#just shoving all the new baby stuff in the corner

[soulthesimmer]

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and baby makes three

(the reboot)

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 11.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.

a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…

It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.

And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.

You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.

Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.

Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.

It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.

The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?

...Yearning?

No. Definitely not. Nope.

There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.

Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.

It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.

Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.

You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?

It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.

And god, do you even want a baby?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.

Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.

It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.

You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.

This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.

***

You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.

You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.

“You could knock,” you grouse.

“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.

You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”

He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”

You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.

“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.

Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.

Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.

He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”

You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”

“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.

“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.

“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.

He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.

You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.

Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.

Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”

“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.

Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.

“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”

He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.

Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.

There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.

“So… You’re serious.”

You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”

He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”

“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.

You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”

You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.

After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”

“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.

He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.

“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.

“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”

“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me see!”

“It’s private!”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.

You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.

“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”

Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What?” he asks innocently.

When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.

“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.

“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”

You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.

“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”

He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.

“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.

You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”

You frown, not following.

“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.

“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“

“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”

Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.

You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.

For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.

“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”

He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”

He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.

And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.

Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.

“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.

It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.

***

With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.

Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.

You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.

And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.

Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.

“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.

“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”

He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.

“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.

“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”

He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.

“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”

You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.

***

The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.

Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.

A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.

His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you return.

He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”

You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”

Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”

“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.

“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”

Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.

“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”

Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.

He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.

This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.

Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.

“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.

A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.

“You okay?” you hear through the door.

“Will you come here, please?” you ask.

He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”

“I did it,” you whisper.

He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.

“Congratulations,” he says softly.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.

“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.

“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”

It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.

Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.

“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.

***

Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.

But nothing happens.

All of your tests come back negative.

When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.

Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!

***

The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.

But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.

You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”

Bucky frowns. “Why not?”

“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?

“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”

You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”

“Why not?”

You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”

When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”

You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”

His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”

“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”

His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”

You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”

“But you haven’t been doing… that.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.

“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”

“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.

He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.

Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.

Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.

“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.

This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.

Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.

The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.

You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.

Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.

Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.

He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.

When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.

Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.

Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.

That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.

***

You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.

Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.

And wait.

You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.

It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.

The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.

Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“What do I do, Bucky?”

At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.

When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”

“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.

Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”

“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”

Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.

“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”

“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”

“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.

His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.

“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”

You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.

Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.

“Okay,” you allow, softly.

Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.

You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)

***

Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.

You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.

“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.

He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi.”

You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.

“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”

“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not gonna be weird.”

“Nope.”

His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.

Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.

“May I?” he asks.

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.

Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.

The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.

He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!

When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.

He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…

He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.

Oh.

Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.

He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.

His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.

“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.

Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.

Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.

“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.

“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.

He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—

“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.

He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”

“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”

The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.

He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.

You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.

His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.

The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.

Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.

He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.

Stop it, you scold yourself.

He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.

“O-Oh,” you whimper.

The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.

“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.

He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.

“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”

You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.

Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.

It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.

“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.

“That was…”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”

You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.

You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”

He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”

His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.

“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.

Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.

“Right.”

Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.

Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.

“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”

He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”

You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.

As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.

***

It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.

Honest.

You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.

Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.

That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.

More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.

You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.

I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.

***

Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.

His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.

“Hey,” you say after a pause.

He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”

You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”

It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.

“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.

You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”

“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.

“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”

He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.

“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.

Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.

***

Another week passes.

Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.

When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.

Positive.

Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.

“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.

You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.

The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.

Every single one of them… Positive.

A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.

He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.

“Did we…?”

Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”

“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.

He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.

“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.

“What?” you question distractedly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.

“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…

But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.

“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”

He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”

Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.

He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.

When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.

His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.

“Bucky, please,” you beg.

“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”

You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”

“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”

“Oh god,” you mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.

His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.

“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”

He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.

“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”

You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.

He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.

You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.

He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.

“So good, did so well,” he mutters.

Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.

“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”

Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.

“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”

He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”

He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.

“Hi.”

You crack a smile. “Hi.”

“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Interesting,” he muses.

Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.

“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.

You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.

“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”

He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.

“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.

You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”

Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.

“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.

“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.

His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.

You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.

“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.

Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”

“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”

His smile goes soft at the edges.

It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.

For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.

***

Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.

“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”

“What about—”

“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.

You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.

Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).

You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.

It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.

Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.

He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.

“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”

Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.

“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”

Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.

He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”

The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[churipu]

hii i hope ur midterms r going well !! ive binge read so many of ur work n js wanted to say theyre so amazing (´꒳`) i wanted a request for toji + any other character of ur choice x reader who stays up late n has difficulty sleeping (fluff),, thank u !! 🤍

𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗠 !

────── 𝕴 . featuring. toji fushiguro x reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. cursing, and mentions of toji being soft, i love him.

note. hi nonnie! thank you so much, you're too nice to me, and yes, my midterms went well! it's been so long since i've done the requests in my inbox, which is the sole reason to why i have closed my ask box so i could finish them all! although, the next time i open them, i won't accept requests for a bit. sorry for those who have visited my inbox and have waited for a long time for your piece to be done. // anyways, new theme = new layout!

"why aren't you in bed?"

toji's voice came out hoarse — he cleared his throat and approached you, sitting himself on the couch despite his heart caressing his ears, pleading for him to go back inside the bedroom and just lay back down on the bed.

the cotton surface of the couch dipped just as he practically threw himself down on it, holding back a loud yawn. you raised a brow, shoving the spoonful of cereal you mixed with milk five minutes ago, just before toji emerged from your shared room.

small yellow chips of cereal that had grown soggy, seeping in the white tasteless liquid dispersed into a mush inside your mouth. they weren't even solid as they're supposed to be, "can't sleep, you?"

"you weren't there."

old habits die hard. that's how the saying goes, and you undeniably agreed to that. the night is an old friend to you, never did your eyelids felt heavy when you were supposed to be in bed, asleep. it's not healthy, you're killing yourself doing this.

"you're such a baby," you mutter out, staring into space, feeling your eyes slowly dissociate — jaw moving in a slow motion, biting into wet and mush before you swallow them.

"y/n, it's three am, y' can't keep doing this stuff," toji scratches his nape, leaning his head back onto the couch rest.

despite your eyes staring into nothing, you could hear his words pretty well. in fact, toji had repeated the same words countless of times that you found yourself engraving it into your mind, "i know, i can't sleep. i know it's not healthy, if i could stop it, i would."

"you're scooping nothing, y/n."

this time, his statement pulled you back into reality. looking down to see that you were indeed scooping no soggy cereal chip, nor a drop of milk onto your spoon. chuckling out lightly, you stood up and sauntered over to the kitchen, dumping what was left of your cereal pieces into the sink.

"you should go to bed," you tell him, wiping your wet hands onto your shirt — crumpling up the fabric to soak them in the access waterdrops lacing your fingers, "'ts late."

toji scoffs lightly, "shouldn't i be saying that shit to you?"

no mistakes there. you emitted out a soft sigh, "i'm fine, i'll be back in bed in a few . . ." toji raises a brow skeptically. he never forgot the last time you said that, he woke up alone on the bed — and you were wide awake on the couch, watching the morning news.

"hell no. it's two of us or nobody goes back to bed, 'm not kidding." he mutters out, not realizing how harsh his voice came out as.

brows furrowed deeply, he looks at you. your disheveled (h/c) hair going all point in a compass points, the visible dark shade of exhaustion coloring under your eyes — and the light creases on the corner of your beautiful, tired eyes.

"can you not?" you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose; honestly, you can't blame him at all, he's just a worried boyfriend and you were being stubborn.

"can i not what? worry about my own—" he stops mid sentence and shakes his head. toji was never a man of words, he doesn't express his affection to you through words. he's had moments, not a lot, but he's had them.

toji's a man of actions. he thinks that words mean nothing, which you knew, "'m tired, but i can't sleep, okay? i'll just hang out here a few more minutes and i'll come back to bed. you don't have to stay awake just because 'm awake."

"just shut up."

you stare at him, surprised. parting your lips, you try to speak again but toji beats you to it.

"can't i worry about you or something? you're my partner," he said, his then exhausted eyes now fully refreshed. a tinge of frustration coloring his greenish iris.

your eyes darted around for a bit, searching for words to spout out as a reply, "you don't have to worry about me, 'm fine. i promise. so, can you please just go to bed and stop worrying about me?"

"fuck that," he stands up, with heavy footsteps he darted towards you.

his figure grew in your view as he closes the distance between you and him. with a quick motion, he threw you over his shoulder, letting you dangle over his shoulder. at this point, you were too exhausted to even move a limb so you just laid there, not having the cell to even open your mouth.

toji walks over to the bedroom and he sat you down gently on the bed. on most occasions, he would throw you onto the bed playfully — but this was serious. he's pissed, and you're pissed.

"sleep."

you crane your neck upwards, face scrunching into one of annoyance, "i just told you that i can't—"

"try."

shaking your head, you said, "i can't, i've tried."

his finger brushed over your hair, smoothing them back down. he didn't reply to you. frankly, he finds it hard to be in the current position — as a kid, he was taught to never show his weakness. he grew up in a household full of so much hate that he forgot what love is.

here you were. vulnerable, in a weak state that toji has seen a lot before throughout your relationship. if this was anyone else, toji swore he'd tell them to suck it up because life isn't always what they think it ought to be.

but this isn't anyone else, it's you. y/n. the only person toji has showed his own vulnerable sides to — it's like a punch to his gut when he saw a bit of his younger self in you. he had nobody, and nobody had him.

it's different this time, it's not about him anymore. it's about you. you had him, and he had you.

toji inhaled sharply, his large hands slipping underneath your pits as he gently pushes you up. your feet dangled as he then pulled you into him, his right hand traveled onto the hollow of your back — and his left hand prepped your legs around his torso.

you felt like a child, "what're you doing?"

"shut up," he mutters out into the crook of your neck, "just try to get some sleep."

he pressed his lips onto your skin tenderly, making you shudder at the sudden contact — but you liked it. toji didn't stop, with an arm around your waist, and another under your thighs, he held you close to him.

warm and shallow breaths blew onto your skin like warm lights, it didn't tickle, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. copying his actions, "'m sorry."

toji grunted, "for?"

"just . . . everything," you murmur out.

his grip around your waist tightened, "'ts not somethin' to be sorry of, you can't control it. so just try and get some sleep," he muttered out, rocking side to side gently.

a faint smile appeared on your lips as you pulled your head back slightly, "you're too nice to me."

"don't get used to it," toji rolled his eyes.

"i love you too," you planted a kiss onto his lips briefly before returning your head into the crook of his neck, letting him lull you to sleep for the night.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE.

