#everything just has echoes of something better
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Toto Wolff with wife reader. They had a fight and just sort of made each other laugh when they were talking. Which is why they married each other in the first place. Up to you. Thanks!! :))
The slam of a door echoes through the house, not loud enough to be angry, but firm enough to leave no room for ambiguity. You exhale sharply, your arms crossed as you stand in the kitchen, staring at the countertop. The argument wasnât supposed to spiral like thisânot over something so trivial. It was about the schedule for the weekend, who was supposed to handle what, and somehow, it had escalated into a full-blown disagreement.
Toto had walked out to the living room, his long strides carrying him away from your raised voice. That alone had been enough to irritate you further. You can hear him now, somewhere in the house, moving things around, his presence as large and impossible to ignore as ever. You donât have the energy to follow after him or continue the argument. Instead, you open a cabinet and begin tidying up the already-organized shelves, trying to distract yourself from the simmering frustration.
Minutes pass. Itâs quiet, except for the soft clinking of plates as you rearrange them. You wonder if heâs sitting on the couch, brooding, or maybe pacing around as he tends to do when his emotions get the better of him. The thought of his long legs covering endless ground in the small space almost makes you smileâalmost.
The sound of footsteps pulls you out of your thoughts. You donât turn around, though. Youâre not ready to engage again.
âAre you seriously reorganizing the dishes?â his voice comes from the doorway, a mixture of incredulity and amusement. Itâs the first time heâs spoken since the argument ended in stalemate.
You set down a plate with a bit more force than necessary and glance over your shoulder. âYes. Itâs productive. Unlikeââ You cut yourself off, not wanting to reignite the tension. âItâs fine.â
Toto leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his head tilted as he studies you. âYou always do this,â he says, and thereâs a warmth creeping into his voice that you donât want to acknowledge just yet. âYou get annoyed and suddenly everything in the house has to be spotless.â
âItâs better than stomping away dramatically like someone I know,â you retort, turning back to your dishes.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then he chucklesâa low, rich sound that breaks through the lingering anger like sunlight cutting through clouds. âDramatic? Me? Darling, you slammed the cupboard doors like they owed you money.â
You freeze for a moment, your hands on a glass, and then you laugh despite yourself. Itâs a small, involuntary sound that you quickly smother, but he hears it. Of course he does. Toto has a way of catching even the things you try to hide.
When you finally turn to face him, heâs grinningâcrooked, boyish, and entirely disarming. Itâs the grin that had charmed you all those years ago, back when he was just the ambitious team principal trying to win your heart. You sigh, leaning back against the counter, your earlier frustration melting away.
âYouâre impossible,â you say, shaking your head.
âAnd yet,â he replies, stepping closer, âyou married me.â
âRegretting it now,â you quip, but your smile betrays you.
Toto closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist. He bends slightly to meet your eyes, his gaze soft and sincere. âNo, youâre not,â he murmurs. âBecause you know no one else would put up with either of us.â
You roll your eyes but canât help laughing again. Heâs right, of course. Thatâs always been the thing about the two of youâyou clash, you bicker, but at the end of the day, you understand each other in a way that no one else could. Itâs infuriating and comforting all at once.
âI hate that youâre right,â you admit, resting your hands on his chest.
âNot all the time,â he says with mock solemnity. âJust most of the time.â
âYouâre still sleeping on the couch tonight,â you tease, though your tone is far too soft to be threatening.
âAm I?â he challenges, his brow arching. âWeâll see about that.â
The playfulness in his voice is enough to send a flutter through your chest. Itâs moments like theseâwhen the tension dissolves into laughter, when youâre reminded of why you fell in love in the first placeâthat make everything else worth it. You lean into him, your forehead resting against his, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.
âTruce?â he asks, his voice low and gentle.
âTruce,â you agree. âBut only if you help me finish organizing the dishes.â
He groans theatrically, but thereâs no real protest in it. âFine. But if I break something, itâs your fault for making me do this.â
âYouâre a grown man,â you reply, grinning. âFigure it out.â
He laughs again, and the sound fills the room, warm and familiar. As the two of you work side by side, bickering playfully over the proper placement of bowls and glasses, it strikes you how ridiculous the whole fight had been. But maybe thatâs the secret to your marriageâknowing how to find each other again, even after the most ridiculous of arguments.
And as Toto leans over to kiss your temple, murmuring something about you being âfar too stubborn for your own good,â you canât help but think that, yes, this is exactly why you married him.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#toto wolff x y/n#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
The thing with Lando, that I donât understand, is how everything he says or does is constantly blown out of proportion and twisted to make it seem worse than it is. Heâs not the only driver who acts in the heat of the moment, yet heâs one of the few who gets crucified for it every single time.
Remember back in Monaco in â21 or â22 (I really canât remember), when he lapped Ricciardo, his own teammate, and gave him a small waveâa gesture that clearly meant âthank you for letting me by without any trouble.â Instead of seeing it for what it was, people completely misinterpreted it. Lando was accused of mocking Ricciardo, called a snake and a bad teammate, and even received death threats. Over a wave. A moment of acknowledgment somehow turned into a crime.
Whatâs frustrating is how this treatment isnât consistent across the board. Compare this to Liam Lawson flipping Checo off in a race recentlyâa far more direct and provocative gesture. Fans laughed it off, called him a âlegend,â and moved on. But when Lando does something as harmless as a wave, itâs analyzed to death, criticized, and turned into an excuse to attack his character.
It feels like no matter what Lando does, people are ready to twist it into something negative. If heâs honest in interviews, heâs labeled âarrogant.â If he jokes around, heâs âdisrespectful.â And if heâs frustrated after a bad day, heâs âentitled.â Itâs as if heâs never allowed to just be himself without someone jumping to the worst possible conclusion about his intentions.
Lando isnât perfectâno driver is. But the way heâs singled out for things that others are praised for is exhausting to watch. Itâs like people are waiting for him to slip up, ready to drag him down at any moment. He doesnât deserve that. None of them do.
Maybe itâs because heâs always been open and honest, which makes him an easy target for people who want to twist his words or actions. Or maybe itâs because heâs popular, and people are quicker to tear down someone they see as successful. Whatever the reason, itâs unfair and unwarranted. Landoâs been a consistently strong driver and a decent person who doesnât deserve the constant backlash he gets.
I donât know what has to change for this to stop - actually I know exactly what has to change for this to stop. People need to change. Media needs to change, and social media needs to change.
People need to stop holding him to a higher standard than their favourite drivers while simultaneously wishing for him to fail. Itâs hypocritical to demand perfection from him while cheering on others for behavior that is often far more controversial. The medid need to stop running with narratives that Lando has never given them. Time and again, stories have been spun to paint him as arrogant or disrespectful, feeding into the toxicity that surrounds him. And social media needs to stop amplifying this negativity. Platforms that could foster meaningful conversations instead magnify toxic behavior, allowing hate and unfair criticism to spread unchecked. Clips are taken out of context, moments are exaggerated, and echo chambers of hate are created. Lando, like every driver, is humanâheâs allowed to have moments of frustration, humor, or honesty without being vilified for them.
Lando has shown time and again that heâs a talented driver and a genuine person. He's shown time and time again why he's on the grid, and that he is one of the fastest there is, and that he genuinely deserves to take up space in F1. He's growing as a driver from year to year and heâs only going to get better. Itâs time people recognized his growth, talent, and hard work instead of tearing him down at every opportunity.
Lando is McLaren, and he is F1, just as much as Leclerc is Ferrari and Verstappen is Red Bull.
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Who loves Rook: Spite or Lucanis
I've been seeing a lot of discourse about this, and I just want to add my thoughts.
I might be totally wrong about this, but here we go. When Spite was put into Lucanis, he was still Determination. The fact that he changed throughout the torture, forced insertion, and imprisonment suggests to me that they have been put into a speedrun of a similar situation to Anders and Justice/Vengeance where they have started to meld. (As Anders put it, you wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends). Just like Anders and Vengeance, Lucanis and Spite can have separate consciousnesses and even disagree about things, but their core values have started to influence one another and become a part of one another- heightening certain aspects.
I think this melding is why we see some dialogues where Rook tells Lucanis that he sounds like Spite and similarly it's also the reason for the shared attraction- which I fully believe is coming originally from Lucanis.
I'll be honest my first time through I romanced Lucanis and was very disappointed. I didn't even see him and Neve ever flirt (she only ever encouraged us!) But still, it seemed to go from 0 to 60 with him. Now, I am on my second playthrough and I only just met him, but I am starting to see some really subtle looks and dialogues that suggest that Lucanis wasn't lying later when he said he was attracted to Rook from the beginning, but was afraid to really pursue anything or even acknowledge the possibility of being with them. With his fear of trusting people, ptsd from the prison, failed history in romance, and his new situation with Spite that he still hadn't worked out yet, he never thought anything would or could ever come of his feelings. We know Lucanis loves romance stories and likely longs for one of his own, but in such a situation it must have seemed truly impossible and terrifying to let someone else in. Especially someone you really care for and are starting to trust. So, he pushed it all down. Rook flirts? Maybe a small smile, but then quickly lock it all up with everything else he can't handle. Focus on work. Don't think about Spite, or Rook, or anything difficult.
However, if the melding has already happened as I suspect, then the feelings Spite is expressing are shared with (and likely sourced from) Lucanis, he's just better at expressing it directly- which makes sense for a spirit that was once Determination. When you first talk to Lucanis after the rescue, the thing Spite says about Rook changes accordingly to your tone, but to me the responses still sound like they come from Lucanis and are then echoed in Spite: "He doesn't want to hurt us." Even the "He's more fun than you" is something Lucanis seems to think about himself as he is fully aware that much of his life has not been his own and believes "all he knows is death."
Leading back to the main point, Lucanis's trust and interest in Rook would be heightened by Spite the way Anders' anger towards the templars was heightened. Even though they are finally free from the prison, their is a sense of constant suffering from still feeling trapped by fear, regret, and pain- Spite feels that suffering too. The elements of determination are still within him the same way justice is another side to vengeance. Both spite and vengeance are the results of failing to achieve their goals of Justice and Determination. Spite sees Rook as a way to free them from pain and restraint, a glowing and beautiful key to the prison door, and he is determined to do what needs to be done to solve the problem. That's why he doesn't hesitate. He has no fear. He wants to talk to Rook. He wants Rook to come in and free them.
After Rook has freed them, they become a source of comfort and safety, once they encourage Lucanis and Spite to find a way to cohabit comfortably, the two continue to meld, and the need to protect Rook, to love Rook, to keep them, is very deeply shared. Now, IF Spite was somehow removed or even somehow restored (Both of which I think are impossible) that would likely change. Determination outside of Lucanis would likely become more like Compassion. He would likely forget the horrors he experienced to return to his original purpose.
So, that leaves some final questions, particularly one Hawke helpfully asked Anders- Is Spite an unwilling party in the threesome?
That's up to everyone's own morality. While both Spite and Lucanis didn't have a choice to become like this, it is the situation they are in and the way they have to find a way to accept and live with because there really doesn't seem to be any real way to change it. Through their time together, Lucanis and Spite have influenced each other and grown into something new. Part of that is Spite also loving Rook. In that way, for those who are feeling (rightfully) underwhelmed by Lucanis's romance, Spite can almost be seen as a symbolic expression of Lucanis's love.
All that being said, I think there were some small things they could have done to make the romance more satisfying over all...but I'll save that for another post.
#Dragon Age#DA:TV#dragon age the veilguard#DA4#DA:V#lucanis dellamorte#spite dragon age#dragon age rook#lucanis x rook#lucanis romance#spoilers#Maybe I'm missing something but this currently where I'm at with trying to digest things and figure out what the goal was with this romance
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
you're an angel // i'm a dog [1]
masterlist | AO3 | navigation | alpha!Gaz x omega!fem!Reader
first meeting
cw: omegaverse
You're chewing on your pen when he enters your office.Â
Teeth marks scar the tip of the soft plastic as you gnaw like a dog with a bone. It doesn't taste good, and it's hardly a treat. It's a bad habit, one your mother always told you to break before your teeth did, but it's soothing at this point. Being able to mold something against the shape of you.Â
LED lights burn into your retinas as you read through the email on your screen. You've tried ten times now to absorb the information, but your brain is too saturated to soak up anything more. You're stuck on the same sentence as you were two minutes ago. Rereading to no avail.Â
... by Friday morning... file reports directly to... sincerely...
"Constance?"Â
A voice catches you off guard, and your teeth nearly slice through your writing utensil. Hazy eyes glance over your monitor as you soak in the sight of the man before you. He's handsome; clad in the same battle dress uniforms as every other soldier on base. The green looks good on him. No, better than good. It heavenly contrasts his darker complexion, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes; wide and sweet, like a good dog.Â
"You don't look like Constance," he chuckles. It's warm, and the baritone of it has your throat growing dry.Â
"Retired. You're looking at her replacement," you hum.
You breathe deeply as he approaches, hoping for a whiff of something. A gentle redolence; something. You're ashamed of the disappointment that fills you when you catch nothing.Â
A beta.Â
"Pity, she was sweet. Though, you're much easier on the eyes," he humors. "I swear her scowl was mean enough to send most drill sergeants running for the hills."Â
You chuckle at his flattery as you click the tip of your chewed up pen against your desk. It echoes hollowly in your empty drawers, the space yet to be filled with scrap paper and stolen library books. You tilt your head as he hands you a short stack of papers. You fight the urge to sink your teeth through his palm. Almost time to go home and he gives you more work to do.Â
"Suppose you're in charge of this now, yeah?" he says.Â
Solemnly, you nod. "Garrick?" you confirm as you read the name printed at the top of the report.Â
"Sergeant Garrick," he corrects with a smirk. "Or Kyle, if you're feeling friendly."Â
His suave humor is enough to earn him another chuckle as you set his report on top of your keyboard. Tilting your head, you pull at the buttons on your blouse absentmindedly, too on edge to sit still. You fail to notice his nostrils flaring at the movement of your shirt.Â
"Well, thank you, Kyle. I'll get to work on this," you say, quietly excusing him.Â
Kyle nods short and curt as he takes a step back. "Thank you, ma'am."Â
He hardly makes it out of the door before he's clamping his hand over his nose. He almost pinches his nostrils; suffocates himself so that he doesn't have to smell anything at all. Everything spins as if the very earth beneath his feet sways with the desire of the universe. You reek. Nothing but need and exhaustionâyou're going into heat soon. He's smelled it on omegas countless times beforeâthe brutal hormone changeâbut it's always come across as just a fact. Something he can sense. Like a light flickering on. It's not supposed to make him feel like this; too warm to be comfortable in his skin.Â
Shaking his head, Kyle forces his feet to trudge down the hallway as he fixes his posture and clears his mind. This is his own fault. Just needs to get better about taking his hormone suppressants on time, that's all. He's kept up this facade of being a beta this far, and he's not about to ruin it now. Not over some sweet smelling thing in the main office.Â
Still, he can't recall if there was a bite mark on your neck or not, and he hates the way his throat grows parchedâhow his tongue needs to taste your skin.
"Fucking hell," he curses with nothing but the empty hallway to hear him. "Get your damn head on straight."
follow @swimophelia to be notified of updates
#kore writes#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#alpha!gaz#omega!reader#f!reader#cod omegaverse
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fragments of Us
Pairings: Mha! Shota Aizawa x Fem! Reader
---
It was a late evening, the city lights outside casting long shadows through the small kitchen. Shota sat at the table, head resting on his palm as he watched her bustle around, moving through the small space like she owned it, as if she had always belonged there. Her laugh, light and carefree, echoed as she scolded him for something trivialâheâd knocked over a glass, spilling water everywhere.
"Youâre such a mess, Shota!" she said, her voice teasing but warm, bending to pick up the pieces.
He chuckled softly, but as she straightened up, his gaze softened, his heart doing a strange fluttering thing he couldnât name. The moment held a quiet intimacyâjust them, in this shared space, as if everything else in the world faded.
"Hey," he called, his voice suddenly serious.
She paused, looking up with a raised eyebrow, her hair falling messily around her face. "What?"
He hesitated, the words almost foreign to his mouth. "I... I think I might be falling in love with you."
Her eyes widened for a moment, her mouth opening to say something, but instead, she just laughedâa little awkwardly at first, then it broke free into something deeper, more genuine. She crossed the room toward him, leaning against the table, eyes gleaming with that teasing light he had come to adore.
"You think?" she grinned, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You donât sound very sure, Shota."
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Iâm sure enough." His voice lowered, almost as if to confess something deeper, something more vulnerable. "Iâm... sure enough to want you to be in my life, for a long time. If you'll have me."
For a moment, there was only the sound of her breathing, steady and calm, before she broke the silence, her voice softer than heâd expected.
"I want that too, Shota. I want you too."
It was one of those rare, beautiful moments when time seemed to slowâwhen the world outside felt insignificant and everything about them felt right. They didn't need to say more; the simple truth was understood.
--
Their fights were always the same. Intense at first, the words sharp and the emotions raw, but they always ended with laughter, the absurdity of it all cutting through the tension.
One evening, they were sitting on the couch, neither of them particularly angry, but their frustrations had built up over the past few days. He was tired, she was on edge, and the little things became monumental.
"I told you," she said, frowning slightly, "I donât need you to fix everything. Just listen."
Shota clenched his jaw, a bit frustrated. "I am listening. But youâre not even letting me helpâ"
"I donât want fixing, Shota," she snapped, a little louder than she intended, standing up and pacing across the living room. "I just want to beâwithout you trying to solve my problems all the time!"
He stood too, the frustration turning to something that felt a lot like guilt. "I canât help it. I justâI hate seeing you like this. I just want to make it better."
She turned to him, her eyes flashing. "I am the one who has to live with it, okay? Not you! You canât alwaysâ"
But before she could finish her sentence, her foot caught on the rug, sending her tumbling forward in a graceless stumble. Instinctively, Shota reached out to catch her, but in the process, they both crashed to the floor with a soft thud, tangled in each otherâs limbs.
There was a beat of stunned silence, and thenâboth of them burst into laughter.
She couldnât stop laughing, her eyes watering as she tried to push him off her, still giggling. Shota, his chest heaving from laughter, finally caught his breath enough to speak.
"Well," he said, his voice ragged from amusement, "I guess you are right. You donât need me to fix everything."
She shook her head, grinning at him through her laughter. "You do realize you are the one who made everything worse, right?"
He smiled, brushing his hand through his messy hair, giving her that sheepish smile she loved. "Yeah, yeah. But hey, at least we canât stay mad at each other when you fall on your face."
And just like that, the tension was gone. The argument, no matter how heated, dissolved in the air between them, leaving only warmth. Only laughter.
--
There were nights, rare and quiet, where neither of them said a word. They didnât need to. Those were the moments that solidified everything between them.
They sat outside on the balcony of their apartment, the world around them quiet and still. The city stretched out beneath them, lights twinkling like distant stars. He leaned against the railing, his arms crossed, while she sat next to him, legs folded beneath her. She didnât say anything, just breathed, content in the silence.
Shota looked over at her, his gaze soft. She wasnât looking at him, her attention fixed on the skyline, but he felt that familiar warmth spread through him. There were no grand gestures, no words, but everything about this moment felt perfect.
He reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. She looked at him then, just for a moment, a gentle smile curving her lips.
"Iâm glad youâre here," he said, his voice quiet but full of meaning.
Her eyes softened, her lips forming a small smile. "Me too."
It wasnât a declaration of love, not in the traditional sense, but it didnât need to be. In that moment, in that simple exchange, they both knew. They knew without needing to speak. Everything felt right in the world.
--
A few weeks before the incident that would change everything, they stood outside a building in the dead of night, a soft drizzle of rain falling around them. Shotaâs hand was tucked into hers, and she looked up at him with something in her eyes that he couldnât quite place.
"Shota," she said, her voice serious, almost hesitant. "Promise me... promise me you wonât ever leave me."
The question hit him like a stone, and he paused, glancing at her with a furrowed brow. "What are you talking about? Iâm not going anywhere."
She looked down at their hands, as if she were trying to convince herself of the same thing. "Just promise me. I donât think I can handle losing you."
His heart twisted, a strange foreboding sense creeping over him. He wasnât sure why sheâd asked, why she seemed so afraid, but he answered, without hesitation.
"I promise," he said softly, squeezing her hand, his words sure. "Iâm not going anywhere."
She smiled, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes. "I know."
And it was the last promise theyâd ever make.
--
The Last Day Before Everything Changed
The day everything changed, before the war and the pain, they had spent together like any other day. It had been a simple morningâlaughing over coffee, sharing quiet words that meant the world to them. He kissed her forehead as she got ready to leave for an assignment, whispering something playful about seeing her later.
"Iâll be waiting for you," he had said, as he always did.
And she had smiled that smile he adored, the one that always made his heart race, before walking out of the door.
They never knew it would be the last time they would be like that. The last time theyâd hold each other so naturally, so without hesitation.
It was the last time they shared the world the way they always hadâtogether.
---
Aizawaâs pov:
This was the first time I had ever seen this woman. And yet, she seemed so... familiar?
An instant flashâa woman laughing under a yellow streetlightâlit up his mind before vanishing just as quickly. The warmth of her laughter, the way her silhouette danced in the faint glow, tugged at something deep inside him. It wasnât just dĂ©jĂ vu. It felt... real. As if a fragment of another life had slipped through the cracks of his memory.
