you choked a little, the sensation overwhelming, and with a shuddering groan, he finally came, riding out his release.

the second he did, though, his eyes went wide.

“oh, shit, shit — baby, you okay?” he was practically tripping over his words as he pulled back slightly, his hands cupping your face with an almost frantic gentleness.

“i didn’t mean to — god, i… i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to…you alright?”

as you tugged your shirt back on, toji slumped back into the sofa beside you, throwing a very dramatic sigh your way.

“really? you’re putting the shirt back on already?” he scoffed, throwing his head back, one hand over his heart like he’d just been personally betrayed.

“oh, please,” you rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh. “i think you got a pretty good view already, mister dragon king.”

he snorted at the nickname. “still, it’s a shame. i was just getting used to you, y’know, without it.” he gave you a playful grin, eyes wandering a little too purposefully down your now-covered torso. “it’s practically disrespectful to put it back on after that.”

“disrespectful?” you shot him a look, pretending to be scandalized. “says the man who had the nerve to yank my pants off like I wouldn’t notice.”

“hey,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in mock innocence, “in my defense, you looked way too good with them off.” he shrugged casually, though the gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “besides, you didn’t seem to mind.”

“maybe,” you admitted, leaning back against the sofa with a little smile. you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you just a bit closer until you could feel the warmth of his bare chest against your side. “still... not sure i’ll ever live down what just happened.”

“which part?” he raised a brow, looking amused as he tucked you closer to him. “the part where you tried to suffocate me or the part where you shoved my head down?”

you smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “shut up. i didn’t shove you — i just... suggested very strongly.”

he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “yeah, yeah, you ‘suggested.’ guess it’s good i’m into pushy women, huh?”

you both laughed, and as the sound settled, you realized just how right this felt.

there was something strangely comforting about this moment — the two of you, just sitting there, basking in the quiet after all the chaos. you couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, the kind that made you all too aware of how special this moment was.

“hey,” you murmured, glancing up at him, suddenly feeling a little shy. “i’m... glad it was you, for, well, you know... all of this.” you gestured vaguely, but toji’s gaze softened, like he understood exactly what you meant.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now, thumb brushing a gentle circle on your shoulder. “didn’t think i’d be the one, honestly. but... i’m glad it was me too. you’re kinda... unforgettable, you know that?”

you laughed, cheeks warming. “you sound like one of my romance novels.”

“oh, please.” he gave a little scoff, though the smile tugging at his lips was unmistakable. “if i were a romance novel guy, i’d be way more dramatic than this.” he paused, then threw in a mock-swoony, “oh, my darling! i shall never forget this evening of rapture!”

you burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as he continued, exaggerating his voice and gestures, “the way you, my fair lady, shoved my head to the heavens... or rather, between your —”

“okay, stop,” you wheezed, playfully slapping his arm again. “you’re impossible!”

“impossibly charming,” he corrected with a smug grin.

the laughter settled, and you found yourself just gazing at him for a moment, savoring the warmth and the easy comfort between you. it was a strange feeling — new, yet familiar at the same time. with a sigh, you leaned into his chest, letting your fingers trace little patterns along his arm.

“thanks, toji,” you murmured softly, “for being... you.”

he looked down, his expression softening as he pulled you closer. “hey, anytime.” after a moment, he added in a playful whisper, “and for the record, i’m still protesting the shirt.”

you rolled your eyes, but nestled deeper against him, smiling to yourself.

toji let out a low groan, glancing at the clock. “ugh, we should probably get to bed,” he muttered, reluctantly shifting on the sofa.

“yeah,” you agreed with a little sigh, realizing how late it had gotten. “megumi’s probably sprawled all over, snoring up a storm and drooling on my pillow.”

he chuckled at that, standing up and stretching. “kid’s probably babbling away about frogs or something. you know he was talking about ‘frog powers’ the other night?”

you laughed, following him as he headed toward the bedroom. “he’s got an active imagination. wonder where he gets it from...”

toji gave you a teasing smirk. “oh, yeah? well, you’re the writer in this house.”

you both reached the door, easing it open gently to peek in. sure enough, megumi was lying right in the middle of the bed, completely hogging the space with an arm thrown over your pillow, tiny mouth open, drooling a little as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“my pillow’s gone,” you whispered with a chuckle, shaking your head. “but look at him. i can’t even be mad.”

toji just stared for a moment, the soft rise and fall of his son’s chest filling him with a strange warmth. he was quiet, but there was this look in his eyes — a mixture of tenderness and awe.

he leaned close, murmuring, “every time i see him like this, i can’t believe i got so damn lucky. that i get to be his dad, y’know?”

you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “you’re a great dad, toji.”

he smiled softly, wrapping his fingers around yours. “thanks,” he said quietly, his gaze still on megumi. after a beat, he added, “c’mon, let’s get in there before he wakes up and realizes he can kick us off the bed.”

you both carefully slipped under the covers, but this time, instead of settling on either side of him like usual, there was a silent understanding — a new, natural shift. you curled up behind megumi, your arm wrapped around his little body, while toji slid in behind you, his arm settling around your waist. he felt you press a soft kiss to megumi’s head, and something about the moment felt... whole. complete.

toji nestled closer, his chest warm against your back, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “this... yeah, this is pretty perfect.” his hand found yours under the covers, intertwining your fingers together.

you smiled, feeling the warmth of him surround you. “feels... right, doesn’t it?”

“more than right,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “never thought i’d be the guy lying in bed, cuddling up with... with you, and him.” he swallowed, a hint of emotion in his voice. “never thought i’d get this lucky.”

you squeezed his hand, and the silence that followed was soft, peaceful. after a moment, toji’s fingers traced slow circles over your knuckles as he mumbled, “think he’ll mind if we’re both here when he wakes up?”

“probably not. he’s got his favorite people right here,” you whispered back, feeling his thumb brush along your hand. “plus, i don’t think he’d mind waking up to his frog-loving dad next to him.”

toji chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. “yeah, frog powers and all. kid’s got taste, huh?”

“must take after his dad,” you teased, grinning.

he snorted. “oh, don’t go putting ideas in his head.” he shifted slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “but hey... thanks. for this. for... y’know, letting me have this.”

you leaned back into his embrace, closing your eyes. “wouldn’t want it any other way, toji.”

and with that, the three of you drifted into a warm, quiet sleep, held together by a bond that felt as strong as anything you’d ever known.

sitting at your laptop, you found yourself typing with a newfound intensity, almost unable to keep up with the words spilling out of your mind and onto the screen.

the romance between the dragon king and the princess — previously a plot device to add some “spice” — now felt infused with something else entirely. something raw, something softer, something more... real.

toji’s touch, his voice, his warmth — all those things lingered in your mind, guiding your fingers as you breathed life into scenes that once felt staged. now, they felt natural, like they were flowing from some deep, hidden well. it was almost laughable how last night’s escapade had changed everything, but you couldn’t deny it. you smirked as you wrote, feeling every word resonate with a clarity that wasn’t there before.

and then, after hours of relentless typing, a quick text to shoko:

you [12:30 pm]: hey, mind taking a look at the new chapter?

within minutes, she was at your place, reading your screen as you paced in the background, trying not to hover.

“alriiight, what do we have here…” shoko began, her eyes scanning the text. she paused. blinked.

then slowly lifted her gaze to you, one eyebrow arched. “you... did write this, right?”

“hey! what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, crossing your arms with a smirk. “just... tell me what you think, alright?”

she raised her hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright.” then her eyes dipped back to the screen, and this time she read aloud,

“the dragon king’s fingers traced along the princess’ collarbone, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the weight of his strength. ‘you’re safe with me,’ he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.”

she stopped reading aloud, her eyebrows raised a little higher, and then looked at you.

“...safe with me? wow. last time i checked, this guy was like, ‘get in my lair, princess,’ but now he’s a softie? who is this dragon king, and what did you do to the one who existed, like, two days ago?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the heat creeping up your cheeks. “well, maybe he’s... evolving. finding his softer side, or whatever. i don’t know, shoko, do you like it or not?”

she leaned back, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face. “oh, i like it alright. you’re actually writing a romance. like, a legit one. not just something with ten billion euphemisms for —”

“don’t say it,” you interrupted, laughing and waving her off.

she just laughed. “fine, fine, but seriously, what happened? you’ve always been good, but there’s something... different here. it’s like you’re channeling the romance instead of just writing it.”

you swallowed, feeling that flutter in your chest as you recalled the night before, with toji and the way he made you feel so... cherished. it was so much more than just physical, and it translated into every keystroke.

“maybe i just... i don’t know, felt inspired?” you muttered, giving her a small, sheepish smile.

“inspired, huh?” she grinned knowingly. “well, whoever gave you that inspiration, tell them i say thank you. this stuff? it’s gold.” she leaned forward, her expression softening a bit. “this isn’t just commercial smut anymore. this has heart.”

you felt a sense of pride bloom inside you as she kept reading, the quiet tapping of her finger on the edge of your desk as she occasionally mumbled things like, “oh, that’s good,” and “damn, that’s really good.”

“sooo... what’s your verdict?” you asked when she finally looked up, a grin teasing at her lips.

she closed the laptop with a flourish, fixing you with a smirk. “well, i can’t wait to see where this story goes. you’ve finally gotten to the real heart of it. don’t stop now. oh, and if that dragon king of yours has any friends... i’d like one. just sayin’.”

laughing, you gave her a hug. “alright, alright, if i find one, you’ll be the first to know.”

and as she left, you sat back down at your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys.

inspired? maybe.

but something told you it was more than just that. and as you resumed writing, you knew this was exactly where the story was meant to go.

toji ^.^ [6:26 pm]: hey, you busy? you [6:30 pm]: yeah 😭 but i'm thinking about you both! toji [6:32 pm]: yeah? thinking enough to take a break and maybe come over later? you [6:40 pm]: :((( i REALLYY wanna, but this chapter has me by the throat. gotta finish while the inspiration’s hot. toji [6:40 pm]: yeah, i get it. toji [6:40 pm]: still, kinda wish you could be here… you [6:41 pm]: i know! i’ll make it up to you and megumi, promise. you two are always on my mind 💕 toji [6:41 pm]: alright. don’t work yourself to death, alright? we miss you. you [6:42 pm]: 🥺🥺 hug him for me, yeah? toji [6:42 pm]: always. but holding you to that promise.

it was late, and toji had just finished reading megumi his favorite story, watching him drift off, all tangled in the blankets. toji was barely leaving the room before he heard megumi mumbling sleepily, almost to himself.

"when's she coming back?"

toji felt that pang, the same one he got every time you were too busy to swing by. he tucked the blanket a little tighter around megumi’s small frame, brushing a hand over his hair.

"she’s got a lot of work, bud," he murmured, low enough that megumi might not even hear. "she’ll come soon, i promise."

megumi nodded sleepily, giving a tiny, droopy smile before settling back into the pillow, and toji let out a soft sigh, watching the little guy drift back off.

a few days later, toji was back at gojo-sonic, caught in the back-and-forth about the upcoming project when satoru, who was way too perceptive for his own good, leaned over with that smirk of his.

“soooo, toji, how’s the ‘inspiration’ been treating you?” satoru teased, one eyebrow arched.

“shut it, satoru,” toji muttered, rolling his eyes but not able to hide the hint of a smile.

satoru shrugged, grinning like he’d struck gold. “hey, i get it. long-distance love, practically a tragic romance. she’s probably typing away, ignoring you...”

toji groaned, already regretting sharing any details. but then satoru’s expression softened, just slightly.

“hey, she’ll come back around. give her time. just means she’s actually doing what she loves, right?”

toji nodded, a bit of that weight lifting. he missed you, sure, but there was something about seeing you so passionate about your writing, knowing he’d sparked even a part of it.

and if that meant a few late nights alone, well... it was worth it.

toji dragged himself down the hallway, nearly ready to collapse with each step. the recording had been a nightmare — a mic malfunction right in the middle of his best take, a last-minute script revision that completely changed the character’s tone, and a sound engineer who wouldn’t stop fussing over the tiniest background noises. all he wanted was a strong drink and a bed to crash in.

maybe both, at this rate.

as he turned the key in the door and stepped inside his suite, though, he heard... giggles? his eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim light. in the middle of the room, megumi was squealing, running from none other than you, who were wearing an iron man mask, arms outstretched like you were going to scoop him up at any second. the sight stopped him dead in his tracks, exhaustion washing away in an instant.

of course, he remembered giving you a spare key, but it still surprised him to see you here, like a surprise balm to his long day.