[letorip]

Which one of Jenna’s characters do you think would be the best kisser ?

best kisser

okay, so i have a lot of thoughts on this, it’s legitimately like a thesis question that basically turned into headcanons. i crown a winner at the bottom so if it’s tl;dr and you just want to know then scroll on down

wednesday addams:

she “hates romance” but the moment you two fall in love she would be head over heels.

you fell first, she fell harder

she does everything to make you feel her passion and love, within every breath she breathes you must know, it’s for you

therefore, her kisses are insanely passionate. she knows what she wants and it’s you

she does lip biting (for a little bit of sadism) and tongue, and she loves leaving hickeys all along your neck to mark you as hers

your lips and your neck are her favourite places to kiss, your shoulder is her favourite place to bite

she definitely did her research. she studied how to become a better kisser at first, because she was so new to love, and now its sweet when she wants it to be and wanting all the other times when she can pull you away to roughly shove you against the wall and kiss it better

it’s just so perfect, she has you melting in her hands like putty when your lips meet hers

shes not the most comfortable with PDA. she struggles to kiss you when others are around

she’s not embarrassed, she just wants to keep your love private and for the two of you without the peanut gallery

best believe, behind closed doors, she’s kissing you so hard you almost release during foreplay. it’s almost pitiful how easily she has her way with you

tara carpenter:

okay tara is a wild one

she loves to party and have fun, but she also absolutely despises you at first because you’re hot and lord knows how that turned out last time

you definitely hate-fuck several times at first, and it’s the most sloppy, impassioned thing on planet earth, because you’re both a bit drunk.

she has you sitting on the edge of a bed in an abandoned bedroom at a house party in which neither of you know who the fuck is hosting. she’s straddling you, neck craned down for her to reach, and she smashes her lips to yours.

she always wears a strawberry lip gloss that tastes nice when you kiss her, to the point where you associate her with the sweetness.

she’s definitely noisy when you kiss

she huffs and stuff, and moans and groans, and she lets out little sighs when she’s coming down from her release

tara’s favourite places to kiss you are your jaw, ear, and neck, though she’s not much of a biter, like wednesday was

instead she uses her nails, and drags them down your back and shoulders in red streaks from holding on while you fuck

even after you get together, tara kisses you like she wants to take you out back and make you hers, no matter the venue

funeral, baby shower, wedding, bar mitzvah, she’ll kiss you with that ferocity and fight with you tongue to tongue

lorraine day:

lorraine begins as someone super unsure in herself

she wants you so bad, but all she really knows how to do is small, gentle, chaste kisses whenever the crew (and especially Bobby Lynne and Maxine) have their backs turned away

but she wants to do more, even if you tell her you love her as she is

after she starts participating in the movies, she becomes far more skilled at kissing and opening to trying tongue, catching your lip between her teeth, etc. when you’re all on break and she has you with your back against the wall

doesn’t matter how many scenes she films or what’s going on in them, she imagines it’s you doing them with her, and looks back when she can to where you stand in the corner with the boom mic

her kisses become so needy, with her work, and she slowly grows out of her guilty, timid shell to realise she wants more

she tracks you down one night, while you’re all on a trip to shoot a movie and crawls into bed with you. you grab her in your arms and hold her against you until she whispers “i want you to take me as yours, ya hear?”

even though she’s experienced, her voice still trembles a bit as she says it

she kisses your cheek, when you slowly nod and your hand slips under her nightgown

her favourite places to kiss you are your lips, your cheek, and along your collarbone

she doesn’t drag her nails or bite but she’ll wrap her arms around your neck and thread her fingers into your hair while you play an overture on her body

cairo sweet:

she’s so smart it takes a while for you to realise her general disdain for you stems from how badly she wants to kiss you

she hides it behind jabs at your intelligence, but eventually you catch her hungry eyes watching you

your first kiss happens in the library, and as she teases you with pungent condescension, you shove the book right off the table at kiss her right there and then

she pulls away the moment she realises out of shock— only to immediately kiss you back, twice as ferocious

you get caught by the librarian, pressed against a bookshelf with cairo’s arms around your neck and thighs around your waist

she kisses you to “reaffirm her superiority,” but unless that needs to happen twenty times a day, in the janitors closet, at her house, at your house, you’d say it’s bullshit or she’s super insecure

it genuinely upsets her when she can’t stop thinking about you, to the point where it’s unintentionally interfering with her plot involving Miller

shes insatiable for you in general, and she realises with horror that she’s in love. she loves the way you make her laugh and the way you dress, and it washes over her to realise she wants you

she no longer wants to kiss anybody, she wants to kiss you. She tells you this in an afternoon study session at Lovell Hill and you almost immediately confess the same thing

cairo’s favourite places to kiss you are your lips, neck, and jaw, and she loves hickeys the most, placing them everywhere she can.

whenever you and cairo fuck, your neck has so many small bruises and bites

she feels she can drop her guard around you and doesn’t have to be the perfection she seeks, because you’ll love her and kiss her anyways

it’s definitely tara for me, i love the energy and how much passion i think she would have. she would definitely be super passionate and fun, and i think the fact that she’d be so wanting of your kiss and experienced (*cough cough* amber) she’d definitely know how to kiss you right and get you all worked up. this was fun, i had fun trying to think as each character and take a break from my longer form writing which i’ve been toiling away at all week with my hurt hand. definitely hit me up for more headcanons/ questiony ideas if you liked this. i might also do a part 2 with vada, mabel, astrid, phoebe

[clemkruckinnie]

first time-d.lambert

summary: dalton decides he wants to take his relationship with you a step further.

You feel peaceful.

Though it’s a Friday night on campus, you and Dalton have created a peaceful little corner of the dorm for yourself. You can’t help but steal glances at your boyfriend, scribbling furiously in his sketchbook. He’s drawing, and erasing, and drawing again, and before you can ask what’s up, he shoves the sketchbook off his bed.

“Everything okay?” You look up from the other corner of the bed, sitting up.

“I’m just not having a good creation day.” Dalton explains. “Nothing I wanna draw is coming out right, I have this stupid deadline to meet and I can’t even land on a rough sketch because my stupid brain and my stupid hands won’t-“

“Dal.” You cut him off, putting your hand over his. Getting an idea, you sit up further, uncrossing your legs. “Lay down.” Dalton happily obliges, sighing like the weight of the world’s been lifted from his shoulders once he lays his head against your thighs. “Better?” You ask, moving so that your hand is in Dalton’s hair, rubbing his scalp lightly.

Dalton nods against you. “Don’t make me fall asleep.” He warns you, half joking.

“Why, you’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

Dalton pauses.

“Oh, baby-“ You push his hair back from his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just thought it’d be too much for you. That I would be too much for you.” Dalton explains.

“If it’s too much for me, it’s definitely too much for you.” You tell him, “let me know about that stuff, okay?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Dalton objects, you shaking your head. “Thought i’d scare you off.”

“You don’t abandon the people you love when they’re hurting. You stay and shoulder it with them.”

You don’t realize the words that you chose until you say them, looking up into Dalton’s wide blue eyes.

“What?” His voice comes out shaky, uncertain that he heard you correctly. “Do you mean that?”

“That I love you?” You ask. “I do. I love you, Dalton.”

Dalton almost knocks you over with the force he hugs you with, tucking his face into your neck.

“I love you, too.” He pulls back, laughing tearfully. “We’re in love.”

His gaze softens before he leans in, cupping your face like he’s holding something delicate, and kisses you with a passion that almost makes you lightheaded.

When he finally pulls back, your entire body feels like it’s on vibrate. By the way his pupils dilate, you can tell Dalton feels the same.

“What’s on your mind?” You finally ask him.

He leans in again, but moves upwards, kissing your forehead instead of your lips. Then, he moves back down, resting his forehead against yours.

“I wanna do what people in love do.”

“You mean-“ You trail off, Dalton nodding against your head.

“I need you.” Dalton moves his hands down, his arms around you. “Please, baby.”

You lean back in again, kissing him with a passion new to the both of you as he lays you down. He moves to your jaw, kissing it gently before he goes down further, his soft lips trailing down and across your neck. “Dal.” You sigh, hands between his shoulder blades.

He lets out a sweet sound against you, the vibrations making you shiver. “Say my name like that again.” He sucks lightly at your pulse point, drawing his name out of you in a whine. “Sound so pretty.” He pulls back, his hands resting against your stomach, having slid them under your shirt. “Can I?”

You nod almost too quickly, wanting to get the offending garment off before you get too nervous to. Any lingering feelings of anxiety leave your body like a floodgate opening as he takes you in. You’re in an old pair of running shorts and a sports bra, yet he looks at you like you’re the finest piece of art in the world. “Beautiful,” Dalton marvels, smoothing his hands over your chest. “All for me, right?”

You nod, Dalton shaking his head. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle, you feel your eyes heating up and you try your best to not cry while topless in front of your boyfriend for the first time. “All for you. I’m all yours.”

Dalton smiles, leaning in and kissing your nose before sliding his hands under you, by the clasp of your bra. “Want me to take this off?”

“Please.” You almost whimper, Dalton swallowing thickly as you lean upward. The proximity of your faces isn’t as close as it had been when you were kissing, but you’re close enough to see all the shades of blue in his eyes, the concentration on his face as he works at your bra clasp.

“Hi.” You break the silence, Dalton smiling at you again.

“Hi.” He whispers, finally undoing the clasp. “Got it. Let me just-“ He pulls your bra down your arms, discarding it somewhere in the room.You’re fully bare from the waist up, but don’t feel exposed at all.

Dalton drinks in the sight of your bare chest, sliding his hands up to cup each breast in one. “These are perfect.” Dalton marvels. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples, you arching into him involuntarily.

“Does that feel good?” Dalton asks, not cocky, genuinely curious. You go to nod, but stop yourself, remembering that he likes verbal confirmation. “Yes,” you tell him, “they’re really sensitive.” You admit. “Feels nice when you play with them.” Dalton groans, your praise giving him the motivation he needs to keep going. “Wanna get my mouth on them.” He tells you.

The word “please” is barely out of your mouth before he’s taken one nipple into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers as he sucks. It sends a pang down between your legs as you moan, loudly, going to put your hand over your mouth. Dalton grabs your wrist, using his surprising strength to keep your hand away from your mouth. “Don’t muffle yourself. Let me hear you.” Dalton tells you, kissing his way across your chest to your other nipple, repeating what he had done before. Your hands find their way to his head instead, pushing his hair away from his face.

“I need more.” You beg. “Please, baby-“

Releasing your nipple with a pop, Dalton scoots down between your legs, tugging your shorts off. He’s about to take off your panties when you stop him.

“Is something wrong? We can stop-“

“No! No, I wanna keep going.” You assure him. “You just still have all your clothes on. Doesen’t seem fair.”

Dalton looks down at his sweatshirt and laughs softly. “You’re right. That’s not fair.” He tugs the shirt over his head. “Here,” He stands up, tugging his pants down and kicking them somewhere on the floor, leaving him clad in his boxers. “We’re even.”

You smile, nodding as he re-situates himself. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and discarding them somewhere with the other clothes.

“Can I taste you?” Your hips almost buck at the way he asks it, the way he looks at you, him, but you settle for a “yes”. He licks an experimental stripe up to your clit, circling it clumsily but still enough to feel good. You moan softly, Dalton taking it as his cue to keep going. He doesn’t really have a technique, as expected—you knew he was a virgin when you two got together, but he’s not doing a bad job, either. You can only imagine how good he’ll get with more practice.

“Am I-?” Dalton pulls away, looking back up at you.

“Try sucking on my clit, just a little. Not too hard.” Dalton nods, licking back up to your clit and sucking, like you told him to.

“Oh my God.” You moan, Dalton sucking at your clit again, anything to get you to make that sound again.

“Need your fingers.” You whimper, “Please, wanna feel them inside—oh!” Dalton easily slides one in, moaning against you at the feeling of you around his finger. “One more, please-“He slides another one in, stretching you open as he licks around and on your clit. He pulls away, his fingers still inside you as he looks up at you.

“Do you like it like this?” He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, gaging your reaction.

“Yeah—curl them up a bit, like,” you make a “come here” movement with your fingers. Dalton mimics you, pumping his fingers the slightest bit faster as he curls them. “Wanna kiss you when you cum—“ he tells you.

“Then get back up here and kiss me.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, speeding up his motions as he moves back up to kiss you. You two separate with moans and gasps, surprised your teeth aren’t clashing with the way he’s kissing you. You can already feel the coil tightening as he fingers you, but when he moves his thumb up to circle your clit, you go over the edge, tucking your face into his neck as you come undone.

“Holy shit,” Dalton pants, “I made you cum.”

You nod, smiling, dazed after the intensity of your orgasm. “I did, hard.” Dalton laughs, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. Before he can do anything with them, you take his hand, guiding his fingers to your mouth and sucking them gently. Dalton watches you, mesmerized at the way your cheeks hollow, the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

“I need to fuck you.” Dalton pulls his fingers out of your mouth, “Shit, condom. Uh-“

“You can pull out.” You assure him. “I’m on the pill, anyway.” Dalton almost passes out at the idea of being inside you bare, but manages to stay upright. “Is this position-“

“Dalton?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfect.” You cut him off. “Like you.”

Dalton smiles, lining himself up with you. “Wait.” Before you can ask what’s wrong, Dalton takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and holding them down on the bed. The intimacy of the gesture makes your eyes well up again. You don’t miss the way Dalton’s face falls, and before he can ask, you tell him the truth.