But he had never seen her before. He was sure of that. No matter how hard he tried to summon a memory, there was nothingâno prior meeting, no passing glance, not even a faint recollection of her face. And yet, it was as if he knew her intimately, as if some unseen thread connected them, pulling her closer to him in ways he couldn't explain.
She felt familiar, not in the way strangers sometimes do, but in a way that made his chest ache. It was as though she had always been there, woven into the fabric of his life, even though they had just met today.
His heart ached the longer he looked at her, a deep, inexplicable pain that made his chest tighten. It wasnât the kind of hurt that came from longing or sadnessâit was something far more profound, as though he were remembering a loss he couldnât quite place.
The way she tilted her head, the softness in her eyes, even the curve of her smileâit all felt so hauntingly familiar, yet completely foreign. The harder he tried to make sense of it, the deeper the ache grew, as if his heart recognized something his mind refused to acknowledge.
He stared at her, his gaze unwavering, but his mind was a storm of questions. Why was she affecting him like this? Why did his heart ache just looking at her? He couldnât find an answer, and the turmoil was too much to bear.
Without a word, he turned and walked away. The bustling noise of the conference room, filled with pro heroes discussing critical matters, faded into the background. The head chief called after him, demanding he stay, but he ignored the protests. He didnât offer an explanation, didnât spare anyone a glanceânot even her.
As he stepped out of the room, his heart was still pounding, and the ache lingered. He didnât know what had just happened, but he knew one thing for sure: staying in that room, in her presence, wasnât something he could handle right now.
He knew her. He had to, right? There was no other way to explain itâthe ache in his chest, the weight of her presence, the inexplicable pull toward her. He had never felt this way for anyone, let alone a stranger. But was she really a stranger? His heart screamed otherwise, even as his mind came up blank.
He racked his brain, trying to place her name, her face, or anything about her. Every pro hero in that room was someone he could recognize instantlyâheâd spent years memorizing names and reputations. Yet somehow, she was a complete mystery. And what unsettled him even more was that everyone else seemed to know exactly who she was.
How was that possible? How could she feel so familiar to him, so impossibly close, yet remain an enigma? It was like trying to think of a new colorâhis mind simply couldnât grasp it, no matter how hard he tried.
He didnât want to deal with thisânot now. His mind was already a mess, and the events of the day had left him drained. Teaching at U.A. had been exhausting enough, and now this inexplicable encounter had thrown him completely off balance. He needed to clear his head, to shake off the unsettling emotions that clung to him like a shadow.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone and called up Hitoshi Shinso. The student responded quickly, eager as always for a chance to train. Within minutes, they were in the gym, facing off.
For nearly an hour, they sparred, and he went harder than usual. Every strike, every block, every move was sharper, faster, as if he could fight away the confusion gnawing at his mind. Sweat dripped down his face, his muscles burned, and his lungs heaved for air, but he didnât let up. Shinso struggled to keep up, but he pushed himself, determined to meet his teacher's intensity.
Still, no matter how hard he fought, the ache in his chest lingered, and the memory of her face wouldnât leave him.
Hitoshi finally threw his hands up, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow. "That's it. I'm done for the day," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion. He slumped against the wall, glaring lightly at his teacher. "Youâre not just training meâyouâre working something out, and Iâm not your punching bag, Aizawa-sensei."
Shota froze mid-step, his chest still rising and falling heavily from the spar. He opened his mouth to protest, to say it wasnât like that, but he couldnât. Hitoshi was right. The intensity, the unrelenting paceâit hadnât been for the studentâs benefit. Heâd been venting his frustration, his confusion, his... whatever the hell was going on with him.
Hitoshi grabbed his water bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Look, I donât know whatâs going on with you, but maybe talk to someone about it instead of trying to knock me into next week," he said, giving a tired wave as he walked toward the exit.
Shota watched him leave in silence, the words cutting deeper than they should have. Alone now, the gym felt too big, too quiet, and that familiar ache clawed its way back into his chest. No amount of sparring was going to fix whatever this was.
What a nuisance. His schedule was off, his mood was off, and now he felt completely out of place. Normally, he had a knack for pushing aside anything irrational, anything that didnât fit neatly into his logical view of the world. He could expel distractions as easily as he could expel a failing student. But thisâherâit was impossible to ignore.
It frustrated him to no end. He had tried, over and over, to push her out of his mind, to forget the way she made him feel, to dismiss the ache in his chest as nothing more than a fleeting anomaly. But no matter how hard he tried, she remained. Her face, her presence, that inexplicable sense of familiarityâthey clung to him, lingering in the back of his mind like an unresolved equation.
The more he fought it, the stronger it seemed to hold. It was infuriating, maddening even, to feel so powerless over something so intangible. Shota Aizawa was a man of discipline, a man of control. And yet, when it came to this woman, he had none.
-
Hizashi and Nemuri's Pov:
The soft murmur of conversation filled the small corner of the cafe where Hizashi Yamada and Nemuri Kayama sat, the warmth of their cups of coffee contrasting the chill that had settled in their hearts. They watched from across the room, the familiar scene unfolding before them like a page from a book they hadnât read in years. It was strangeâhow something so simple could feel so surreal.
From their seats, they could see Shota and her walking past each other, as strangers do, each lost in their own world, unaware of the life they once shared.
Hizashi was the first to speak, his voice unusually quiet, the ever-present brightness of his usual demeanor dimming with the weight of the moment. "You ever thought weâd see this day?" He gestured with a flick of his hand toward the two figures walking by. His tone was soft, almost disbelieving.
Nemuri, her gaze focused on the pair, didnât immediately answer. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, the steam rising between them, as though it could somehow erase the heaviness in the air. "I donât know what to think anymore." Her voice was distant, a thin layer of frustration laced with sadness. "I mean⊠look at them. They donât even see each other."
Hizashi sighed, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "I know," he muttered, eyes following Shota first and then flicking toward the woman who had been so much a part of their lives, so intertwined in the rhythm of everything they did. "Itâs just... it's like theyâre ghosts. Theyâve been erased."
Nemuriâs lips pressed into a tight line. She had always been good at hiding what she felt, but she couldnât hide the ache in her chest as she watched them walk by, both moving forward in life, but completely unaware of the tie that once bound them so deeply. "We all saw it, didnât we? That connection they had. Like they were part of the same soul. It was... impossible to miss."
Hizashi chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "Yeah, it was obvious. Even when they fought, it was like they were always gonna come back to each other. You never saw them as individuals. It was always âher and Shota,â âthem two.â But now... now itâs like nothing ever happened."
Nemuriâs eyes followed the two of them, watching as they moved through the meeting room, their gazes never locking, their conversations never overlapping. It hurt. "I donât even think they know what they lost," she murmured, her words quiet but sharp, as though speaking the truth made it more real. "You remember when sheâd laugh and his whole face would light up? Or the way heâd lean in when she spoke, like he was hanging onto every word? That was real. You canât fake that."
Hizashi nodded slowly, his blue eyes flickering with a sadness he rarely showed. "Yeah, I remember. But whatever they had, whatever was between them, itâs gone now. Just gone." He met Nemuriâs gaze, his voice low, tinged with regret. "Itâs like they donât even recognize it anymore, you know? They walk past each other, barely glancing. Like theyâre nothing more than strangers."
"Did they even have a choice?" Nemuri asked, her voice a little raw, a little bitter. She knew the answer, but the question was as much for herself as it was for Hizashi. "Could they have really stayed the same after everything that happened? After... everything they had to go through?"
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"Maybe not," Hizashi replied, his voice soft, more somber than usual. "But it doesnât make it any easier to watch. They were everything to each other. And now? Now theyâre just two people in the same room, passing like ships in the night."
They watched for a moment longer, their gazes fixed on the two of them. Shota, so distant, his face unreadable, moving as if there were no history behind those eyes. And her, the woman who had once been a bright spark in their world, now just a quiet figure who blended into the crowd.
Nemuri clenched her fist around her cup, her gaze never wavering. "Itâs so hard to accept. Watching them like this... itâs like weâre losing them all over again."
"I know," Hizashi muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we canât force it. We canât make them remember." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched Shota and her go their separate ways. "But Iâll tell you one thing, Nemuri. We canât just forget what they meant to us, either. We canât let that fade."
Nemuri let out a breath she hadnât realized she was holding. "No. We canât."
---
The two of them fell silent, sitting side by side as they watched their old friends, now strangers, go about their day. It was as if the world had moved on, leaving behind a pair of souls that no one could quite reach anymore. And in that silence, the grief of the past, the uncertainty of the present, and the sadness for the future settled over them like a weight they couldnât shake.
Their friends were gone. They were still there, physically, but the people they had once beenâthose people were gone. And there was no getting them back.
Not anymore.
-
Aizawa's pov
'
The kitchen was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the late afternoon sun streaming in through the small window above the sink. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the light as if frozen in time. The tiled floor was a mess, covered in a fine layer of white flour that had spread farther than either of them had expected. The overturned bag lay crumpled to one side, its contents spilled out in an unceremonious heap that had them both on the floor, trying to salvage what they could.
She sat cross-legged on the ground, her hands cupped to scoop the flour back into the bag as best as possible. Her long hair, a cascade of soft waves, was pulled back into a loose ponytail, though a few rebellious strands framed her face. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from laughter or exertion, he couldn't tell, but the faint pink hue made her look even more radiant. A smudge of flour dusted her nose, giving her an almost childlike charm.
Her laughter was infectious, a light, musical sound that filled the small space and made the situation feel more amusing than frustrating. It came straight from her chest, unrestrained and genuine, causing her eyes to crinkle at the corners and glimmer with joy. She tried to focus on the task at hand, but her occasional giggles made her efforts slightly clumsy.
He was kneeling beside her, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her, unable to take his eyes away. There was something mesmerizing about the way she movedâso intent, so unbothered by the mess theyâd made. Her fingers worked quickly but softly, scooping up little mounds of flour and pressing them into the bag with care. Her determination was endearing, and he found himself smiling without realizing it.
The sunlight caught the strands of her hair, creating a halo-like effect that made her look ethereal. His heart skipped a beat as he soaked in the moment: her carefree demeanor, her unfiltered joy, and the way her laugh seemed to echo in his mind long after it stopped.
Then she looked up, catching him staring. Her eyes, sparkling with mirth, locked onto his. âHaha, what are you staring at?â she asked, tilting her head slightly, her smile wide and teasing. Her tone was playful, but the way she looked at him made his pulse quicken.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, his voice soft but unconvincing. His lips twitched upward in a faint smile, but his gaze lingered on her a moment too long. It wasnât nothingânot to him.
This moment, with the chaos of spilled flour, her unrestrained laughter, and the golden light casting her in hues of warmth, felt like something straight out of a dream. The sound of her laugh, the way her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled, and the gentle determination in her hands as she tried to fix their messâit all burned itself into his memory, searing so deeply he knew he could never forget it.
He turned his focus back to the mess on the floor, his hands clumsily scooping up handfuls of flour. His heart was still racing, the image of her radiant smile replaying over and over in his mind. How could he explain that this seemingly trivial, imperfect moment was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever experienced? So he didnât try. He let her teasing laugh ring in his ears, silently hoping that she couldnât see the way his cheeks burned or how his heart had all but leapt out of his chest.
Because to him, this wasnât just a mess on the kitchen floor. It was a memoryâone he wanted to hold onto forever.
Caught off guard, he scrambled for an answer, feeling warmth creep up his neck. But all he could think about was how this ordinary, chaotic moment had turned into something extraordinaryâsomething he never wanted to forget.
'
What the hell? He suddenly had a flashback of something he didn't even remember happening. He couldn't remember the face of the woman in the daydream.
The memory lingered like a soft, unshakable echo in his mind. It was the sound of her laughter, clear and melodic, filling his thoughts until it drowned out everything else. It was a sweet sound, mesmerizing in its simplicity, like the kind of laugh that could make the world feel lighter. He couldnât remember exactly when it happened or why it felt so vivid. All he knew was that it had burned itself into his memoryâher laugh, her carefree smile, the way she had looked at him in that moment.
But when he tried to recall her face, it slipped through his fingers like sand. He could see her in the kitchen, kneeling beside him, laughing as the flour spilled everywhere, but her face remained a blur. Her features refused to come into focus, like a puzzle with a piece missing, no matter how hard he tried to piece it all together. The laughter was there, the warmth of the room, the sunlight bathing her in golden huesâbut the face, the very thing that should have anchored the memory, remained elusive.
He rubbed his temple, trying to clear the fog, but the harder he focused, the more it felt like he was chasing a ghost. This had to be a memory, right? Something real. But why couldnât he place her? Why did her name remain a whisper he couldnât catch?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, the dissonance between the memory of her laughter and the blankness where her face should have been unsettling. Was he losing his mind? Had it all been a dream or some fleeting, half-formed memory that never fully took shape?
His mind swirled with confusion, and an unsettling thought crept in. What if this wasnât a memory at all? What if he had never even met her?
He shook his head, trying to dispel the dizziness that was growing within him. No, that couldnât be right. But the more he thought about it, the more doubt seeped in. How could he feel so sure about something that seemed to slip through his grasp, like a dream he couldnât wake up from?
His heart tightened, and he felt a strange ache in his chest, a longing for something he couldnât explain. The sound of her laughter kept playing over and over in his mind, and with it, the unsettling sense that he was missing something crucial. Something important.
But what was it?
It was like a sudden rush of clarity, only for it to crumble away just as quickly. The moment he thought he had almost touched the memoryâwhen he tried to picture her, really see herâhe felt it. A crack, like the wall of his mind was breaking down, opening something he hadn't realized was locked away. It was as if the very act of remembering her should have felt natural, but instead, it was like trying to rebuild something that had already fallen apart.
Her face remained elusive, just out of reach, and the more he tried to grasp it, the more fragile everything felt. The laughter, once so clear, began to distort, stretching and warping like a fading echo. The sense of her, the warmth she had brought to the room, all of it slipped away with every effort to hold onto it.
He hated itâhated how his mind couldnât keep up with the flood of emotions that surged within him. There was a pull, a deep, almost aching sense of familiarity that gnawed at his insides. But it was coupled with the frustration of not knowing why. The feeling of knowing her should have been enough to ground him, but instead, it left him spinning. His heart was a wreck, torn between a longing he couldn't place and a fear of losing something that was already slipping through his fingers.
Every time he reached for a memory of her, it felt like trying to fix a broken piece of glass with his bare handsâgathering the shards only to watch them scatter once more. He wanted to scream in frustration, to pound his fists against the wall of his own mind and force the answers to appear. But they didnât.
The new feelingsâthe confusion, the ache, the deep, unsettling sense that there was something missingâwere unbearable. And the more he tried to remember, the more everything became a blur. The longer he was left in this void, the more it felt like he was losing himself too, piece by piece.
And that laugh, so sweet and hypnotic, echoed in his mind, reminding him of something he was desperate to grasp, yet terrified to fully uncover. Because every time he tried, it felt like the wall around his mind was cracking even furtherâfalling apart, only to rebuild itself before he could fully understand.
He tried to let it go, tried to convince himself it didnât matter. After all, how could something as fleeting as an elusive laugh, a memory he couldnât even place, really be important? It felt silly to dwell on it. He didnât know her, and she certainly didnât know himânot in the way those fragments of his mind made him wish. He dismissed it, burying the feeling deep inside where it couldnât interfere with his routine.
So, he moved on. He went about his days, immersing himself in his work, his distractions, the mundane rhythms of life that felt so much safer than confronting the unknown. He told himself it was just his mind playing tricksânothing more, nothing less. The more he told himself that, the easier it became to forget.
But then, the next time he saw her, it all came rushing back.
It was in the middle of a meeting, the room filled with the usual hum of conversation. Papers shuffled, pens clicked, and the air was thick with the weight of deadlines and agendas. He sat there, half-listening, jotting down notes, when he heard her voice. It was like a jolt, a spark that set something inside him alight. The moment she spoke, his mind flashed back to that laughâthe sound of it still so vivid, like it had been imprinted on him forever.
She was standing there, as poised and focused as she always was, her hair neatly pulled back, a hint of a smile on her lips as she contributed to the discussion. But the instant their eyes met, something shifted. The familiar pull, that sense of connection he couldnât explain, washed over him once more, stronger than before.
He felt his chest tighten, his heart picking up pace, and for a brief moment, it was as if everything around him went quiet. It was the same sensation he had experienced the first time he saw her, that inexplicable recognition. But he quickly shoved it downâbrushed it off as nothing. It doesnât matter, he reminded himself. You're just imagining things.
The meeting continued, but he couldnât shake the feeling that something was off, like a knot had been tied in his chest. He didnât allow himself to dwell on it. He didnât let his gaze linger on her too long. He focused on the task at hand, forced himself to engage in the conversation, but the connectionâhowever intangible it wasâlingered in the back of his mind, quietly gnawing at him.
He went on with his day, just as he had before, but the question was there now, sitting at the edge of his thoughts. The one heâd tried so hard to forget. Why did it feel like he knew her? And more troubling still, why did it feel like she knew him too?
-
Twelve years ago, Shota and herâno one had ever seen one without the other. Their bond was undeniable, a quiet force of nature that made them inseparable. From the moment they met, their friendship was effortless, a connection that seemed to transcend time. Theyâd been through so much togetherâlife-altering experiences, each moment filled with depth and meaning. At first, they were friends, an odd pair that seemed to click in a way no one understood, not even them. There was something unspoken between them, a sense of mutual understanding that went beyond words.
The first time they foughtâreally foughtâwas an oddity. It was about something trivial, as most fights between close friends tend to be. A misunderstanding, a difference in opinion, the kind of thing that could easily have driven them apart. But even then, their bond was strong. In the heat of the argument, emotions ran high, but it never reached the point of real anger. They had always known how to talk through their differences. She would pout, and heâd smile in that stubborn way of his, and before long, one of them would say something so ridiculous that the tension would break. They would laugh, and just like that, the fight would dissolve, leaving only a quiet understanding.
They were there for each other through the darkest times. When Shota lost people he cared about, she was the one who stood by his side, offering a steady hand when the world seemed to be crumbling. When she had her own moments of doubt, when the weight of her responsibilities as a hero felt overwhelming, Shota was her anchor. He knew her better than anyone. Her laugh, her small gestures, the way her eyes softened when she talked about her dreamsâit was all so familiar, so deeply ingrained in him. And she, in turn, knew himâthe quiet way he carried the weight of the world, the way he hid his emotions, even from himself.
Their love had grown from that friendship. It was slow, like a seed taking root and blossoming when they least expected it. But when it did, it was undeniable. Their relationship wasnât perfect, but it was real. They understood each other in a way no one else did. Their connection was a constant, and even in the face of the chaos of their lives as heroes, it remained a source of comfort.
Their bond was the kind that made everyone else take notice. It wasnât just "Shota" or "her," it was always "them two." Wherever one was, the other was sure to follow. They had so many shared memories, countless adventures, moments of quiet joy that felt like they could last forever. Their laughter, their shared glances, their whispered words in the dead of nightâthese were the things that made them who they were. A couple built on trust, on shared experiences, on a love that felt like it could withstand anything.
---
The war changed everything. The world was thrown into chaos, and they both fought valiantly, side by side, with all the strength they had. It was a brutal battle. Her quirk, a powerful ability that she had honed over the years, backfired during a fight with a villain whose quirk turned things in the opposite direction. It was a freak accidentâa perfect storm of chaosâand it shattered the balance of her mind and body.
Her quirkâs backlash altered her chemistry, messing with the way her memories and emotions interacted. It started subtly, at first. Small gaps in her memory, moments where she would forget something that just happened. But it quickly spiraled out of control. The more she remembered him, the more it tore at her, eroding her mind in ways that no one understood. The doctors and quirk scientists were desperate, trying to find a solution, but there was none.
Shota sat in that hospital room, surrounded by cold, sterile faces. The weight of the decision before him pressed down on him, suffocating him with every passing second. Her eyes were closed, her body fragile and broken from the fight, but her mind was the real battlefield now. The doctors had explained it to him in the most clinical of terms. "Her memories of you, Shota, theyâre eating away at her. If you stay together, if she remembers you, she will lose herself. Her mind will break down. Itâs the only way to save herâto make her forget everything."
The room was a blur of conversation, voices echoing around him as he fought to keep himself together. How could they ask this of him? How could he make this choice?
"Iâm sorry," one of the scientists had said, "but itâs the only solution."
The words were like a weight, crushing him. He glanced at her, her face so familiar, yet the pain he saw in her eyes broke him in ways he never thought possible. She would become a stranger to him, and he to her. Their loveâeverything they had sharedâwould be erased. The thought of it was unbearable.
But in the end, it wasnât about him. It was about her.
He looked at her one last time, his hand trembling as he reached out to hold hers. She had to live. She had to survive this, even if it meant forgetting him. He couldnât bear to watch her become a shell of the woman he had loved for so long. His love for her was greater than his own pain.
With tears in his eyes, he whispered, "Iâll forget too. I canât⊠I canât be the reason you lose yourself."
The doctors began their work, and the last thing Shota remembered was her hand in his, the warmth of her skin a fleeting memory. Then, everything went blank.
---
The procedure was done, and everything was different.