“daddy!” megumi yelled, darting over to him, grabbing onto his leg. “look, it’s iron man!”

toji huffed a laugh, setting his bag down. “yeah? well, iron man better be careful before he gets ambushed.”

you lifted the mask, peering at him with a grin. “hey, dragon king. long day?”

“you have no idea,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto his face.

seeing you here, with megumi so happily engaged in a silly game, felt like walking into a whole new world, one where he could just breathe.

“want me to blast him with my repulsor beams?” you joked, wiggling your fingers in megumi’s direction. the little guy shrieked, pretending to hide behind toji’s leg but clearly loving every second of it.

“better not,” toji chuckled. “he’s got a long night of running around ahead of him, looks like.”

“oh, come on,” you teased, tossing the mask aside and crossing the room to wrap your arms around his waist. “i think the dragon king deserves a break.”

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “yeah, i’d say so. didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”

you smiled, looking up at him. “thought i’d surprise you. guess it worked?”

“yeah,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “worked a little too well. can’t say i’m not happy about it.”

“okay, ew,” megumi said, tugging at toji’s pant leg. “can we go back to iron man now?”

toji laughed, ruffling his hair. “yeah, yeah, don’t get jealous, kiddo. why don’t you show her the move i taught you earlier?”

megumi’s face lit up as he immediately struck a pose, fists clenched, trying to look all tough. “look, iron man! i can fight like daddy!”

“oh, wow!” you gasped, feigning surprise. “i don’t stand a chance, do i?”

“nope!” megumi declared, clearly proud.

toji watched you both with a softness he rarely let show.

somehow, you just fit right in here, with him and megumi, in a way he didn’t think was possible. his life was so often filled with tension and challenges, but seeing you like this, in his space, making megumi laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world... well, it did something to him.

the world outside could keep its troubles. right here, right now, this was all he needed.

“y’know, i was about to make myself a drink,” he said, glancing at you. “but this... this might be better.”

you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “well, lucky for you, i already poured you one. just sitting there on the counter waiting for you to notice.”

toji raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the drink he’d completely missed. “oh, so you’re full of surprises tonight?”

“just for you,” you murmured.

toji sank onto the sofa, cradling the glass you'd poured for him. as he took a sip, he let out a satisfied hum, leaning back and watching as megumi raced around the room, still brimming with energy. you were crouched down, arms out and dramatically dodging his attacks, fully committing to the role of iron man battling his formidable opponent, the "evil dragon."

toji couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing his son’s face alight with happiness, and decided he’d add a little fuel to this game.

he cleared his throat, straightening up on the couch as if on a stage, and dropped his voice to a low, gravelly tone. "ah, iron man! you’ve come to challenge the mighty dragon!" he boomed, lifting his drink dramatically. "but little do you know... i have an army of minions at my command!"

"oh no!" you gasped, feigning shock, as you glanced at megumi. "the mighty dragon has backup?"

megumi cackled with delight, waving his arms around. "yeah! and i’m the strongest one!”

toji held his hand to his chest, fighting back laughter as he leaned into his role. "you’ll never defeat us, iron man. my son, the evil dragon prince, will make sure of it."

megumi, now fully invested, stomped his foot. "get her, dad!"

"aha, but iron man has a few tricks up her sleeve!" you declared, lunging forward with playful swipes, causing megumi to dart behind the sofa for cover.

toji watched, transfixed, as you and megumi continued the game, your laughter blending together in a way that filled every corner of his suite. his heart swelled as he saw the ease with which you fell into this little world with them.

he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started to imagine it, but in this moment, the thought fully settled in him: this was what he wanted.

a life where you were more than just a visitor, where you were there every day, filling their home with laughter and warmth, where megumi had a mother he adored just as much as his father.

"don’t think you can escape my wrath that easily, iron man!" he called out, smirking as he put on an exaggerated serious face, holding back a laugh. "this villain is relentless!"

"oh, we’ll see about that!" you shot back, now crawling over to the sofa, reaching for toji’s leg as if to pull him into the fray.

toji raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. "wait, no! not me! i’m just an innocent bystander!"

"yeah, right!" megumi giggled, pushing toji’s knee to “trap” him. "you’re on my team, daddy, you’re evil too!"

"right, right!" toji winked at you, lowering his voice. "well, if i must play the villain… then let it be known that the evil dragon prince and i have one weakness."

megumi’s eyes widened, and he immediately looked to you, curious. "what is it?"

toji glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. "our only weakness is… iron man’s hug attack."

"ah-ha!" you shouted triumphantly, launching yourself forward and wrapping both of them in a bear hug. megumi squealed in delight as toji laughed, caught up in the warmth of your arms around him. for a moment, the three of you were just tangled up on the couch, the room filled with the sound of giggles and breathless laughter.

as he held you close, toji let himself fully sink into the feeling.

he knew then and there, more clearly than ever, that he wanted this to be his life.

he wanted you as his wife, as megumi’s mom.

he wanted this laughter, this warmth, every single day. his hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent promise he hoped you’d understand.

you looked at him, your gaze softening, a knowing smile on your face. "thanks for the assist, dragon king," you murmured, squeezing his hand back.

"anything for iron man," he replied, his voice low and affectionate. "besides, someone’s gotta keep this dragon prince in line."

megumi pulled back just enough to look up at you both, an innocent grin on his face as he pointed between you. "you two should team up more often," he declared, clearly oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words, but making toji’s heart race nonetheless.

toji chuckled, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder. "you know, kid… i think you’re right."

tag list is open, comment if you'd like to be on it <3 [ @lemonlimecrystal-blog@mypashionisforfashion@crocodilethesir @crunchyholo @cheescakebroom @vitoshi @qyuin @starmapz @kyokoyya @lauuriiiz @ciexuvia @blubearxy @coffee-and-geto @lveegsoi @yuminako @cipher-needs-2-sleep ] produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

176 notes · View notes

avonne-writes · 6 months ago

Text

sweetest of the sunflowers

Fandom: Masters of the Air

Pairing: Buck/Bucky

Rating, word count: T, 4k

Summary: John takes care of Gale after his wisdom teeth surgery. (young vets au)

A/N: This is my gift to the amazing, sweet @bcolfanfic in the HBO War Summer Exchange organized by @hbowardaily (thank you for all your work!). My prompt was hurt/comfort with Buck and Bucky, preferably in the young vets au. Mollie, I hope you'll like what I came up with, I tried to do your lovely au justice. Happy exchange day, dear 💕

Link to the AO3 post

Bucky taps his right foot against the ugly brown-gray vinyl of the waiting room's floor, trying to focus. Goosebumps skitter down his arms, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold air blasting from the dental clinic's AC to combat the summer heat or if it’s a symptom of his mounting anxiety. Somewhere behind the door he has been staring at for the better half of an hour, Gale is getting his wisdom teeth pulled out under general anesthesia. He’s unconscious, at their mercy. What if something goes wrong? What if they measured the drugs incorrectly and he never wakes up? What if there are complications and he wakes up in excruciating pain? Bucky bounces his knee and digs the fingers of his right hand into the back of his left in a white-knuckled grip. The faux-leather chair creaks under him, barely containing his bulk.

When his ears pick up on the blare of an approaching ambulance, his head snaps up like a hypervigilant dog’s. It’s not coming here, the rational part of his mind reasons. Everything is okay with Gale. No complications, just a clean, routine surgery, and he’ll be back to normal in a few days. But the sound of the siren keeps getting louder. It’s impossible to ignore it. Bucky’s pounding heartbeat plays a cresting drum solo to accompany it. His mind jumps back to that dreadful night when he tried to end it all. How the ambulance sped with him through those dark Wyoming roads, the long hours when he could barely tell if he was dead or alive, and whether life was the better option out of the two. The most fretful sleep he has ever had.

He remembers how Gale followed him with the car all the way there in the middle of the night. Seven hours. What if Bucky has to do the same for him? What if something happened in there, behind that dark door, and the ambulance is coming to take Gale and rush him to the ER?

Nervous sweat gathers under Bucky's arms, soaking into his short-sleeved shirt. After they’d called Gale in for his surgery, he went down a rabbit hole of Reddit posts and articles describing the most horrifying wisdom teeth surgery outcomes until he felt like he was going to throw up. He was itching for a smoke - or better yet, a drink, since he has a flask hidden in the glove compartment of the car - but he held himself back. Gale needs him to be at full capacity today. He’s determined to stay firmly planted in his seat until they call for him to take Gale home.

His leg continues jiggling in agitation until the ambulance comes into view through the wide windows of the clinic. Bucky clenches his teeth, but it just speeds down the road in a plume of dust, its destination unknown. It wasn’t coming to the dental clinic.

Never even blinking, he keeps staring at the window in utter stillness for a long moment before he finally relaxes. When he sinks back in his chair and looks around the room, several pairs of eyes flicker away. The flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck, especially when he spots a teary-eyed kid with trembling lips clinging to his mom. Fuck, Croz was right not to let him babysit in the state he's in. He’s not fit to be around children. Not fit to be around anyone, he thinks with a dark tone. He’s in public, completely sober, and still, he can’t get a grip on himself and ended up scaring a child, who must have already been in need of comfort because dentists are freakin’ scary. What would Bucky’s episodes do to a kid of his own? No, he can’t subject anyone to that. He can’t even bring himself to think about it. It’s more than enough to see how badly it affects Gale, and Gale is a grown-ass man who sticks around out of his own volition. Before he could even consider parenthood, he needs to get better first.

“Don’t worry, dear.” The elderly woman sitting next to him tells him gently and pats the back of Bucky’s linked hands. “They’re the best around here. They’ll sort your teeth out before you know it. You won’t feel a thing.”

Bucky clears his throat and croaks out a thanks, glancing around and finding strangers turning away again as they get startled by him looking back. He knows his ears must be bright red. I’m a veteran, he wants to tell them. The shit I’ve seen doesn’t go away just like that. But what kind of an excuse is that? By all means, he should have already recovered. He’s not the one whose leg - He shuts that thought down before he could spiral deeper into it. This is neither the place, nor the time. Gale depends on him. He had tried to postpone his own surgery because of Bucky’s issues until his sister found out about it and had a tense talk with both of them. What does that say about Bucky as a husband? It’s high time for him to step up and show Gale that he’s there for Gale too, not just the other way around. He can’t let him down by causing a scene or freaking out.

Besides, it’s nice not to be “the crazy vet” for once. Now, he’s just the hulking guy with the dentist phobia. Marginally better.

He spins his wedding band around his finger to distract himself. He wants to text Curt just to have someone tell him he’s an idiot to worry and nothing’s gonna happen, but he holds himself back. His incessant unhinged texts and calls are enough of a burden already. He’ll manage this on his own for as long as he can.

Suddenly, the door swings open and the peppy assistant steps out, smiling as she calls for “Mr. Egan.”

Bucky goes deaf and blind from nerves for a split second before he stands up, wipes his clammy palms on his thighs and makes his shaky legs carry him to follow after the woman. She smiles at him warmly as if she hasn’t noticed.

“Did -” Bucky clears his throat again once they're inside. He struggles with the words, feeling awkward. This place is nothing like the psych ward, but clinical environments will probably never fail to unsettle him. “Did it go all right?”

“Yes, everything went well. All impacted teeth have been removed without any complications.” She directs her cheerful expression at him again as they walk past the operatory. “Mr. Cleven is just through here, in our recovery room.”

She gestures at the second door they’re approaching. “He’ll be a bit dazed and confused, and he might not be in control of what he says, but remember that this is perfectly normal after anesthesia. Try to reassure him and keep him calm. He needs to stay in the recovery room for at least thirty minutes, then the doctor’s going to check if everything is all right, and whether Mr. Cleven is able to stand and walk on his own.” Her reassuring smile never wavers, and her persistence pays off - Bucky feels the worst of his anxiety drain from his body. “If all is well, he’ll be discharged and you can take him home.”