“That was just sweet—I just really, really love you.” You admit. Dalton kisses your forehead once more, pushing in with his lips still against your skin.

You both moan together as Dalton pulls back out, then plunges all the way in again. He keeps at the slow pace for a little bit, you getting more exasperated. “You can go faster.” You tell him, assuming he’d been afraid to hurt you.

“I know.” Dalton smiles cheekily, “Just wanted to tease you. Make you beg for it.”

You gasp at his dirty talk and newfound cockiness, tossing your pride aside and giving in. “Please, Dalton, please fuck me harder, I need it so bad-“

Dalton moans, giving in and speeding up his thrusts, grabbing onto the mattress with his free hand, balling up the bedding as he pounds you.

“Feels so fucking good, beautiful-“ Dalton ducks his head down, kissing your neck as his thrusts speed up, “-‘m not gonna last—“

“Let go.” You encourage him, “I came already, just let go—“

It’s as if his body was waiting for those words to finally let go, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He weakly thrusts his way through it, pumping you full as he cums.

“Fuck, baby.” Dalton breathes out shakily, kissing your neck softly before pulling away to look at you. “Came so hard, don’t know if I can walk.”

“Then don’t.” You offer. “Just lay with me.”

Dalton nods, smiling softly as he pulls out, laying next to you and pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“We should probably clean up soon, though.” You tell him. “Don’t wanna traumatize Chris.”

Dalton laughs, “We don’t have to worry about Chris. I paid her 10 bucks to crash in a friend’s room.”

“You planned this?” You ask, feigning offense.

“I planned the seduction, not you telling me you loved me.” He defends himself. “Like i’d only fuck you once in a night.”

“You didn’t know how it would go!”

“I knew I wouldn’t be done with you yet.”

You smile, nuzzling your head into his chest. “I wanna do all of that and more, but for right now I just wanna use you as a pillow for a little bit.”

“You want a hoodie?” Dalton offers. “We could watch a movie for a little bit. Don’t want you getting cold.”

You smile, nodding. “Always taking care of me.”

Dalton shakes his head, getting up and pulling on his boxers to find you a hoodie of his.

“Not as good as you take care of me, baby.”

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

In another life part 3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: You tag along on a mission.

Warnings: Language and suggestive themes, violence against a curse

“Now just what is that smell?” Gojos head popped around the corner wall eyes glowing.

You smile awkwardly, “Hopefully that’s a good comment?”.

“If it tastes as good as it smells then definitely… you didn’t have to make breakfast though”.

“I wanted to, to thank you for everything you’ve done so far for me”. You smiled shyly while plating up a stack of 10 strawberries and cream French toast with white chocolate sauce and fresh fruit. A sickeningly sweet combo that was also one of satorus favorites.

He sat down at the table eyeing the breakfast in awe.

“So this is how she trapped me…”

“Huh did you say something?”

“Nope”

“Alright, dig in.” You set your own plate down, a couple plain pancakes with some fruit.

“Thank you for the meal”

You smirked to yourself when you saw him absolutely devour the meal out of the corner of your eye.

Yup, I know how to keep my transdimentional husband💅

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask shoving a piece of strawberry in your mouth.

Gojo pauses and leans back arms crossed. “Well I do have some business to take care of with the students but after that I’m thinking we head back to the school and see what information we can dig up. So I’ll pick you up later I guess”.

“No way” you shake your head.

“Huh?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m staying here, I know it’s safe here because of the veil but I need to train! Who knows when Amomeeemo will show up again, I wanna be ready this time!”.

Is his name really that hard?

“Uh well I have no problem letting you tag along, can’t say I’m not curious to see your technique.”

“Great… oh but my clothes are kind of all curse gooed out…

“Oh right, give me a second”

*swoosh*

He didn’t even ask me my size- oh right, like he needed too…

*flashback*

“I swear I could go blind right now and be a happy man the rest of my life…” you turned meeting his glowing eyes as he leaned lazily on the wall eyeing you up and down.”

“Aw hey don’t say that” you turned back to stirring the eggs not knowing if the heat was from the stove or your cheeks

Last night was the first time you and satoru had ahem… canoodled and you were currently clad in one of his shirts loosely buttoned with nothing under.

“Soooo” you blushed feeling warm arms wrap around you from behind.

“Normally I’d ask how it was but judging by how loud you were last night I don’t need to…” he bit your ear, hot breathe on your neck making you shiver.

“Mmm cocky…it was fine…”you tried to sound annoyed but that was hard when your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Oh yeah? T-T-Toru ah ah please ah! sooo good I’m gonna cu-“ he mocked.

“AH STOP” you shoved him away embarrassed.

“Crap I burned the eggs!”.

“Here let me” he reached over for the pan with the biggest smirk and turned to the trash.

You the tomato turned away in a huff and sat at the table.

“How about we go out for breakfast? There’s this great place nearby, they make these soufflé pancakes that are just the best.”

“Well I would say yes but I kinda don’t have any clothes since someone tore my dress last night…”

“Oh don’t worry, I already got you new clothes~” he threw a bag your way.

“You did?” Huh!?

Bersace? And is this real Jucci!?

“Ah Toru you didn’t have to buy such expensive things- wait how did you know my size?” You quirk a brow holding a bra up with your pinky.

“Oh please, I have six eyes, I knew all your measurements the day I met you”

“Ew that’s so creepy…”

“Well I can always return the stuff-“

“N-no it’s fine, thank you Toru” you shyly approach him and kiss him on the cheek.

“Hmm you call that a thank you?”

“S-shut up I’m not used to this…jerk” you turn to leave embarrassed.

“Aw did I make you upset baby? C’mere…” his impossibly long arm wrapped around your waist and brought you back to him.

You could see that familiar look in his eyes..

“W-what about breakfast..” you gulp averting your eyes.

“Hmm m’kinda hungry for something else now…” he whispered in your ear…

*Flashback end*

*SWOOSH*

“Huh what’s wrong with your face??”

You quickly fixed your expression, “n-nothing just thinking… those for me?” You pointed to the bag he was holding.

“Yep, you’ll have to make do until we go shopping” he handed you the bag.

“Make do with designer clothes? I think I’ll manage” you smirked pulling out an outfit and seeing the label, *Louis Button* still has the best taste huh?

“Thank you baby they’re gorgeous…”

“…”

“Ah-! Crap s-sorry” ugh so embarrassing.

He just tilted his head in amusement. After the initial weirdness wore off he was finding himself enjoying this now.

“I’ll go change..” you rush off into the room and slam the door.

****************************************************

“Gooood Morning students!” Gojos cheery mood was a stark difference to the kids who looked ready to kill him.

“You said we were meeting in Roppongi!!”

“Yeah what’s up with that!?! This place sucks!”

“Did you guys actually believe him…”

Gojo claps and side steps to reveal you.

“Oh hey it’s you.”

You wave shyly at the group who scrutinizes you.

“Well everyone allow me to introduce you to y/n! She’s from another universe but one where she knows everyone, freaky right!?”

“Are you joking? No way that’s true”

“We literally saw her fall from the sky, is it really that hard to believe?”

“Well… ok then if you really do know us then tell us some things about us.”

You thought for a moment.

“Things.. um well Yuji likes girls like Jennifer Lawrence… Nobara wants to be a fashion model… and Megumi is allergic to cats..”

“Well she’s right…”

“So weird…”

“Hey so you a sorcerer or something then?”

“Mm kinda? I help out occasionally but I’m mostly only good at barriers and seals. I can excersize low level curses though.”

“Or keep them as pets.” Gojo mumbled.

“So how did you-“ the kids are abruptly cut off by a loud clap.

“Alright guys, you’ll have all the time in the world to question later her but first, we have a special grade to take care of!”

“Oh right..”

Gojo led you all to what appeared to be an old abandoned warehouse.

“Ew it smells..”

“Hey why don’t you put up the veil?” Gojo said over his shoulder.

“Oh uh sure.” He probably curious to see my techniques…

“Emerge from lightness brighter still…” you make the hand sign and feel the energy curse through you.

“Huh?”

“What in the sailor moon school girl shoujo was that?” One exclaimed!

“What do you mean?” You furrow a brow watching as your veil encompasses the area perfectly.

“Your veil, the speech, heck even the color of it, what gives??”

“This is how everyone does it...?” You cock your head. Is this not how they did it?

“So weird..”

“Um so anyway… let’s go” Gojo leads the group again inside the building.

You enter a large dusty and dark room, with one flickering light illuminating the space.

“So creepy…” you comment glancing around wearily.

“I definitely feel a strong presence..” Yuji commented kicking away a moldy piece of… whatever that was..

Suddenly Gojo stopped and motioned forward with his head, “Go on, I’ll stand back here unless you really need me”.

The kids stepped forward, you hung back as well. You wanted to train yes but didn’t want to get in the way of their lesson.

A scurrying and squeak had you shrieking and suddenly launching yourself onto Gojos arm unconsciously stepping up on his shoes so the offending animal couldn’t get you.

“Ew ew ew so gross” you held on tight until the rat was out of view.

“Ah! not again!!” You jumped back off in a fluster of apologies and embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize, I’m honestly finding all of this funny now.”

“Don’t say that….” You mumble mortified.

*Crash*

“Ah there it is!” Suddenly a giant grotesque spider looking curse swings down from the ceiling. You see the kids a little ways ahead get into position.

“I know they need to get stronger but I always hate watching them fight…” you sighed a bit sadly. Gojo couldn’t protect them forever but you wish he could..

“You care about them a lot huh?”

“Of course I do, they’re basically family…I wonder how they’re doing… they have a tournament coming up soon too.. winner gets promoted to first grade.”

“Oh? They choose like that?”

“Yeah, but I think it would be-ah! S-should we help them?!” You cried out watching the spider thingy wrap them up in webs.

“Nope not yet, have faith in them.”

“I know I just- ah I can’t watch!” You turn around covering your eyes.

Huh? A cold feeling washed over you all of the sudden. Slowly you looked up and eyed the ceiling carefully. You felt it before you saw it, a giant ball of spider saliva shooting your way.

Your right hand moved on instinct, swiping across your body whilst releasing a burst of energy that acted as a shield. The saliva sputtered on the ground melting and sizzling.

“Ah so you do have some skill after all.” Gojo said directly behind you.

The jerk, he could’ve warned you!

“Why don’t you take care of this spider for us? You said you needed training right? This one is a lot weaker than the one the kids are fighting.” Gojo smirked.

Ugh why did I say that??? Spiders are so creepy ew..

“S-sure” you shivered in disgust as the being spiraled down from the ceiling.

You swiped your right hand out again and this time let the energy form in your palm. When it was adequate you pushed it in the direction of the curse.

Crap it’s fast… you dodged another saliva attack with your shield and rethought your strategy.

Instead of aiming at the curse you aimed at the Ceiling above it.

*Rumble* *Crash*

*SCREEEEEEEECH*

You winced as the ceiling caved in and smooshed the spider under it to the ground.

You took a few steps back watching the pile carefully.

You charged a different, more powerful blast in your palm and waited.

…..

…..

…..

“SCREEEEEEEECH”

The pile erupted and you readied your hand. You totally got this.

The curse was quick to set its 100 eyes on you and make a dash.

Ok ready to hit it in three, two on- huh? Ah

Suddenly a flash of heat washed over you and your vision blurred.the spider was suddenly tilted in your eyes.

*swoosh*

“Uh hey you ok?” Your view was changed to silvery white locks hovering over you.

Gojo frowned holding you in his arms

“You were doing good, what happened?”

You used a hand clutching his chest to hold yourself steady in his arms. “Frgot mm pills”

“Huh?” Oh right. Your Satoru did mention something about iron pills. Guess I should’ve taken it more seriously…

“I’ll be fine… just stop spinning for a second” you frowned.

“I’m standing still…”

****************************************************

“Sorry for the trouble…” you were currently sipping on some juice in a nearby cafe with Gojo. A small bottle of pills by your hand.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it.” He waved dismissively.