They walked separate paths now. She left, moved far away, to start a new life, a life without him in it. The memories of their time togetherâhis memoriesâwere wiped clean. It was as if they had never existed.
Shota returned to his old routine. He continued as a hero, as a mentor, just as he had before. But it felt wrong. There was something missing, an emptiness in his chest that he couldnât explain. He went through the motions, interacting with the same people, doing the same work, but there was no joy in it. He didnât know why, but he couldnât shake the feeling that something had been lost.
And then, one day, she walked into a meeting room, as if from nowhere.
Shota looked up, not expecting to see her there. For a brief moment, his heart skipped a beat. The connection, the strange familiarity, surged through him in a way he couldnât understand. But she didnât look at him like she knew him. She was cold, distant, a stranger.
Her name was called, and she responded, her voice flat and professional. She walked to a seat, never once acknowledging him.
Shota watched her, a strange knot forming in his stomach. It was like seeing a ghost, a reflection of a life that no longer existed. The room buzzed with conversation, but all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, the pulse of his heart. There was a connection between themâhe could feel itâbut it was a flicker in the dark, something just out of reach.
He wanted to approach her, to speak to her, but he knew better. They were strangers now, both of them lost to their own pasts. And so, he sat there, watching as she spoke to others.
He couldnât remember.
The others spoke to her with a familiarity that seemed so natural, but to Shota, it felt like they were all speaking a language he didnât understand. They knew herâknew things he didnâtâand yet she remained a ghost in his mind.
Days passed, and Shota found himself continuously haunted by an odd sense of emptiness, an aching void that seemed to be centered around the woman he had seen in the meeting room. He didnât know why, but he felt unsettled when he saw herâlike he should know her, like something about her was his. But that something couldnât be touched, could never be reached.
The truth was, he had no recollection of the womanâherâat all. He couldnât recall the warmth of her laugh, the way they had once shared a life. He didnât remember the fights that never truly lasted, the small touches, the quiet moments they spent together. The world they had builtâwoven with love, loyalty, and historyâwas now just a fog in the back of his mind, dissipating with every passing second.
The decision he had madeâto forgetâwas one he couldnât recall clearly anymore. It had been a blur of doctors, quiet words of explanation, and the weight of something he knew was vital, but he couldnât grasp.
Even his own pain, the anguish of erasing her from his life, was now a distant memory.
What had I lost?
The question lingered, but there were no answers.
Some piece of himself that had been removed. But he couldnât name it. The feeling of loss clung to him like a shadow, but it wasnât a shadow he could identify. He didnât know what he was mourning. He didnât remember her.
The others spoke of her oftenâher, the woman from the meeting room. They spoke as if she were someone important. She was now part of the team, her presence here to stay. They would nod when he asked about her, giving him only vague responses, as if they could sense his confusion, but they didnât press it. They didnât know he didnât remember her.
Shotaâs interactions with her were brief and professional. There were no sparks of recognition when they crossed paths, no flicker of old familiarity that once had been so vivid. She was just another colleague, another face in the sea of people he interacted with every day.
-
He made that decision knowing deep down that he could never really get to know her again.
He had chosen to protect her. And in doing so, he had lost her. He hadn't even said goodbye, she didn't even know she would have to have said goodbye.
And it would stay this way forever, that's what he knew needed to be done.
A beautiful relationship formed so deep, drowning in the depth of their connection. Their life together life died that day. Both of them gone just like that, and they were never coming back.
#bnha#aizawa x reader#mha#shota aizawa x reader#mha x reader#bnha x reader#eraserhead x reader#aizawa shouta#shota aizawa#aizawa#mha aizawa#mha x you#aizawa x you#hizashi yamada#nemuri kayama
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
Max' older brother who charles has had a crush on since they first met, where charles figures out that older brother has been holding back in raceing so their dad focuses on him so he doesnt hurt max, and charles is in awe because older brother could have made it into formula 1 a while ago and charles doesnt think hed be able to do something like that if it were him, so charles decides to help male reader as much as he can without being noticed.
I had someone else try and write this to see if theyd been as enthusiastic as you in writing it but no its like they didnt understand the ask @/playinbillie if you want to see what they wrote. Also this was kinda one of the two stories i had for you i didnt actually know the pairing i wanted for this one so i just made it charles, but the other is a oliver x kimi x male reader.
.
Unspoken sacrifice â Charles Leclerc x male!reader
Word countâ 1777
Fluff slightly angsty
The sound of the engines roaring around the track echoed through Charles' chest as he sat in the stands, his gaze fixed on the cars speeding past. But his attention wasnât on the race; it was on himâY/N.
Max's older brother. The one who couldâve been great.
For years, Charles had watched from the sidelines as Y/N, despite his obvious talent, kept himself from rising through the ranks of racing. Every time theyâd go karting, every practice session, Y/N would leave everyone in the dustâexcept for Max. The family dynamic was always clear. Their dad, a former racer himself, was invested in Max. Obsessed with Max.
But Y/N? He was always the silent presence in the background, holding back in ways that didnât make sense to Charles at first. There was something about Y/Nâs racing that seemed... off. Too controlled, too careful, like he was playing a different game entirely. Charles hadnât realized why until recently.
It was after one of the practice races, as he sat next to Y/N on the cool metal bleachers, watching Max celebrate his victory with their dad, that it clicked.
âY/N, why didnât you go for the win?â Charles had asked, his brow furrowing.
Y/N gave him that knowing smile, one that always seemed to hide more than it let on. âBecause he needs to be the one who shines. Max... heâs the one Dad focuses on. You know that.â
Charles stared at him, confused. âBut youâ you couldâve taken that first place. Youâve always been better than me, better than Max.â
Y/Nâs gaze shifted toward the ground, his voice quiet. âSometimes the best thing you can do is step back.â
Charles frowned, his mind racing. âBut why? Why hold back? You couldâve been in Formula 1 by now. Why give that up?â
Y/N was silent for a moment, the weight of the years theyâd spent together suddenly sinking in. âBecause, Charles, if I push too hard, Dad would want me to push Max harder, too. And Max isnât ready for that. Heâs not me. Iâd rather see him succeed than risk seeing him burn out.â
Charles was stunned. He hadnât realized how much Y/N had sacrificedânot just his dreams, but his entire futureâfor the sake of his younger brother. It wasnât just about racing. It was about family, about love, about keeping Max safe.
And it broke Charlesâ heart.
The thought of his older brother never having the chance to race for real, to chase that Formula 1 dream, made him feel a sharp ache in his chest.
"That's... that's really something, Y/N," Charles said quietly, feeling an overwhelming surge of admiration for the older brother he'd never truly understood before.
Y/N shrugged, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âItâs what family does, right? You put them first.â
But Charles wasnât sure if that was enough anymore.
Heâd never be able to do what Y/N had done. He would never have the strength to hold back when it mattered, to throw away his own potential for someone else. Y/N had given everything, and Charles had only just realized it.
And now, watching Y/N quietly fade into the background again, Charles made a decision.
âIâm going to help you, Y/N,â Charles said suddenly, surprising even himself. âI donât know how yet, but I will. I wonât let you fade into the background.â
Y/N looked over at him, a surprised yet knowing look crossing his face. âCharles, you donât need toââ
âI know,â Charles interrupted, his voice firm. âBut I want to.â
Y/N gave a small chuckle, ruffling Charles' hair. âYou donât have to do anything for me, kid. Youâve got your own career to focus on.â
Charles didnât reply, his mind already planning how he could work in the shadows, how he could help his brother rise again without anyone noticing. Without Max ever knowing.
He wouldnât let Y/Nâs sacrifices be in vain.
And maybe, just maybe, they could still achieve the dream Y/N had set aside for so long.
Over the next few weeks, Charles found himself subtly changing the way he approached his time with Y/N. Every practice session, every karting weekend, he was paying more attentionânot just to his own racing, but to his older brotherâs every move.
It wasnât hard to see how much Y/N was holding back. He wasnât just playing it safe; he was actively limiting his own performance, choosing more cautious lines, braking earlier, and settling for second or third place when he easily couldâve taken the win.
It frustrated Charles more than anything. Watching Y/N squandering his potential, doing exactly what heâd done his entire life: taking a step back for the sake of someone else.
And it made Charles feel helpless. He wanted to shout, to demand that Y/N race to his fullest, that he deserved more than the life of a background player. But he couldnât. He understood now why Y/N was doing it. Heâd made that sacrifice for Maxâand maybe even for their father. It wasnât just about being in the spotlight; it was about keeping the family dynamic intact.
But Charles wasnât going to let it go on forever.
One night, after a particularly difficult race where Y/N had barely edged out Max for a second-place finish, Charles made up his mind. He needed a plan. He needed to help Y/N, even if he had to do it in secret.
"Y/N," Charles said casually as they were cleaning up their gear, the two of them alone in the garage. Max was off with their dad, discussing strategies for his next race. "Have you ever thought about going to some of those off-season testing events? The ones where they bring in reserve drivers, or... younger talents?â
Y/N gave him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. âIâve been to a few. A long time ago. But you know as well as I do, they wonât give me the time of day. Not with Max in the picture.â
âI think youâre wrong.â Charles smiled, trying to hide the excitement bubbling up in him. âWhat if I can get you into one of those events? Just a test run, no pressure. Iâll set it up.â
Y/N gave him a bemused look. âAnd how exactly are you going to pull that off? You donât have the connectionsâ"
Charles leaned in closer, his voice low but confident. "I do now."
For the next few weeks, Charles worked quietly behind the scenes, making calls and sending messages to everyone he knewâengineers, team managers, even his own contacts within the F1 world. It wasnât easy. Y/N wasnât exactly a household name, and most people were only interested in the young stars, not a 25-year-old with years of untapped potential. But Charles didnât care about the odds.
He couldnât let Y/Nâs talent slip away, not when he knew what his brother could truly do.
It was a month later when Charles finally received the response heâd been waiting forâa private testing session for a mid-tier team looking to give fresh talent a shot. It wasnât Formula 1, not yet, but it was a step in the right direction. A foot in the door.
He waited until the perfect moment, when Y/N wasnât expecting it, and told him about the opportunity.
âY/N, I got you a test with an F1 team. Youâre going to drive at their private session next week.â
Y/N blinked, looking at him as though Charles had just said something absurd. âWhat?â
âI did. Youâre driving for them next week.â
At first, Y/N didnât believe it. He laughed, like Charles was making a joke at his expense. But the more Charles pushed, the more he explained how hard heâd worked to arrange it, how heâd bent a few rules and called in a few favors, the more Y/Nâs expression shifted from confusion to disbelief to... gratitude.
But even then, Y/N hesitated. "Charles, you know Iâm notâ"
âYou are ready,â Charles cut him off, standing firm. âI know it. I know you couldâve made it into F1 years ago if youâd wanted to. I wonât let you give up on it.â
There was a long silence. Then, slowly, Y/N nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. "Alright. But you better not tell Max about this. Heâll never forgive me if he finds out.â
Charles grinned. âDeal.â
The week of the test, Y/Nâs nerves were palpable, though he tried to hide them. As they stood by the track, Charles watched him suit up, a wave of pride crashing over him. His brother was about to show the world what he could really doâand no one would know who had pushed him there.
Charles knew it wasnât enough just to get Y/N the test. The hard part was making sure Y/N knew he had someone in his corner. Someone who believed in himânot as the background player or the second-best brother, but as the talented, driven racer heâd always been.
The test went better than Charles could have hoped. Y/N drove like he was born for it. Fast, fearless, and precise, he outpaced every expectation. By the end of the session, the teamâs engineers were already talking about bringing him back for more testing.
But Charles didnât want to get ahead of himself. This wasnât the finish line. This was just the beginning.
As they packed up to leave, Y/N clapped him on the shoulder, a grateful, somewhat overwhelmed look in his eyes.
âThanks, Charles,â he said quietly. âI donât know what to say... I didnât think Iâd ever get a shot like this.â
Charles smiled, the weight of the unspoken promise hanging between them. âYou donât have to say anything. Just keep driving. Iâll make sure you get there.â
The next few months passed in a blur. Y/Nâs performance in the test had caught the attention of several teams, and before long, he was back on the radar. Charles helped when he could, keeping things quiet and making sure that Y/Nâs success stayed under the radar. Max never knew what had really happened. And Y/N, though hesitant, slowly began to believe that maybeâjust maybeâhe could make it to Formula 1 after all.
But it wasnât just about racing anymore. It was about a bond between brothers, one that went beyond the track. A bond that said: Iâve got your back, no matter what.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x you#f1 x y/n#formula one x oc#formula one x y/n#faiths inboxesđ„đš#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x male reader
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hm it really sucks that entertainment and especially "immersive" entertainment is rapidly going down hill in quality because the people who are in charge are being as stingy as possible, despite society leaning more heavily into fantasy and escapism every day
#jenny nicholson#everything just has echoes of something better#like so many shows games and experiences have remanents of really amazing concepts and thoughts that really passonate and creative#individuals crafted but higher ups go hm. nah. and then cut corners more and more#and opt to feature more âadd onsâ which is just another way to get people to shell out so they can avoid FOMO#wheres the showmanship? why is everything so openly and unashamedly stingy these days?#disney spends 10-23 million on an animatronic for a dark ride for a park no one really wants#where everything else on that said dark ride is just a looping screen or fake flora#there is such a huge market for escapism#now more than ever probably#and companies cant even provide#and its only going to grow
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2
#'you don't know my mother' haunting me through the years#dragon age#dragon age 2#hawke#On second thought let's not go to Kirkwall; it is a silly place#there are of course as many ways to do/read that relationship as there are players to interact with it haha and all valid!#but my personal version of handers is sooo fucked up and bad times for everyone involved and I love it haha.#this is a relationship neither of them should have been in and that made everything worse and everyone unhappy in the end#locked tomb levels of the horrors of love. i ship it but in the way that I want to make it sadder and more gutwrenching each time#to be clear this is a very mutual two-way kind of fucked up but I think varric in his loyalty and love would downplay hawke's side of it#for huge swathes of their relationship anders is not in a mental place to be a good partner and the emotional blackmail is Not Okay#(but it's just like how mother used to make it! hawke's soul cries sadly as it reaches for it hungrily)#which is in some ways fair enough no one could accuse him of not warning you ahead of time fjskda#but hawke is messy about it in a way only available to a covert people pleaser who has never had a millisecond of therapy#with some added stuff that my hawke is always acespec in some form and when he gets together with anders...#is the sex something he doesn't particularly care to have or not have but it 'makes anders happy'/he longs to feel wanted *and* needed#and also a way he gets out of ever being *actually* vulnerable (which I think he'd had to be with varric for example if he Went There )#'you want the hawke who's in your head so badly and I kind of wish I were that hawke too. so let's be collaborateurs with that fantasy'#(and then maybe if I do it right every time you'll finally be happy hawke says in his heart looking at this leandra-anders phantom form)#(and echoing stuff in varric's relationship to hawke but I think the important distinction there is that varric -- is a craftsman haha#he KNOWS when he's lying/making up a story he KNOWS the difference between what is and what he wishes the world was#(I think there's some deep longing there to not know; for it to blend together or have the power to change things. but he always knows)#which ironically leaves him in a better position to actually see and understand hawke the person#even as he is creating hawke the literary figure. almost to protect him in some ways? god da2 is so full of STUFF!!! I adore it)#and of course anders gets so disillusioned with hawke's inertia and lack of action (you all but married this man anders!#you should know this about him he's already carrying the whole family and city on his shoulders if you add a gram more he'll collapse!)#and hawke feels so desperately hurt that the promise anders seemed to make that he'd be enough -- that he could fix things for him --#('I'm the one bright light in kirkwall and that apparently doesn't count for shit so I'm just slowly turning to ash for you')#turned out to be untrue. anyway. sad now. imagine them meeting like twenty years on what the fuck could you even say to each other then#(I can't imagine Hawke ever physically hurting anyone he loves so he just tells Anders to leave at the end of DA2. they COULD meet again
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
show & tell (SMG x reader).
part of the love's an uncharted path universe â
.
SUMMARY:
You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. Youâve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering heâs your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, youâre just the best friend a guy like him can have.
PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.
GENRE: childhood best friends to ?
WORD COUNT: 8k.
WARNINGS: SMUT ✠(MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.
NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3
POSTED: july 18th 2024.
masterlist. / part two.
âDelete her number right now!âÂ
âShe's such a bitch for saying that to youâŠâÂ
âAnd over text too? Wow.âÂ
âYeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.âÂ
Wooyoungâs living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingiâs seeing.Â
Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused.Â
You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news.Â
He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi.Â
Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another.Â
But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine.Â
âThat's enough, everyone. I think he got it.â You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunhoâs chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.
âYou know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?â he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says âNo one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.âÂ
âJesus Christ,â Mingi whines again, closing his eyes âDon't say it like that.âÂ
âHow else should I say it?â Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you.Â
Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingiâs sake). Instead, you let out a sigh âI mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on butâŠâ shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times âHwaâs right.âÂ
âSo you do know?âÂ
âWooââ Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.
âHuh?âÂ
âYou said that it's hard making it happen,â he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days âSo you must know.âÂ
Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing.Â
You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue.Â
So you take mercy on him.Â
âOh. I mean⊠Yeah.â You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever.Â
âYou truly are amazing.âÂ
Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat âSure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,â you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door âIt's noon already, by the way.âÂ
âShit.â Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit.Â
âAlright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.â San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days.Â
This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm.Â
âAnd by that he means that you need to stay,â Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes âWe didn't study⊠Don't look at me like that! Please?âÂ
âI'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!â
You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss.Â
When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him.Â
Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi.Â
His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing.Â
You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings.Â
Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken.Â
Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year.Â
You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment.Â
Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time.Â
In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well.Â
He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed.Â
That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind.Â
One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.
He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head.Â
âCall me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,â you start before he says anything âIf you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.âÂ
He huffs out a laugh âYou don't even know how to fight, love.â
You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way bsck in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would csll you love because that's what good boyfriend's do.Â
Turns out, you weren't exactly his friends type. Neither were the other girls in your school.Â
âI don't give a shit, I'll do it,â You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car âThanks for the ride, dude.âÂ
âYouâre welcome, bro.â He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way.Â
And in the solitude of your room, you wait.Â
You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring.Â
Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end.Â
âI have a small query for you.â He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you.Â
âEw. Never do that ever again,â you beg, going back upstairs to your room âGo ahead.âÂ
âHow do you do it?âÂ
âExcuse me?âÂ
âHow the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?âÂ
Oh.Â
Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him.Â
It caughts off guard and you stammer your response âUm⊠Youâ I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.âÂ
âYou have such a way with words, though.âÂ
You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again âDon't make me come over and beat you up.âÂ
âAlright, alright,â his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh âI do really want to know, though.âÂ
âIf you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.âÂ
âNo! No, that's not it at all,â he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face âWhen she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you knowâŠâÂ
âYou said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,â you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in âWhat exactly did you do?âÂ
âI tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,â he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side âAnd she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really⊠came out.âÂ
âWow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,â you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face âand second of all, that was a terrible mistake.âÂ
âWhat? Going like this?â He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later.Â
âNo, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.âÂ
âOh.â His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again.Â
âPlease stop doing that,â you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff.Â
You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life.Â
Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do.Â
âWould it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?â You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed.Â
Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well âPlease.âÂ
You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start âOkay, I'm going to be very technical about this.âÂ
âI wouldn't expect anything else from you.âÂ
His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue âThe very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your handsââÂ
âYes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,â he huffs this time, annoyed âI know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.âÂ
âJesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?â he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes âThe first thing that I doâ The first thing that you need to do,â you correct yourself quickly âIs make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles⊠She needs to hydrate a lot.âÂ
âHydrate⊠a⊠lotâŠâ You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see.Â
âAre you writing this down?!âÂ
âIâm making sure I don't forget anything!âÂ
âYou're unbelievableâŠâ You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class âSquirting can be confused as peeing andââÂ
âShit, hold on.â He interrupts and you hear his momâs voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio âIt's just Y/N⊠I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud forâ Yes ma'am.âÂ
You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you.Â
Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot.Â
Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass.Â
âShe's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so⊠I'm coming over.âÂ
âOh, Iâ Hello?â Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself âShit.âÂ
You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pijamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what were you telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door.Â
âMingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me â you're panting, hand over your chest.Â
Heâs also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction âYour mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.â Â
When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight.Â
Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you.Â
âYeah! But I thought youâ Nevermind.â He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share.Â
God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane.Â
You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime.Â
âThey're not home, right? I didn't see your dadâs car.âÂ
âCompany dinner.âÂ
âAh.â He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird.Â
You gulp.Â
âSo, squirting can be confused as peeing.â He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second âGo on.âÂ
You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing âIt can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.âÂ
âYou sound like you're reading a text book.â He confesses with a laugh.Â
âI told you, I'm being very technical about thisâ Besides, I did my research when I was trying toâŠâ you gulp again âYou know.âÂ
âYou said squirt so freely a minute ago.â Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return.Â
âVery funny. Anyways⊠Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,â he nods, writing it down quickly âI also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual⊠arousal? Yeah, arousalâ you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else.Â
He turns to you, confused âSo⊠If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?âÂ
âI guess you'll notice it in her reaction?â You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat âI mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't⊠I wouldn't know that.âÂ
Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes.Â
âA-anyways,â you cough again âIt's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's likeâŠâ you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain âIt's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,â you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic âIt's more like the, uh⊠Like the front wall of it.âÂ
âFront wall?âÂ
âY-yeah?â you offer, nervous and unsure âI mean⊠Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.âÂ
âO⊠kay.âÂ
âSort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,â you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot.Â
The ACâs on, right?Â
Fuck.Â
âAnd apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,â Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed.Â
Mingi clears his throat a second later.Â
âSo it feels hard to the touch orâŠâÂ
âNot really, um⊠It kinda feels like a berry.âÂ
He laughs âWhat?âÂ
âYeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh⊠have this gland that fills up with the liquidâ Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,â putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side âIf you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.âÂ
âYou didn't drink enough water?âÂ
âNo, noâ It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh⊠I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.â You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice.Â
Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that?Â
âY-you didn't touch yourself enough orâŠ?âÂ
âExactly, I didn't, I just⊠Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.âÂ
âOh⊠Lube. Sure, okay.â He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second âAnd then?âÂ
âI'm not really sure how to⊠Give me a second.â
What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure.Â
Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next?Â
âFingering,â you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again âY-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.âÂ
âDon't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!âÂ
âSorry!âÂ
âOkay! Now what do I do when⊠fingering.âÂ
That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself.Â
In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingiâs breath hitching and that draws you back to reality.Â
When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers.Â
âI don't really know how to explain this next part.â You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line.Â
A bit passes.Â
And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face.Â
So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it.Â
âThen show me.âÂ
You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry.Â
It just never affected you this way.Â
âW-what?â you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on.Â
âShow me how you do it⊠I-if you want to.âÂ
âMingi!âÂ
âI justâ Look, you don't have to,â he says right away âIf you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so⊠curiousâ, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed âAnd I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.âÂ
âWhat about, uh⊠Minseo! Yeah, what about her?â you offer quickly, also getting up.Â
âSan's ex?!âÂ
âI don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!âÂ
He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything.Â
âI'm asking you because I trust you,â he says, looking you over once again âAnd because if I fail, you're not⊠going to make fun of me for it.â
There it is.Â
You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest.Â
So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request.Â
âI've never done it in front of anyone before.âÂ
âSo no one has ever make youââÂ
âNo,â you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh âI never ask for it and I haven't really⊠I've only slept withââÂ
âHangyeol.â He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you.Â
âMingi,â you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine âThis could really⊠I mean, there's no getting rid of me on this lifetime, buddy,â reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert âBut this could mess us up.â You finish in a whisper.Â
âI'm not letting that happen.â He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes âThere's no getting rid of me either, love.âÂ
That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment.Â
Fuck it.Â
âI'll⊠get the towels, then.â You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down.Â
Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist âI know where they are. Stay here.âÂ
You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy.Â
You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed.Â
You're so wet.Â
And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.
Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.
And if Mingiâs excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experienceâs sake.Â
âThese will do?âÂ
You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him.Â
âYep.âÂ
You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection.Â
âOkay, so⊠You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes agoâŠâ when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head âThe⊠The foreplay part should be next, right?âÂ
âRightâŠâ you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you.Â
âYou look really tense, Y/N,â he deadpans, looking down at his notes again âYou need to relax so it can happen, right?âÂ
âYou're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?âÂ
âOh,â he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think âI'm not the one doing it?âÂ
âUh⊠Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you⊠You asked me to show youâŠâÂ
You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind.Â
And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.
Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.
Oh God, you want to kiss him.Â
His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again âShow me how to get you there, love,â he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh âWhat do you like?âÂ
Your mouth moves before you can even think âKiss me.âÂ
You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch.Â
âHow do you like being kissed?âÂ
You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning âFigure it out, Mingi.â And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours.Â
It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would.Â
Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair.Â
His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before.Â
That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn.Â
Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again.Â
The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt.Â
You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you âShould we take this off?âÂ
Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant.Â
Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before⊠But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it.Â
Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you.Â
âFuck,â you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw âLet me⊠Come here.âÂ
You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him.Â
You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should.Â
Thereâs no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them.Â
And he notices it too.Â
âI don't know why I asked you so many questions before,â he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants âI know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.âÂ
You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention âI usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.âÂ
Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw.Â
âLike that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seatâŠâ his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right âOr that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shitâ he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect âand you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over itâŠâÂ
Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation âMingiâŠâÂ
âAm I wrong?âÂ
You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again.Â
âOf course I'm not.âÂ
You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most.Â
âCan I take this off?âÂ
âFuck, y-yes.âÂ
Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere.Â
âYou're so wet alreadyâŠâ he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with you hand. He just laughs âThat's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.âÂ
He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well.Â
But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed.Â
âAlright, let's⊠resume the lesson before my parents get home.âÂ
âThey probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like⊠two in the morning, usually, right?âÂ
âThat's when they decide to go out for drinks.âÂ
âYour mom always wants to go out for drinks.âÂ
âLet's not talk about my mom right now!â you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well.Â
The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't.Â
âShow me, love,â he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you âAnd then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.âÂ
You stare at him for a few seconds âDamn, you're good,â he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you âRemember that this is what works for me, okay?âÂ
He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better.Â
You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling.Â
You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck.Â
You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well.Â
âYou see how I'm building it up?â you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply âI'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just⊠edging myself a little bit.âÂ
âEdging,â he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily âI know all about that, that's good.âÂ
âY-you do?âÂ
âYou'll be surprised,â he smiles, proud of himself.Â
âOkay,â you continue, taking a deep breath âThen you know about prepping, too,â he nods âSo, a finger firstâŠâ you say, swallowing hard when your index makes its way into your cavity without much effort.Â
Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.
âAnd then, two fingers.âÂ
âMhm.âÂ
âLook at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, althoughâŠâ you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even noticed before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine âI'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?âÂ
He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so⊠preoccupied.Â
Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to.Â
And it's all because of him.Â
You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk andâŠÂ
He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight.Â
You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.
But Mingi is not just any man.Â
âMingi,â you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later âyour turn.âÂ
âDid you⊠Did it happen? I didn't see anythiââÂ
âNo,â you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face âshow me what you learned.âÂ
His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out.Â
âProve that bitch wrong.âÂ
That seems to do it.Â
His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected.Â
Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him.Â
His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise.Â
âWettest pussy I've ever touched.â You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you.Â
Fuck.Â
It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it.Â
âThat feels so goodâŠâÂ
âYeah?â he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips.Â
You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment âI want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.âÂ
The worries die altogether with that.Â
And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop.Â
It's not long before his index joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort.Â
His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement.Â
âDeeper,â you instruct âcurl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.âÂ
He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.
âIs that it?â you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan âWhat do I do now?âÂ
Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: âWhat works for me is pressing⊠Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and thenâŠâ you take deep breath âJust a little harder⊠Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure⊠Fuck, Mingi!âÂ
He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing.Â
You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit.Â
When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do.Â
A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing.Â
Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did.Â
That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life.Â
And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it.Â
Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression.Â
It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride.Â
You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago.Â
âThat wasâŠâ his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now⊠It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking âCome here, love.âÂ
And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him.Â
But you don't mind it one bit.Â
You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace.Â
This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you.Â
âThat wasâŠ?â you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality.Â
Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings.Â
âPossibly the coolest thing I've seen,â he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes âand the hottest thing I've seen, too,â you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again âand I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.âÂ
The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own.Â
Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock.Â
Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours.Â
âThis is supposed to be purely educational, Y/NâÂ
âIs that what you want it to be?â you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest âLet me help you⊠PleaseâŠâÂ
âFuck, don't beg me, love.âÂ
âDon't make me beg, then.âÂ
What the fuck are you even doing?Â
âY/N, Iââ he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why.Â
But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through.Â
He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes.Â
âWhat the fuck, Y/N?â he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now.Â
âBathroom. Now.âÂ
You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. Youâll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.
Don't get caught.Â
Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens.Â
When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle.Â
âWe can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!âÂ
âHush!â But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.
You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that.Â
âGuess they didn't go for drinks after all..âÂ
âYou think?â cocking your head to side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point.Â
He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now.Â
You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway.Â
âOkay, we're safe now.âÂ
âWhen were we ever not safe?âÂ
âWhen I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!âÂ
He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back.Â
You clear your throat.Â
âI really did want to help you out butââÂ
âRaincheck?â he asks and at you hesitation to say yes, he continues âIf you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We⊠We'll figure it out, okay?âÂ
âOkay.âÂ
He smiles again âGood, uhâŠâÂ
Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here.Â
Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible.Â
âShit, your shoesâŠâ you whisper.Â
âI don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.â He returns, in the same tone.Â
That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner.Â
âQuit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.âÂ
Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him.Â
It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much.Â
It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this⊠shift in your dynamic.Â
âSee you tomorrow?â he asks against your lips and you nod.Â
âSee you tomorrow.âÂ
And with that, he leaves.Â
You lock the door and practically run to your room after.Â
What the fuck have you done?
If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since itâs an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part!Â
© jensthwa, 2024.
#ateez#ateez x reader#song mingi#song mingi x reader#mingi#mingi x reader#mingi smut#ateez smut#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez hard hours#mingi hard hours#mingi hard thoughts#first post!!!#pls tell me if u like it or if u dont or anything pls my askbox is open#<333#fic; s&t
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
LOGAN HOWLETT 18+ thoughts bc I canât get a grip
mdni, fem!reader. 685 words
Thinking about Logan playing with you from behind:
His back to the headboard, yours to his chest â warm skin pressed to his as you lay into him. Itâs lazy, itâs comfortable. Your thighs parted loosely, bent knees resting against his straightened legs either side of you.Â
Itâs all so casual, one of his hands teasing at the fabric of your underwear, fingers extended down as he toys with you. Pad of his middle one circling your clit, working up that growing patch of wet. His other hand wrapped around your middle, palm large and warm over your stomach â holding you to him, keeping you firm to his chest.Â
Your head hangs back on his collarbone, crown of your head resting slackly against his shoulder. You feel as though youâve been run through the wringer, the minimal, inconsistent touch of where you wanted him causing you all sorts of anguish.Â
He was teasing you, every touch calculated despite its relaxed environment. Just absentmindedly playing with you through the fabric, working you up to hear those soft, breathy whines of yours he loves ever so much.
And while you thought your patience was being tested, that was not solely the case. His toying coming from a place of reluctance â like he was seeing how long he can go without sinking a couple fingers in you. It was hard, and he was growing antsy. Just like you.
So after what feels like forever of faint, featherlight pussy play, he slips his hand down the front of your underwear, his fist protruding in the thin fabric. The bow sitting on his thick wrist, the lewd view of something so dainty and pretty against something so rugged and manly was overwhelming. The feeling making you tighten on nothing. The feeling releasing an involuntary soft moan.Â
âBarely touched you yet, sugar,â he whispers behind you, voice gruff and low.Â
The grip he has around your stomach raises, his touch light as he finds himself cupping under your tits â arm wrapped securely, fingers clasping at the one on the opposite side. Breasts resting on his meaty forearm, holding them carefully.
The hand in your underwear is barely moving, his fingers resuming their prior pattern of fiddly touching. Though, this time itâs beneath the fabric, not over. He dips his two middle fingers between your lips, tips of each immediately being coated with the eager anticipation betwixt your thighs. The tapered width of his fingers parting your folds ever so obscenely.
Heâs hesitant, not because he doesnât know what heâs doing, rather, the opposite. Heâs hesitant because he knows what heâs doing. Waiting and waiting â being a tease with his hand grazing heavy against your wet cunt, the palm of his hand feeling the clamp-like, jitter motion of you beneath.Â
He reaches his middle finger downwards, the tip delving inside of you âonly up to the first knuckleâ the feel giving you a brief, momentary wave of relief.Â
Itâs not enough, so you find yourself extending a hand down to his, your fingers struggling to envelop the meat of his wrist as you push him further into your underwear. Silently, desperately asking for more.
All he can do is chuckle faintly, the deep sound amused. Heâs mean, but heâs not evil. So he gives you what you want â the full length of his middle finger, those few inches sinking inside with the greatest of ease. His ring finger easing in shortly after.
âBetter?â he asks, the question almost rhetorical. He knew it was better.
Your grip around his occupied hand loosens, and instead moves to hold onto the arm around your upper torso â fingers pawing at the muscles. You go limp, melting into him from behind, your soft, dulcet noises echoing everything he does. Each of you looking down between your thighs, watching his fingers disappear inside you, his head resting against yours as you both stare at the near pornographic view.Â
And as he begins to pump slowly inside âhooking his fingers up into all the right spotsâ you twist into him, pressing kisses into his bulging, veiny bicep. Wordlessly thanking him.
just watched dp3 again, christ
#thot#logan howlett#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett xmen#logan x reader#logan xmen#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#xmen x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Marriage Bet
Pairings: Best Friend Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Themes: A bet. A bit of comedy but mostly fluff and Bucky treating his woman right ;)
Summary: If in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet.
A/N: For those of you who voted for 'Calm Down, Dad Mode' I've added it to this story. This has got to be my favorite fluff FML. Also let me TELL YOU, the cravings in pregnancy and the emotions are real because I lived it lmao. PART 2
Three Years Ago
"You know what we should do?â Bucky said out of the blue, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. The two of you had been lounging on his couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was a lazy night filled with laughter, shared memories, and the kind of comfortable silence only you and Bucky knew how to savour.
You glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. âWhat?â
âIf weâre still single in three years⊠letâs get married,â he announced, as if it was the most logical suggestion in the world. His tone was light, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made it clear he wasnât joking.
You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. âBucky, have you lost your mind?â
âMaybe,â he admitted with a shrug, his lips twitching up into that familiar smirk that made your heart skip. âBut think about it. No more crappy dates, no more getting your heart broken by idiots who donât deserve you. Just us. You and me. We already know each otherâs worst habits, and we get along. Itâd be a good marriage.â
You scoffed, shaking your head. âYou make it sound like weâre signing up for a business merger.â
He laughed at that, the sound deep and genuine. âMaybe. But at least youâd know youâre stuck with someone whoâs never going to walk out on you. Someone whoâd fight for you.â
The way he said it made your throat tighten, and for a second, you allowed yourself to picture it. A life with Bucky, the two of you navigating the ups and downs together. No more failed relationships, no more loneliness. Just the comfort and security of someone who knew you better than anyone else.
âYouâre serious, arenât you?â you murmured, still stunned by the idea.
He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. âYeah, I am. So, what do you say?â
You hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a grin. âDeal, Barnes. If weâre still single in three years, Iâll marry your crazy ass.â
He grinned back, his hand shooting out to seal the promise with a firm handshake. But as your fingers clasped around his, the energy between you shifted â playful and yet, inexplicably serious.
âDeal,â he echoed softly, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
Present
You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes skimming over the city lights below as the faint notes of Taylor Swiftâs break-up songs filled the air. You and Bucky had been up here for hours, talking and drinking, the night air crisp against your skin.
It had been a rough few months for you â the breakup still felt fresh, the sting of rejection and disappointment lingering. But being here with Bucky made it easier. He had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it didnât seem that way.
âYâknow, youâre the best,â you murmured, your words slurred slightly from the champagne. âI mean it, Buck. I donât know what Iâd do without you.â
He smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched you. âGood thing you donât have to find out, huh?â
You nodded, letting out a sigh as you turned back to the view. âStill, I feel like⊠I donât know. Like Iâm destined to be alone or something.â
âThatâs not true,â he said quietly, setting his glass down and turning to face you fully. âAnd you know it.â
You shrugged, glancing over at him. âYeah, well, sometimes it feels like it. Everyone Iâve ever dated justââ
You stopped mid-sentence as Bucky suddenly shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small blue velvet box and, without hesitation, flipped it open. The soft light of the rooftop glinted off the 1.5-carat diamond ring nestled inside â simple, elegant, and undeniably breathtaking.Â
âWhatâs that?â you asked, your breath catching in your throat.
Bucky arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. âAn engagement ring, Y/N. What else?â
âYeah, I know itâs a ring!â you sputtered, your mind reeling. âBut whyâhowâwhat are you doing with it?â
Bucky sighed, muttering under his breath, âFor someone so smart, she really canât see whatâs right in front of her.â
You barely had time to process the words before he got up from his sitting position and slowly knelt down on one knee. The movement made your heart jump into your throat, your breath hitching as he looked up at you, his eyes softer than youâd ever seen them.
âI want to marry you, Y/N,â he said, his voice firm and sure. âNot because of some bet or joke we made all those years ago, but because⊠I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one you come home to. The one who makes you laugh when youâre sad. The one who fights for you.â
You felt your chest tighten as the weight of his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice making it almost impossible to breathe. âBucky⊠this isââ
âI know this is crazy,â he continued, cutting you off gently, his gaze never leaving yours. âBut when have we ever been normal, huh? Iâm not asking you to feel something you donât or to change anything between us. But I am a man of my word, and Iâm keeping the promise we made.â
Your mind raced, memories of that night flashing through your mind â the promise, the shared laughter, the way heâd looked at you back then as if you were the only thing that mattered. And now, here he was, years later, kneeling in front of you with an engagement ring, ready to turn that promise into something real.
He took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he held out the ring, his expression almost pleading. âSo⊠will you marry me? Not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to?â
You stared down at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing anchoring you being his blue eyes, filled with nothing but hope and determination.
âWell? Say something, sweetheart,â he murmured, his voice barely a whisper now. âBecause Iâm dying here.â
You let out a breathless laugh, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over as you shook your head in disbelief.Â
âYouâre really going all out, huh?â you teased, âGetting down on one knee and everything⊠how could I say no to a man with such dedication?â
Bucky blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh of his own. âIs that a yes, or are you just stalling to make me sweat more?â
You glanced at the ring, then back at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. âI guess⊠if I have to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life⊠it might as well be you.â
âYes,â you added quickly, your smile widening as you looked at him with all the warmth and affection you felt. âOf course itâs a yes, you idiot!â
Relief washed over his face, his grin so wide it couldâve lit up the entire rooftop. âYou really know how to keep a guy on edge, donât you?â
âGotta keep things interesting,â you replied with a laugh, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. âI canât make it too easy for you.â
His chuckle was deep and genuine, the tension melting from his shoulders as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. âYou can be so mean you know that?â
âMean?â you scoffed, giving him a playful look of disbelief. âYouâre proposing to me, remember? Iâm just making sure you know exactly what youâre getting yourself into.â
Bucky shook his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest. âOh, I know. And Iâm still all in, even if you make me work for it.â
You grinned, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky didnât hesitate, his arms coming up to hold you close, his chin resting gently on top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.
Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes locked with his. The sound of the music drifted softly through the air, wrapping around you both like an embrace.
You could see the tenderness in his gaze, the way his eyes softened as he looked down at you. There was something indescribable in the way he held you, his hands warm and secure against your back, as if he never wanted to let go.
âYou know,â you murmured softly, a small smile playing on your lips, âI completely forgot about that bet.â
Buckyâs lips quirked up at the corners as he started to sway gently, rocking you both back and forth in time with the music.Â
âYeah? Good thing I havenât.â he agreed quietly, his voice low and filled with something that made your heart flutter.
You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you swayed together under the soft glow of the rooftop lights, the melody of the song weaving its way into your soul. There was a peace, a sense of rightness in the way his hands rested on your waist, the way your fingers curled into his shirt.
Opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. âIâm really going to make you regret this, you know.â
He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your side as he gazed down at you. âDoubt it. But youâre welcome to try, sweetheartâI mean what else could I possibly not know about you?â
Your smile widened as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. âOh, youâll find out. Just because weâre getting married doesnât mean Iâm not full of surprises.â
Buckyâs eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. âGood. I wouldnât want it any other way.â
âJust remember you asked for it,â you teased, your voice soft as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. âYouâre the one whoâs committing to a lifetime of never quite knowing what Iâll do next.â
âYeah?â he murmured, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smile playing on his own. âI guess I like keeping things interesting, too.â
A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you felt the tension melt away as you both swayed gently to the music. It felt like a new beginning â a promise that whatever came next, youâd be facing it together.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
A few months later.
The garden was alive with soft laughter and murmurs as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and jasmine, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided the perfect backdrop for the small, intimate gathering of friends.
Bucky stood under the floral archway, his suit somehow both perfectly fitted and slightly askew in that way only Bucky could pull off. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh. When you turned the corner, your eyes met his, and you couldnât help but smile at the exaggerated sigh of relief he let out.
âThank God you showed up,â he teased, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. âThought Iâd have to marry Sam instead.â
You laughed, rolling your eyes as you made your way down the short aisle, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest. âYeah, yeah, keep it up, Barnes. Heâd leave you at the altar, you know.â
Bucky grinned, his shoulders relaxing as you stepped up to him. âTrue. He couldnât handle my morning breath.â
The officiant cleared his throat gently, drawing soft chuckles from your friends. Buckyâs gaze stayed locked on yours, a playful twinkle in his eyes as if you were sharing a private joke no one else could understand.
âYou ready for this?â he murmured softly, his tone light but his smile genuine.
âReady as Iâll ever be,â you replied, giving him a small nod.