Bucky nods, feeling slightly dazed himself. He already knew what to expect, but he doesn’t know what the reality of that is going to look like. Gale was so anxious about this part beforehand, and it’s easy to understand why. Helplessness and loss of control would be scary to anyone, but to Gale? It’s a nightmare. He was so scared of it that he refused his sister’s offer to be here in Bucky’s place. I’m not letting anyone else see me like that, John, he said when Bucky tried to discuss whether that would have been the better idea instead. Bucky can only hope that he can provide him enough support.

He exchanges a few more words and a quiet thanks with the assistant, then pushes the door handle hesitantly.

The room is specifically designed to be a calming space for recovery after procedures requiring anesthesia. It’s quiet, the walls are painted in warm beiges and browns, and the lights are much dimmer than the harsh neon of the operatory. There’s a small cot in one corner and several padded chairs scattered around. Opposite, close to a door with a bathroom sign, a comfy-looking brown recliner armchair takes up the space. That’s where Bucky finds Gale sitting with his feet propped up and his hands limp on the armrests as though the staff arranged him like that themselves. Gale watches him silently, with hooded blue eyes that match his t-shirt and a displeased downward curve of his mouth that makes him look like a cat. There’s gauze sticking out between his lips, but otherwise, he looks fine.

Bucky feels like the sharp inhale of relief he takes is the first one since he saw Gale walk inside.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says gently as he pads over to Gale and pulls up a chair on Gale’s right side. He doesn’t know why he lowers his voice. It’s not as if speaking louder would hurt Gale. He feels ridiculous for it, but it’s instinctive. He hopes Gale doesn’t mind. With a sigh, he sits down and takes Gale’s hand.

Gale pulls it away sluggishly. “Don’t touch me.”

Bucky’s heart freezes in his chest at those slurred words. Is Gale angry with him? Or is he in pain, maybe? How can Bucky make it better? “I’m sorry. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

At a snail’s pace, Gale turns his head to direct his hazy gaze at the door. “You’re handsome but I have a husband, you know.” He mumbles, barely able to get the words out clear enough to be understood. “I’m not a widower.”

The way Bucky’s heart sinks leaves him lightheaded. He has seen a lot of videos about people saying weird things after sedation and he laughed heartily at them all. But there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing. Not being recognized wounds already, but it’s Gale’s second sentence that leaves him truly speechless with guilt and grief. It sounded like Gale was trying to reassure himself that he does, indeed, still have a husband. That the bullet went into the wall, and Bucky to the psych ward instead of the cemetery. There’s nothing funny about hearing Gale unintentionally admit that he thought he might become a widower.

“I know.” Bucky tells him, trying not to get overwhelmed. “I know, darling. It’s me. I’m your husband.”

Gale frowns at the door and blinks slowly, not turning back to Bucky. “My husband is a soldier. A soldier… Your’re in jeans.”

It takes a second for Bucky to make sense of the logic of Gale’s jumbled thoughts and realize that he expected someone in uniform. He’s not sure how to argue with that, so he just bites his lip and reaches for Gale’s hand again. He remembers not to touch only at the last moment, so his hand is left hanging awkwardly on the armrest. Gale’s head tilts as he looks down at it. Slowly, he touches Bucky’s ring with a fingertip and tries to spin it on Bucky’s finger, but his strength leaves him after a moment and he lets his hand drop into Bucky’s open palm. Bucky shifts to hold it properly. This time, Gale doesn’t protest.

“Gale, look at me, sweetheart. It’s me, John. Bucky.”

Gale’s pale blue eyes find his, blink a few times, then Gale’s lips split into a loopy smile that Bucky finds adorable despite the gauze sticking out of his mouth.

“John!” Gale exclaims, startling Bucky with the volume. “I missed you!”

Despite the fact that he’s still reeling from the reminder that he almost left Gale forever, Bucky can’t help but smile back. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

Gale gives him a stricken look and wetness wells up in his eyes. He tries to reach for his own face but seems to decide that he doesn’t have the strength to do it after all and lets his free hand drop back in his lap. “They took all my teeth.” He sniffles.

“No, they didn’t. Don’t worry, they’re still there.”

“They took them!” Gale insists, waving with his arm. He drops his head back against the chair, closes his eyes and makes a crying sound. “I have no teeth and you won’t love me anymore.”

Rationally, Bucky knows that he and Gale are going to laugh at some of the things Gale is saying right now, once Gale is back to himself, but he still feels his heart ache from how vulnerable Gale is like this. What if Bucky couldn't be here? What if the bullet hadn’t gone into the wall, but hit its target instead? Bucky’s guilt intensifies until he can barely take it. He pulls Gale’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “Do you trust me?”

Gale looks up at him with watery eyes. “Yes.”

“I would still love you without teeth, Gale. But they didn’t take all your teeth, I promise. Only your wisdom teeth.”

“You still love me?” The words stumble wetly from Gale’s mouth. He ignores the rest of what Bucky told him.

“Of course I love you.” Bucky smiles and presses another kiss to Gale’s hand, to which Gale’s reaction is patting at Bucky’s mouth clumsily. He rubs at Bucky’s moustache, seemingly fascinated by those short whiskers of hair. He looks lost in his delirious thoughts. Bucky lets him - he doesn’t think he could deny Gale anything now, so overcome he is with fondness.

“I wanted a bunny.” Gale says mournfully. His articulation is getting better, but his eyes are still unfocused and he clearly doesn’t have any of his filters working. “For my birthday. A black bunny. Not white because white bunnies have red eyes.”

Bucky can’t help it, he snorts a laugh. Gale snickers along with him, completely out of it. Gently, Bucky pulls Gale’s hand away and holds it in his own. “This year?” Probably not, but it’s a hilarious thought nonetheless.

Gale doesn’t answer. He stares at Bucky, narrows his eyes, then widens them in a look of wonder and glances around the room. His head tilts in a way that suggests he can barely hold it up. “Whoa, can we get one of these chairs?”

A frown pulls at Bucky’s eyebrows. “Which ones?”

“The blue ones.” Gale says, pointing shakily at the corner of the room that’s set up for children. There’s a low table with sheets of paper and crayons scattered on it, and around it, a few plastic kid chairs.

Bucky stifles another laugh. “Those are for kids, baby. I know you keep saying I’m a big child, but I don’t think that could hold my weight.”

Gale hums. It stretches out so long that it’s like a growl, as if he enjoys the vibration of his own voice and doesn’t want to stop until he runs out of breath. “‘s for our kid.”

Bucky’s smile falls. “Our kid?”

They haven’t talked about that since Bucky’s… Since the worst night of his life. It was clear as day that they couldn’t bring another soul into the mess he caused with his fucked-up mental health. Gale never mentioned it, never even hinted at it since that night. The longing is still there in his eyes whenever he sees Bucky play with children, but this is the first time that Bucky heard it from his mouth that he wants a kid. That he still wants it, after everything.

“I think they’d like it, it’s - it’s -” Gale doesn’t finish his thought out loud, but jumps straight to the next. “You’d be a wonderful dad. The best dad. I’ve thought it all out.” He nods to himself. “The best dad.”

For the second time since he entered the room, Bucky’s heart contracts painfully. “I'm not fit to be a dad, Gale. Not now.”

Gale makes a sudden, wide gesture of frustration and hits Bucky’s arm by accident, but it’s too weak to hurt. “Told you I’d thought it all out.” He mumbles something unintelligible, then drops his head back against the chair. “You take good care of your plants. The plants love you, John. They’re beautiful.” He takes a deep breath and sighs as if settling down to sleep. “I love you too.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he just swipes his thumb back and forth over the back of Gale’s hand and goes for humor. “And you’re beautiful. I think I see a pattern there.”

“Yes, I’m beautiful.” Gale smiles, as if anything Bucky told him now was a universal truth. "You’re not allowed to kiss me."

Bucky bites back a grin. He may not be allowed but it sounds like Gale certainly wants him to break that rule. "Why not?"

"Dangerous." Gale pouts and touches his own lips. Before he could stick his fingers in his mouth to explore what must be a weird sensation of numbness in there, Bucky grabs his wrist and pulls it away.

"How about a kiss on the cheek, hm?" He shakes Gale’s hands playfully. He knows he shouldn't French kiss Gale for 24 hours after surgery, but that doesn’t mean that everything is off the table. "I think that’s allowed."

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gale gives him an uncoordinated nod. "Only if you keep it a secret."

"Deal." Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to Gale’s cheek, where it curves like an apple whenever Gale smiles wide.

“Can we go home now?” He hears Gale ask when he pulls back.

He glances at the clock on the wall. “We need to stay here for a few more minutes. Just until you feel better.”

“Oh, okay.” Gale says, then, immediately after, “I feel better.”

“You need to be able to walk first.”

Gale’s eyes snap open and he starts wrestling with gravity to pull himself up and out of the chair. “I can walk.”

Bucky tries to nudge him back down. “Don’t be impatient. We’re not running anywhere, are we?”

“I’m running.” Gale declares with all the determination and none of the muscle control needed for a normal gait. He pushes himself to the edge of the armchair, which already proves to be a struggle, then he turns sideways instead of tilting the recliner back into its default position. “I’m good at it.”

“Easy, easy.” Bucky stands up and places his hands on Gale’s shoulders lightly. An amused smile plays around his lips. “Why don’t you stay put, just for a little while more? Hm?”

A small, frustrated grunt escapes Gale’s lips as he tries to push himself up. “I can do it.”

“Gale, sit your ass down.”

The forlorn look on Gale’s face makes Bucky’s smile widen in fondness.

Gale glares at him, profoundly annoyed. “I can walk. I could do a cartwheel. I just don’t want to.”

“Sure you could.”

“I’m the best at cartwheels. The best. Better than you. I practiced in our backyard.”

“Our backyard?”

“I don’t know.” Gale huffs, then shakes his head. “Practiced after school.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning. It must have been primary or middle school then. He imagines a wildly blond ten-year-old falling all over himself in the grass, stubborn to get it right. “Did you wanna impress someone?”

Gale hums in agreement, then hugs Bucky around the waist with his trembling arms. He pushes his forehead against Bucky’s stomach. “John, I wanna go home.”

“Shh.” Bucky soothes him, stroking his hair. When he puts a hand on each of Gale’s arms, Gale goes completely limp. He lets Bucky hold him up. “I’ll take you home in no time.”

“Can we go to Subway first?” Gale’s voice is muffled in his shirt. It’s not terribly slurred anymore, but it isn’t clear and measured either. “Like a date? Like a Bagram date. Can you take me back to Bagram? I wanna flirt with you.”

Bucky laughs softly and rocks them back and forth in place. He doesn’t like to think of Bagram, but the memories of their Subway dates remain bright, happy spots like a string of fairy lights in the clusterfuck of darkness the rest of it became. He makes a mental note to take Gale out on a date once he’s allowed to eat solid food again. “You don’t need to go back to Bagram to flirt with me.”

“I’m flirting with you now.” Gale says automatically, and tightens his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I think it’s working.”

Bucky grins and pushes a hand under the collar of Gale’s shirt to stroke his back the way Gale likes it. “Yeah? What gave me away?”

As he turns his head sideways, Bucky can see that Gale’s eyes are closed, and he’s smiling. “Just a gut feeling.” Gale hums contemplatively. “And Curt says so too.”

“Curt, huh?”

“Curt loves you too.”

Golden warmth spreads through Bucky’s chest. It’s strange that marriage can feel like this sometimes. Affection so deep that it wounds. “Makes sense, since he claims to be a pretty boy.”

Gale giggles.

They stay embracing like that until Gale’s dentist comes back to check if he can be discharged.

~♡~

On the way home, in the familiar safety of their car, Gale gets even chattier than before. He narrates the entire drive, happy and relaxed, and sings along to the Fleetwood Mac songs Bucky put in his playlist. It’s only when Bucky turns the car onto their driveway that he quiets down. He doesn’t say anything when they stop, not even when Bucky gives him a reassuring smile. He stays silent even as Bucky climbs out of the car, circles around to his side and unbuckles his seatbelt. However, as Bucky helps him out of his seat, his limbs start trembling again.