“Besides, the pharmacy was by this cafe which happens to be one of my favorites.”

“I don’t think I’ve been here before… ooh they have matcha cake rolls, you know who’d love this place? Suguru, hes always hating on sweet stuff but this one doesn’t seem like it has too much sugar…”

“Hm? Oh yeah..”

Huh, there it is again, that weird feeling when I bring up Suguru.

Do I ask? No I shouldn’t right? Maybe I can ask the kids..

It’s nearing evening time when you and Gojo are making your way to the school. You asked him not to warp based on how dizzy you just were.

You subtly glance to the side, the setting sun illuminating his profile in a golden hue. He opted for his designer glasses today and man were you a sucker for them.

You remember the time you accidentally sat on one of his limited edition Lay Banz shades and he made you hold a funeral for them. Man what a goof…

“Uh you ok over there?” Gojo raised a brow hearing you snicker to yourself like a maniac.

“Yeah, just remembered something funny…”

He hummed and smiled. “Your smile sorta reminds me of something…just can’t quite put my finger on what…”

You smiled warmly, thinking back to one of your first dates.

*Flashback*

“Your smile reminds me of something…”

“Oh yeah? What?”.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I won’t laugh…” probably…

“My grandmother...”.

“Your grandmother? Why?”

Did you have an old lady laugh??

“Well when she smiled, everything around her seemed to brighten up.”

“….”

“Huh why are you so red?”

“Shut up.”

*end flashback*

“Uh oh you’re turning colors again, you’re not gonna faint again are you??” Gojo started fanning you.

“I’m good I’m good-“ you smack his hand away laughing.

“Did I mention you’re kinda weird?”

“Well Excuse me, I do not take insults from someone who organizes their sun glasses by, and I quote, “Cold, Warm, and Horny” like I still to this day don’t get what that means!”

“….you know too much…”

You give him a teasing smile, “I did mention we are married right?”

“So weird…”

****************************************************

Thank you all for the amazing support!! It means so much and motivates me to keep going! I love you all xoxo

Also please don’t be shy to interact or send me things in my inbox, I love that stuff haha

@gojosatorulover7 @goaway-plzz @goldenglow149 @taakt17 @kneesheee @yumii-34 @ritsatoru @generalstephkenobi @author20 @bitchycloudstrawberry @hojoslutoru @sheluvnassi @shirabane @reagan707 @angstylittleb1tch

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟓 |

a/n: okok im sorry this series is lowkey super slow i promise it gets better without compromising on the soulmate stuff aight <3

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“Should I grapes?” 

Your dad blinks. “I beg your pardon?” Squinting at the bunch of grapes in your hand, your foggy mind tries to comprehend what you are trying to ask. Eventually, you get there, the lost words finding their way back to you.

“Should I eat grapes?”

“If you want, just be sure not to be late for school.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. He holds it out, offering some to you. Shaking your head dismissively, you tiptoe and grab the container of ground coffee, placing it down on the counter. “Order up,” He jokes, watching you prep the coffee for the espresso machine.

You’d gotten it as a gift on your nineteenth birthday, having picked it out yourself online before heading down to the store with your dad to buy it. It’s your baby, your pride and joy, and you’d use it to its fullest potential each time. 

There’s even a dedicated rack of syrups and other things you’d purchased online, but you always made an iced latte in the mornings. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have the strength to get through the day. 

“I’ve got my first session today with Master Wu, so I’ll probably be back late.” You inform him, sitting down at the table after making yourself a vanilla latte. Emily's already made a plate of French toast that he’s munching on, having saved two slices for you.

You eat it regardless, choosing not to acknowledge this fact. A glance at the clock tells you that you’ve got plenty of time to finish up and make your way over to the university. You mentally tick off the checklist in your head, assured that you’ve completed most of, if not all, your work and assignments. 

Although, that wouldn’t stay true for very long. The professor in your third lesson would probably give you yet another essay. At least you get off school early, which means that you’d have plenty of time before your lessons with Master Wu would start. 

“Have you made any new friends yet?” 

The remains of toast in your hands halt halfway to your mouth, eyes flitting from it to your dad’s inquisitive gaze. Slowly, you bring it to your mouth and bite off a piece, averting your gaze and chewing slowly.

He sets down his phone, the morning news displayed on the bright screen. Clearing his throat, he takes another swig of coffee before massaging the area between his eyes. “Did you get into a fight? At least tell me you won.”

“I did not get into a fight,” you say with mild outrage, offended he’d even consider the option. “And for your information, I have made two new friends.” you point the crust of the french toast at him with a frown. 

He leans back in his chair with a raised brow. “What are their names?”

Crap.

“For your information, they prefer to not have their names disclosed. Confidentiality reasons.” To be fair, you aren’t exactly lying, per se. It’s somewhat true. The ninja are technically your new friends now, right? And you can’t just reveal their names, it’d destroy the whole point of a secret identity.

You nod absentmindedly, your thoughts making perfect logical sense in your head. The coffee is almost gone from your cup, and you peek at the espresso machine that’s practically calling your name. Surely there’s time for another cup, right?

“Sometimes I wonder if I dropped you on the head as a baby.” He mumbles with a tilt of his head, though the corners of his mouth hint at an amused smile. “Even if I did, I’m pretty sure I’d have taken you to the doctor’s. I think.” 

Casting him an odd look, you shrug and quickly do the dishes. Realising there isn’t enough time to make another cup of coffee, you decide to head out to your first few classes of the day. 

“Be back by 8!” You call out at the doorway, slipping a finger into the back of your sneakers to help shove them over your heel. The tote bag almost hits you in the face as you lean down, narrowly avoiding it and swinging open the door.

Warm sunlight greets your skin, happiness rushing through your veins as you pop in your earbuds and make your way to the university. Each step has a slight spring to it, and the colours all around are surprisingly more vibrant than usual. Delicious scents warm the air as you pass by Chinatown, mentally marking it down to visit another day.

With your entire being brimming with joy, there’s surely nothing that can go wrong, right?

— — — — — 

Wrong. 

This is all very wrong. 

“And I was telling her all about how the professor is a total quack! Right?” Your body tilts to the side as someone shoves it teasingly, almost falling off the chair then and there. Mustering all the energy you have left, you lift your head and take a deep breath, plastering on the brightest smile you can muster. 

Abby sits next to you, the table crowded with students. “Anyway, did you know she’s taking lessons from Master Wu??” The entire table gasps in shock, you included (sarcastically, of course. But it went unnoticed, unfortunately). 

She gives you an odd look, tossing your response aside in favour of talking excitedly about how one time one of the ninjas saved her from a falling building or something of the like - you weren’t paying attention. 

Instead, you’re busy planning for a way to escape from the group. You’re not even sure how you ended up here in the first place. One moment, you got paired up for an assignment with Abby, and the next, you’re sitting down in one of the food courts around campus after she found out you had lessons with Master Wu after school.

In hindsight, it was stupid of you to reveal that. Back home, no one cared if you had connections to a celebrity, unless they actually showed up. You’d subconsciously let down your guard, and now everyone’s bombarding you with questions about the ninja.

“So, is it true that Kai uses hairspray and not gel?”

“Does Zane eat?”

“Can you help me get Nya’s shirt??”

That was probably the final straw. You clear your throat and instantly everyone quiets down, waiting with bated breath for your reply. Pausing for a moment, you smile as you part your lips to speak.

“I’m gonna be late for class.” 

Taking advantage of the silence that follows while they process your short reply, you grab your bag and run, leaving them behind. It’s not long before chagrined voices start to complain, feeling only slightly guilty for Abby who’s left behind to salvage the social situation.

That wouldn’t be hard for her though, you suspect. She seems to be a social butterfly, which works out great, but also horrible, considering that she pretty much dragged you there. Wanting to make friends is a goal you want to cross off, but not this way.

The rest of the morning passes by fast, but your mental stamina starts to drain more and more with each passing hour. Finally, the professor releases you for the day, with the bright and cheery smile she gets from seeing her students suffer, like all professors do.

The classroom fills with chatter as the students all leave until you’re the only one left trying to stuff the laptop into your tote bag. A sudden tap on your shoulder makes you flinch, turning in surprise to see a brunette standing behind you.

She fiddles with something in her hands, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “Can I help you?” The moment you speak, she flinches a little, taking a visible breath before pressing her lips together determinedly.

“Hi, I’m Holly. You left this behind in the food court earlier…I was sitting at another table.”

“Oh, thanks,” you say with mild surprise, taking the student pass she holds out with a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t be able to get in the classrooms tomorrow if not for you,” you joke, waving it at her with a wink.

She seems to ease up, shoulders visibly relaxing as she laughs. “How’d you get into the classroom today then?” You shrug.

“I was behind someone else who was headed in the same direction and got too lazy to pull out the card, so I asked them to open it for me. Luckily, he was in the same class.”

“That’s so fair,” She replies with a wise nod. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m in this class too. It’d be great if you could consider me as a project partner sometime!” 

Humming, you thoughtfully mull the idea over before nodding. “Sounds good to me. I gotta head off now though. I’ll see you around Holly.”

“See you!” She waves you off as you rush out the door, an odd warmth in your chest. Thinking back to your interaction with her makes you smile. She hadn’t asked about Master Wu or the ninja…

Maybe she might just be your first friend.

— — — — — 

The climb up the steep steps of the mountain is the usual, though this time you’re supercharged by the thought of having potentially met your very first friend in school. Even your loud knock on the monastery doors sounds cheery.

Zane opens the door, surprise written on his face at your bright smile, though maybe your flushed cheeks and beads of sweat rolling down your face don’t help convey it. “Hey there buddy,” you greet.

“Hello there friend! You arrived early today. Do you need a shower?”

You shake your head, walking inside and instantly being greeted by the regulated cooling system that keeps everything at the ideal temperature they decided. “I’ll just sweat it all out. Hey, is Cole around? I gotta return something to him.” 

“He’ll be back soon from patrol. In the meantime, why don’t you come and grab a drink?” Zane offers, leading the way at your eager nod. The moment you walk to the doorway leading inside, Zane pauses, turning to stare at you.

“...Can I help you?” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if contemplating what to say. “I do not mean to offend you, but I strongly advise taking a shower. It is not that you smell bad, but you will need it, based on my personal experience.”

Crossing your arms, you raise a brow at him. "Are you saying I smell like a gym sock?"

He hesitates. "...No. I'm just saying that most people who climb up the mountain end up smelling like a gym sock and usually shower afterwards."

Flinching slightly, you press your lips together into a thin line. "Touché, ninja. Touché."

You take the lead, your body vaguely remembering where the bathroom is from your last visit. The shower is a separate room inside the bathroom, ensuring the utmost privacy for whoever uses it. 

“Here, you can change into these after.” Zane hands a set of clothes toward you from a drawer. Accepting them gladly, you head to the bathroom and lock the door. Taking a quick shower, your body welcomes the lukewarm water that flows down your skin, dripping off your fingertips. 

Upon changing into the loose black shirt and training pants, you secure the latter by pulling the strings and tying them tightly so they won’t fall. Zane nods in approval once you step out more refreshed than before, tossing the towel in the laundry basket off to the side. 

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to wash and return these.” Lifting your arms and swinging them back and forth a little creates a slight gust of wind that cools down your armpits wonderfully. That, combined with the sunny weather outside, is a picturesque scene for training. 

He shakes his head with a smile. “There is no need. Feel free to keep them. We have too many clothes here, and it’s better to give them freely.” 

Slightly odd response, but who are you to question their recycling decisions? Choosing to take it as is, you grin and continue the walk to the dojo. Zane waves goodbye to you, sliding the door shut. 

Master Wu sits in the middle of the room with a cup of tea, sipping away in peace and calm. Approaching him, you automatically bow a full ninety degrees. The practice was drilled into you until it was almost instinct, especially if you were indirectly rude. Sometimes, you can still feel the screaming pain of your thighs crying out for mercy, forced to remain in a training position as punishment.