The ceremony was simple and sweet, with your closest friends standing in a loose circle around you, their smiles reflecting the joy and camaraderie that had always defined your relationship with Bucky.Â
When it came time for the vows, Bucky cleared his throat dramatically, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
âIâm not good at this stuff,â he began, waving the paper around, âso I wrote it down. Just so I donât forget the important parts. Like promising I wonât eat your fries without asking.â
You let out a snort, shaking your head. âSo thatâs why youâre marrying me? For my fries?â
âPartly,â Bucky said with a wink, earning a few laughs from your friends. âBut seriously⊠I promise to always be your partner in crime. To watch bad movies with you, to be your go-to plus-one for all those events you hate, and to be the one you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels like too much.â
His voice softened slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. âI promise to be your best friend, to listen, and to support you. And yeah, to not eat your fries â unless youâre not looking.â
You chuckled, blinking back the unexpected prickle of tears. âDamn, Barnes. Setting the bar high for husband material, arenât you?â
âSomeoneâs gotta do it,â he replied with a smirk.
When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, glancing down at your own slightly crumpled paper. âBucky, I promise to keep being your reality check, to make sure you donât take yourself too seriously. I promise to help you with your crazy woodworking projects, even when you refuse to read the instructions. And I promise to be your partner in all things â the weird, the good, and the unpredictable.â
Buckyâs grin softened into a small, genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âI think weâre gonna be pretty good at this whole marriage thing.â
âI think so too,â you murmured back.
The officiantâs voice broke through the quiet moment, his smile warm. âBy the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bucky, you may nowââ
âWait,â Bucky interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned to you, his expression half-serious, half-teasing. âCan I kiss you?â
You blinked, surprised. âWhat?â
âYou know,â he said, shrugging a shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. âThis is technically our first kiss. I want to get it right. So⊠how do you like it?â
A burst of laughter escaped you, the tension in your shoulders melting away as the sheer Bucky-ness of the question made you grin. âYouâre unbelievable, you know that?â
âCome on, humor me,â he pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. âSlow? Gentle? Or should I just go for it?â
You shook your head, still laughing softly. âJust⊠kiss me, you goof.â
Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. âAlright, Mrs. Barnes,â he said softly, leaning in. âIâll make it good.â
His grin widened and shifts a little closer to you, Bucky dipped his head and you felt your noses brush. His breath is on your lips, and you quiver a bit at the odd sensation. Without another moment to spare you realise that he's pressing his lips to yoursâit was nothing like youâd expected. His hand slipped to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes fully closed. Bucky was concentrating on the kiss, and you realised that your eyes were wide open. Slowly you close them, hiding away your brilliant orbs.Â
Buckyâs lips are oddly doft in this kiss and it stays slow and sweet. He wrapped his arm around you more, lifting you slightly off your feet. The veil fluttered around you like a soft cocoon, and then everything disappeared as his mouth moved insync with you, his kiss remained slowly, his mouth molding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.
His fingers gently tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone as if he couldnât bear to stop touching you.
But then he shifted, tilting your head just slightly as he deepened the kiss, his hold around you tightening. It was then that you felt him let go completely â every barrier, every wall heâd kept up around himself crumbling as he poured everything into that kiss.Â
Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cheers and whistles of your friendsâSam being the most obnoxiousâbut it all felt like background noise. It was just you and Bucky, wrapped up in this kiss that felt like it had been building up for years. His lips slid over yours with a kind of sweet intensity, a silent confession of everything he hadnât said â of everything he didnât know how to say.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison. He didnât let go, his arms still wrapped around you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.
A soft cheer went up from your friendsâSam being the most obviousâ and Buckyâs grin turned almost smug. âHow was that?â
You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. âYeah, Buck. I think you got it just right.â
âGood,â he murmured, his eyes searching yours for a long, lingering moment before his smile widened into something boyish and relieved. âJust wanted to make sure.â
âDonât worry,â you teased gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. âYouâre not getting rid of me after a kiss like that.â
Buckyâs laugh was soft, his nose brushing against yours. âGuess I should keep practicing, huh?â
You nodded, your grin matching his. âYeah. Keep practicing, Barnes.â
And as he pulled you in for another kiss, slower and just as sweet as the first, you knew that this â all of this â was exactly how it was meant to be.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
1.5 years later
You were pacing back and forth in the bathroom, your heart hammering in your chest. Every few seconds, your eyes would dart to the three little sticks sitting ominously on the edge of the sink â three white, plastic harbingers of potential chaos.
âCome on, come on, come on,â you whispered frantically to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tests to disappear â or at least show some clarity.
How did it come to this? You were supposed to be life partners â partners in crime, best friends â no strings attached, no expectations. Just two people who promised to be there for each other. Sure, you got married, but it was all because of the bet. A way to keep each other from loneliness, you both said. Nothing more, right?
Except somewhere along the line, late-night talks had turned into stolen kisses. Comforting hugs had turned into tangled limbs. And now⊠this.
âOh my god, heâs going to flip,â you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the still-blank screens on the tests. âThis isnât how we were supposed toââ
âSupposed to what?â
You jumped about a foot in the air, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Buckyâs voice filled the bathroom. You whipped around, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his lips.
âBucky! Donâtâdonât just sneak up on people like that!â you stammered, instinctively shuffling over to the sink to block his view.
His smirk widened. âI didnât sneak. Youâre just too distracted, sweetheart.â He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. âWhatâs going on in here?â
âNothing!â you squeaked, your voice a little too high-pitched.
Buckyâs eyebrows shot up. âUh-huh. So, youâre just hanging out in the bathroom, talking to yourself?â
âYes!â you answered quickly, nodding like a bobblehead. âYep, just a totally normal conversation with⊠myself. Very productive.â
He eyed you, suspicion etched all over his face. âUh-huh. And why do you look like youâve seen a ghost?â
âI donât!â you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that could somehow shield you from his scrutiny.
Bucky took another step closer, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. âThen why are you standing like that?â
You moved subtly, trying to casually scoot to the left, but your back hit the edge of the sink. âLike what?â
âLike youâre hiding something,â he said, leaning down slightly to look your directly in the eyes. âWhatâs behind you, Y/N?â
âNothing!â you insisted, but your hand twitched involuntarily, knocking into one of the sticks. It clattered onto the counter, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Buckyâs feet.
You froze.
Buckyâs eyes flicked down to the test, and his entire expression shifted â from curiosity to confusion to wide-eyed realization.
âWait⊠is that aâ?â
âNo!â you yelped, diving forward to snatch up the stick and hide it behind your back. You stood there, breathing heavily, your face flushed with a mix of panic and embarrassment.
Buckyâs gaze slid back to you, his lips quirking into an incredulous smile. âY/N, are those⊠pregnancy tests?â
You glanced around desperately, as if you could conjure up some kind of diversion to steer the conversation elsewhere. âUh⊠no? Maybe?â
âSweetheartâŠâ Bucky stepped around your easily, and in one quick motion, he plucked the other two tests off the sink. He held them up, his eyes wide and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. âThere are three.â
âYeah, well⊠you know, the first one could be a fluke, and the second one too, andâŠâ you trailed off, wincing at how ridiculous you sounded.
Bucky blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. âThree tests, huh? Youâre nothing if not thorough.â
âBucky!â you hissed, mortification washing over you. âThis isnât funny!â
âMaybe not,â he admitted, though his lips were still twitching with amusement. âBut youâre freaking out over here, hiding them like I wasnât gonna notice.â
âI wasnât freaking out!â you lied, folding your arms across your chest again. âI was just⊠assessing the situation.â
He raised an eyebrow, waving one of the tests in front of your face. âAssessing, huh? And whatâs the situation, then?â
You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. âI donât know, okay? I havenât looked at them yet!â
There was a beat of silence. Thenâ
âWait, you havenât looked?â Buckyâs voice was filled with genuine disbelief. âYouâve been pacing around in here, stressing yourself out, and you havenât even checked?â
âIâm not ready!â you snapped defensively. âI mean⊠what if theyâre positive?â
Buckyâs grin softened into something more genuine, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek. âThen theyâre positive.â
Your eyes met his, the sincerity and calmness in his gaze making some of your panic ebb away. âBut weâre not evenâ I mean, this was supposed to beââ
âA bet?â he finished softly, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. âYeah. I remember. But bets donât always go the way you plan.â
You swallowed hard, your heart still hammering wildly. âYouâre not⊠mad?â
âMad?â he repeated, his expression incredulous. âWhy the hell would I be mad? I mean, sure, this is unexpected. But mad?â He shook his head, chuckling softly. âCâmon, Y/N. You really think Iâd be mad about having a family with you?â
The words made your heart stutter, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. âBuckyâŠâ
âLetâs just see what they say, alright?â he murmured gently, stepping back and nodding toward the tests. âNo more freaking out until we know.â
With trembling hands, you turned each test over, your breath hitching as you looked at the results.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
Buckyâs grin had barely faded before the reality of the situation seemed to really hit him this time. His gaze drifted back to the three tests lined up on the sink, and you watched as his face slowly drained of colour.
âBucky?â you asked cautiously, noticing the way his grip on your arm loosened slightly.
He blinked, his eyes darting between you and the tests like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle. âSo, uh⊠positive. All three?â
You nodded slowly, worry beginning to creep back in. âYeah, Buck. All three.â
âOh⊠Oh, wow,â he muttered, his eyes widening. âThatâs⊠thatâs a lot of positive.â
âBuckyââ
âI mean, I knew one was a lot, but threeâpositives?â he rambled, swaying slightly on his feet. âThatâs⊠thatâs a whole lot of⊠baby.â
âBucky, are you okay?â you asked, reaching out to steady him as his face turned even paler.
âIâmâyeah, I justââ He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes rolling back slightly as his knees buckled.
âBucky!â you shouted, grabbing for him as he crumpled to the floor in a faint.
You managed to catch his weight just enough to keep him from completely knocking his head on the tiles, though it took every ounce of strength you had to keep him semi-upright.
âAre you freaking kidding me?â you huffed, looking down at his unconscious form with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. âYouâre the one who said youâd be fine with this!â
He let out a soft, incoherent groan, his head lolling to the side as you carefully lowered him all the way to the ground and raised his legs above his head for bloodflow.
âOf course youâd faint, you big drama queen,â you muttered, crouching down beside him and lightly patting his cheeks. âCome on, Buck. Wake up. Iâm not doing this alone, you hear me?â
After a few more pats and murmured reassurances, his eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked up at you, dazed and confused.
âY/N?â he mumbled, his voice slurred. âWhat⊠what happened?â
âYou fainted, you big idiot,â you said, the frustration in your tone softened by the overwhelming relief that he was okay. âOver three little tests.â
Bucky stared at you blankly, then his gaze drifted back to the sink where the tests still sat in a neat row, mocking him with their tiny positive signs.
âOh⊠right,â he murmured, his face scrunching up as he tried to process it all again. âSo it wasnât a dream?â
âNope.â You shook your head, giving him a half-smile. âDefinitely not a dream.â
âDamn,â he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. âI really fainted, huh?â
âYeah, you did,â you replied, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. âAnd youâre lucky I didnât let you hit your head.â
He chuckled weakly, his gaze still lingering on the tests. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.
âI love you, Y/N, you know that?â he mumbled, his voice soft and a little slurred as he still looked dazed. âNot like a friend, but yâknow⊠like, love love.â
You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you all over again. âBucky, youâre still out of it.â
âYeah, probably,â he murmured, blinking up at you with a lopsided grin. âBut doesnât make it any less true.â
Shaking your head, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your smile softening. âI know, Buck. Weâll talk about that later when youâre not busy fainting over pregnancy tests, okay?â
ââKay,â he mumbled, his eyelids drooping slightly. âBut just⊠so you know.â
âI know,â you repeated gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. âJust rest for a second, and then weâll figure this all out together.â
He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he opened them again, looking at you with a sleepy smile. âWeâre really gonna be parents, huh?â
âYeah,â you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. âWe really are.â
âCool,â he murmured, his head lolling back against the bathroom tiles. âLove you, Y/N⊠love love.â
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you sat beside him, holding his hand. âLove you too, Bucky. Now, no more fainting, okay?â
âNo promises,â he mumbled, but his grip tightened around your hand, as if even in his half-conscious state, he didnât want to let go.
And as you sat there on the bathroom floor, Bucky still looking a little woozy but smiling up at you with that goofy, endearing grin, you couldnât help but think that maybe â just maybe â everything was going to be just fine.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
First Trimester.
The clock on the kitchen wall glowed a soft, accusatory 2:37 a.m. as Bucky shuffled groggily into the dimly lit space, scratching at his head. He was half-asleep, dressed in rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days, and still trying to figure out why heâd been dragged from his warm bed.
He paused mid-step when he spotted you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders hunched, face buried in your hands. He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation. âUh, sweetheart⊠whatâs going on?â
Your only response was a pitiful sniffle, followed by another one. Buckyâs brows shot up in alarm, and he quickly moved to your side, crouching down in front of you.
âHey, hey, whatâs wrong?â he asked softly, peering up at you with wide, concerned eyes. âDid something happen?â
You shook your head, letting out a small, hiccuping sob. âI⊠I really wanted⊠chocolate chip pancakes⊠with whipped cream and strawberriesâŠâ
Bucky blinked again, glancing around the empty kitchen as if he expected a stack of pancakes to magically appear on the counter. âOkay⊠uh⊠we donât have any of that stuff right now, but I can go to the storeââ
âEverythingâs closed!â you wailed, cutting him off with a fresh wave of tears. âAnd I really wanted it now!â
The sheer devastation in your voice made Buckyâs heart clench in sympathy â but a very tiny, very unhelpful part of him also found it hilariously absurd. He had fought aliens, Hydra agents, and all manner of nightmares⊠but heâd never faced down a pregnant wife in the throes of a pancake craving at nearly 3 a.m.
âOh,â he said lamely, scratching his head again as he tried to think of a solution that didnât involve breaking into the nearest IHOP. âOkay, um⊠we can make pancakes without chocolate chips, right?â
âBut I donât want plain pancakes!â you cried, your voice wobbling dangerously. âI want chocolate chip pancakes! And⊠and I want whipped cream on top, but we donât have any!â
Bucky swallowed, his panic rising as you continued to cry. He was the Winter Soldier, damn it. He could handle this. There had to be a way out of this. âOkay, alright. Just breathe, okay? How about⊠uh⊠what if I make you some toast? Iâll put some Nutella on it? Itâs kind of like chocolate.â
âItâs not the same!â you sobbed, burying your face in your hands again. âI want⊠pancakesâŠâ
Bucky let out a helpless laugh, running a hand down his face as he glanced at the empty fridge like it was somehow betraying him. âBaby, youâre killing me here.â
You sniffled, peeking out from between your fingers with watery eyes. âYou donât understand, Buck. I can taste the pancakes. I can taste the strawberries⊠I can feel the whipped creamâŠâ
Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. âYeah, uh, I canât pull that out of thin air. ButâŠâ He glanced around, his gaze falling on a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. âWhat if I make you a sundae? Itâs kinda like a pancake⊠just cold.â
âNoâŠâ You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek. âItâs not pancakesâŠâ
Bucky let out a long, dramatic sigh, his hands resting on his knees. âOkay, okay. Hereâs the deal. Tomorrow morning, Iâm gonna wake up, and Iâm going to go get you all the chocolate chips and whipped cream and strawberries you want, alright? Iâll make a pancake buffet.â
âBut I want it now,â you murmured miserably, rubbing at your eyes.
âI know, sweetheart. I know,â he cooed gently, reaching out to pat your head awkwardly. âBut unless you want me to bust into some diner and get myself arrested, Iâm gonna need you to hang in there for a few more hours.â
Your lips trembled, and you nodded reluctantly, sniffling again. âIâm being ridiculous, arenât I?â
Bucky smiled softly, his heart melting a little. âNah. Youâre growing a tiny human.â Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, âAlthough, I gotta say, if I can handle your craving meltdowns, I think I deserve some kind of medal. Or at least, like⊠superhero husband status.â
A small, watery laugh escaped you despite yourself, and Buckyâs smile widened triumphantly.
âThere she is,â he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your temple. âLook, we canât have pancakes right now, but how about we get creative? Maybe I can whip something up with what we do have? Iâm talking PB&J sandwich sculptures. Or,â he gasped dramatically, âa waffle made out of popcorn!â
Your eyebrows furrowed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. âPopcorn waffles?â
âHey, donât knock it âtil you try it,â he said with an exaggeratedly serious expression. âThis could be a revolutionary invention, Y/N. We could change the breakfast game forever.â
You couldnât help but giggle, wiping at your tears as Buckyâs ridiculousness slowly chased away the lingering sadness. âYouâre such a weirdo, you know that?â
âYeah, but you married me,â he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. âSo whoâs the real weirdo?â
âStill you,â you teased softly, shaking your head.
Bucky let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. âWow, so rude. No respect for the man whoâs about to go MacGyver your snack cravings at 3 a.m.â
You smiled despite yourself, reaching out to take his hand. âThank you, Buck.â
âAnything for you, sweetheart,â he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. âNow, what do you say we get a little creative in this kitchen and see if we canât make something thatâll make these pancake cravings shut up for a bit?â
âOkay,â you agreed, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you. âBut Iâm holding you to that pancake buffet tomorrow morning.â
âPancake buffet with extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries,â he promised with a mock salute. âYouâve got my word.â
And as Bucky scoured the pantry for the weirdest possible combinations â âHow do you feel about a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich?â â you couldnât help but laugh, the weight of your cravings lightening in the face of his relentless optimism and willingness to do whatever it took to make you smile.
âWorldâs best husband,â you murmured fondly as he started arranging sandwich slices into a goofy face.
âDamn right,â he replied with a wink, holding up the plate proudly. âAnd this? This is my masterpiece.â
You took one look at the ridiculous sandwich sculpture â a lopsided smile made from pickle slices and a beard of crumbled crackers â and the tears came flooding back, but this time they were unstoppable.
âBucky⊠youâre⊠youâre the best husband⊠in the world!â you sobbed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.
âWhoa, whoa, waitâhold on!â Bucky stammered, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly set the plate down and moved back to your side. âWhat⊠why are you crying? Sweetheart, itâs just a sandwich! A really ugly sandwich, butââ
You let out another wail, shaking your head as more tears spilled over. âNo, itâs not that! Itâs you! Youâre just soâso good, and sweet, andâand I donât deserve you!â
Bucky froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.Â
âWait, what? Where did that come from?â He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he expected someone to pop out with a manual for how to handle this. âHey, you deserve everything, okay? Even pancakes at 3 a.m. if I could make it happen.â
âI just⊠youâre always trying so hard, and youâre just⊠youâre amazing,â you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand like it was a lifeline. âAnd Iâm crying because I canât have pancakes, and Iâm a mess, and youâre making me a weird pickle-beard sandwichâŠâ
Bucky stared at you, completely lost, before he finally let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. âOkay, okay, Iâm officially out of my depth here,â he muttered, gently pulling you into his arms and patting your back awkwardly. âBut hey, letâs save the compliments for when Iâm not half-asleep, yeah?â
You nodded miserably against his chest, your sobs starting to subside as his steady heartbeat grounded you.
âGood, because youâre gonna make me cry if you keep this up,â he joked softly, running a soothing hand through your hair. âAnd no one wants to see the Winter Soldier ugly-cry over a pancake buffet.â
You let out a watery giggle at that, sniffling as you pulled back to look up at him. âYouâre really gonna get me all the pancakes tomorrow?â
âEvery last one,â he promised, his smile gentle and reassuring. âNow come on, letâs see if we can make this popcorn waffle thing work. Youâll need to tell our kid one day that their mom ate the weirdest thing ever while pregnant,â Bucky finished with a grin, his hand sliding down to gently cup your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears with his thumb. âThat way, when they give us a hard time as teenagers, I can say, âHey, kid, I made your mom a popcorn waffle at 3 a.m. She bettered have loved me.ââ
You laughed again, hiccupping through the tears as you tried to calm yourself. âYouâre crazy, you know that?â
Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching up into a lopsided smile. âMaybe. But you married me, so what does that say about you?â
âThat Iâm a glutton for punishment,â you teased softly, feeling some of the tension start to ease as his thumb continued its gentle, comforting strokes on your cheek.
âOr just smart enough to know when youâve got a good thing,â he murmured back, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. âAnd Iâm gonna keep being that good thing â even when it means making bizarre snacks and wrangling your tears at stupid oâclock in the morning.â
You let out a shaky breath, smiling up at him as you looped your arms around his neck. âI love you, Bucky.â
His eyes softened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. âI love you too, sweetheart. And weâre gonna figure out this whole craving thing. Even if it means starting a midnight pancake truck or something.â
The image of Bucky in an apron, serving pancakes from a food truck, was so ridiculous that you let out a genuine, hearty laugh. âA pancake truck?â
âWhy not?â He smirked, his fingers playing with a lock of your hair. âIâd be the hottest pancake chef around. Weâd have a line out the door.â
âBecause everyoneâs desperate for pancakes at three in the morning?â you asked, still smiling.