At first, Bucky thinks it's muscle weakness, but when he loops Gale’s arm around his shoulders to walk him inside, Gale’s steps are steadier than he expected. He guides Gale into the bedroom and helps him lie down under the covers, but still, Gale doesn’t stop shaking. He’s very lethargic now, but when Bucky sits on the mattress beside him and runs a hand through his blond hair, his lips curl into a faint smile.

“Do you need anything?” Bucky asks quietly.

Gale gives him a tired look. “I'm cold.”

“Oh.” Bucky wants to slap himself for not considering that. He roots around in their closet until he finds Gale’s JSTOR sweater, then helps Gale into it, one arm at a time. He wishes Gale had told him sooner or that he’d realized what the shaking meant, but he can’t do anything about that now.

When he tries to tuck the blanket around Gale again, Gale pulls at his arm until Bucky lies down too, spooning Gale from behind. Speckles of marigold-yellow light sneak in through the half-drawn blinds. Some of them dance on the books lying on Gale’s nightstand, sparks of magic on the colourful covers. Bucky feels himself relax just looking at it.

“You’d be the best dad.” Gale repeats. His breathing slows down. “Told you.”

“All right.”

“I'm so tired.”

Bucky presses a kiss to the back of Gale's neck and breathes in his sweet scent, the smell of home. “Go to sleep.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why not?”

It takes Gale so long to reply that Bucky thinks he has fallen asleep. But eventually, he mumbles something into his pillow. “I'm scared.”

“Don’t be.” Bucky tells him softly and strokes his arm, then his side before wrapping his arm around his waist again. He slots his body as close to Gale's as possible to cradle him in warmth and comfort. “I'm here.”

Gale tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

Bucky squeezes back. “I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up, baby.”

Safe in his arms, Gale finally falls asleep.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #young vets au #hbowarsummer24 #my writing

117 notes · View notes

sweetbillwriting · 2 months ago

Text

The Key To His Heart - V

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019.

Setting: L.A, 2024 but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: It's not just Bill's life that is different in this world!

Maria looked at Bill with a soft laugh when they walked into the gigantic, empty theater. Everything was gold and red velvet; it was fitting for a movie scene just in itself.

“This is just for us?” She said, fixing the straps on the orange dress she was wearing. Bill smirked a little and looked at the big screen in front of them. He had never experienced movies in a theater that size by himself before.

“It seems like it.”

He looked around and could see an old-school popcorn machine and soda machine in the corner. On a table next to them lay postcards of movie posters. Bill couldn't stop himself from starting to look through them at once, and Maria giggled at him when she saw how eager he was to see what movies it was.

“Have you seen any of them?” She asked. Bill looked at her a bit amused and licked his lips.

“I think I've seen them all, actually.”

It was classics and cult movies from all decades, and many were on the shelves in his bedroom.

“Really? All of them?” Maria looked through the postcards. “Some look ancient!” She looked at a black-and-white picture.

“That’s Gone With The Wind. You've never seen it? When I was a kid in Sweden, it was often shown on TV.”

“No… Is it something I should see?”

“I think so. It's a classic—a real classic—but it's not a favorite of mine. It's a bit boring to me, but a classic nonetheless.”

Maria nodded a little and looked at Bill's long fingers going through some of the pictures. He wore two silver rings and had a broken cuticle on his left thumb.

“You must have seen the Cuckoo Nest!” He said and showed her a picture of Jack Nicholson. Maria smiled, and Bill thought it meant she had seen it, but she shook her head. “No, I know what it is about, but I've never been interested enough. But this I've seen!” She showed him a picture of Notting Hill, and Bill smiled a bit strained, but she couldn't read his smile. Notting Hill was a good movie, but he wouldn't say it was a movie leaving such a big impact on you. He had some teaching to do.

“What do you want to see?” He asked while inspecting the soda machine. Maria looked at him in silence while he tried to make the machine work. The black t-shirt sat tight over his bulking biceps, and the dark blue slacks sat nice over his ass and sculpted hips.

“Something romantic,” said she with a blushy smile. Bill looked back at her with a smirk. “It's not your genre?”

“Ehh… Not really, no. But there are absolutely good romantic movies too.” Just when he said that a bottle of Coke finally came out of the machine, and with a simple bang against the table, he opened it and gave it to Maria, who took it with a smile. Bill started to go through the pictures again, searching for a good romantic movie, but he was distracted by the better movie in the stack and showed Maria the pictures to see if she had seen them. The only one she had seen was Star Wars and It's a Wonderful Life. Bill didn't become irritated because he knew he was a nerd, but he thought a bit about how it would be if she actually knew a bit more.

They chose a movie each. She chose Dirty Dancing, while he chose Casablanca, just so she would see a classic. They talked about the movie while watching, even if Bill felt he was committing a crime by talking in the theater. He liked Dirty Dancing, but he would never understand why so many women felt it was so good. Some explained it as almost a religious experience, and he wondered if they really just had their sexual awakening when they saw Patrick Swayze dance. He let that question be; it felt a bit too early to accuse Maria of just being horny.

He could feel her eyes on him while they watched the movies, especially when the characters kissed. He recognized that from his teens. One of his first dates as a fourteen-year-old was at the movies. He remembered it being The Aviator that they saw, and the girl had watched his profile when Leonardo DiCaprio had a heated scene with Kate Beckinsale. He didn't dare to kiss her though, but let his knee press against hers. Now he dared to look at the woman next to him when Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman danced closely together. Maria looked back at him and giggled.

“Swedes are so gorgeous…” she said and looked at him with starlit eyes. Bill smirked a bit blushy but took the moment to kiss her. They didn't need to think about someone sitting behind him so Bill could angle his body against hers comfortably. It was Maria who kissed him again and again. He was surprised over her courage but kissed back and chuckled after, when their foreheads were pressed against each other.

×××

It was finally time for them to have some time outside of the TV show. They would all leave Bill's place to go home for a couple of days or to do something else than be locked in the house. Bill would go to his older brother Alex’s house, where his daughters lived for the moment. He had missed them so much, but he also needed advice from his brother. Herman wasn't the best friend to get advice from at the moment because he wanted a good show, so he needed someone who could remind him of the important things—what kind of woman he actually wanted.

Before letting the women leave, he would have a short time to say goodbye to them all separately. Bill felt nervous about it because some of the women he didn't know much about. He knew it would be so obvious for the women, and he would feel bad about it. He had neglected some of them. The first one to say goodbye to was Rose, whom he felt he knew quite a bit about.

“Will you go see your parents now?” He asked while they sat on the white banister on the porch. Rose nodded with a bright smile. Her cheeks were rosy, and she played with his fingers belonging to the hand laying between them.

“Yeah, I could go home, but they live here in town, so it felt easier.”

He knew she was from Florida; she had moved to get a better job. Bill was quiet for a moment, looking at the baby blue lace on her dress. It suited her blonde hair. She had probably dressed up just for that short moment with him.

“Why did you call my name last in the ceremony?” She dared to ask after looking at Bill's kind face for a few seconds. He turned his gaze towards her eyes and thought a little.

“I really like you, Rose, but I don't know if you understand what kind of life I live. You're so young.”

“What would I not understand?” She asked frustrated and furrowed her brows. Bill looked out over the lawn while a breeze played with his hair.

“You said you don't know if or when you want kids. I already have kids. A woman who is with me will get them too. They're my everything.”

Rose looked at him intensely and felt something squeeze around her heart.

“Of course I can live with that.”

“I don't want you to 'live with that.' I want you to see them as an important part of your life also.”

Rose took his hand in hers and squeezed it the same way something squeezed her heart. She wanted him so bad.

“Of course, of course.”

Bill examined her young face. It looked like she panicked, and he felt he couldn't really trust her words. It was obvious she wanted him, but it felt like she was afraid to lose other things because of it.

They said goodbye with a hug to Rose's disappointment. She tried to look at him so sweetly, tried to drag her hands so sensually over his chest, everything to get a kiss, but he moved away from her after the soft hug. She could hear her heart in her ears and feel tears under her eyelids when she walked back to her room.

×××

Tiffany giggled sweetly when Bill came into her room. It wasn't really her room but his oldest daughter's, and you could see clues to it when you looked at the motifs of pictures on the walls and the messy desk in the corner. She was ten and loved everything with flamingos to many's amusement.

“Why flamingos?” Asked Tiffany while looking at a picture of a flamingo with sunglasses on the wall. Bill laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I drew the line when she wanted to put one outside on the lawn.”

Tiffany laughed, and so did Bill. He sat down on the bed that Tiffany had made; she had a feeling he would come into her room either when they were still there or after they left.

“Where are you going now?” He asked and stretched his long legs out. Tiffany looked at his limbs, amused. He was so long.

“To a friend's house. I felt New York was a bit too far away.” Bill nodded understandingly.

“Is that the place you want to live?” He tried to lurk about how she felt about California, but that was obvious for Tiffany. She sat down next to him and stretched out her legs too. She wasn't that short, but her legs still looked short compared to his.

“I would move for love. I mean, I'm an actress; maybe Los Angeles is even better for me.”

Bill turned his gaze to her. He wanted to see if she was serious or if she just said what she believed he wanted to hear, like Rose had done. He smiled when he met her sincere eyes.

“Is it a close friend?” He asked to not drown in her eyes.

“It’s not my closest friend, but I have many friends, so...”

“But you're okay with leaving for a weekend? I guess it can be hard for some; I just need time with my girls. And some alone time.” He said the last part with a laugh, and Tiffany laughed too.

“There have been many girls.”

“Mhm. I am a girl dad, but it's a total other thing to be with grown women.”

Tiffany smiled when he rubbed his eyes like he was tired of just the thought. He laughed embarrassed when he saw her smile but then hugged her knee.

“I should say goodbye to the other girls.” Tiffany nodded disappointed but understood. She didn't feel rushed with Bill; she felt their relationship grew slowly and healthily, and she would win on that in the long run.

×××

He had been with Tiffany a bit too long because when he came out of her room, he could see Maria by a cab through the hallway's big window. He took several steps at a time on the stairs because he really didn't want to miss her; that would look so bad.

“Maria!” He shouted when he came out, and she turned her gaze to him. The taxi driver had put her luggage in the trunk and looked towards the cameras, uncomfortably. Maria laughed when Bill started to run towards her.

“I thought you had forgotten me.”

“Never,” he said charmingly and walked close to her. She smiled at him and laid her arms around his neck. Bill tucked her long black hair behind her ears and looked into her dark brown eyes.

“I think the driver wants to go, so I must say goodbye,” she said disappointed, and Bill nodded with a similar expression. He wondered if some of the other girls watched them, but he took the risk and gave her a light peck on the lips. Just like the day before, Maria was the one kissing him again; this time she separated her lips and licked his underlip to get a pass, but Bill drew the line there. It didn't feel right; it felt too intimate to do on the side of the road, with a possible audience.

Maria looked at him a bit embarrassed before jumping into the cab. She wondered what she did wrong because Bill seemed uncomfortable. She really felt there was something special between them, but maybe he had that feeling with more women.

×××

Bill walked to the guest house where the other women lived. He hadn't visited them there, but he had heard it was there that the drama happened. He walked in through the door without knocking; it was his house after all, and he couldn't see that the girls would go around naked outside of their rooms, especially not now when they would leave. He looked around and felt shocked when he saw how messy it was. Piles of dishes stood in the kitchen, the stove had sticky stains, and even on the living room table stood coffee cups, and make-up was spread out. The girls in the main house didn't leave such a mess. He felt an icky feeling when he looked at the leftovers on the plates. Of course he could leave things like that too, but not in someone else's home.

“Hey Bill,” said Brigitte behind him, and he turned around. She could probably see that he looked dissatisfied by the mess because she looked around at it with embarrassment.

“It's mostly Esmeralda... She has a tendency to just leave things behind and move on,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh. Bill nodded a little, even if he couldn't believe it was just one person who had created that mess.

“Ehm… I just wanted to say goodbye? He said and pushed down his hands deep in his jeans pocket.

Brigitte smiled and stepped closer to him. He smiled and thought back to their date. It had been so good, but it had paled with time. She stood up on her toes, wanted a kiss, and he would have felt bad had he not pressed his lips against hers.

“I will miss you,” she said softly and dragged her hands over his hips. He gave her a smile and kissed her again. He kissed her so he didn't need to lie. There were other girls he would think more about than her.