Rising from the bow, you hesitate slightly, waiting for Master Wu to acknowledge your presence. His eyes remain closed, his breathing deep and steady, embodying the very essence of tranquillity. After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes and meets your gaze with a serene smile.

“Sit,” he says softly, gesturing to the mat across from him. You comply, folding your legs underneath you and trying to mirror his calm.

“You have come far in your journey,” Master Wu begins, setting down his cup. “But there is always more to learn. You are skilled with the blade, but true mastery requires understanding beyond the sword.”

He rises gracefully. “Today, we will focus on adaptability,” Master Wu explains, “Kendo teaches you to be direct and powerful, but sometimes, you must flow like water.” He walks over to the empty wall and presses a hidden button.

A section of the wall moves, smoothly rotating to reveal a wall or neatly displayed weapons on the other side. He grabs two wooden swords, throwing one at you. Your hands reach out to grab it as you stand, shifting into your stance.

“Now, we shall spar.”

What?

Before you can blink, a sharp pain blooms on the side of your torso. Stumbling back a few steps, you gulp in a mouthful of air as you process what’s just happened. Master Wu is only a few steps away from you, the sword in his hand no longer there for a light demonstration. 

You ready yourself, thankful he’s given you a few moments to breathe. The pain still throbs, ignoring it to focus on him. The blade stills in your vision, fingers tightly gripping the handle. It’s barely another second before you swing the blade, charging toward his nonchalant figure.

With a swift, fluid motion, Master Wu deflects your strike effortlessly, redirecting your momentum and causing you to stumble past him. His movements are smooth and unhurried, a stark contrast to your forceful approach.

"Adapt," he advises calmly, "Use your opponent's energy against them."

You turn quickly, regaining your balance and taking a deep breath. This time, you focus on the flow of his movements, watching for an opening. He remains relaxed, his stance fluid and ready. You feint to the right, then pivot to the left, aiming a strike at his side.

He counters with ease, the wooden swords clacking together sharply. Instead of resisting, you let the force of his parry guide your movements, spinning around and striking from a different angle. His eyes light up with approval as he blocks again, your movements starting to resemble a dance more than a duel.

"Good," he says, his voice steady. "Feel the flow. Do not fight it."

You continue sparring, each strike and block becoming more instinctive. He still lands more than his fair share of hits, while your wooden blade barely brushes against the fabric of his robes. Gritting your teeth at the sharp blow dealt to your leg, you tense every muscle in your body and continue to spar.

The sounds of your wooden blades clashing fill the air, your heavy breathing included. The fluidity and grace in his motions piss you off, a stark contrast to the rigid discipline of Kendo. 

Why won’t he let me hithimgodfuckingdamnit-

A slight bonk on the side of your head snaps you out of your thoughts, skidding back and breathing heavily as you process it. “...Did you just hit my head?”  

Master Wu blinks. “Yes.” 

Then he strikes again, this time a slightly gentler hit on your calf, compared to the previous ones. You’re not sure whether to be thankful or frustrated - he’d just shown you how severely lacking you are, after all. 

“We shall take a break,” he announces. It’s only then when you lower your sword that you notice the abundance of sweat dripping down your face, your back completely soaked. You collapse to the ground, legs sprawled out as you finally get the chance to catch your breath.

As you continue to practically gulp in mouthfuls of air, you turn to look at Master Wu who’s sitting down with another cup of tea. “I have a question.” He hums curiously, raising a brow. “Why’re you teaching me this and not Kendo?” 

Hell yeah, drop that old man wisdom on me.

“The strikes and stances of kendo are ingrained in your muscles,” He explains, “but it does not mean you are invincible. Kendo has its strengths, but it also has its weaknesses. By learning to be fluid with your movements, you will become a better fighter than before.”

He tilts the teapot, pouring tea into a separate cup which he then holds out to you. Summoning all the strength in your body to crawl (yes, crawl. It’s embarrassing, but you’re truly too tired to care) to the small table, you pull yourself up and sit opposite him. 

Without thinking twice, you tilt the cup back and down it in a single gulp, exhaling happily as it goes down your throat and warms your body.

Opening your eyes, you spot Master Wu’s bemused gaze, freezing momentarily before offering him the empty cup with a sheepish smile.

He fills it up at your silent request, letting it pass. “Your body is that of a cup. It can only hold so much, but once you break past your limits, you can expand its capacity.”

You nod slowly, the warmth of the tea seeping into your bones, easing the aches from your recent sparring. "So, I need to break my limbs?" That’s probably not what he's trying to get at, from the way his eyes widen at your response.

“Not at all,” he chuckles, “challenge yourself. Learn as much as you can. Then, make it your own. That is why I am teaching you. Not just because of your stepmother, and not just in the name of self-defence. You enjoy it, don’t you?”

Pursing your lips, you choose to sip quietly. He’d seen through you as easily as glass. You wouldn’t easily admit it to anyone, but you missed the intense training and the time spent sparring with your previous master. 

The blood rushing through your veins and the sweat dripping down your brow every time gave you a rush of adrenaline you’d grown addicted to.

Now, it’s hard to refrain from. That’s not to say you’d do it every day of the week of course, but at its core, you found it fun.

“Ah, Cole.” He greets, raising his cup. You tense, turning back to see the Earth Ninja all dressed up in his gi. He takes off the hood, mirroring the baffled expression on your face. “Just in time.”

Cole approaches the both of you, bowing to Master Wu and sitting beside you. He looks over, eyes filled with surprise at your presence. Lifting your cup, you offer it to him in a show of good relations. “Tea?”

He shakes his head in refusal. Shrugging, you retract your offer and sip away.

Only to choke when you see him take out a cup of his own. Master Wu seems unfazed, pouring the tea into his cup as if it were the norm to carry it around. “Dude, do you keep that on you?” 

He raises a brow at the pure amusement in your voice. “You got a problem with that?” 

“No, not at all.” You reply, pressing your lips together to hide the growing smile on your face. “I’m sure you’ve good reason to do so. Like urgent tea sessions or when the kitchen doesn’t have any more vessels for beverages.” You add with a solemn nod.

First Papa’s, now this? What next, an emergency blanket?

“Okay, snob. I bet you don’t have your own cup, anyway.” He retorts with a huff, rolling his eyes.

“For your information, I happen to have the best mug in the world. It was a birthday gift, not sure if you’ve ever had one though.” 

“A mug? As a birthday gift? What are you, lame?” He snorts, shaking his head in amusement.

“Where the hell do you keep it anyway? Won’t it get crushed because of all the fighting and stuff?” You ask, choosing to change the topic. He goes along with it (thank god), taking a sip before explaining that he puts it in a pouch that’s designed to turn stiff when pressure is placed on it.

Master Wu interrupts your discussion by clearing his throat and peeking an eye open. Cole Instantly straightens his back, delivering his report on the day’s patrol. “Anyway, I’ll get going now.” He starts to get up, only to pause when Master Wu puts forth a suggestion.

“Why don’t you stay and have a spar with her?”

“Me? Spar with her?” He looks you up and down, taking in your flushed cheeks and sweat-ridden body. “Won’t she collapse?”

Your lips part in a silent gasp, offended by his tone. “Excuse me,” you haul yourself off the floor with a grunt, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’ll have you know that I can beat your ass any day.”

He smirks, pushing aside your arm and taking a step forward, leaving barely any space between your bodies. “I’d like to see you try.” Your eyes narrow into a glare, infuriated by the smugness in his eyes. 

Another cough interrupts you both, breaking your gaze and turning to see Master Wu’s raised brows as he stares at the both of you. You hastily take a step back, pushing him away in the process. 

He lifts a hand and brushes off the imaginary dust left by your finger. You glare at him, grabbing the sword that lies at Master Wu’s side. You toss it to him, frowning when he catches it with ease without being caught off guard by the sudden toss.

Walking over to an empty spot in the dojo, you breathe in slowly, sucking in the cool air through your teeth. “Remember, true strength lies not just in power, but in the ability to adapt and flow,” Master Wu advises from the side, using his cane as a division between you both.

Your form is almost perfect, every muscle tense as you grip the handle of your sword with determination. You would not let this bastard get the upper hand on you. Even if he is a ninja, he can’t always be on his toes the whole time.

“Begin.” 

In the split moment that Master Wu’s command rings through the air, you lift the sword and strike. Cole manages to barely dodge it, the gust of wind generated by the powerful blow moving a few strands of his hair across his face.

He does a backflip, landing perfectly on his feet and holding the sword out in defence. He chuckles wryly. “Not bad for a musketeer.” Your cheeks warm at the reference, recalling the night he’d found you in that hole not too long ago caused by the very thief who snuck into the fundraiser. 

“Very funny, Earth Ninja. Am I supposed to applaud?” You ask sarcastically, lunging forward and striking once more. He parries easily, only for you to use the momentum to aim a kick at the back of his legs.

He stumbles to the ground, landing on his knees before bolting back up again with a glint in his eyes. “Fair point. I guess we’ll be doing this seriously after all. Don’t chicken out.” 

“Are you sure you should be saying that?” You fake a sympathetic pout, tilting your head in pity. “Don’t you need ointment for those bruises first?”

The ghost of an amused smile flickers across his face, holding his sword up and moving toward you once more. The blades clash with a resounding knock, the vibrations travelling through the wood and into your hands. They tremble slightly, neither of you willing to give way to the other. 

“Wanna make a bet?” He suggests through gritted teeth, though you can tell he probably isn’t using his full strength. You’d heard about his supposed ‘super-strength’ through Melody’s rambles, and you’d rather die than admit that you’re grateful he isn’t using it.

Contemplating it through heavy breaths and aching muscles, you decide to accept. Not readily though, of course. “What’re the stakes?” You ask, before using his weight against him and side-stepping out of the way to nail a punch at his side.

He dodges it easily, leaving you to groan in frustration before putting some distance between you both. Barely a second later, your swords clash again, this time with an emotion resembling that of humour behind either of your intentions. 

“Loser buys dinner.” 

Deeming it an acceptable bet with a nod, your mind races with ways that you could potentially win. Drop the sword and surprise him with a punch? Try to kick his feet? Deal more strikes, but swifter and faster than before?

Unfortunately, fate is unkind to you as always. Before you can react fast enough, he twists his body sideways, bending low and using the blunt of the blade to deal a sharp hit to your abdomen. 

It knocks the wind out of you. You’re barely able to defend yourself before he sweeps his leg, knocking yours from under you and making you land on your back. Your body erupts with coughs as you try to catch your breath, your chest heaving.

“Looks like I’ve won.” He shrugs, nonchalant words accompanied by the smug grin on his face you wish you could wipe off.

With the tip of the blade pointed at your throat, you raise your hands in surrender, rolling your eyes in the process. “Motherfucker,” you mumble under your breath, accepting the hand he holds out to you regardless. 

He helps you up, ignoring the way you purposely put more weight behind your grip in an attempt to drag him to the ground. Giving up, you stand of your own accord, hissing in pain at the way your chest stings from that last blow dealt.

“Well done, both of you. Your lesson is now over. I will see you again next week. Perhaps Cole too, if he wishes to join” Master Wu states with a knowing smile, exiting through another door and leaving the both of you behind.

You share a look, staring at the door he’s just left through. 

“You don’t think…” 

“Nah,” you shake your head with a nervous laugh. “There’s no way he knows. You didn’t tell him, right?”

“No way,” Cole denies instantly, shaking his head aggressively.

“Okay, damn. Don’t gotta be so strung up about it…” You grumble, crossing your arms. A twinge of hurt blooms in the pit of your stomach, but you choose to push it away, focusing on putting the weapons back onto the wall. Fumbling around for the hidden switch, you’re interrupted by a familiar hand pressing its exact spot, the wall rotating back to hide them once more.

He turns back to you with an expectant look. Tensing, you can already hear the money in your bank account beginning to fly away. Releasing a breath, you pinch the space between your brows. “Where to?” You ask in defeat.