âExactly,â he said with a mock-serious nod. âTheyâd be calling me the Pancake Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.â
You couldnât help but burst into laughter again, your earlier tears completely forgotten. âI swear, youâre impossible, Bucky Barnes.â
âImpossible and all yours,â he said with a wink, then glanced at the kitchen. âNow, how about we whip up some sort of Frankenstein snack to tide you over until the morning, huh?â
With another sniffle and a smile, you nodded. âAlright. But Iâm still holding you to that pancake buffet.â
âWouldnât dream of backing out,â he promised, kissing your forehead again before guiding you to a chair. âYou sit right here, and let Chef Barnes work his magic.â
You watched as Bucky moved around the kitchen, his clumsy efforts at âcreativeâ snack-making bringing a smile to your face despite the ridiculousness of it all. He muttered under his breath, concocting weird combinations â âWhat if we crush some pretzels on top?â â and talking to the food like it would reveal some hidden trick.
Eventually, he managed to cobble together another makeshift treat: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich with a few random M&Ms sprinkled on top for good measure. It looked as chaotic as you felt, but the effort and love behind it made your heart swell.
You stared at the messy sandwich, your lips trembling again â but this time with a whole different set of emotions.
âHey, no more tears,â Bucky said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âIâm running out of ideas here, babe.â
âIâm not crying,â you sniffed, reaching out to take a bite. âItâs just⊠youâre really, really sweet, and I donât know what Iâd do without you.â
Bucky let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to give your knee a gentle squeeze. âLucky for you, youâll never have to find out. Iâm not going anywhere, okay?â
âOkay,â you whispered, your heart feeling lighter than it had all night.
âGood.â He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he watched you take another bite. âNow eat up, because come morning, Iâm getting up at dawn to get everything we need for that pancake buffet. Youâre gonna be the happiest pancake-eating pregnant lady in the world.â
âAnd youâre gonna be the best pancake-making husband in the world,â you replied with a soft smile, warmth spreading through your chest.
âDamn right,â Bucky murmured, his voice filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat.
As you finished the bizarre snack and Bucky continued to ramble on about potential pancake flavors and topping combinations, you couldnât help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.
Because, bizarre cravings and all, there was no one else youâd rather navigate the chaos with than him â your best friend, your partner, your ridiculous, wonderful Bucky Barnes.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Third Trimester
Buckyâs overprotectiveness had started out in small, endearing waysâlike lingering in doorways or making sure you had an extra pillow at night. But as your pregnancy progressed, so did his paranoia, turning him into an almost comical shadow of your once-confident, battle-hardened husband.
It began with the shoelaces.
âWait, wait, wait.â He practically skidded across the living room to kneel at your feet just as you were about to bend down to tie your sneakers. You straightened up, raising a brow, watching him fumble with the laces like it was a complex puzzle rather than a simple bow.
âBucky, itâs just tying my shoes. I can do that,â you pointed out gently, but he shook his head fervently.
âNot risking it. What if you lose your balance?â His words were muffled as he double-knotted the laces, his shoulders hunched like he was shielding you from some invisible force.
âIâm not gonna lose my balance,â you murmured, amused. âIâve been tying my own shoes for decades.â
âThereâs a first for everything.â He tightened the bow a little too firmly, making you flinch. He winced in apology and adjusted it again, softer this time, before peering up at you with those intense blue eyes, a mix of worry and resolve. âHumor me, okay?â
You sighed, relenting with a small nod. âOkay. But just so you know, youâre not going to be doing this every single time.â
He grinnedâvictorious, as if you hadnât noticed how he conveniently âlostâ all your slip-ons just last week.
Then there was the laundry basket incident.
It happened when you were carrying a half-full basket of towels from the dryer. Youâd barely made it halfway down the hall when Bucky materialized out of nowhere, intercepting you like you were carrying live explosives.
âWhoa, whoa, whoaâwhat do you think youâre doing?â His voice was all mock-seriousness, but there was genuine concern underlining it as he gently pried the basket from your hands.
âLaundry?â you deadpanned, trying to tug it back, but he held firm.
âNot anymore, youâre not.â He shot you a look that dared you to argue as he held the basket up high, well out of your reach. âYou donât need to be lugging this around.â
âItâs not even heavy!â you protested, exasperation seeping into your tone.
He scoffed. âDoesnât matter. Iâll take it. Just point me to where you want it.â
Grumbling, you pointed down the hallway. âOur bedroom.â
âSee?â he said with a self-satisfied smile, striding down the hall like he was conquering new territory. âNo big deal.â
You had to fight back an eye roll. âYouâre gonna be like this until the baby is born, arenât you?â
âProbably,â he called over his shoulder, unashamed.
It didnât stop there, of course. In the kitchen, heâd barely let you near the sink.
One morning, youâd decided to tackle the breakfast dishesâsomething you could usually manage without too much hassle. But as soon as you set the first dish into the soapy water, Buckyâs hand appeared out of nowhere, lightly shoving you to the side.
âExcuse me,â he muttered, though it was clear he wasnât asking for permission. âYour bellyâs gonna bump into the counter. Let me do it.â
âBuckyââ
âLet. Me. Do it,â he insisted, holding a soapy plate hostage as he gazed at you, lips set in a stubborn line.
With a sigh, you threw your hands up in surrender. âFine. But Iâm not a porcelain doll, okay? I can do dishes just fine.â
âSure,â he replied, but he was already washing the dishes with focused precision, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you hadnât slipped or stumbled in the two feet heâd moved you back.
It was both infuriating and endearing, and it made you love him even moreâthough youâd never admit it when he was acting like a hovering mother hen.
The grocery trips were almost unbearable. Heâd insisted on coming along, despite your reassurances that you were perfectly capable of picking up a few items.
âWe need milk,â you pointed out, motioning toward the far end of the aisle.
âGot it,â he said immediately, guiding the cart forward with one hand and slipping his other arm around your waist as if to support your entire body weight.
You shot him a look. âI can still walk, you know.â
âOf course you can,â he agreed with a grin. âIâm just⊠helping you waddle.â
âWaddle?â You narrowed your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. âDid you just call me a waddler?â
âUmâŠâ He glanced at you sheepishly, realizing his mistake a second too late. âNo?â
âYeah, nice try.â You huffed, crossing your arms.
âAlright, alright, bad choice of words. Iâm just keeping pace with you,â he corrected, slowing his stride even more so that the two of you were practically moving in slow motion down the aisle.
You couldnât help but laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. âIf we go any slower, weâll start moving backwards.â
Bucky just chuckled, his arm tightening around you protectively. âIâll take my chances.â
By the time you reached the milk, you were almost tempted to ask him to sprint the rest of the way just to get it over with. But the truth was, there was something undeniably sweet about having Bucky hover around like this.
âLet me guess,â you teased as you plucked a carton of milk off the shelf. âYou want to carry this too?â
âOf course,â he said, already reaching for it, his expression deadly serious.
You held on to the carton just long enough to make him sweat before handing it over. âYouâre unbelievable, you know that?â
âUnbelievably in love with you,â he replied easily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
âSmooth,â you muttered, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
With Bucky being his overprotective self, you had no doubt that heâd be like this for the next few monthsâand likely long after the baby was born. But as much as you complained, deep down, you knew you wouldnât trade it for anything in the world.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
âBucky, for the last time, itâs just a shoe box,â you emphasise, glancing at your husband as he carefully hoists the empty box off the couch like itâs made of glass.
âDoesnât matter,â he mumbles, eyes darting suspiciously to the plain cardboard. âYou shouldnât be carrying anything in your condition.â
âCondition? Bucky, Iâm pregnant, not broken.â You cross your arms, watching as he tucks the box under his arm like itâs a rare artefact. The man is a walking, talking fortress of muscle, but right now, his overprotectiveness is reaching absurd levels.
âAnd nearly at your due date,â he points out, placing the box on the counter with a sigh of relief as if heâs saved you from imminent danger. âIâve read all the books. I know how this goes.â
You snort, shaking your head. âOh, yeah? So whatâs the worst that could happen if I pick up a shoe box?â
Bucky turns to you with a dead-serious expression.Â
âItâs not about the weight. Itâs aboutâŠâ he falters, eyes scanning your swollen belly, ââŠstability. Your centre of gravity is off right now. A box could trip you.â
âA box could trip me?â You arch a brow, incredulous. âReally?â
âYes!â His tone is insistent, and you have to bite back a laugh. This is the same man who once told a pack of HYDRA agents they were outnumberedâjust because it was him and Steve versus a dozen of them. But now, heâs reduced to eyeing an empty cardboard box like itâs a mortal enemy.
Sighing, you sit back on the couch, deciding itâs not worth the argument. Besides, thereâs a certain charm in seeing the Winter Soldier so worked up over an inanimate object. You lean back, letting out a small groan as you shift your weight.
Buckyâs been hovering around you all day like a lost puppy, eyes following your every move. The moment you make the slightest sound, his head whips around, concern flickering in his eyes. So when you groan, immediately, heâs by your side, eyes wide, hands hovering over your belly.
âWhat? Whatâs wrong? Is it time? Should I get the bag?â
âCalm down, Dad-mode. Iâm just stretching.â You roll your eyes, but you canât hide the smile tugging at your lips. âYouâve gotta stop panicking every time I make a sound.â
âEvery time you make a sound, it could be something serious!â Bucky exclaims, sounding almost affronted. âDo you know what itâs like hearing you groan and not knowing if itâs âI want ice creamâ or âIâm about to go into laborâ?â
âSounds like a personal problem,â you tease.
He huffs, muttering something about âpregnancy hormones,â and kneels down in front of you. Strong hands lift your foot gently, and he starts massaging your arch. You sigh, instantly melting under his touch.
âBetter?â His voice is softer now, concern etched in every syllable.
âMuch better,â you mumble, letting out a little moan as he presses down on a particularly tight knot.
âHey, hey, hey!â Bucky freezes, eyes wide again. âWhatâs that? Pain?â
âRelax,â you say, though your voice is slightly breathless. âItâs the good kind of pain. Keep going.â
You lean your head back, closing your eyes as Bucky continues the foot massage. The man has hands that could crush stone, but right now, heâs so gentle you almost feel like youâre floating. Itâs hard not to feel a little spoiled under his doting care.
But just when youâre getting lost in the bliss of his hands working away the tension, you catch his face out of the corner of your eye. Buckyâs brow is furrowed, and his expression is one of fierce concentration, like heâs facing down a particularly difficult opponent. You stifle a giggleâonly Bucky could make a foot massage seem like a high-stakes mission.
âAlright, alright, enough of that,â you say, reaching down to tug on his hand. âIf you keep looking at my foot like that, you might set it on fire.â
Bucky blinks up at you, clearly having forgotten where he was. He chuckles, the sound low and almost shy. âCanât help it. I just⊠I want to make sure Iâm doing it right.â
âBucky, itâs a foot massage, not defusing a bomb.â You roll your eyes again, but your heart swells at his concern. âYouâre doing it perfectly.â
A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he lets out a small huff, pretending to be grumpy. âIâll take that as a compliment.â
Then, without warning, he shifts beside you on the couch, a determined look settling on his face. âNow, hold still.â
Before you can ask what heâs up to, Bucky leans down, pressing his ear gently against your belly. Youâre about to ask him if heâs comfortable, but the sheer look of wonder on his face stops you short. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, as if trying to capture every little movement your baby girl makes.
âHey, there, sweetheart,â Bucky murmurs softly, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. His fingers splay across your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. âItâs your dad. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure youâre being good for your mama.â
You bite your lip, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight. The fierce Winter Soldier, the man with a list of enemies longer than most peopleâs grocery lists, reduced to talking softly to your baby girl like sheâs the most delicate thing in the world.
âSheâs probably plotting her escape already,â you joke quietly, and Bucky grins up at you.
âNah,â he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. âSheâs too busy practicing her karate kicks. Isnât that right, little one?â
Right on cue, a small flutter against your belly answers him, and Buckyâs eyes light up like fireworks. He leans down again, pressing his lips gently against the spot where your baby kicked.
âWhoa, easy there, sweetheart,â he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. âSave the punches for when youâre out here. Weâve got plenty of training sessions ahead of us.â
You snort, shaking your head at his words. âBucky, sheâs not even born yet, and youâre already planning training sessions?â
âGotta start âem young,â he says seriously, but the way he softens his voice when he turns back to your belly is anything but tough. âBut donât worry, weâll take it easy. Iâll make sure you get to be a kid and have fun first. No oneâs gonna mess with you. Not when Iâm around.â
He pauses, his eyes misting over for a brief moment, and you know heâs thinking about everything heâs been throughâeverything he wants to shield your daughter from. Slowly, he rubs his thumb along your belly again, his touch featherlight.
âAnd youâre gonna love your mama,â Bucky continues softly. âSheâs strong, and sheâs funny, andââ He glances up at you, his smile turning mischievous. âSheâs a little bit stubborn sometimes. But youâre gonna be just like her, I bet.â
âGreat,â you mutter, faking a groan. âTwo of you plotting against me.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â Bucky promises, but the glint in his eyes tells you heâs already imagining all the ways heâll spoil his little girl.
He shifts again, his head still resting on your belly, and you have to stifle another laugh as he starts a running commentary, complete with exaggerated gestures.
âOkay, so hereâs the plan,â he whispers conspiratorially to your baby. âWhen you get here, youâre gonna kick a lot. Cry a lot. But not too much. Your mama needs her sleep. Then, weâll team up to get you extra dessert when sheâs not looking.â
âBucky!â You canât help itâyou burst out laughing. âYou canât be plotting behind my back already!â
He grins, looking up at you with mock innocence. âHey, itâs not my fault if she wants ice cream. Right, sweetheart?â
A few more soft kicks seem to echo his words, and you canât help but roll your eyes.
âIâm doomed,â you say, shaking your head fondly.
âNo, youâre not,â Bucky murmurs, his voice softening again. He presses one more kiss against your belly before shifting to sit up beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you gently against his side. âYouâre gonna be the best mom. And Iâm gonna be right here, making sure you both have everything you need.â
You lean into his warmth, smiling as his hand drifts back to your belly, tracing idle patterns.
âI love you,â you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.
âAnd I love you,â he replies, voice deep and steady. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. âBoth of you.â
With Bucky holding you close and whispering to your daughter, you feel your heart swell with a contentment so strong it almost aches. Itâs moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have this overprotective, sweet man by your side.
Even if he does go overboard sometimes.
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines#winter soldier imagines#winter solider x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#the winter solider x reader#the winter soldier x you#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x y/n#james barnes
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Russian Roulette
Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.
Simon Ghost Riley x Reader
Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.
Words: 2.3K
This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.
The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.
âWhat the hell was that?â Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. âReload again.â
âWhat?â You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.
âAre you deaf? I said reload again!â He repeats, his voice booming.
You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. âNow, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?â
His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didnât quite seem like he was enjoying it.
âYou know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,â he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you backâŠÂ No. This was serious.
You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you werenât one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You werenât about to let him see that though.
With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. âI reckon you havenât slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.â
âI know exactly what I saw,â his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. âDo. It. Again.â He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.
Youâre stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you werenât going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.
âAnd if not?â You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. âThis gonna end in friendly fire?â
In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6â4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.
He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.
âWhat do you have to lose?â He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.
You took it as a challenge.
With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.
He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didnât break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.
He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.
âThatâŠâ he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. ââŠisnât a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?â
âIâm a simple sniper, sir,â you reply without skipping so much as a beat. âI was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.â
Silence ensued.
Then you continued. âBut you knew that already. You read my file,â you hissed back at him. âAnd youâve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?â
He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasnât right.
Suddently, youâre smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.
âYouâre a lying Russian spy,â he murmured into your ear with such force you thought youâd faint.
You struggled against him. âI am not Russian, nor am I a spy,â you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldnât lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. Thatâs when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. âBut I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.â
You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You wonât be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.
âWhat were you sent to do, huh?â He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. âSpy? Assassinate me?â
âParanoid motherfucker,â you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. âScrew you.â
His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. âYou sound surprised. You canât honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?â
âAnd Iâm almost certain you couldnât find a Goddamn thing about anything and thatâs why you got me cornered,â you stated as a matter of fact. âIâm not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you donât let me get to my gun.â
He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.
You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.
âYou donât think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,â he paused for a second. âI know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.â
You laugh bitterly. âI donât doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesnât mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. Youâre so inclined? Ask Price!â
âI asked Price!â His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. âHe didnât know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?â
You snorted. âHe said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think youâre the only one thatâs allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!â
His eyes narrowed at your words. âWhy would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.â
âBecause my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!âÂ
âAnd if itâs something that could jeopardize the entire task force?â He muttered, his patience wearing thin. âIf it could get everyone killed?â
âYouâre an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,â your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath.Â
He watched you silently.
Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. âI thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.â
âFriends?!â He spat exasperatedly. âYou really think I would consider you my friend when I know youâre lying? You think I make friends with people I donât trust?â His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. âTell me why I shouldnât put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.â
Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.
âI was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.â
His stance faltered at that. You donât think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyesâŠÂ Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.
You continued. âAnything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,â you cleared your throat. âIâm not your enemy, Ghost. But youâre right. Iâm not your damn friend either.â
As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadnât taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.
His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasnât clicking for him. âDoesnât explain why your file is locked.â
You snorted humorlessly. âEver heard of Priceâs little sister?â
His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. âWhat about her?â
âYouâre looking at her.â
Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.
âYouâreâŠâ He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. âYouâre Priceâs sister?â
âIn the flesh,â you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. âYouâre not the only one trying to be ghost. Youâve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.âÂ
What could he say to that?
âI took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,â you reminded him. âWhat fucking spy does that for the opposite team?â
His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadnât seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadnât stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.
âI never should have questioned you,â he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.
Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. âItâs done. Weâre done here.â
He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.
The irony in the situation wasnât lost on him, but he didnât find it funny.
âWait,â He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.
âThis is unprofessional, Lieutenant,â you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. âWeâre in the middle of an active operation. Iâm done talking.â
He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldnât help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.
âYou canât honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?â
Silence followed.
You didnât even look at him.
âGo back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.â
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#angst#simon riley angst#simon ghost riley angst#cod#one shot#characterai#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#reader#fanfiction#fanfic#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader angst#simon ghost riley x reader angst
2K notes
·
View notes
Photo
What are these tags even... I'm crying
KinnPorsche Week 2022
Day 3: Favorite couple - KINN X PORSCHE
#no but this is exactly it#kinn's never been afraid of dying i bet he never expected to live as many years as he already has#he would have no problem with facing death and greeting him like an old long lost friend#a world without him is fine - hell it might even be better - but a world without porsche? thats a world that might as well just stop turning#bcs to kinn. porsche is everything that's GOOD about the world he's everything that's right in it he's the light in smothering darkness#a world without porsche in it isn't a world that kinn could bear to live in - and a world that doesn't have porsche BECAUSE of him#a world where porsche is dead and its his fault bcs he dragged him into this life by something as simple as loving him#living in that kind of world is one of the only things that kinn is terrified of#its why he has no problem staring down the barrel of a gun when vegas points it at him death doesn't scare him#but as soon as the gun is on porsche as soon as someone else realises that the most effective way to kill kinn is to take away his heart#he's terrified. the 'dont!' that he screams is so involuntary he doesnt even realise hes made a sound until it's already echoing in the room#when he has nightmares now he doesn't dream of dying or being hunted he dreams of that gun aimed at porsche#he dreams of the trigger being pulled and the gun going off and his entire world going still and dark#he dreams of losing the one thing that keeps him tethered that makes him GOOD#he dreams of losing his salvation and on those nights he tucks himself a little more into porsche's side and holds on tighter#kinnporsche
627 notes
·
View notes
Text
pillowtalk â fushiguro toji.
So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumiâs small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out. âDo you think⊠Megumiâs lonely?â His voice is soft, almost tentative. Heâs not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. âLike, maybe heâd do better with a sibling?â The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.
GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;
WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, rough sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, body praise, kissing, p-i-v sex, fingering, pet names (baby, babe, wife, mama, etc), profanity, love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, slice of life, domestic life, family, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;
WORD COUNT: 7k words
NOTE: i think about how mamaguro was taken too soon from toji and megumi and how maybe they were thinking about wanting another kid and just how domestic their life was. i like to think about toji!househusband too fr. like if there was a character that could be the way of the househusband, it would be fushiguro toji, thank you. thank you for listening to my tedtalk!!! anyway, i love you all <3
masterlist
kinktober 2024 - kayu's version
if you want to, tip!
ââââââââââââââââââ
HIS LIFE NOW WAS A FAR CRY FROM HIS OLD LIFE. Toji Fushiguro never thought he'd find peace, much less happiness. His life had been a series of battles, betrayals, and constant survival. But then you came along, softening the sharp edges of his world, bringing warmth where there had only been cold.
He remembers the day he first saw you. It was as if the world had found itself in a tailspin and he was in it. His world changed when you came into his life. Everything felt like it was worth finding wonder in.
With how you looked at him with eyes full of understanding, tenderness. There was nothing of pity or grievance. There was always warmth. Warmth he didn't think he would ever deserve. Somehow, you'd seen something in him worth saving, something worth loving.Â
You gave him a family, a real familyânot just in the blood that runs through his veins but in the small, everyday moments that fill the spaces between. You gave him everything he could ever want. Everything that he thought could only be achieved in dreams.
Mornings over coffee, the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, your laugh echoing softly through the room. The gentle way you cradle your son, Megumi, in your arms, whispering stories to him with a voice so full of love it makes Tojiâs chest ache in the best possible way.