“I must say goodbye to the others too…” he said and released her slowly. Brigitte nodded but hugged his hips one final time and dragged her hands slowly towards his behind. Her gaze on him said it all to him. She had feelings for him—serious feelings for him. He smiled nervously and broke free from her grip so he could say goodbye to the rest of them. He felt awful that he more or less fooled them, just to make TV.

×××

Brigitte pointed out Violet and Esmeralda's rooms for him. Violet had the biggest room in the house, and Brigitte mentioned she wouldn't have accepted it another way when she moved in. Bill could smell the annoyance and understood Violet was a source of irritation in the house. He smirked a little when he walked towards her room because girl drama was a bit funny. He saved Esmeralda; she was still his favorite, and he wanted to save the best for last.

Violet sat on the edge of the bed and painted her lips with a nude colored lipstick. Bill knocked lightly on the door frame, and she looked at him with a bright smile and fixed her blouse.

“Bill! I didn't think you knew where the guesthouse was,” she teased and made Bill smirk.

“Do you think I've visited too little?”

“Yes, you haven't been here at all.”

He shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to her.

“Maybe because it's so fucking messy here. It will start smelling soon!” He joked even if there was truth to it. Violet looked embarrassed and answered fast:

“It's Esmeralda! She's so messy!”

Bill smirked at seeing her panicked expression.

“All of it? How much does she eat?”

“Maybe not all of it; I don't know; maybe Sandra and Maria leave dishes too? I would never do that.” Bill nodded but looked away to cover his smirk.

“When will it be my time to go on a date? You have been out with everyone else, and I can't understand why I'm the last one,” she said when he looked at her again. He sat dumbfounded; he wasn't prepared for the question and hadn't thought about it either.

“Ehh…”

“I really thought you would take me out now. Instead, you took Maria, and that feels like a really weird choice. You two would never become an item. She's just old.”

Bill looked at Violet's serious expression to see if there was some sort of joke or remorse there, but there wasn't.

“She's just four years older than me.”

“Yes, but there's a big difference between men and women. You know that too. Men are young for a longer time. And like, if you want more kids, she may not be able to give you that, you know, because she's old.” Bill laughed a bit unamused because he didn't know at all what to say to her. It was misogynistic as hell, and he didn't think a woman would say such things about another on TV. He nodded a little; even if he didn't agree, he just did it because he was uncomfortable.

“Well, I just wanted to say goodbye, Violet.” He stood up and cleared his voice. He had lost the ability to small talk because of her outdated opinions. She smiled and stood up, clearly not feeling his vibe. He gave her a stiff smile and a hug so he could go to Esmeralda instead; he was quite sure she had better values.

×××

Bill had laid down on his back on Esmeralda’s bed. She lay next to him, on her side, and looked at him.

"Yeah, there has been some drama here... Violet is a bit of a diva,” said Esmeralda with a smirk. Bill looked at her and turned, so he laid face to face with her.

“How?” He said it curiously. Esmeralda laughed, and Bill smiled, confused.

“You just want the dirt! You're such a gossip!”

Bill laughed guiltily and took her hand and pulled her closer to his body.

“No, I'm just worried…” He faked obliviousness and made Esmeralda laugh even more.

She shook her head and laid her leg over his hip.

“Come on, tell me!” He said it with a silly smirk, and Esmeralda twisted her mouth in amusement.

“Yeah yeah… Well, I guess Violet is a bit of a diva; you know everything should be the way she wants, and Sandra can't handle that. It feels sometimes like she wants to push Violet's buttons to see her act out.”

“Like how?”

“She comments on everything. She’s on her for every silly thing. I guess she's a bit of a bully?”

Bill nodded with big eyes while dragging her hand over Esmeralda's thigh. He thought about asking about the mess in the kitchen, but let it be; he didn't want to start drama too.

“What about the others?” He asked. Esmeralda kissed his forehead with a giggle, before continuing to talk.

“Maria is Sandra's sidekick; she isn't mean in any way, but she seems irritated quite often. Brigitte is nice. Maybe too nice, a bit boring?” She looked at Bill like she hoped he would say anything, but he knew where the line was; he wouldn't give her anything about the others.

“And who are you?” He said it teasingly.

“I'm the bitch. You already knew that!” Bill laughed and moved closer to her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I'm right all the time!”

Bill scratched his stubble on his jawline.

“I guess we're both alike in that. But I actually am right all the time!”

Esmeralda shook her head and lowered her gaze; because of that, she wasn't prepared for Bill putting his warm lips against hers. She giggled softly, and Bill saw his chance to let his tongue visit hers. Esmeralda kissed back and moved even closer to Bill, so their sexes were pushed together. She could feel the shape of him but didn't want to do more in front of the cameras.

“Can't you tell me about the girls in the main house? Like Rose, Sienna?” He asked when they had separated their lips.

“Rose is the sweetest. I don't think anyone has anything against her. She's just a doll. Looks like one too. I guess, just young?” Once again, Esmeralda looked at Bill like he would agree, but he didn't say anything, even if he did agree.

“Sienna is also really sweet but also a bit weird. I think she has ADHD or something. But she's also “the mom," I think? Everyone goes, or went, to her to get comfort. Ehm… Tiffany is probably the one I like best here, so you should eliminate her now.”

Bill furrowed his brows.

“I can't compete with her when I like her, and I don't want to share you with her.”

Bill looked away; suddenly he felt dirty again. He had kissed three women just that day—not Tiffany but two others. If Esmeralda was the bitch of the show, he clearly was the slut. He had never thought he would be that way, but suddenly it felt completely normal walking from woman to woman.

"Oh, by the way, Camila?” Said Esmeralda. One more woman he had kissed. “She dug around in your daughters’ stuff. So if they’re missing anything, it's probably her.”

Bill cleared his throat and looked away. The key. It must have been among his daughter’s things. He didn't know she had one either, but it was more logical she had one than Camila, and she had found it while searching through her stuff. Camila was the psycho of the group.

He got caught in his own thoughts for a while, but Esmeralda let him lay between her legs, thinking in silence. He collected himself just to say goodbye to Esmeralda with three intimate kisses, but then he laid down on his own bed.

He was an asshole. He didn't want this anymore, but he didn't have a choice. He signed a contract and was forced to play along even if he could see himself becoming a douchier guy by the day. He would be ashamed when they broadcast the show on TV. Especially in front of his daughters.

×××

He really tried to relax and clear his head at Alex's place, where he was finally without cameras, but it was hard. He felt awful and couldn't find a solution to it. He needed to accept he would look like an asshole on international TV. Why did he kiss all three of them? He should have just kissed Esmeralda, but the other girls really wanted to, so he felt forced. It wasn't the whole truth, but almost, and while he looked at his daughter's play in the pool, he nodded to himself, saying to himself that he wasn't the driving force for the kisses.

“But it is this Esmeralda who is your favorite? Do you think it will be her in the end?” Asked Alex curiously, everyone around Bill thought the show was interesting, especially when Bill could shut off his emotions easily and was really picky with women.

Bill put a hand behind his head where he lay in the sunbed. He scratched his armpit while thinking about Alex's question. He thought about Esmeralda and smiled a little, but it died down when he thought about another woman.

“What?” Alex asked and examined his little brother’s face; it looked like he experienced many emotions at once.

“She's my favorite, but I don't know... There are other women too. I just feel like an asshole all the time. They treat me like I am so fucking special, and I also wonder how many of them would feel that if it wasn't a competition.”

Alex nodded and looked towards his girlfriend, who sat with their son by a table in the shade. He wished Bill could get the same love and comfort, but a TV show was probably not the right way.

Both of them sat quietly, but it was just Alex who heard Bill's phone ringing.

“It's ringing!” Shouted Alex's girlfriend and held up Bill's phone that lay on the table.

“Who is it?” Shouted Bill back.

“Herman!”

Bill sighed and laid a hand on his forehead.

“Throw the phone in the pool!”

“What?” She answered, believing she had heard wrong. Bill sighed and stood up without answering her. He walked quickly so he would be able to answer before Herman hung up.

“Yeah?”

“Bill? Hey. How is it?”

“It's fine. How are you?”

“Good, good… Ehm.. We have bad news.”

Bill sat down next to Alex's son and prepared himself for the worst, even if he didn't know what that would be.

“Sandra will not come back to the show. Her dad isn't recovering like she thought.”

“Oh. That's sad…” Bill said even if he didn't have so many emotions around it. He didn't know Sandra's dad, so it became all too abstract, and he hadn't gotten to know Sandra either.

“Yeah… We must solve this; there’s far too few girls for the number of episodes the channel has paid for.”

“Okay?”

“So we must bring someone back.”

Bill sat quietly, staring up at the sky and feeling his heart beat faster and faster. He was pathetic, but he wouldn't lose this chance.

“We want to bring back Odette-”

“Sienna. I want Sienna back,” interrupted Bill. He played with the edge of his dark green bathing shorts and pulled at the strings. He had lowered his gaze because even if Alex's girlfriend didn't know anything, he knew she could hear the desperation in his voice.

Herman smacked his lips.

“What? I thought you didn't like her?”

“Ehm… It can be good TV?”

"Yeah, sure, but she left by herself. To be with her son. I don't think she wants to come back.”

Bill listened to his heartbeat in his ears and dragged his hand over his thigh over and over.

“We can try?”

“I don't know Bill…”

“I can try? I mean, if I personally say that I want her to come back, maybe she will?”

Bill listened to Herman's silence until his friend dared to talk again.

“To be honest, I don't think she liked you that much.”

He wasn't prepared to hear that; it was silly that he hadn’t even considered that. She didn't like him; maybe her son even was just an excuse to get away from him.

“We can at least try?”

Herman chuckled, amused.

“Do you have a hangup?”

Bill didn't say anything because it was always a joke about his hangups. He couldn't let things go. If he had decided to go for something, he would make that happen. Now it was about a girl.

“Can you just fix it so I can talk to her?”

“Sure, I will try, but I can't force her.”

When Bill had hung up, he met Alex's blue eyes to the left of him. He had lifted up his son in his lap and taken his seat so he could stare at his little brother until he would get nervous. He had overheard his phone call and knew he hid something from him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” said Bill, and he played with his phone just to have something else to look at than Alex.

“What? I was just wondering who you were talking about? Sienna? Is that another girl?”

“No, it's a boy. I'm coming out, right here, right now!” Joked Bill and stretched his arms with a smirk.

“Nothing new, so tell me about this boy, Sienna?”

Bill grunted in irritation; he wasn't able to joke away the topic but he was stupid believing he would be able to do that.

“Well… She left. She chose to leave the show. I guess I hadn't given her a fair chance really, and then she came to say that to me and… I don't know, those twenty minutes just… Stayed with me. It felt different being with her. I don't know...”

“I hope it's not just one of your hangups, and you will ditch her as soon as she shows she likes you.”

Even if Alex’s words irritated him, he answered collected:

“No, no. I actually don't think so. It's not that sort of feeling. This is… Yeah, you know, it’s the real feeling.”

Alex nodded; he knew and he could see on his brother’s face that he was serious.

×××

“Sienna said okay to a video call with you, but she also said she will not change her mind. She doesn't have the time.”

Herman had called Bill and talked about Sienna. He gave him her mail address so he could call her that way and gave him the time 2 AM. It was late, but that was fine; his daughters would be in bed by then.

Bill felt more stressed about his looks than he had before any ceremony. He really wanted to look his best, so she would want to come back. He needed her to come back. Now when that thought was born, he hadn't been able to let it go. He needed more time with her. It was late at night because of the time difference between them. She lived in New Jersey, and they were three hours before Los Angeles. He was used to having calls late at night because of his family and friends in Sweden, so he didn't think about it so much.