“I’ll tell you that after you shower.” Looking up to see Cole’s wrinkled nose, you spot him subtly fanning the air. “You’re stinkin’ up the place right now.”

That’s it. I’m gonna punch him, ninja or not.

— — — — — 

Taglist: @candyquokka @mattchka @em-100 @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight

[typicalopposite]

Tommy stumbles upon Buck's journal. They read it together 🙂

Omg! OMG!! I love this so much! So much I wrote it three different times before I figured out the way I actually wanted it to go! LOL! Hope you like the final cut! (she got a little long!)

<3<3<3<3<3

Buck is busy making dinner. He has his brand new apron on; a housewarming gift from Bobby. Although it’s not technically a housewarming gift, since Tommy has already lived in the house for almost a decade… Either way, he loves it, and he is officially breaking it in. 

“Baby,” Tommy calls from their room. Their room… Buck can’t help the smile that creeps across his face at that. “What’s this?”

He looks up from seasoning some veggies as Tommy walks in, a notebook in his hand. His notebook. Buck nearly yelps: “Oh— uh— uhm— wha— wh- where… did you find that?” 

“It was sticking out from under the mattress,” Tommy says. “I didn’t know you kept a journal.” 

“Oh, well… it’s not— it’s just—” Tommy finally lifts his eyes from the cover (that may or may not be covered in little doodles and a couple dozen fancily penned versions of their names together) to look at Buck. Buck feels his face getting hot; he sighs. “Uh yeah—I used to write a lot… Back when I first started seeing my therapist, she suggested it. Said it might help to get all the thoughts I tend to keep bottled up… out.” He lets out a nervous laugh, switching the spice shaker he’s holding from one hand to the other, and back. 

Tommy finally hands the notebook to him. “Is this one recent?” 

“It is,” Buck admits. “I— uh— I actually picked it up again when—” His voice falters, his nerves kick in. He knows he shouldn’t be nervous; Tommy would never judge him for anything, especially not something he uses as a coping mechanism. “When I met you…” he finally says. He can feel the blush all the way in his ears. Tommy smiles that soft understanding smile. “You— uh— you wanna read some of it?” 

“Only if you don’t mind,” Tommy says, but his eyes light up excitedly. 

Buck’s heart is racing as he quickly finishes the meal prep, shoves it into the oven, and sets a timer. “Okay…” He wipes off his hands and picks up the notebook. Buck’s Journal 2024-2025 is written on the front cover in the bottom corner. Tommy pulls him down onto the couch beside him, situating himself around Buck’s body, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder so he can read along.  

Buck flips to the first page. 

March 19 2024 

Secretly followed Hen on a hunch she had. Flew through a hurricane, and saved Cap and Athena from their capsized cruise ship. Came up with the team's new motto, “Who Cares!?!” 

Oh and I finally got to meet Tommy. He’s pretty cool!

Next to the entry is Tommy’s number, he got it from Chimney so he could call about the tour… and it’s circled. 

March 29 2024

Got a tour of Harbor Station today. Seeing all the helicopters and learning what all air ops does was pretty cool, not as cool as the guy who gets to man the helicopters and do all the stuff air ops does… but still. I kind of didn’t want the tour to end. I’d have loved to get to know Tommy a little more, BUT unfortunately he had other plans… weirdly they were with Eddie… he flew him to Vegas to see a fight. 

He did offer to give me flying lessons though… that will be fun. I wonder if he offered to give Eddie flying lessons too.

Buck can feel Tommy smiling. “So jealous,” he hears him whisper, and he nudges at his jaw with his shoulder. 

April 4 2024 

I have a date. 

Which is definitely not how I expected my day to end… giving it kind of started with me hurting Eddie.  

Ok so to explain that… I kind of convinced Chimney to bring me along to the basketball game because I was maybe just a little jealous of Eddie getting to spend so much time with Tommy when something always came up when I tried to… and I guess it just got the better of me. I feel really bad about it, probably will feel bad for a while…

BUT THEN Tommy came over! And he… kissed me!? And I liked it?!? And now we have a date. On Saturday. 

Yes… the date of their date was circled with a heart around it. “Awww,” Tommy says, pressing a kiss to Buck’s cheek. Buck laughs and turns the page, then quickly tries to turn it again, but Tommy stops him. “Can I see?” He asks. 

April 6 2024

I BLEW IT.

That was all that was written on that page. In big letters and underlined. Tear stains were scattered across the page. He feels Tommy’s arms tighten around him. “I’m so sorry baby,” he says quietly. 

Buck shrugs; smiles. “It’s all good because…” he skips a page to—

April 12 2024

I FIXED IT!

And now I have a date for the wedding! :)

Tommy barks out a laugh. 

May 6 2024  Buck writes about the bachelor party, and losing Chimney, and coming out to everyone at the hospital wedding

May 19 2024 Buck writes about helping save the kidnapped baby, and spending the night at Tommy’s for the first time. 

May 25 2024 Buck writes about the medal ceremony, and meeting Gerrard, and hating Gerrard, and wanting to fight Gerrard for being mean to Tommy, and wanting to make out with Tommy in front of Gerrard so he can go into homophobic shock and wither away like the old wrinkly ass he is…

May 30 2024 Buck writes about Bobby, and the fear he had about almost losing him. He writes about Christopher going to Texas, and missing him. He writes about Tommy, and how he thinks he can picture forever with him. 

June 23 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard being the new captain. 

September 1 2024 Buck writes about Gerrard finally getting fired permanently. The time under him was miserable; he didn't feel like writing during that time. He writes about Tommy being his rock through it all. He writes about thinking he’s in love. 

The timer goes off in the kitchen. “Well,” Tommy says, pulling Buck into his arms for a kiss. “That was nice, getting to see some of the stuff you keep bottled up. Thank you for sharing it with me.”  

Buck smiles; he feels that damned blush creeping up again. He holds the notebook close to his chest, carrying it with him back into the kitchen. That was close… he thinks. He really needs to find a better hiding place, at least until after their anniversary… 

.

.

.

March 29 2025

I bought a ring. I’m going to ask him to marry me on our anniversary. I want to spend the rest of my life feeling this happy and safe and satisfied. 

.

.

.

April 4 2025

He said yes!

<3<3<3<3<3

might put this one on ao3 later too!

[icycoldninja]

OKAY-!

So I've been wanting to request something for a hot minute from y’all; Vergil (or Nero..? Idk if you do stuff for him tbh) having to warm-up with a Male reader during a blizzard???

(👉👈 Never done a request before so idk how much to put. I love your work and can't wait to read more from you (/p)!)

AAAAAA I KNOW U, U ALWAYS REBLOG MY WORKS WITH THOSE HILARIOUS TAGS! I've also read your stuff on ao3! I love your works too! I'm so glad you requested! I chose to do Vergil cause I like writing for him more than Nero lol; hope you enjoy!💜💜💜

Warm-Up (Vergil x Male!Reader)

Bonus pic I pulled off Pinterest for ya cuz y'all deserve it 💜

You shivered in your seat, goosebumps breaking out across your skin. A blizzard raged on outside, rattling the walls of your house and, via several drafts in said walls, lowered the overall temperature to lows your poor human body couldn't handle. You continued shuddering, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm, futile as it was. You were just so cold, for an indescribable reason, no matter how many layers of clothes you threw on or how many blankets you piled on, you were freezing. It was like you were cursed, cursed to be eternally chilly.

The front door clicked, then swung open; Vergil stomped in, covered in snow. "Y/N?" He called, peeking around the corner and finding you curled up on the couch, swaddled in blankets and thick clothes. "What is going on?" He demanded, raising a thin white eyebrow at you. "I'm cold." You grumbled, tugging the blankets tighter around you as another strong wind shook the house and chilled the room even further. "Cold?" Vergil repeated, confused. He had never felt cold in his life, being an ice demon and whatnot. Nonchalantly, he stalked away to remove the snow from his person and change into dry clothes. A few moments later, he rejoined you in the living room, only to find a pile of blankets where you once had been seated. "Y/N? Where did you go?" A hand--your hand--shot up from within the mountain of bedclothes. "Right here, Verg. Right here, freezing my ass off." Vergil sighed, then began shifting the blankets aside to get to your trembling, nearly numb-with-cold form. "You lack motivation," He stated, shoving the blankets aside, then taking a seat on the couch and rearranging them in his lap. "A mere bit of cold is nothing; such a trivial inconvenience should mean nothing to you." While those words may have sounded harsh and derogatory, they were in fact, meant to be motivating--and they were.

"I...I guess you're right," You admitted, sighing and sitting up. "it shouldn't bother me, but it does." Vergil scoffed, then dragged you by the arm over into his lap. With a grumpy huff that was probably caused by embarrassment for his uncharacteristically soft behavior today, he began to wrap you up like a burrito. Once he was done, he scooped you up and cradled you in his arms like a mother with her baby.

You were confused at first, but soon relaxed into your new blanket cocoon. "Are you warm now?" Vergil asked, after a few moments of silence. Believe it or not, you were. The cocoon, combined with Vergil's furnace-like body heat, did wonders for your own body temperature, warming you up much more efficiently compared to all the other methods you previously tried. "Yes, I am," You murmured, rather enjoying this treatment. "Good. I suppose I can unwrap you now, correct?" You shrugged, not really wanting to leave Vergil's lap. "If you don't mind....a little longer?" Vergil gave you a side-eye that could have withered flowers, but said nothing and made no attempt to move you. You yawned, now that you'd been warmed up, you were starting to feel a little sleepy. "Tired?" He inquired, bouncing his leg so as to rock you easier. "Yeah, a little," You sighed, yawning again. "I'm gonna take a nap...wake me in a few hours, ok?" Vergĺil nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Very well." As you closed your eyes and began to drift off to sleep, you could have sworn you heard him mumble "Sweet dreams, my little lump of coverlets."

[ckret2]

@horridrabbitcreature said: Ok now tell us how they breed. For educational purposes

Honestly and sincerely, I do not know how Bill's species breeds lmao.

It's a problem of aesthetics, to me. A shape in the style of Bill Cipher has a simple, clean, minimalist perimeter, with perhaps only a couple of arms and legs and (in their home dimension) an eyeball on one corner.

If you headcanon they have the traditional hole or pole anatomy like humans do, it mars their nice, simple perimeter. If you come up with some complicated way to hide the equipment—something like a cloaca—that still will probably be seen on their edge, which I don't like, and anyway I personally feel like "yeah they've got equipment (it's just perfectly hidden most of the time)" is a little goofy and the coward's way out.

You could incorporate it into their existing anatomy—make up an alien way to stuff a reproductive system into their eyeballs, for instance—but I already do SO MUCH with their eye (it's for seeing AND it's their mouth hole AND they probably hear through there) that trying to find a way to shove in a reproductive system feels like too much, so I'm not doing that.* And they don't have much visible anatomical features OUTSIDE of eyes to work with.

(* "What do you mean you're not putting their genitalia in their eyes, you just wrote a whole chapter about Bill being into weird eye stuff?" The eye stuff is Bill's fetish, not a reflection of normal shapes' sexual behavior, and all Bill's shape buddies think he's a freak for it. Glad we clarified this.)

You could invent an entirely new alien reproductive method that gets around the issue, but unless how they reproduce becomes relevant to the fic I'm writing (doubtful), that's a HUGE superfluous avenue of worldbuilding that wouldn't contribute anything but pointless complicated info.

So I don't know how they breed because right now it just doesn't matter to the story I'm telling.

Here's what I do know about their reproduction:

It requires one line and one polygon (triangle, quadrangle, pentagon, etc). (This is not without purpose; I'm all for alien reproductive methods that don't involve pairing up, but in this case for "Bill keeps accidentally paralleling the human characters' experiences" reasons it was necessary to give him a crummy mom-and-dad like Pacifica, Gideon, and Stan+Ford.) Each kind of shape (lines included) is genetically a separate sex and socially considered a separate gender.