Every time he looks at Megumi, he feels a rush of gratitude so overwhelming it almost brings him to his knees. Your son has his eyes, that piercing gaze that cuts through the nonsense of the world, but he has your smile, that Toji was sure of. He was just as much happy about it too.
When he looked at Megumi, he could find that small, quiet curve that seems to promise the universe that all will be well. It was waiting for him on his son's beautiful face as much as it was on your own beautiful lips.
Fushiguro Toji never thought heâd care so much about something so trivial, but here he is, caring more than he ever imagined possible. His son's smile brought him as much joy to see as it does when you too smile at him.d
He watches Megumi toddling around the living room, his tiny hands grasping at the air as he learns to walk, determination etched on his face. Toji's heart swells with a fierce kind of pride.
In moments like these, he understands what people mean when they talk about the best things in life. Itâs not the money, the power, or the next fight to win. Itâs his sonâs first steps, the weight of your hand in his, the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing beside him at night.
You've given him a homeânot just a house with walls and a roof but a place where he feels like he belongs, where he isn't running from shadows or haunted by the ghosts of his past. A place where, for the first time in his life, he feels like he deserves to stay.
Toji never thought heâd be here, never thought heâd be the kind of man who could love so deeply, who could feel so much. But you changed that. You changed everything. And as he stands there, watching Megumi, he knows that this right here, right now is the happiest heâs ever been.
Tojiâs gaze shifts from Megumi to you, who are quietly watching the two of them with a serene smile. Your presence brings a calm to the chaos that once defined his life. The way you hold Megumiâs tiny hand as he wobbles toward you, the soft encouragement in your voice, it all creates a sanctuary that Toji never thought heâd find.
In the evenings, when the world quiets down and the house is bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, Toji often finds himself reflecting on how far heâs come. He thinks about the days when his future seemed so uncertain, when the idea of a family felt like an impossible dream. Now, every moment spent with you and Megumi feels like a precious gift, a beautiful reality heâd only dared to hope for.
As Megumi eventually collapses into a giggling heap on the floor, Toji chuckles softly. You come over and join them, your laughter mingling with his as you all enjoy the simple joy of being together.
Toji sits back and watches, his heart full. He thinks about the sacrifices heâs made and the battles he fought. Each scar, each hard-earned lesson, has led him to this momentâthe sweetest victory of all.
In the quiet moments, when itâs just the three of you, Toji often finds himself lost in thought. He marvels at how youâve created a life filled with warmth and love, and how Megumi is growing up surrounded by everything he never had.
He realizes that his past, with all its pain and darkness, was worth it for the chance to build this future with you. He feels a profound sense of gratitude, not just for what youâve given him, but for the strength and resilience youâve shown in building this family together.
When he tucks Megumi into bed at night, heâs reminded of the importance of the little rituals. The way Megumiâs eyes flutter closed as Toji reads him a bedtime story, the way he clings to the small toy you both picked out together, and the peaceful sigh he gives as he drifts off to sleep. Toji knows that these moments are fleeting, but they are precious.
As he stands by the doorway, watching over his sleeping son, Toji reaches out and takes your hand. You squeeze it gently, a silent promise of the love and support youâve always given him. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.
âI never thought Iâd have a life like this.â he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. âYouâve given me everything I never knew I needed. I donât know how to thank you, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.â
You smile, your eyes glistening with love and understanding. âYou donât have to thank me. This our family, our home, its all I ever wanted too. Weâve created something beautiful together, and thatâs more than enough.â
Toji wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he gazes once more at the peaceful scene before him. In that moment, he knows that he has everything he could ever ask for. The life he shares with you and Megumi is his greatest achievement, his greatest joy. And as he holds you close, he realizes that this is exactly where heâs meant to beâhome.
The nights are often filled with a gentle stillness, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Megumiâs breathing as he sleeps. Toji finds these quiet moments to be some of the most precious. He cherishes the tranquility that envelops your family, feeling as though heâs finally found his place of peace after years of turmoil.
In the early mornings, when the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, Toji enjoys watching you and Megumi. He loves the way you wake up with a soft smile, the kind that says everything is right in the world.
As you prepare breakfast, Toji often stands by, watching with admiration. You move through the routine with an ease and grace that mesmerize him, the way you hum a soft tune or how you softly chat with Megumi, turning the mundane into something magical.
Mornings are Tojiâs favorite time to bond with his son. He takes Megumi in his arms, holding him close as he prepares to start the day. They play together, their laughter filling the room with an infectious joy that makes Tojiâs heart swell.
He sees so much of you in Megumi; Everything he loves about you blossomed in your beautiful son. Megumi had the same curious eyes, the same warm smileâand it makes him fall in love with both of you all over again.
On weekends, the family often goes on small adventures. Whether itâs a stroll through the park, a visit to a nearby museum, or a picnic by the river, Toji treasures these outings.
He loves seeing the world through Megumiâs eyes, watching as his son discovers new things and experiences the simple joys of life. He takes pride in being a part of these moments, knowing that heâs helping to create cherished memories for his family.
At night, after Megumi is asleep and the house quiets down, Toji and you find time to connect. These moments of solitude are a chance to share your thoughts and dreams, to reflect on the day and plan for the future.
The conversations are often deep and meaningful, touching on everything from hopes and fears to the little details of daily life. Itâs in these conversations that Toji feels most connected to you, realizing how deeply you understand and support him.
Sometimes, Toji thinks back to the days when his life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. He canât believe how far heâs come, how much heâs changed. And every time he looks at you or Megumi, heâs reminded of just how much heâs gained. The family heâs built with you is a testament to the love and resilience you both share.
As he drifts off to sleep beside you, Toji feels a profound sense of contentment. The days are filled with laughter and love, the nights with peace and connection. He knows that his past is behind him, that heâs finally found the life he was meant to have.
In the quiet darkness, Toji holds you close, grateful for the life youâve created together. Heâs found something he never thought possibleâa home, a family, and a love that makes everyday worth living.
And as he whispers a quiet âthank youâ into the night, he knows that the greatest gift heâs ever received is the love and happiness you and Megumi have brought into his life.
ââââââââââââââââââ
HE REALLY THINKS THIS IS THE BEST LIFE ANYONE CAN ASK FOR. Fushiguro Toji enjoys the life youâve built together. He really does. But lately, a thought has been lingering in his mind, one that keeps surfacing during the quiet moments.
He wonders if maybe life would be even better, fullerâif you and he were to give Megumi a sibling. Itâs not that he doesnât love the way things are now. Ever since Megumi was born, everything shifted naturally; your priorities changed, and together, youâve navigated this new life of parenthood seamlessly.Â
But still, Toji canât help but worry. Megumi is growing up fastâalready past his first birthday and nearing his second. Heâs independent in his own quiet way, rarely showing interest in playing with other kids when given the chance. Toji wonders if maybe itâs because Megumi feels a little lonely, being an only child.Â
Toji doesnât voice these thoughts out loud often, but they weigh on his mind. Youâve both done well to balance your lives, your love, and your responsibilities. But he imagines another child, a little sibling for Megumiâsomeone to share those quiet afternoons and keep him company.
Maybe itâs time to think about it, he muses. After all, family has always been at the center of his thoughts, and adding to yours feels like the natural next step.
Your husband hasnât brought it up yet, not directly. Itâs hard for him to find the right moment, the right words. Heâs not one for long conversations or deep discussions, but you know him well enough to notice when something is on his mind.
Lately, heâs been watching Megumi more closely, observing the way your son plays quietly by himself, content in his little world but lacking the spark of excitement that other kids seem to find when surrounded by their peers.
Heâs seen it when youâre both at the park, Megumi clinging to your leg instead of running around with the other children. He doesnât push itâMegumi is still young, and Toji knows better than anyone that everyone moves at their own pace.
But the nagging thought remains: maybe what Megumi needs isnât just more playdates or time with other kids. Maybe he needs someone at home, a sibling to grow up with, to bond with. Someone whoâll always be there, someone whoâll understand him in a way only a sibling can.
In those quiet moments when the house is calm, and Megumi is tucked away in bed, Toji imagines what it might be like. The sounds of laughter from another room, two pairs of small feet running down the hallway.
The way youâd smile, holding another little one in your arms. The thought makes him feel warm, something he doesnât experience often. Itâs not just about Megumi anymore, he knows that too well. Itâs also about the life youâre building, the family youâve already started. And deep down, he knows he wants to keep growing it.
Still, he wonders how youâll feel about it. Youâve both been so focused on Megumi, on making sure heâs happy and cared for. Will you think itâs too soon? Will you worry about the shift it would cause in your lives again, the added responsibility?
These thoughts swirl in his mind as he considers how to approach the subject. He doesnât want to push, but the desire is there, quietly persistent, tugging at him with each passing day.
So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumiâs small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out.
âDo you think⊠Megumiâs lonely?â His voice is soft, almost tentative. Heâs not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. âLike, maybe heâd do better with a sibling?â
The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.
You pause for a moment, taking in Tojiâs words. Itâs not a question you expected, but knowing him, you realize this has been on his mind for a while. His concern for Megumi is clear, and the idea of giving your son a sibling is something youâve thought about before, though not as seriously. But now, hearing it from Toji, you realize itâs more than just a passing thoughtâitâs a real possibility.Â
You glance over at Megumi, fast asleep in his crib, peaceful and unaware of the weight of this conversation. Heâs always been a quiet, introspective child, and itâs trueâhe doesnât seem to enjoy the company of other kids all that much.
Your little boy is happy to be around you both, that was true enough. He always loves spending time with you both. But with other kids? It's a tough crowd when it comes to your little boy.Â
But youâve always assumed heâd grow out of it, that heâd find his own way to connect. Still, thereâs a small part of you that wonders if Toji is right. Maybe Megumi is lonely, and maybe the best thing for him would be to have a sibling to share his life with.
You shift closer to Toji, resting your head against his shoulder. âI donât know, baby.â you admit softly. âMaybe. He does seem to keep to himself a lot⊠but heâs still so young. Do you really think a sibling would make a difference?â
Toji lets out a low sigh, his arm wrapping around you as he considers his words. âI think it could. I mean, I didnât grow up with much family, and I turned outâŠâ He trails off, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âWell, letâs just say I donât want that for Megumi. He deserves more.â
You smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the thought lingers in your mind. Tojiâs childhood was differentâlonely in a way that you know he doesnât talk about often. Maybe thatâs why this means so much to him. Maybe he wants Megumi to have something he never did.
âYou think weâre ready for that?â you ask, glancing up at him. Itâs a big decision, one that would change everything, again. But thereâs something comforting about the idea, too. âI mean with how busy we are and MegumiâŠâ
Youâve seen Toji with Megumi, the way heâs softened since becoming a father. And you love it. More than anything, it was what you think that fulfilled your life â making Toji a father and building a family. him.
But you havenât thought about it just yet. But now that youâre thinking about itâŠ.the thought of adding another little one to your family, watching Toji bond with another child, feels right in a way that you hadnât fully realized until now.
Toji meets your gaze, his expression more serious now. âI think we are. Itâs not gonna be easy, but nothing ever is, right? We made it work with Megumi, and weâll make it work again.â
His confidence reassures you, and the weight of the decision starts to feel less overwhelming. Youâre not just thinking about yourselves anymore; youâre thinking about Megumi and the family youâre building together.
You lean into him, letting his warmth and the quiet of the evening wrap around you both. âOkay, okayâŠ.â you say softly, the decision settling into your chest. âLetâs think about it. For Megumi. For us.â
Toji presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. âYeah,â he murmurs, his voice full of something deeper than just words. âFor all of us.â
But thinking was one thing. Acting on it, especially when the two of you were so deeply drawn to each otherâwas something entirely different. Whenever the subject of expanding your family surfaced in conversation, it wasnât long before the connection between you and Toji shifted into something more intense, more immediate.
There was an undeniable pull between you, something that seemed to ignite in the quiet moments when you were alone together, reminding you just how much you desired one another.
It would often happen in the evening, after a long day of work. The two of you would settle into the comfort of your apartment, exhaustion slipping away as you relaxed on the couch after dinner.
Toji would always keep you close, one arm draped over your shoulders, his hand absently tracing patterns on your skin. The world outside would fade as you settled into your quiet bubble, just the two of you in the stillness of the night.
And then, it would happen slowly at first, with a shared glance, a quiet breath, and the unspoken understanding that there was something deeper simmering beneath the surface.
Toji, always so sure in his movements, would gently guide you from the couch to the soft embrace of the bed, laying you down against the pillow with deliberate care, as if you were something precious. His hands would roam, teasing and familiar, as he removed your clothes piece by piece, his fingers gliding over your skin like heâd memorized every inch of you.
By the time his hand slid between your thighs, you were already lost to him, to the way he touched you with a practiced skill that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers worked their way inside you, slow and deliberate at first, drawing out every bit of pleasure as your body responded to him.Â
The feeling was electric, the tension between you mounting with each passing second. Tojiâs gaze was fixed on you, dark and focused, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the way you were falling apart beneath his touch.
You couldnât think about anything else in those moments, not about the future or about giving Megumi a sibling. All you could focus on was the sensation of Tojiâs fingers moving inside you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
Toji knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. The way he touched you, the way he whispered your name in that low, gravelly voice; it drove you wild, leaving you breathless and aching for more. You were wrapped up in him, in the way his fingers curled inside you, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your head spin.
Your back arched, hips instinctively rolling against his hand as the pleasure built, your thoughts scattered in every direction except the present moment. Tojiâs lips found your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, âYouâre all mine,â his voice thick with want.
And in that moment, you were. Completely, entirely his. The rest of the world faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of being lost in him, your body responding to his touch as you let go of everything except the pure, unadulterated pleasure he gave you.
Tojiâs fingers moved with a deliberate intensity, his pace quickening as he watched you unravel beneath him. His focus was sharp, every movement calculated to drive you closer to your limit.
You couldnât hold back the sounds that escaped youâsoft gasps, whispers of his name, every noise pulling him deeper into his need for you. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing along your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place as your body arched against him.
"That's it, baby." he murmured, voice rough and low. The heat between you was almost unbearable, the air thick with the tension that always seemed to surge whenever you were alone together.Â
He was lost in you, in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot that made your breath catch, your hips instinctively lifting toward him as the pressure built in your core.
You were so close, the pleasure winding tight within you, and Toji could sense it. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you.Â
"Youâre gonna come for me, arenât you?" he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, the command in his voice leaving no room for anything else. "Let go. Iâve got you."
And just like that, the tension inside you snapped. Your body tensed, then released in a flood of warmth and sensation, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out, hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.
Tojiâs fingers didnât stop, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you as he held you through it, his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring soft, unintelligible words of praise.
Your body trembled beneath him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through you as you tried to catch your breath. Toji slowly withdrew his fingers, but his touch remained gentle, his hand trailing softly along your thigh as he looked down at you, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
âYouâre perfect like this, baby.â he said quietly, almost to himself. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes softening as they met yours. âAlways so damn perfect.â
Your body is still coming down from the high when you look at him, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin as he hovers above you, his smirk deepening. There's a glint in his eyes, that unmistakable fire, as if the conversation youâd had earlier is still echoing in the back of his mind.Â
You donât even have to think too hard about it; itâs like an instinct when you tell him, voice breathless, âI want to give you a baby again.â
Tojiâs grin widens, his brow arching slightly. âOh, is that right?â he teases, his hand trailing lazily down your side, lingering on your hip. But then he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. âWhatâs stopping you then, huh?â
You shake your head vigorously, letting out a soft hum of disagreement, not entirely trusting his intentions. Tojiâs always been a dirty fucking liar when it comes to things like this, promising things he knows will make you weak, things you know heâll never deliver on.Â
Yet somehow, even knowing that, you still find it in yourself to love him. And maybe that's why, despite everything, you still let him have you like this, completely bare, letting him slide into you raw, no barriers between you.
He wastes no time, pushing your legs back, your knees nearly pressed up to your chest as he thrusts into you. The intensity is overwhelming, each deep stroke driving you further into the mattress, making your body shake under his relentless pace.Â
Toji's grip is strong, controlling, one hand pinning your thigh back as the other rests on your waist, holding you in place like he owns you. And in these moments, it feels like he does.
He has a hold on you in ways you canât quite explain, two different kinds of controlâone physical, the other something deeper, emotional, binding you to him in a way thatâs undeniable.
âYouâre really getting into it huh, sweetheart?â His voice drips with mock sweetness, but thereâs a dark edge to it, each word paired with a heavy, punishing thrust that knocks the breath out of you. âYou want me to fill up that sweet little belly?â
His words are a tease, malicious in the way only Toji can be, his voice laced with cruel affection. His grin matches it, sharp and selfish, as if he knows exactly what heâs doing to you, how every filthy promise pushes you closer to the brink. Your mind is spinning, caught between wanting to resist and wanting to give in completely.
Then, his pace slows slightly, his hand gripping your jaw as he forces you to look up at him, his gaze locking with yours. The teasing drops, replaced with something far more commanding. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, and his voice, low and rough, sends shivers down your spine.
âGimme fuckinâ words, baby.â he growls, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. âI need words.â
Your breath hitches, the weight of his command settling heavy in the pit of your stomach. You know what heâs asking forâhe needs to hear it from you, needs the affirmation that youâre his, that you want this just as much as he does. His pace haughtily picks up again, a merciless rhythm, every thrust driving deeper as he waits for your response.
âIââ you try to catch your breath, your voice shaky as you struggle to form the words. But the sensation is too much, the way heâs filling you, stretching you, making it hard to think about anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. âI want you,â you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper.
Tojiâs dark green eyes narrow slightly, unsatisfied with your answer. He grabs your chin harder, his pace growing even more ruthless. âThatâs not enough, baby.â he growls, his voice a dangerous rasp. âTell me. What do you want?â
Your mind is foggy, body trembling beneath him, and you can feel yourself on the edge again, teetering close to the point of no return. His dominance over you in this moment is absolute, and you canât fight it, canât resist the pull of his command.Â
âI want you to fill me up, babe.â you finally gasp, your words spilling out in a rush, almost desperate. âI want your baby, Toji.â
His response is immediate, a low, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest as he picks up the pace, driving into you with a newfound intensity.
âThatâs my good girl right there, hm?â he growls, his grip tightening as he slams into you with brutal force, his voice thick with satisfaction. âYouâre gonna take all of me, arenât you? Gonna let me give you exactly what you asked for.â
Your body answers for you, already falling apart beneath him as his words send you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. Every thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, your legs shaking, your breath ragged as Toji takes whatâs his, just like he always does.
And even through the haze of pleasure, you know thereâs no escaping him. Toji has youâmind, body, and soulâand thereâs nothing you wouldnât give him, nothing you wouldnât do for him.
Tojiâs grip on you tightens as the intensity between you both heightens. His hips slam into yours with an unrelenting force, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge with every movement.
Your husband was too good at playing this game of pleasure. You were hanging on for dear life, stuck in a pleasurable pandemonium. The rough rhythm of his body against yours, combined with the filthy words spilling from his mouth, sends shockwaves through your entire being.
âYeah, thatâs it, baby.â he growls, his voice dark with possession. âYouâre gonna let me fill you up, huh? Make you mine all over again, just like you want.â
You can barely form coherent thoughts as your body responds to him, legs trembling with the sheer force of his thrusts. The sounds of your shared breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the creak of the mattress fill the room, an unspoken rhythm between you two thatâs as primal as it is intimate.
Youâre completely at his mercy, pinned beneath him, helpless to do anything but feel. This man occupies everything in you as easily as you breathe. And you wanted him. You wanted more of him.
âTojiââ you gasp, his name leaving your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, the heat of his body on yours, the way heâs completely taken over your senses.
He releases one of your legs, shifting slightly to lean down, his lips brushing against your ear, hot and heavy with every breath. âYouâre gonna take all of it, arenât you?â he murmurs, his tone laced with both a command and a dark kind of affection. âEvery last drop.â
His words send a jolt through you, pushing you closer to the edge youâve been teetering on. The pressure builds inside you, winding tight in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. And Toji knows it. He can feel the way your body clenches around him, the way your breath hitches with every thrust.
âSay it again, baby.â he demands, his pace somehow growing even more brutal, hips pounding into you relentlessly. âTell me what you want.â
Your heart races, and it takes everything in you to gasp out the words between broken breaths. âI want you to fill me up⊠I want your baby, Toji, pleaseââ Your voice is desperate, the plea tumbling out before you can stop it.
The satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he growls in response. âGood girl.â
And with that, he pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave, your voice breaking as you cry out.
Toji doesnât stop, his thrusts driving deeper, harder, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until youâre left trembling, barely able to catch your breath.
Heâs close too; you can feel it in the way his movements grow more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own release. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his pace faltering for a moment before he slams into you one final time, his hips flush against yours as he fills you completely, the warmth of him spilling deep inside you.
Tojiâs body goes tense for a brief second, and then he collapses against you, his breath ragged and heavy as he rides out the last waves of his release. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his eyes softened now, the intense fire in them dimmed into something more tender.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, still holding you close, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. âYouâre perfect, perfectttt. Just like that, baby.â he murmurs, his voice quieter now, the raw edge gone. âEvery damn time.â
Youâre still catching your breath, your body exhausted but sated, the warmth of him pressed against you grounding you in the moment. Thereâs something comforting in the way he holds you after, a quiet reassurance that, despite his teasing and rough exterior, thereâs a deep connection between you both that runs far beyond words.