Even if she would just see him through a screen, he splashed on some perfume after having done his hair and pulled on a black t-shirt. He sat down in the bed, in Alex's guest room, with the laptop in his lap and looked at the watch. 1.46. It was still a long time until she would connect with him, and he didn't know what to do. For a while, he just sat and watched himself in the camera to see how he looked. He felt the lighting in the room gave him dark circles under his eyes, and he started to bite his lips when he felt they were too dry. After that, he started to look through all the apps on his phone, reading mail he had already read. He looked at the watch and opened the link for the conversation when there was just one minute left, but then nothing happened. He stared at the screen, but she didn't connect. Minute after minute went by, and slowly he started to give up. She really didn't like him…

Suddenly she connected, and Bill straightened his back in anticipation. First he just saw a gray t-shirt with the Grateful Dead logo, but then she sat down and showed her face to him. She had no makeup on, and her hair looked shorter, only reaching down to her collarbone; it was in a messy half-updo, and the t-shirt hung loosely on her. She was beautiful. Bill took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair. He could feel his heart palpitate in his chest.

“Hey, Sienna.”

She smiled a little at him but also looked confused.

“Hey, Bill.”

He took a shaky breath and dragged his hand through his hair once again; it felt like it was laying in the wrong direction, or like it was a wig with a bad seam.

“How, how are you?” He asked and tried to sound relaxed.

“I'm okay. You?”

“Yeah, I'm okay…”

They looked at each other in silence, but both of them couldn’t keep themselves from smiling. It was Bill that started, but it was obvious it wouldn't take many seconds for Sienna to be infected by his genuine smile and big green eyes.

“Biiill… What is this?” Sienna said with a silly whiny voice but giggled after. He laughed as an answer and looked down at the keyboard, embarrassed.

“I don't know, Sienna, I don't know... It just happened,” he said and looked up at her again. She smirked teasingly a bit but then laughed.

“I know, I know…” She sighed, but she smiled just as big as Bill.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #key to his heart #Alexander Skarsgård #Alexander Skarsgard

20 notes · View notes

butchcarmy · 10 months ago

Text

trans carmy. TRANS CARMY. Just. (Falls to my knees) listen to me. It just makes sense

It starts with him growing up an awkward kid, the outcast. I feel like he felt different than others in a way he couldn’t place which is so trans of him. I mean also his cptsd which is a big part of his character for me but that’s another gigantic post.

There are physical aspects that really add to this well. For one, he’s a short king. So trans of him. Another thing is his staple trans masc fit. White t shirt and jeans give him gender euphoria and he is sticking to that. Also the little chain…. Not universal ofc but my fellow transmascs and I love a good chain. Even him being muscular asf is so trans, like bulking up when you go on testosterone bc it’s so much easier to is so real.

AND HIS TATTOOS. UGH. The tattoos are a layered thing. It makes me think about that awful head chef carmy worked under. The lines I’m thinking about are when he’s saying to carmy like, “you think you’re so tough, you’re worthless, you have those tattoos so you can feel like you’re tough but you’re nothing”. I think the tattoos are epic but also an extension of how he expresses his gender. it validates his masculinity for him.

He’s really eager to prove his masculinity to the world, particularly to the culinary world. I mean masculinity in the sense that he wants to prove that he’s man enough, that he’s made himself into a man that’s just as good as the cis men around him. I think there’d be a ton of pressure to feel like he’s up to par, especially in a super competitive field with a lot of men.

It’s even in his name. Carmen. Carmy. The way it’s masculine and feminine, the way he might’ve been born as Carmen and just decided to keep it that way. The way he goes primarily by a chosen name, even if it is just a nickname.

I feel like it even adds layers to his relationship with Michael, too. I see Carmy, who feels isolated from his peers for being trans (and just different in general), and Michael being one of the only people to really affirm who he is. Carmy and Mike were best friends. I have no doubt that Carmy really felt secure around him, which is why the betrayal of not letting him work at the restaurant hurt even more than it already did. Why Mike’s death would be even harder for Carmy to stomach.

His transness is why Carmy is the black sheep of his family. Why he doesn’t come home. Why his relationship with his mother is strained. Of course, I think this is all primarily because he has a dysfunctional family and lots of trauma, but it still adds to my vision.

Anyway I could go on but these are the main point. I just think Carmy is transmasc as hell

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx #trans carmy berzatto #trans carmen berzatto #my blurbs #kinda #JUST LIKE OUGHHHHHH #I have some ns/fw thoughts about this as well but that’s a whole other post

57 notes · View notes

sumeruin · 1 year ago

Text

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

♫♪: pairing: dilf! kazuha x reader

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, semi-public sex, brief mentions of overstimulation and oral (no areas specified), aftercare, mentions of scars, i think that’s it, but if i missed anything please let me know!!

♫♪: a/n: mindless rambles about dilf kazuha from 3am this morning <3 also, new header!! i haven’t had time to actually change up my theme yet, so this is the best are gonna get for now <3

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

ok… so dilf kazuha… (modern au obvi) maybe he bulks up a little more as he ages, gets more muscular, gathers some more scars all over his body. he still keeps his hair long, though now he wears it down most of the time, not having the time in the mornings to put it up between his kid and his job. sometimes he’ll put it in a little bun, when he’s cooking or doing something where his hair would get in the way, and it suits him so well.

i’m thinking he has a little bit of peach fuzz too. not a full beard or anything, but just enough for you to feel it when he kisses your thighs before going down on you, the hair adding that small, extra bit of stimulation to make you cum so much faster on his tongue.

he usually wears a casual outfit, just a thin, white t shirt, some grey sweatpants, and a pair of tennis shoes. between his job as a bodyguard and his kid, he doesn’t really have the energy for much else. except, of course, for those rare special occasions where he dresses up, usually for his date nights with you, and he wears a black and red suit. a red button up, with a black suit jacket, tie, and dres pants. these are also the occasions where he’ll put his hair up and wear some nice cologne (unrelated but i have a whole cologne/perfume rant about genshin characters in my head if anyone is interested) only because he knows you love it so much.

he takes you out to a nice restaurant, both of you practically clinging to each other as you sit at the table, and he always, without fail, takes you back to his house and absolutely ruins you afterwards, the perfect way to relieve a little stress after a busy week. and it’s not like you’re complaining, either. kazuha is very much a giver, making sure you cum at the very least twice before he even thinks about actually fucking you, leaving you more than satisfied and overstimulated, enough to hold you over until the next week.

sometimes, he’ll change it up, still very much a wanderer at heart, and take you somewhere calmer. maybe you’ll go stargazing one night, and he’ll get to fuck you under the endless, beautiful sky, pointing out all the constellations he can see while he’s balls deep inside of you, waxing poetic about how gorgeous you look under the moonlight while you cum for him. or you’ll go see the maple trees at night, and he’ll press you up against the bark while he slides your clothes off, taking care not to scratch or rip any of the fabric. it’s not like you’d particularly care if he did, you’re always too fucked out and tired from cumming your brains out to be able to think about your clothes, or anything besides him, really.

he has the best aftercare, too, even if he does sometimes have to wait a little bit until you can get back home. he always runs you a warm bath, and fills it with sweet smelling oils and flower petals reserved just for you, massaging some lightly scented lotion and body oils into your sore joints afterwards and holding you close to him strong, scarred body as you fall asleep. and he’s a great cook, always making you the best breakfasts after a night full of railing you into the mattress. his go to is french toast, but he’ll make you anything you want as long as you just ask him <33

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin kazuha smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha smut #kazuha smut #kaedehara kazuha #genshin kazuha #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader smut

183 notes · View notes

dfastback68 · 29 days ago

Text

Dude at yoga tonight had half his head shaved like King, so fuck it, modern AU kataking:

Let’s also say this is midlife crisis Alber. Maybe he’s had a falling out with Kaido, maybe Kaido keeled over of a heart attack or something, who knows. Alber is trying to figure out what the rest of his life looks like after 47 years old. He’s done karate or kendo or something his entire life, but he needs to try something new. So, he gives yoga a shot. He gets into it. He REALLY gets into, and next thing he knows he’s leading a few classes a week at his fav studio. He’s not sure if his life is fixed yet, but he sure feels better.

The studio likes to do combo or outreach classes. Maybe they host tai chi, or partner with the senior center, and offer low pressure, fun classes for working parents and their kids. Alber usually does intermediate or ‘serious’ classes. People like his style but he’s not the nicest yogi in the building.

One night one of the other instructors is in a bit of a panic. She was supposed to lead tonight’s class for a group from another local gym, but something came up with her kid and she has to leave. Alber agrees to host in her place. How bad can it be?

It’s not just any gym group: it’s the broiest bros from an MMA group, the least flexible meatheads this city has to offer. The class is probably a joke to them, a team building or bonding opportunity where they might learn something new to incorporate into their exercise routine. It’s probably funnier when the class is led by an instructor that’s the stereotypical woman of ninety pounds of wispy muscle. They don’t quite know what to make of Alber.

Alber does his best to keep them on task, but the dudes are having fun giving each other shit when they can’t make a pose. Even if he keeps it simple. Some of them are more flexible than others, so he assumes thsoe ones actually give a shit about their exercise routine beyond bulking up. He does have to admit it is funny when one of them topples over or elbows their neighbor. They’re not suited for this, but he supposes he’ll give them points for trying.

There is one guy, though, at the back of the class, that’s been quiet and mindful the entire time. He also seems to know what the poses are before Alber explains them, and he can stretch farther than anyone else. He’s got bright hair and a black mask covering his face; it’s flu season, so that makes sense. He seems friendly enough with the others, but otherwise focuses on the practice.

Their eyes meet a few times over the course of the hour, and there’s a quiet intensity to the man that Alber finds very attractive.

By the time the class ends, most of the dudes are complaining about being sore where they didn’t know they could be sore. Alber takes that as a win, because now they’ve learned some begrudging respect for yoga. They thank him for the class and the workout, and one by one they leave. The quiet, intense man lingers.

“You’ve done yoga before,” Alber says.

The man nods. “My sister used to drag me with her, but she moved away a few years ago and I stopped. I should get back into it.”

“You have good form. And balance.”

“Thanks,” the man says, then sticks out his hand. “I’m Katakuri.”

“Alber,” he responds, and tries very hard not to melt at how firm Katakuri’s grip is. Katakuri’s definitely got the body of a fighter, and Alber gets momentarily distracted by the way his shirt strains around his biceps. “I usually lead the evening intermediate classes. If you’re interested.”

“Yeah,” Katakuri says, tone soft, then he straightens: “I mean, yes. Definitely. Are you –”

“Katakuri!” someone’s voice booms from outside the studio. Two of the other dudes wedge into the doorframe. “We’re waiting on you, let’s go!”

“‘C’mon man, flirt with the yoga guy later, we’re gonna be late.”

Katakuri’s face turns beet red behind the face mask. His friends laugh to themselves as they head back out.

Alber smiles, as best he can. “I don’t want you to miss your ride. But you’re welcome back any time.”

Katakuri thanks him again, bids him goodnight, and then hurries out after his friends.

Really, Alber would find it more endearing if he didn’t know how screwed he was, too. Because he really should have gotten that man’s number before letting him leave.

#my post #one piece #charlotte katakuri #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #kataking #that's all i got for now lmao #why i can sit down and bang this out but take months to complete an actual fic is beyond me #thanks brain #anyways enjoy!!!!

17 notes · View notes

fiddles-ifs · 1 year ago

Text

Merry Shitscram everyone !! have backstory

Kaylen's nose is especially oily today; you can see her pores working overtime to clear the sweat out, hair clinging to her forehead from the new choppy pixie cut. It makes her look like a dance mom at fifteen.

"You're so fucking sad I get a charity tax break just for hanging out with you," she says, smacking your roller blades to get you to break. Doesn't work. Never will. And there's no ref to break it up, so she just stops, fingers tightening on her own stick.

The ands -- Kaylen, Aiden, Dylan, and some other douchebag teen from your grade -- like to fight dirty, but their chirps could use some work.

"Nice Letterkenny reference, dipshit," you say. "Are you going to play or not?"

You're barely out of face-off when Aiden comes from left and shoves his bulk up against your shoulder, trying to wrestle the puck away. He's not very fast, but he's pushy, and big. Sandwiched between him and Kaylen -- who is fast, but an opportunistic vulture -- is a disaster until someone from your team manages to help you out of the hole.

But Dylan has his legs wide open, staring dazedly at the powerlines overhead. You do some mental math, just as Aiden and Kaylen get distracted by shoving matches from your side. You're alone in the vast expanse of concrete and sky. You might have just enough time. You wind up, stick blade parallel to the high wires.