"each shape is a separate sex" actually only goes up so far. Shapes with a ridiculously high number of sides aren't naturally occurring and are the result of selectively breeding for extra sides, and often requires mutations or inbreeding. Creating a circle is like spending several centuries selectively breeding humans for polydactyly until you have a baby with thirty fingers. By Bill's time the practice of selectively breeding for sides was scientifically discredited and effectively dead.

Similarly, "each generation your angles/sides should increase" was proven to be rubbish. It's all sex chromosomes.

I've been toying with the idea of making lines a small proportion of the population rather than 50%, to reduce how much it feels like the species is a binary "50% female (lines) and 50% male of various flavors (polygons)"; but if there's so few lines then to maintain the population there might be some kind of "a line can have multiple spouses" rule; maybe a line can legally take one spouse of each shape but NOT, say, two triangles or something; but then that's verging on "to what end am I making this so complicated? What's the point? Does it have any impact on Bill's life?" so I might just chuck that idea. (A lot of my worldbuilding is driven by "Bill's species is extinct in the wild, so justify why exploring this matters?")

Similarly, I've considered maybe making the way the species experiences romantic feelings vary between sexes—like, maybe usually only lines fall in love for some reason, or maybe if there's a town that's 10% line 10% square 10% miscellaneous and 70% triangle then newborn triangles are naturally inclined toward being ace/aro to rebalance the population numbers. Sorta inspired by like how frogs spontaneously change sexes if the pond's population is too unbalanced. The reason I'm considering this is because having Bill experience romantic feelings & falling in love at the same rate as allo humans (like, what, every few years? Constantly maybe?) is just ridiculous for a character who's a trillion years old; but if I'm gonna say "oh he only falls in love once a million years or whatever" I want a good reason that isn't just he hasn't met someone ~special~ enough; and I DON'T want the reason to be "he's ace and/or aro and could reasonably identify that way" because having Bill frigging Cipher grapple with that queer experience just does NOT excite me. Basically—as an ace/aro myself, I don't want it to be possible for ace/aro-ness to be one of the reasons Bill feels fundamentally Weird. Turns me off. So I'm toying with, maybe I could build his species in such a way that, for him, being aro-ish or ace-ish would be seen as normative & expected, rather than queer; so I could still have him only wanna date once every million years WITHOUT feeling like that's a part of his identity he needed to explore at some point. But idk futzing around with how his species experiences romance might be unnecessarily complicated when I could just, like, not point out that only dating once every million years is unusual, and most readers would just roll with it without question.

So, these are the thoughts I've had about how reproduction works in Bill's species.

Still have no idea how they fuck.

[starsurface]

Hii can I request headcannons for CG Sindel and Regressor Tomas/Smoke . I think she'd make a great cg for him and he's such a sweet boy I think she'd find him endearing hehe

Hi!!! Omg, I actually love the idea of their friendship!!! <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Sindel w/ Regressor Tomas Hcs

💜 Tomas is decent friends with the entire royal house, canonly helping Mileena out and such (it’s in their dialogs, he’s her bodyguard at times and it annoys her because she has Tanya)

💨 Sindel adores his company!! He’s polite, respectful, a brilliant and deadly fighter

💜 She found out about Tomas’s regression by complete accident, and still feels a bit bad for doing so to this day

💨 She was looking at the room that Tomas was staying in, cleaning it up after Tomas packed since he was leaving soon, until found a baby bottle shoved into some corner

💜 She asked him about it, and when he said that he didn’t know anything about it, she was going to just throw it away

💨 Or, until Tomas broke into tears, begging her not to throw it away because it was the only one he owned and it was too difficult trying to secretly buy a new one

💜 ^ Don't worry, Sindel didn't throw it away, and she hugged Tomas until he felt better (w/ his consent of course)

💨 Sindel knew a bunch about age regression, watching a few regressors herself her her thousands of years of living

💜 She offered to watch Tomas whenever he was in Outworld (and made sure he had some little time when he was helping out Mileena)

💨 Tomas does end up going to Sindel when he feels small at times, and she's always very comforting and soft about it

💜 Sindel would have to say that Tomas is an adorable regressor <3

💨 She loves baby regressors!!! And Tomas is content with cuddling and being coed over

💜 Sometimes Tomas has scary nightmares, and he’ll run to Sindel’s room, already small and crying

💨 Sindel will gently shush him, letting him sleep in her bed and play with his hair

💜 Speaking about hair, Tomas loves playing with Sindel’s hair!!

💨 It was soft, and very long, and he could style is!! :D

💜 Tomas’s ‘styling’ is actually just taking strands and laying them on top of each other, but Sindel praises him for his good work

💨 Although Tomas regresses small small sometimes, and does have a habit to tug on it really harshly :(

💜 He doesn’t mean to!! He was just playing with it, and then he went to move his hand, and Sindel’s hair was still in his fist, and now Sindel’s hurt!!! 🥺

💨 She’s not, she throws people, picks them up, snaps them, she has a very strong head

💜 But she will remind Tomas to use more gentle hands, letting him continue to play with her hair because she doesn’t like seeing her baby boy cry

💨 Although, she doesn’t let him chew on her hair, and will gently scold him if he tries

💜 Don’t worry, she’ll buy him a baby chewie and a chew stuffie <3

💨 Actually, she buys Tomas (and other regressors) a bunch of regression stuff!! New sippies, new bottles, more stuffies, more toys-

💜 It slightly concerns Tomas, because he’s still a guest and friend at her house, but she insist on it (any regressor she knows gets this treatment, whose going to say no to the Queen?)

💨 Tomas is a very silent crawler, and has a habit of looking at something he likes and going towards it

💜 Fortunately, Sindel has magic hair, and will snatch him and carry him back over to her

💨 He’s very giggly as she playfully scolds him, placing him on her hip and asking what caught his eye

💜 Ugh, Tomas’s giggles 🥺

💨 Sindel’s set on hearing them more, and will do almost anything to get them out of him when he’s having a bad day

💜 Back onto hair for a second, I think Tomas would find it funny if Sindel put thins like clip on bows and such in his hair

💨 ^ Now he looks all pretty like Sindel!! :D (Sindel didn’t almost cry at that, you didn’t see anything)

💜 He also does Sindel’s hair, and now they look all pretty together

💨 Sidnel’s CG nicknames were . . . a struggle to come to

💜 The first time Tomas called her Mama, he broke down into tears and wouldn’t leave her side for a few hours (bad memories of his own family)

💨 So they mainly stick to ‘Della, because it sounds somewhat like Sindel’s name

💜 Although Tomas does have a small habit of calling Sindel Mommy/Mama when he’s really really tiny, or super sleepy and just doesn’t realize it

💨 Tomas gets a million nicknames, Baby Boy, Precious, Prince, Little Warrior, Puppy, Sweetheart

💜 Sindel thinks puppy Tomas is entertaining because of how energetic he can be

💨 And lazy, he has a habit of stealing Sindel’s entire bed and not moving for hours because ‘it’s too comfy, ‘Della 🥺’ (and it’s not like Sindel can argue, she does have a very nice bed)

💜 She’s thought about getting a human sized dog bed for Tomas, but he gets all comfy and giggly in her bed, she’s decided she can share for now

💨 However, she would like her pillows and blankets back, and she doesn’t want to get into another tug-a-war just to not be cold 😮‍💨 

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I think Sindel would be a really good CG for Tomas. :3

[bonefries]

Foxhoney - 49 OR ladies in red - 18 🫶 Love seeing your oc x canon stuff :^)

THANK YOU LOVEY! So I actually started writing this for another number but realized I wrote it best for this one instead. I hope its okay! Still trying to grasp a writing style.

Foxhoney | OC x Canon | Franco/Eli | mini fic + tink and stranger make appearances | minimal editing | 49: Kiss out of necessity

"Franco don't!" Elizabeta would shout, not but a few feet away. Her hand out stretched in the drug lord's direction. Tinker reared their head from behind her, spectating from her radius with silence and caution.

"AH! AH! Make one more fuckin move and I'll blow'ya friend's pretty little face clean off his goddamn shoulders!" Bambino would threaten as he locked his eyes with Tink at Eli's hip.

Lupara in hand, finger holding the trigger, barrel pressed firmly against the side of a Stranger's face. Franco was pushing the gun with such a force that it was causing drool to pool inside the reagents's cheek. He could swear that he tasted rust. Like blood. As if the pressure of the gun to his jaw was making his teeth shift.

"Press it a little harder." Stranger mumbled between his tongue and the gun, only to hiss as Franco did just that.

"Shut your fuckin mouth, whore. I got'a status to uphold here, ya'see?" The mobster sneared, shaking his captive by the scruff of the neck aggressively with the other hand.

Stranger would tilt his head away as he was shaken, absolutely repulsed by how close Franco was to his face. The mans breath was unimaginably foul. Cigar smoke and alcohol, and a pungent souring smell. Probably from whatever in gods named he consumed just prior to their encounter. With eyes that molded an anguished expression, Stranger looked at Elizabeta as though to plead for help.

The giantess would perk the corner of her red lips as she gave Stranger a wink. One Franco wouldn't catch onto as Tink had been making faces at him from behind her to try and disrupt his guard. Once a man-child always a man-child, especially in the game of making funny, or rather grosteque, expressions. But it only frustrated his short temper, and the fuse was being blown on.

"I guess little Bambino doesn't wanna try Mama's new lipstick, huh?" Eli would pucker her lips, and draw her eyelids down like a curtain over a windowsill. The skin of her cheeks turning red as she huffed and puffed a loud and annoyed sigh into the air. Right then and there Stranger could already feel the tension lightly raise from the side of his face. Franco could never really keep himself focused when it came to Eli's games.

"Eh?" Bambino would shoot an inquisitive glance to Elizabeta, finally breaking his eye contact with Tinker. "W-What are you'goin on about?" There was an urgency in his stutter, and Stranger could hear him clear his throat as though it had suddenly gone dry.

"Ugh, I can't believe ya'Frankie! I got a real nice smuggled new lipstick, I got all dolled up for ya. But I guess you don't WANT my kisses if you're gonna use that nasty Lupara on my friend." Oh she begged, she pleaded. Throwing her head back in despair, top of hand to her forehead as she sighed longingly. Eli did all in her power to perform as genuinely as she was capable. And for a fleeting second, the glint in her eye hit Stranger's, and he knew what that meant.

"You're such a cruel little boy." Eli pouted, batting her thick eyelashes. The cakey dust of her eyeshadow clumping along the creases of her eyes, but still managing to shimmer just enough that there was an iridescence to it.

"N-No! Lizzy baby, I swear I didn't mean it. Honest!" It only took seconds before Stranger was being shoved away. A slight jingle from his rig as he hit the concrete and glass on the ground below. Despite Bambino's childish mannerisms, he was a brute. And he certainly had the strength of one too, proven from the grunt of air that was forced out of Stranger's body upon falling. A red imprint would blemish his cheek as markings showed where Lupara had been kissing his skin.

Franco would trot that little Napoleon trot right up to Lizzy. Head tilting back as he had to look up at her to make eye contact. Across his face was a smitten, snaggle toothed smile. Lizzy's pout had gradually turned into a sly smirk as he got closer and closer. His ready and willingness almost made her drool, and she could feel her stomach churn under her composure.

"Thats my sweet little Bambi." She said, as her hands reached foward to caress Franco's face. Holding him steady and looking into his eyes with a warm deception. Gently she planted a kiss on his forehead, marked by her lipstick faintly. Her tacky make up giving a bit of an extra stick and pull. A minor sensation of the flesh that Franco would soak in as his eyes fluttered shut, making a small releieveing sigh of approval. His fuse was snuffed out.

"Oh mother..." He whined as the greed boiled over in his chest. It wasn't enough. Please. Not just there.

"I think this color looks real good on ya' Mr.Barbi." Lizzy's voice shifted from warm to hot as she bent further to plant various delicate kisses along his cheeks and brow bone.

"Mmmm..so sexy." Franco purred to his lovely vixen. The sentiment made Lizzy's upper lip twitch as she bared a grin at him. Lightly she bunny kissed her nose to his before pressing onto Franco's mouth with a pressure that would ensure there would be a dark red set of lips staining his mouth.