Tojiâs body stays pressed against yours, his breathing still heavy as he recovers from the intensity of what you just shared. The room feels warm, the quiet between you filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the lingering sensation of him still deep inside you. For a moment, itâs peaceful, like youâre both floating in the afterglow.
But that peace doesnât last long.
You feel him stir against you, his lips brushing over your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. His hand slides over your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. Thereâs a shift in the air, a subtle change in his energy that you recognize immediately. Heâs not doneânot even close.
Your husband recovers so fast, you couldn't even help but wonder what sort of super human he is. When he gets excited, he won't stop until he makes that excitement have fulfilment. And Fushiguro Toji will take an take. His monster of pleasure demands to be full.
âTojiâŠâ you whisper, your voice already betraying the anticipation thatâs starting to build again. You feel his smirk against your skin, the low chuckle that vibrates through his chest as he kisses his way up to your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point.
âYou didnât think I was finished with you, did you? Need for my come to take, baby. Need to give you as much as possible.â he murmurs, voice dark with intent. His hand moves down, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing, as if testing your readiness for whatâs to come. âBesides, baby, Iknow you can take more. You always do.â
Before you can even respond, Toji pulls out of you slowly, the absence of him leaving you aching, only to have him slide back in a moment laterâdeeper, harder, the sudden stretch drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He groans softly, his hands gripping your hips as he starts moving, this time with a slower, more deliberate rhythm.
His hips roll against yours, each thrust precise, dragging out the sensation with agonizing slowness. You can feel him fully, every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely as he starts to build up the intensity again. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to take more of you.
âTojiââ you moan, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back as he presses you deeper into the mattress.
âShh, baby. â he whispers, leaning down so that his lips are inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. âIâm gonna take my time with you, like I always do. You'd let me, won't you, mama?â
And he does. He moves at his own pace, each thrust measured and controlled, as if heâs savoring every second of being inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, that commanding intensity from earlier returning as he watches every reaction you give him.
Itâs almost too much, the way heâs making you feel so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him, but you canât tear your gaze away. Youâre completely at his mercy. Perhaps even more than before. It was just the way it was between the two of you. And you can't help but want it.
His hand moves between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles that send sparks shooting through your core. The combination of his deep, deliberate thrusts and the focused attention on your most sensitive spot is overwhelming, and you can already feel the pressure building again, faster this time.
âYouâre such a good baby girl, my little wife, huh?â he groans, his voice gravelly with desire. âYou love it, donât you? Love the way I fuck you, mama.â
You nod, unable to form words, your body reacting to him instinctively. His thick thumb presses harder against your clit, and your hips buck up toward him, chasing the pleasure thatâs building so quickly itâs almost dizzying.
âUse your words, my baby. I need your words to be clear, hm?â he orders, his voice sharp and commanding. âTell me how much you love it.â
âIâ I love it, babe. IâŠ.Ohââ you gasp, barely able to get the words out as the pleasure coils tight inside you. âI love how you fuck me, Toji.â
âThatâs it, baby. Good girl, my pretty wife.â he groans, his pace picking up as he drives into you harder now, more relentlessly. âYouâre gonna come for me again, arenât you? Like the good little wife you are? Gonna make me a daddy again, huh?â
You can feel yourself getting closer, every nerve in your body on fire as he takes you right to the edge again. His hand doesnât stop, rubbing firm circles against your clit, and the pressure inside you becomes unbearable.
âToji, pleaseââ you moan, your voice desperate.
âI know, baby, I know.â he whispers, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic as he chases his own release. âCome for me. I want to feel you fall apart again.â
His words push you over the edge, and your orgasm crashes through you, harder than before. Your body clenches around him, back arching as your eyes squeeze shut, the pleasure almost too much to handle. Toji groans low in his throat as he feels you tighten around him, his hips slamming into yours as he rides out every wave of your release.
Youâre barely coming down from your high when you feel him thrust into you one last time, his grip on your hips bruising as he finally lets go, his own release hitting him hard. He moans your name, the sound of it rough and primal, as he fills you completely, his body going rigid above you.
For a long moment, neither of you move, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together. Tojiâs weight is comforting against you, grounding you as you come back down from the intensity of everything that just happened.
Finally, he pulls out slowly, rolling onto his back beside you. His arm reaches out, pulling you close so that youâre curled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. Thereâs a soft, satisfied hum in his throat as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers lazily stroking your arm.
âYouâre something else, baby.â he murmurs, his voice full of lazy affection, though thereâs still that edge of satisfaction in it, like he knows exactly how much control he has over you.
You donât need to respondâhe already knows how deeply he affects you, how much you need him just as much as he needs you. And as you lie there in the quiet, wrapped in each otherâs warmth, you canât help but think about how, despite all of Tojiâs roughness and teasing, thereâs no place youâd rather be than here, in his arms. And you wish, so desperately, that you could give him another child.Â
ââââââââââââââââââ
epilogue
The next morning, youâre still tangled up in the sheets, but itâs not out of luxury. You try to move, but as soon as you shift an inch, your body protests with an aching reminder of exactly what Toji had done to you last night. Every muscle feels like itâs been through a battle, and you can't help but groan as you flop back onto the bed, surrendering to the pain.
From the doorway, you hear the sound of little footsteps padding across the floor. Megumi toddles in, clutching a stuffed animal under his arm, his wide eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. Behind him, Toji strides in, smirking like the smug devil he is.
âMorning, baby.â Toji says, far too chipper for someone whoâd spent the entire night wrecking you. Heâs holding a tray with what looks like breakfastâeggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fruitâbut what stands out is the cup of coffee that you need more than air right now.
âMorning.â you croak, wincing as you try to sit up, only to immediately regret it. âI canât feel my legs, babe. Pretty sure you broke me.â
Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly proud of himself. âYeah? Thought you liked it when I went all out.â
âLiking it and being able to walk after are two different things, you know.â you grumble, pulling the blanket up higher as Megumi stares at you with that same curious expression.
Toji sets the tray down on the bedside table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. âGuess Iâll have to carry you everywhere today, huh?â His voice is thick with amusement, and you shoot him a half-hearted glare, but honestly, youâre too tired to fight back.
âPlease do, babe. Iâm basically a noodle.â
Just then, Megumi climbs up onto the bed, his little hands gripping the edge as he pulls himself up with determination. He plops down beside you, his stuffed animal tucked under his chin. You smile, your heart warming despite the soreness, and Toji hands you the tray, still smirking like heâs king of the world.
âBreakfast in bed, as promised,â he says, crossing his arms like heâs just done you the biggest favor in the world. âMade it with Megumi. Though, uh, you might wanna avoid the toast. He helped with that.â
You glance down at the toast in question, one piece charred to a crisp, the other half-raw in the middle. âI see his culinary skills are coming along nicely.â
Toji laughs, sitting down at the edge of the bed. âHey, heâs learning. Canât all be naturals like me.â
You raise an eyebrow, but before you can shoot back a sarcastic remark, Megumi climbs into Tojiâs lap, looking between the two of you with that innocent, wide-eyed look only toddlers can pull off. âHm, hm. I love my good house husband, really.â
âAs you should, baby.â He snickers back at you. âNo one else will be like this for you but me.â
âI know, I know.â You say as you continue to eat.
He smiles and kisses your head. âGood.â
âToji, babeâŠ.â you say, setting the tray aside and carefully reaching out to ruffle Megumiâs hair. âIf I canât walk today, you're on diaper duty.â
Toji looks genuinely horrified for a split second. "Now, wait a minuteâ"
"All your fault, Mr. 'let me give you a baby,â" you tease, biting into your eggs while giving him a pointed look. "So, now you get to deal with the consequences."
Megumi looks up at him, blinking with his bright big eyes, and Toji sighs dramatically. "Fine, fine." he says, giving you that classic Toji smirk. âBut next time, youâre gettinâ the easy job.â
You roll your eyes, though thereâs a playful smile on your face. âNext time, maybe go easy on me so I can still stand.â
Toji grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, voice low and teasing. âNo promises, baby.â
And with that, the morning unfolds with you lounging in bed, Fushiguro Megumi occasionally wandering over to offer you his stuffed animal, and Toji trying (and failing) to get through diaper duty without swearing under his breath. You canât help but laugh at the sight of him, the big, tough man reduced to toddler chaos.
But despite everything;
the soreness, the teasing, the burnt toastâyou wouldnât have it any other way.
This is life.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro#toji#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji x y/n#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x self insert#jjk toji x reader#jjk toji#toji zenin#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu toji#toji fluff#fushiguro toji smut#toji smut#toji x reader smut#jjk smut#jjk kinktober
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Birthday Girl
On your 21st birthday, your friends drag you to a bar to get wasted when you decide it's a good idea to drunk-call Professor Agatha Harkness.
Word count: 3400+
Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, intoxication, mentions of underage drinking, teacher x student (legal)
âOne, two, three!â Wanda chants and you and your friends tap your shot glasses on the bar counter and quickly down them.Â
You gasp at the burn and they laugh at you. Itâs your 21st birthday and your best friends Wanda, Rio, and Natasha had dragged you out to the closest bar to get you wasted. They had all already turned 21 the year before; you were the baby in the group.Â
âFuck, thatâs disgusting,â you groan.Â
âAnother round, please!â Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand.Â
âThink you can get to 21?â Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag.Â
âI might puke after this one,â you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Youâd only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk.Â
âYou deserve this!â Nat shouts in your ear. âHarkness has been working you to the bone!âÂ
You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. Sheâs known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out Aâs. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her.Â
Everyone except for you.Â
Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agathaâs class due in a week and you were already worried about it.Â
âI donât know how youâre surviving,â Wanda says. âI had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. Sheâs the worst.âÂ
âSheâs not that bad,â you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way.Â
âYeah she is,â Rio joins in. âI heard that sheâs a real witch.â
You roll your eyes. âCan we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.â You take the shot thatâs still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time.Â
âYes, there we go!â Rio whoops.Â
Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms.Â
âI think Iâm a little drunk,â you tell her. She laughs like itâs the funniest thing youâve ever heard.Â
âNo shit, y/n, you donât have to yell!âÂ
You didnât even realize you had. âWe should probably go back to the dorms!â You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner.Â
âNot yet,â Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. Youâre not sure how sheâs still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. âIâll get you some water.â She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal.Â
When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is thatâ? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor.Â
âDrink this,â Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but youâre too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea.Â
You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like youâre afraid itâs going to change somehow.Â
âIâll be back,â you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldnât. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear.Â
It rings. And then rings again. Youâre about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects.Â
âHello?â Itâs actually her.Â
Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. âProfessor Harkness?âÂ
âY/n? Is that you?âÂ
âYeah.â Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You canât just hang up though.Â
âWhy are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?âÂ
âUm,â you say, trying to think of something. Youâre definitely going to have to drop her class after this. Youâll never be able to face her ever again. âItâs my birthday?â You offer lamely.Â
Agatha scoffs. âHappy birthday. Can I help you with something?â
âOh, no, Professor, I just wanted â weâre at a bar â I thought you were â and just wanted to say hi,â you ramble, knowing youâre not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone.Â
âY/n, are you drunk right now?â Her voice perks up and it sounds like sheâs finally interested.Â
âNo!â you protest. âWell, maybe a little. But Iâm 21 now!âÂ
âWhat bar are you at?âÂ
âJimmyâs.â Itâs a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at.Â
âIâll be there in ten. Wait out front.â Thereâs a click and then sheâs gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?
You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand.Â
âAlright, time to party!â she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that sheâs a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second.Â
âI actually called an uber,â you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.
Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. âHappy birthday,â she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her.Â
âThank you,â you breathe back. Youâre close with Rio and Nat as well, but they donât have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends.Â
The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. Youâre wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you.Â
And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know itâs her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches.Â
Itâs Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders.Â
âDo you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?â Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you havenât moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agathaâs eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.
âYou didnât have to come get me,â you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words.Â
She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. âThought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,â she says.Â
Embarrassment runs through you. âYou were the only one,â you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked.Â
âOh?â
âI shouldnât have called.â This time, itâs harder to keep your words from running together. âWe were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.â You need to stop talking, now.Â
Agatha hums. âDid you, now?â She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers.Â
âYouâre really hot,â you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck.Â
Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. âAnd youâre really drunk, sweetheart.âÂ
The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. âNot that drunk,â you say unconvincingly. âI only had oneâŠtwoâŠâ You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle.Â
âIs this your first time drinking?â She asks, amused.Â
âNo, but it is my first time drinking this much,â you admit. âMy friends dragged me out since itâs my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.âÂ
âYou were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?âÂ
âYour essayâs due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.âÂ
She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. âYouâre always good for me. Your essays are some of the best Iâve ever read.âÂ
Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. âI have a B in your class.âÂ
âYou have an 88 in my class. Thatâs the highest Iâve had in years. Canât make it too easy,â she says with a wink.Â
âYou could make it just a little easier,â you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions.Â
âYou keep doing what youâre doing, sweetheart, and itâll go up, I promise. Iâm very impressed with the work youâve been turning in.â
A hot flash runs through you. âJust wanna be your good girl.â And if it wasnât clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesnât look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued.Â
She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You havenât been paying attention to where sheâs been driving at all, and youâre quite surprised to see youâve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood.Â
âThis isnât where I live,â you say dumbly.Â
âNo, itâs not,â she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agathaâs tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair.Â
She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. âOh, god,â you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesnât even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better.Â
âYou okay?â she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. Youâve never seen this side of her and you really like it.Â
âI think so. Thank you again,â you murmur and you realize that youâve been staring at her mouth.Â
âAnything for my favorite student.âÂ
And then, because youâre apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself.Â
âProfessor, I am so sorry, I didnât mean toââÂ
She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away.Â
âYouâre drunk,â she tells you again.
You clasp the lapels of her blazer. âI know. But I want you.âÂ
She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. âYou need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.âÂ
You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.
âLetâs go. You can sleep in the guest room. Iâll find you some pajamas and toiletries.â Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. âDonât fall asleep yet,â Agatha warns and then leaves the room.Â
She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks.Â
âCome on, hon,â Agatha says and helps you stand up. You donât move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks.Â
âMâsorry,â you mumble.Â
âDonât be. Iâm enjoying the view.â You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. âDo you need anything else?âÂ
Your hand grabs hers. âJust you,â you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip.Â
âGood night, birthday girl,â she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.
You fall asleep immediately.Â
***
Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you.Â
The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit.Â
You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you.Â
And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions.Â
You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agathaâs pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasnât woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night.Â
No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where sheâs typing on her laptop on the couch.
âGood morning, darling,â she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. Sheâs wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low.Â
âHey,â you say casually, trying to hide how much youâre internally freaking out.Â
âDo you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.â She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying.Â
âWhat are my options?â Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body.Â
âI can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?âÂ
Youâre a little confused that she hasnât scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you.Â
You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you canât remember, she doesnât hate you for it. She might even want you back.Â
âAre you on the menu?â It comes out before you can even realize what youâre saying.Â
Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. âWhat?â She asks carefully.
âYou kissed me last night,â you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. âYou wouldnât do anything else cause I was drunk. But Iâm not drunk now.âÂ
She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. âNo, youâre not.â She regards you for a second. âYou know youâre not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.âÂ
You laugh. âThatâs not why Iâm doing this.âÂ
She smirks. âGood.â And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair.Â
âProfessor,â you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.
Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation.Â
âPlease,â you beg. Her lips curl into a smile.Â
âWhat do you want?â Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness.Â
âYou,â is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole.Â
âLike this?â She asks innocently, thrusting hard.Â
âYes,â you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. Sheâs completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth.Â
âThatâs perfect, baby,â she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. âIs this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?â
âIâve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,â you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty.Â
She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table.Â
âWhat are youââ Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. âFuck, Professor!âÂ
She devours your pussy like sheâs a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you.Â
âOh my god, Iâm gonna cum,â you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth.Â
âHow was that?â she asks after you pull away to catch your breath.Â
âThat was probably the best birthday present Iâve ever gotten,â you say, which cracks both of you up. âBut Iâm not finished.âÂ
Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. âOh?â You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so sheâs leaning against the table.Â
You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. âCan I return the favor?âÂ
A glint appears in her eye and she fists one of her hands in your hair preemptively. âIâd like nothing more.âÂ
#agatha smut#agatha harkness x reader#agatha harkness x fem!reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha x reader#agatha harkness smut#kathryn hahn x reader#agatha x you#agatha all along
978 notes
·
View notes
Text
bottom! sub! Sukuna x top! dom! mean! sadistic! cursed spirit! male reader
Reunited after a thousand years <3
warnings: alcohol, cussing, degradation, mild blood, oral sex
Sukuna has awoken.
 That might have been a grim sentence to anyone else whoâd attempted to capture the King of Curses. But not to you. You knew better.Â
You dismissed the guard with a wave. The guard straightened out and left, his scent carrying notes of fear and apprehension.Â
Currently there were only a few curses left alive since the Heian period. Sukuna and that brain parasite were two of them. You were another.Â
You had known Sukuna long before heâd become the King of Curses. You knew him intimately well. You knew him well enough to know he'd come for you.Â
You poured yourself a glass of whiskey, when the power cut off. You smirked into your drink as a shadow fell onto you, cast by the bright full moon.Â
Footsteps echoed through the room as person, thing, radiating malice and cruelty walked towards you. The imposing aura of death and evil blanketing everything for a mile radius. It would have been more, but you were prepared.Â
The footsteps stopped a foot from you. You didnt turn sipping your whiskey. The glass you were holding shattered, amber liquid that remained in the cup, spilling on the floor.Â
Your lips curled into a smirk as you tsked. âThat was rude, Sukuna.â The lights flickered and turned on.Â
Your eyes finally went to look at him. Sukunaâs vessel looked the same as his original mortal body, before the four arms. Blood spattered his face, his shirt clean aside for three slashes.Â
He looks at you, crimson-red eyes filled with malice and darkness. Yet something else was inside them, something you recognized.Â
He took another step forward under your gaze.Â
Knees hit the ground, and crimson eyes looked up at you. âWant,â he paused and licked his dry lips, voice hoarse and filled with need. âWant your cock.â he muttered almost reluctantly, yet his eyes gleamed fever bright with lust.Â
Sukuna would come after you. You knew this. Youâd also known why heâd come after you. You chuckled lowly, and reached over and carded your hand though soft pink hair. Sukuna shuddered at your touch, letting out a soft involuntary moan.Â
You tightened your grip on his hair, till he was winching, shifting his thighs to hide his hardness. âYou just woke upâŠare you that much of a slut, âkuna?â You purred darkly, enjoying the way Sukuna shuddered and his cock twitched in his pants at the degradation.Â
âYes,â he moaned hoarsely. âWant your cock, plâease.â He didn't dare reach for your cock, that strained against your own zipper. He gave you a pleading look, eyes half lidded, looking drowsy.Â
Exactly how you wanted him. Sacrificing all those high level sorcerers and curses were worth it, since it brought out your babyâs slutiness and wore him down.
âGo ahead baby.â You purred. Hands immediately reached for your zipper pulling out your cock impatiently. Pink lips wrapped around your cock, sucking and gagging on your dick.Â
Tears beading the corner of Sukunaâs red eyes, lashes fluttering as he bobbed his head on your hard cock eagerly.Â
You watched him with a sense of pride and pity. Your poor baby was such a cock addicted slut, sucking your dick like a pro even after a century. You wonder how terrible it must have been for a whore like him to be locked away for so long.Â
Your hand tightened around Sukunaâs hair and you pulled him fully onto your cock, making him gag around you as you facefuck him. Sukuna whines around your cock, nose pressed to your pelvis, suffocating on your cock.Â
His mouth is a tight velvety heat. His usual scalding words, and threats gone from fatigue and lust. Yanking his pink locks, you buried your cock deep into his throat, moaning when his throat fluttered around your cock as he squirmed.
Tugging you cock back into his mouth you continue to fuck his face. His expression fucked dumb, eyes glossed over as tears dripped down. Swollen pink lips desperately sucking your cock.
What a slut.Â
You stepped on his hand as he tried to touch his own aching cock. âDid I give you permission, slut?â He moaned around your cock, the vibration sending more heat to your stomach.Â
You roughly thrust your cock in and out, face fucking him a few more times then pulled his head off. Teary red eyes glazed over with lust, met your eyes, saliva leaked out his open mouth. He whined as your cock left his lips already begging.Â
His tongue stuck out, begging for cum, as he lapped at the head of cock, desperately. Kitten licks, that the All Powerful King of Curses would never admit to.
âPlâease, please, câck wânt your cock,â he whined words slurred and hoarse from being fucked. You chuckled, and yanked his hair back to force him to look up at you.Â
Crimson eyes met yours and you felt a warm rush of pleasure. Those eyes were familiar even with a different body. You knew him as much as he knew you. Connected for eternity, heâd run to you and you to him.Â
You couldnât help but caressing his swollen bottom lip, wiping a bit of salvia off and licking it off, tasting a mix of yourself and Sukuna. Your baby was back. And this time, theyâd have to pry him from your cold hands.Â
âTurn around, princess. You know what to do, just like before.â
#sub male character#dom male reader#male reader#top male reader#mean reader#sub male yandere#sub sukuna#bottom sukuna#sukuna smut#sadistic reader
2K notes
·
View notes