The slapshot you punish him with comes in front of a thunderously loud crack, composite hitting asphalt; the puck looks like a bullet. You worry you might has misjudged the angle -- it'll put a dent right in his shin, and you can't deal with that right now, not with parole chilling the sweat on the nape of your neck. But then it zips right between his knee guards, into the net, ripping a hole through the beat up rope. It's fine -- the goal is battle scarred with pockmarks from years of abuse.

And you win.

And that's all that matters.

Your whole team freaks the fuck out, slapping the top of your head, jostling you for good luck. They almost knock you off your skates.

"Fuck you, Robin!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Dylan?" You have to shout to be heard over the sound of teenagers still raging. "Probably not, because she looks like a dog's shaved asshole. Doesn't stop me, though!"

You stick your tongue out and glide back down the pavement -- you'd snow him if there was snow, but alas. You'll make do with kicking a little grit onto his shoes.

"Dick," you hear him mumble, just as Aiden skates up by him to try and balm the wound.

"Yeah, that's probably why their parents dumped them on the side of the road."

Everyone freezes -- except for the ands, who just laugh, the four of them tittering by the net like fucking hyenas.

"What did you say?" Your voice is cold. Sharp. Violence hiding in it. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder -- you don't give a shit who. It doesn't matter. It never matters.

"Ignore him," they say, trying to sand the edges down so you don't get in trouble. Looking out for you. (In your mind's eye, in the present, you try and imagine what Bautista looked like as a teenager with her hand on your shoulder.) "He's stupid."

And they keep laughing, even when you shake off the hands trying to keep you contained.

Nobody's laughing when you break your hockey stick in half over Aiden's head. There's a lot of screaming, actually.

(You look back on it now with a sort of numb-feeling shame, clinically picking the scene apart. Aiden was lucky you didn't seriously hurt him. You had a lot less control in those days.)

Parents come rushing out of apartments, pulling kids apart. Someone has a t-shirt pressed to Aiden's head. Someone else has their arms around you, pinning your hands to your sides while you kick and scream.

"If your little trailer trash foster mutt ever comes near my kid again, I'll call the fucking cops!"

"I am the fucking cops, lady!"

You're only a little bit calmer when your dad sits you down with a long-suffering sigh, hands on your arms like you might lash out again.

"What the hell was that about?"

You keep your head bowed, heavy with shame — your dad doesn’t ever yell like he did outside. Doesn’t like doing it. Says it makes him feel like an ass; and that’s about the one thing you’re embarrassed over. Cracking your stick over Aiden’s dome was darkly satisfying.

You explain, agonizingly stilted, what Aiden said to you.

Dad lets that settle for a bit. Then, he sighs, hangs his head, and gives your arms a gentle squeeze before he looks up again. His glasses are perched right on the tip of his nose, now.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“He’s a douche.”

“I know — but now he’s going to keep coming back.”

“Why?” You don’t mean to sound so wounded.

“Because he’s a douchey teenager, and as long as he thinks he can win, he’s going to keep coming for you. The best thing you can do is walk away.”

(You loved your dad — but he was wrong. The best thing you can do isn’t walk away.

The best thing is to make sure they know they will never win.)

#greenupdate #a very merry greenwarden christmas #to all who celebrate #discord got to see this one a little early

57 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 10 months ago

Note

Guess who's back? Back again. With more Buck/Bucky from Masters of The Air 'cause it's Monday and work's trying to murder my will to live. Prompt is #33. The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade with a bonus #63. Indigo skies just before dawn, if that is useful in any way. Do with them as you please, I'll quietly sit here and watch you work your magic. Thank you as always for these.

Thank you for this!! As you know, I was NOT expecting the 1000-word fic this turned into, but here you go lol I hope these extra-soft vibes counteract any terrible work ones!

coming in clear

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Gale "Buck" Cleven x John "Bucky" Egan Rating: T Word Count: 1025

Summary: When Buck uses his bunk to hide the new radio, Bucky offers him a different place to sleep.

The first night after Buck had built the radio, Bucky woke up and rolled over to see his best friend sitting there in the dark.

“What you doing?” he mumbled.

His eyes were only half open, but he kept them trained on Buck’s shape until it grew more distinct. He was sitting where he’d been before, leaning against the wall next to the window. That wall would be freezing, especially this time of night—whatever time of night it was. Late enough that Bucky could hear quiet, heavy breathing from the racks above and below his own.

“Was scared I’d roll on the radio,” Buck explained, giving a shrug that was only the faintest rise and fall beneath the bulk of his scarf and coat.

Bucky closed one eye and dug his knuckle into the socket, trying to evict the sleep threatening to drag both his eyelids back down.

They hadn’t figured out a place for the new radio yet. After their old hidey-hole in the table leg had been discovered, they knew the next spot they chose would need to be damn near undetectable. Just for one night, they’d agreed on Buck’s plan to sleep with the thing in his bunk.

“Lie on your back and put it…” Bucky interrupted himself with a massive yawn that left his eyes watery. “…on your chest.”

“It’s cold.”

“Put it between your knees.”

“It’s cold. Last thing I need to do is shift in my sleep and freeze the damn thing to my balls.”

Bucky smiled sleepily at Buck’s annoyance.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling like that,” Buck complained.

“You’re cranky. You’re funny when you’re cranky.”

“I’m cranky because I haven’t slept.” Buck scraped a hand through his hair.

Bucky had a solution for that. He swung his arm loose and slapped the wooden side of his bunk. He slapped it a second time, not so hard, after he heard rustling from the bunk below.

“Get in with me,” he whispered.

“There’s more room in a tin of sardines.”

“I can squish up real small.”

He heard Buck’s breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I bet.”

“C’mon, just try.”

With a reluctance Bucky would’ve accused Buck of faking if he’d been more awake, Buck rose from his seat and shook off his heavy coat, slinging it up onto the radio-free end of his own bunk. Buck peered at him in the dimness that was passing from pitch-black into indigo. He didn’t look at the window. He didn’t want to know how much night remained. He just watched Buck unwind the thick scarf, watched him unbutton his shirt, watched him stoop to remove his boots, then peel his undershirt off at the last second before he shuffled over to Bucky’s rack. Bucky wriggled towards the wall, angling his body so he didn’t knock his shelf. He patted the narrow space beside him in invitation. Buck took hold of the wooden frame, pulling himself up and into the bunk.

They were nose to nose, but Bucky ignored that, trying to wrap Buck into the rough wool blanket so they could share heat.

“You think we would’ve gone camping if we’d met as kids?” Bucky asked as he stuffed the edge of the blanket under Buck’s shoulder.

Buck’s expression went really fond and calm.

“Yeah, I think we would’ve.”

Bucky nodded and swallowed; he’d realized his arm might not be coming back. If he drew it towards his chest again, he’d probably yank the blanket out from under Buck. He was stuck, arm hovering over his friend, not quite holding him. It was stupid—it was war. They should share resources. He clenched his jaw and lowered his arm until it rested around Buck.

He didn’t need light to be able to tell how Buck’s eyelashes flickered at the contact. Their faces were close. Real close. Buck’s lashes were a dark feathering Bucky wanted to feel on his fingertips. He felt hot air leave Buck’s parted lips and puff against his cheek. He cleared his sleep-thickened throat.

“You warm enough?”

“Getting there.”

Tentatively, Bucky tensed his arm, definitely hugging Buck against him now. And Buck moved into it. The heat. Bucky started to feel bad that he was still wearing his shirt. It wouldn’t have been about the sensation of Buck’s bare chest pressed to his, it would’ve been about… no. Fuck. He wanted to feel it. He wanted to carry the memory into the morning, the afternoon, the evening, and all the rest of the days of this war. He wanted to remember what it was like when neither of them had yet stood at the animal trough-like sink to get their pitiful daily wash with a grimy shard of soap, he wanted Buck’s unclean skin. He wanted to inhale and know what they smelled like together, even as Buck gradually took on the scent of his bed, his blanket, his skin.

He hadn’t minded Buck’s prodding elbow—he had his arms folded between them—but as they got warm, as they did a flirtatious back-and-forth dance with sleep, Buck freed an arm, stretched until his elbow cracked, and then settled it around Bucky’s waist.

“Sleep, John,” he muttered, because, somehow, he knew Bucky wasn’t.

Bucky had his palm pressed to Buck’s back, fingers spread so he was practically clutching him close. He forced himself to relax his grip. He adjusted his head on his half of the pillow. They eased into one another. Buck’s knees got a little bend to them and, even though they were facing each other, Bucky managed to accommodate them, sliding his own legs until the limbs might’ve all belonged to one person, they arranged so naturally. It felt natural, too, to allow his touch to skim across Buck’s back. He traced over vertebrae like a car cresting hills on a Sunday drive. He stroked Buck’s shoulder blade and gripped so his fingers fit into the valleys between Buck’s ribs. Buck’s breathing turned steady and deep. Stealthy as a robber, Bucky crept his hand all across Buck’s skin, marvelling, as he plummeted into unconsciousness, at the delicacy of this assemblage of parts.

Like a homemade radio.

#thank youuuu #asks #my writing #prompt fic #MotA #Masters of the Air #Bucky x Buck #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #John 'Bucky' Egan

39 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 6 months ago

Text

Self Promo Sunday: "Melting for You"

It's been a bit since I've done a Self Promo Sunday post, but with the weather heating and well into summer this one shot came to mind, and it seemed like the right one for this week to get them going again. I wish we had a few more steamy CS pics to work with to make a cover art, but I still gave it a go. If this is new to you, I hope you'll enjoy, and if it's a repeat maybe you'll find it fun to revisit.

Summary: When Emma decides to tease an overheated pirate, soon she's the one burning up... A Post Season 6 canon divergent ff, with CS enjoying their happy beginning

Can also be found on AO3 if that's your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

Even indoors the air was heavy and oppressive - especially for June - and Emma Swan gave herself a mental pat on the back for even being out of her recliner nearest the air conditioning vent in the old, high-ceiling house that could be expensive to sufficiently cool. She tended to covet a day like this - off from the station, Henry out with friends, no one needing anything from her, and a backlog of her favorite crime procedurals ready in her streaming queue - chuckling to herself about deserving some sort of Savior Above and Beyond medal for being in the kitchen tackling a sink of dirty dishes.

Normally, she’d just put them in the dishwasher, but the last clean load had never been taken back out and put away - one of Henry’s designated jobs - and her husband, loving and fond of her son as he was, was still a captain through and through, determined for each member of his crew to pull their weight. Emma, on the other hand, while not as worried about the degree of neatness Killian would prefer, was just stubborn enough not to do her kid’s chores for him. Henry had been busy lately; finals, college applications and other genuine responsibilities taking up the bulk of his time, but she trusted him to get to it when he could. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the real reason she didn’t put the clean dishes away was because she didn’t understand Killian’s precise method for storing all the various pots, pans, containers, and baking sheets; inevitably, when she tried to unload the dishwasher alone, she ended up with numerous things she couldn’t find a place for strewn across the kitchen’s center island and more of a mess than she’d started with.

It just wasn’t worth the hassle.

So, here she stood, sweating over a sink full of hot, soapy water, feeling loose tendrils of hair begin to curl around her face in the humidity, just trying to make sure they had enough clean spoons and to-go mugs for their coffee the next morning and cursing the 90 degree heat and the ceiling fan not doing an adequate job of getting the cooler air to her as her shirt began to feel stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades.

At least she had a good view.

Emma smirked to herself, eyes lighting up once again as she refocused from the charred bits of pizza crust she’d slightly burnt onto a pan and back out the window over the sink. She wasn’t sure how her husband could stand it outside, and he’d been at it for at least a couple hours at this point, but as she took in the scene before her, Emma couldn’t help thinking that at this moment, his discomfort was a cross she was willing to bear.

Standing up straighter, running her forearm across her face, she dazedly allowed her hands to drip across the counter as she studied him more closely, almost forgetting where she was. Killian was wearing dark, stained denim jeans he often used when out of doors and not on his ship, along with a thin, gray T-shirt, stretched and faded with holes in places, but more than serviceable for working around the house and yard. She could see the muscles in his back and shoulders straining and bunching through the nearly threadbare material easily, and hardly realized she’d unconsciously licked her lips at the decadent sight.

As she continued to shamelessly spy on her fine pirate, Killian stretched his arms up overhead, clearly working out some of the kinks from his exertions, then to her eternal delight, raised the hem of his T-shirt to mop sweat from his brow. She could see a band of tanned, flushed skin on his lower back, unknowingly tantalizing her as she stared, unable to blink or look away. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he slowly peeled the taut fabric up his torso and off over his head before tossing it to the side.

She knew her breath went a bit shallow at the sight of his whole back bared to her while Killian stood for several long moments catching his breath. At this point, her sudsy hands were clutching the edge of the sink while her knees went watery at the show he was putting on inadvertently. The expanse of his skin was marred in places by lines almost white from the time gone by since they had been inflicted, and high on his left shoulder a compass sat, bearing the name ‘Liam’ along its edge, while the dark tentacles of a kraken curled surreptitiously along his rib cage on his right side. The dark and light took not one iota from his swarthy perfection though, not to her eyes. In fact, if she had been overwarm before, she was burning up now; the sight of his whole torso practically glistening in the bright afternoon sun making her weak. She was seized with the almost uncontrollable desire to go out there and started licking the salty moisture from his skin with her tongue.

If she didn’t know better, she would think he was purposely trying to tempt her.

Wait… did she know better? Emma paused, tilted her head to one side in thought. She’d told him when he’d gone outside that she was kicking back to watch some tv. But Killian could be scarily prescient of everyone around him, alert without even trying. Did he know she was watching; and, if so, was he teasing her?

Eyes narrowing, she thought for a second, feeling more than a bit devious as she considered her rapscallion husband and just what mischief he might have on his mind. She could almost picture him scoffing about getting her riled up; his brow arched just so, tongue poking against the inside of his lower lip, practically leering at her, knowing she couldn’t resist him at the best of times, and absolutely using it to his advantage. What she needed, Emma decided, a twinkle coming into her eye as the perfect plan of attack took shape in her mind, was to get him back, while appearing completely innocent. Get him flustered and as hot and bothered as he was making her. Turning off the tap and quickly drying her hands on a towel nearby, she grabbed a large glass from the cabinet to her left, then opened the freezer for ice - and her chosen secret weapon.

Strolling outside, Emma tried her best to school her expression, knowing a twitch of mischievous humor or devilish twinkle would give her away. Her pirate still read her like a book - knew her every feature more minutely than anyone else had ever bothered to try - even more so after years together. He’d catch any slip and be on the alert.

Killian turned to look at her, just as she drew up beside him. Reaching out to trail the hand holding an ice cold glass of water down his damp, overheated bicep, she fought to hold in the smirk as her husband let his head fall backwards, nearly growling in pleasure. The unrelenting heat had the glass already covered in condensation, and the warmth radiating from Killian as well after working so long in the sun, meant the cool moisture had to feel heavenly.

Eyeing her with both adoration and curiosity, her captain made Emma’s own inner thermostat raise a tick as well when he licked the perspiration from his upper lip. “May I assume that’s for me, Love?”

“Yep,” she replied, letting the ‘p’ pop distinctly, just as he often did when alluring her with his speech. “I thought it was time to bring you some water. Can’t have my True Love getting dehydrated, after all.”

He raised a brow, as if wondering why she seemed so enthusiastic, but he took the glass from her eagerly, seemingly deciding just to accept the gesture with thanks. Of course, as his Adam's apple bobbed with his greedy swallows of the cool, refreshing liquid, it was Emma who found her throat working desperately to gain more air.

For a second, she almost forgot her plan in the wake of the tantalizing distraction he made, before she regained focus and hurried to unwrap what she held in her other hand.

While Killian’s eyes were still closed savoring the last of his drink, Emma quickly stuffed the wrapper of an ice cream bar in her cutoff jean pockets and began to lick the chocolate coating, enjoying the sweet taste, but also waiting for the moment she would feel the sizzle of his eyes on her once more.

“Here you go, Love,” Killian’s voice spoke up as she felt him turn toward her, just as she enveloped the whole tip of the ice cream bar between her lips. “That truly hit the sp - “

His words died on his tongue as he got an eyeful of what she was doing, though Emma avoided looking back just yet, knowing the glee she was feeling would give her away. ‘Gotcha, Pirate!’ she couldn’t help gloating in her mind.

Humming slightly as if she was only focused on how delicious her frozen treat tasted, Emma was inwardly high fiving herself after shooting a quick sidelong glance at her husband to see him looking as though he had swallowed his own tongue. The empty glass he’d moved to hand back to her fell to the ground from his suddenly lax fingers, and when she heard him speak again, his words were a hoarse whisper. “Gods above, Swan, are you trying to kill me?”

“Of course not,” she chirped happily, winking at him with what she hoped was breezy nonchalance. “Just enjoying some refreshment myself.” She then popped the treat back into her mouth, pointedly hollowing her cheeks a bit, then pulling it back out while letting her tongue trail along the rapidly melting chocolate coating.

‘And now the final touch,’ she thought, turning her head back toward the porch and deliberately putting more swing in her hips than normal. “Bring that glass with you when you come back in, okay Babe?” she tossed over her shoulder, with one brief backward glance that she hoped managed to be sultry.

Congratulating herself, even as just the short amount of time she’d been outside was beginning to make her sweat too and the vanilla insides of her ice cream began to drip down her hand, Emma had nearly reached the outdoor water spigot and attached hose by the porch steps, which seemed a good place to finish her dessert and wash off the stickiness, when she heard heavy steps coming up behind her rapidly. ‘Right on cue, ’ her mind practically crowed.

In the next moment, Killian’s strong, muscled arm snaked around her stomach and jerked her back firmly against the front of his body. Holding her tightly, his teeth nipped her earlobe before he purred a seductive warning against her neck. “It’s cruel to tease a man like that, Minx - not if you don’t intend to share a taste.”

Impishly, Emma held up the rapidly shrinking bit of ice cream left on the stick, as if in offering. However, when he dove in to swipe his tongue up the side of her hand and engulf both the melting treat and the tips of her fingers in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth, she willingly let go. His eyes were pure blue flames that wouldn’t allow her to blink, turning her bones and sinew to liquid more than the heat outside could have ever managed.

Emma was leaning into him breathlessly, mind going blank at the way he pulled his lips back off her fingers, laving her skin playfully as he leaned away, the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes along with the heat telling her all too well that he knew what he was doing. Winking devilishly, he stepped away slightly, making her nearly stumble as her body strained to follow, a soft whine leaving her throat completely against her will.

“Hmm…” he purred, baiting her now, sensing victory no doubt. “Just as I thought - delicious.”

Emma’s misfiring synapses crackled back to life as he stood there, just out of reach, clearly waiting for his wife’s next move, and almost certainly counting on her being unable to resist.

Her chest heaved, trying to get a full breath and bring herself under control. She’d had the upper hand! She was so sure she’d have him begging - just this once. But she was flushed and sweating every bit as much as Killian now. That sinful way he was tracing her bare legs with his gaze, and the feel of his mouth on her, however briefly, had been all it had taken to send her temperature soaring beyond all reason.

“You don’t play fair, Captain,” she chided, her voice low and her own teasing smile finally returning to her as it just tilted the corner of her lips.

Killian’s dark brow arched devastatingly in challenge, not about to be outdone. “Oh, and I suppose you think waltzing out here in those shorts that barely cover your knickers and shamelessly teasing me was fair play?”

There was no good comeback, and Emma knew it. She’d been messing with him from the start, and neither of them had any doubts on that score. However, it was just then she remembered the hose and spigot right behind her. Using an innocent shrug of her shoulders and a toss of her blond hair she knew could often distract him - pirate indeed, her golden hair had always drawn his touch, he’d been brushing it over her shoulder since they had first climbed the beanstalk together - she managed to move back enough to reach behind her and turn on the water without him catching onto her actions. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” she sniffed, feigning insult. “I only brought you a cold drink. You looked like you needed…” she fumbled to grasp the hose quickly and pull it up into her hands “...to cool off!”

Without further warning, she pointed the nozzle at him, squeezed the handle and let fly, startling him with a blast of water right to the chest. Luckily, she’d managed to crank up the power enough to have a steady stream leaving the hose at full blast, and they kept it coiled in the shade of the porch, so she knew the spray rapidly soaking her husband was as ice cold as the sun beating down on them from above was burning hot.

Spluttering and yelping at the sudden, frigid onslaught, Killian’s pleased smirk dissolved as he threw up both arms in a helpless attempt to block the spray. She couldn’t help throwing her head back with a triumphant laugh and an emphatic “Gotcha!” escaping her lips. No part of her husband was getting out of this unscathed, she decided, aiming to soak him from head to toe while she had the upper hand.

Unfortunately for her, the victory was short-lived. Adaptable and quick-thinking as ever, Killian had steeled himself against the cold blast and was inching closer amidst laughter of his own and short exclamations at the bursts of chilled water hitting him.

Emma was about to relent in truth, the sight of Killian’s streams of eater running down his arms and sides and droplets clinging to his trim, well-defined chest and the enticing covering of matted dark hair across his taut chest muscles, was more than enough prize for her efforts. The handle actually faltered in her grip for a moment as her mouth fell open with her gawking.

It was all the opening her pirate needed.

Killian bounded forward, closing the slight distance left between them and deftly plucking the hose from her grip. The squelch of his feet on the wet grass and the slap of soaked denim against his legs were Emma’s only other warnings before the sharp, freezing spray was turned on her full blast in retaliation.

“Ahhh! Killian!” she screeched helplessly, the shock of the cold making her gasp, despite knowing she wasn’t going to get any more mercy than she herself had been willing to grant moments ago. Instead, she floundered forward, grabbing for the hand aiming the spray at her. They scuffled briefly, both only getting wetter and more winded, until - ridiculously tangled up with each other and the hose - they tumbled to the sodden grass in a heap of wriggling limbs.

At this point, both of them were laughing, hands rapidly smoothing over wet skin in delicious slides. The hose fell from Killian’s grip, easily forgotten, and the water splashed them both in a wild arc until it fell to the ground and stopped. The damage was long done anyway as they rolled together on the marshy ground, legs entwined and bodies beginning to move against each other deliciously, almost without thought in a deliciously familiar next move.

Unable to resist any longer, and far past teasing or trying to win their game, Emma’s hands stole to trace up his panting side, thrilling at the feel of his stomach muscles trembling where her fingertips swept over them.

Killian was not idle as she worked feverishly, a low groan of pleasure escaping him as she stroked along the planes of his torso. In the next moment, he dove in, pulling down the vee of her own shirt further and baring her breast before closing his mouth over the tight, alert bud warming and tormenting in equal measure with swipes of his wicked tongue.

She bucked up into him, keening and whimpering and wordlessly desperate to urge him on. After that, there was no time for words, merely pants of exertion, the occasional clacking of teeth, the slapping of damp skin on skin, and the smack of the rest of their soaking clothing frantically shed on the swampy ground around them. Soon they were moving in unison, Killian pushing forward, and her opening to pull him in, then clinging to him tightly for all she was worth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, as the evening shadows fell, a light breeze moved in, cooling the heavy air of the day. Emma’s eyes trailed languidly over the nude lines of her husband’s hip and side as he returned to her with water and slid back under the light blanket they had draped over their bodies as they snuggled skin to skin on the back porch. It hadn’t seemed worth bothering to get dressed again when they’d only adjourned as far as the porch before their kisses and touches and mischievous smiles led to them going again at an achingly slower, more luxurious pace on the porch glider while the sun had slowly dipped closer to the horizon. As Killian curled back around her and brought her hand up to kiss each one of her knuckles reverently, humming as he somehow found a sweet bit of leftover ice cream, Emma could only think it was lucky their porch faced nothing but the rocky coastline and the harbor beyond it. Not that she was ashamed of how quickly she had melted at his whim, but she didn’t need anyone else to get an eyeful.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64

@apiratewhopines @iamstartraveller776 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @teamhook

@revanmeetra87 @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper

@stahlop @mie779 @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89

@darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @zaharadessert @booksteaandtoomuchtv @caught-in-the-filter

#self promo sunday #cs ff #cs one shot #melting for you #post s6 caon divergent #cs future fluff #cs happy beginning #summer steam #almost m smuff

16 notes · View notes