As Lizzy distracted, Tinker would slip away from her side without the mobster giving them much notice. They would crawl over to Stranger, whom was rubbing his cheek. Gloved fingers would snag against the welt that began to take form.

" I'll never understand how she does it..." There was a hint of disgust from Stranger's voice as him and Tinker looked over at them.

They were cooing and giggling at each other, like 'lovers' do.

[hardcandycigarette]

Long Way Down Final-Part Five

Okay here it is. The Fifth and Final Part of a Long Way Down.

Warning- Language, discussions of suicide and depression.

Those triggers are not a major part of the story as far as the details but I do want you to know ahead of time if those subjects would cause you distress.

And you guys are getting all, the feels, the angst, and dad!rry as well as a few unexpected things

Aside from that I hope it meets your expectations.

Word Count 6.5K

While trying to process the words, Harry chokes back tears and feels his heart race. When the news finally registers that Y/N is safe and the search is over he leaps off the sofa and races down the hall. Relief pumps through every part of him as he runs toward the guest room. He's been so afraid of never seeing Y/N again. But now, she's coming home and his heart overflows with happiness. He knows that nothing could ever replace the love he feels for his Y/N - his prayers have been answered

Harry's shouts startle Liam as he crashes through the door. "They found her. They fuckin' found her." he yells as tears stream down his face.

Liam shakes his head and rubs his eyes as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Wha's that?” Liam asks in confusion, trying to make sense of the news. Suddenly, he realizes that they have found Y/N. He is both surprised and relieved. "They found her? Is she okay? Where is she?" He is happy to abandon his much needed nap when he hears the happy report.

“She’s in some small village in Scotland. They said she’s fine. I think she’s fine. I dunno, but we gotta go. Y/N's mum can stay here with the kids. We gotta go. Up. What ya’ just sitti’ there for? We need to hurry and get her."

"Let's go get out girl." Liam stands and slips on the jeans draped over the end of the bed. He walks over to the corner and picks up a sweatshirt from the floor and puts it on. “Well, what are you standing there for? Let's go. I'm ready."

Just as Harry steps into the hall, the door to the next room opens. "What's the matter, love? What's wrong?" Y/N's mother asks.

“They’ve found ‘er," he says.

“Oh please tell me she’s ok.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before finally giving her the news. "She's alive," he says with relief. Harry nods and smiles. "She is. Well, that's what the detective told me."

“Thank God,” she says. She releases a long, deep sigh of relief, feeling the weight lifted off her shoulders.

“You’ll need to stay here with the kids. Liam and I are heading to get her.”

“Where is she?” she asks.

“Lil village in Scotland.”

“Scotland? What on earth for?” she asks.

Harry shrugs and dashes toward the stairs. "I've told ya all I know. We'll call you when we get there. Can you please talk to the kids when they get up from their naps? It'll just delay us if I wake them up now."

She nods, wiping away tears. "Yes, of course. Please hurry. Tell her I love her."

"'m callin' Jeff to get a plane ready," Harry calls out as he runs down the hall, and up the stairs. Once on the second floor he darts into the couple's bedroom. He grabs his phone and hits Jeff's contact. He demands they get a plane ready ASAP, so they can fly to Y/N.

As he speaks to Jeff he shoves on his sneakers, clips back his bangs, and brushes his teeth- all in a matter of a few minutes. As he scans the room, he wonders what Y/N might need. It appears from his discussion with the detective that she had all of her belongings with her. He says to himself, "You got me 100% from now on, baby." After emptying his Pleasing tote of its usual 40 tons of stuff he grabs some clothes, his keys, wallet and other essentials tossing it all in the bag as he heads down to the living room.

When he arrives downstairs, Liam is waiting for him. "I've called for a car. They should be here soon. Good thing everyone was on standby, otherwise this could've been a logistical nightmare," Liam says, emphasizing the urgency of the situation.

"No it wouldn't. Would've driven us m'self if I'd had to. Oh, Liam, man I've never felt better in m' life. Y/N's comin' home. 'm gonna love her like no man has ever loved a woman. She's gonna get sick of me I swear it." His anticipation causes him to jump up and down with excitement. His smile is wider than Liam has ever seen it.

###

Harry is so frantic to get to Y/N that he nearly shatters the glass of the sliding doors as he runs into the hospital. He is desperate to find his wife and unable to wait for the elevator to arrive he rushes up the stairs. As sweat dampens his forehead and an intense sense of urgency propels him forward.When he reaches the second floor he pulls the door open with force.

"I'm sorry sir this floor is closed. You'll have to take the elevator to the next floor," a police officer says to him.

"No, it's ok. She's m' wife the woman you all are protecting. Y/N Styles, she's m' wife." He repeats with growing resolution, "Y/N Styles is my wife and Detective Reeves knows I'm here."

Before Harry can proceed, Detective Reeves approaches him. "It's alright, he's the husband."

Harry stands tall and speaks firmly, "Yes, I've come to take her home."

The two officers nod. "Sorry, sir."

"It's alright, thanks for looking after her," Harry says.

"You can come this way, Mr. Styles." Reeves walks down a desolate hallway."Let's step into the waiting area," he says.

"Where is she? Wanna see Y/N. You said she's ok, right?" Harry adds with a hint of irritation in his voice.

In response, the detective motions towards a couch. "Please have a seat, Mr. Styles. I need to speak with you about your wife." Harry sits down, his patience wearing thin. He knows something is wrong and he needs answers.

"Where is she? Wanna see m' wife. What's happen'?" His voice quivers with worry. "Tell me, Detective. What's going on with my wife?" Is she okay?"

As he nods his head Reeves replies, "She is indeed, but I still need to speak with you before you see her."

Harry stands and paces the tiny room. "Tell me, ya worryin' me."

"I know you're anxious," Reeves continues, "but I need you to stay here for a few minutes so we can talk."

He throws his hands in the air and asks, "Why can't I see her?"

"I understand how you feel. I know you're eager," Reeves says calmly, "but I need you to trust me and stay here while we talk things through."

"Spit it out then."

"Sir, it appears your wife wasn't truly missing in the traditional sense. Do you remember when we first spoke, and I told you adults can leave without a trace, and it's perfectly acceptable?"

"Yeah. What do ya mean?" he asks. "What are ya sayin'?"

"I'm referring to a concept called voluntary disappearance. It's when an adult chooses to leave their current life behind and start a completely different one elsewhere. It's not a crime and it's not illegal. It's a personal decision to break ties and start anew."

'I don't understand what you are sayin' when you say start a new life. I am growing more and more impatient with you," Harry says.

"Once the doctors give you the okay, I'll let you talk to your wife about it in depth, but it seems that she really did leave you. It seems she wasn't happy and didn't want to be there anymore. It was determined after lengthy discussions with myself, my partner and the medical staff that she had personal reasons for leaving. As for the details, you'll need to speak with your wife."

 "Details? Details like what? You know what? Fuck you Reeves." He points his finger at the man, then places his hands in the pockets of his sweats as he clinches his jaw. "Lemme see m' wife. 'm not playin' this game with ya', dancin' round the subject, tryin' to be cryptic. Where is she?"

"I am simply trying to let you know what our investigation has uncovered. You are welcome to see your wife, but it might be beneficial for you to understand the full scope of the situation before you enter the room."

"Go on then, tell me how ya know m' wife so much better than me," Harry says.

"You see your wife seems to be very unhappy. She suffers quite a lot. The woman in that room is much different from the wife I suspect you've known all these years."

Harry steps toward the door. "Where are the doctors? You aren't telling me shit. And how did she even end up here?"

"Said she took a bus, then rideshare to the old lady's house." The detective shrugs. She can explain where she left the car and all that when you talk to her." Reeves walks to the door and opens it. "I'll get the doctor. Please just wait here."

"Sure, whatever." Harry waves his hand.

The detective steps out, but returns within a minute or two, followed by a small woman in a white jacket.

She enters the room and extends her hand and nods. "Thank you for speaking with me, sir." Harry shakes her hand. "I'm Dr. Thomas. I've been here with your wife since she came in last night. I think there are some things you need to know before you go in, but there are also things you need to hear directly from your wife." She wants to make sure Harry is prepared to support her.

"Are you gonna dance as well? Jesus need to take you two on tour with me for all the dancing around you do."

"Sir, let's have a seat." The doctor motions toward the same sofa.

"'m tired of bein' asked to have a seat." But Harry does as the doctor asks, and sits.

She sits next to him, straightening her coat. "Mr. Styles, your wife overdosed. She said that the depression and anguish, as she described it, had become too much for her to continue. I'm so sorry," the doctor said softly, "but now we must focus on helping her through this difficult time. These maladies affect everyone differently, so what depression might look like for you or for me, looks different for her. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Yeah, course I understand everyone's experience is different. But depression? Anguish? Where is all of this comin' from? She never let on. How could I have known she was sufferin'?" Harry stands.

"Your wife is suffering from a major depressive episode. It's not unusual for women in her situation to experience this."

"Her situation?"

"Yes, but that's something you'll need to discuss with your wife."

"This is ridiculous. Say what you've got to say or le' me to speak to 'er." Harry walks to the door and opens it.

The doctor follows him. "Mr. Styles, she's very fragile," the doctor says apologetically, "and I must stress that it is essential that you handle her with care."

"When can I take her home?" he asks.

"My advice would be to transfer her to a psychiatric hospital. I know that you have the choice of any facility you wish, so that should be left up to you. I think the transfer would be appropriate sometime tomorrow if she remains stable through tonight."

"Okay." He steps into the hall. "Thank you, doctor. I appreciate what you've done for my wife. I'll see to it we get her in the right place. I'll have her therapist and doctor coordinate with you once we determine where we are taking her. Can I see her now?"

"Yes." The doctor and detective step into the hall, and walk a few doors down, and Harry follows. "I'll be here the rest of the evening if you have any questions. Just have one of the nurses contact me." She and Harry shake hands before she walks away.

"Mr. Styles, our work here is complete, so we are going to make our way back to London. You know how to reach me. While the circumstances aren't ideal I'm happy we found her, and that she's safe. Don't be too harsh on yourself. These things happen."

Harry has the impulse to hug the man but stops and settles for a handshake. "Thank you. Thank you so very much for all you've done."

"Not at all sir. All in a day's work isn't it?"

"I suppose. Thank you." Harry nods.

"Good luck, Mr. Styles." He walks away.

"Harry, just call me Harry."

"Alright Harry. Goodnight."

Harry is excited, but apprehensive about seeing his wife. He looks down the hall and sees Liam talking with officers guarding the stairwell.

He taps on the door. There is no response, but he pushes the heavy door open.

Y/N lays in the bed staring out of the window.

"Hi, Angel. It's Harry, love." His voice is soft and steady as he slowly walks toward the bed.

As he sits in a chair next to her, he sees in her profile that she is awake. As he takes her hand, he whispers, "Love, it's me.". "Missed you. Had me going crazy wonderin' if I would ever see you again.". He brushes her hair away from her face. "I love you."

She remains silent, moves around, but still won't look at him.

"Y/N I don't know what's wrong baby. I know things are rough at home, but we'll fix them. No, I'll fix them. We don't want you to leave us ever again. I'll do anything you want." He starts to cry. "I'm here for you," he promises, his voice breaking. "We'll get through this together, whatever it takes."

Y/N doesn't respond.

"Tell me what you want, I'll do it. We've built so much together, a beautiful family. I thought we were happy, baby. I'm so sorry."

When she turns to him she avoids eye contact."I don't love you."

"How can you say that?" he asks, his voice trembling with emotion .

"You can go now. I told them not to call you." Her voice is cold and dry.

He stares in disbelief, his world crumbling around him. He shakes his head. She has just spoken words he would've never predicted. He can't believe that she is so callous and that she has given up on them without even trying to work things out. With his free hand he pours a cup of water from a small pink pitcher and offers it to her. "Here, have some water. Your throat is dry."

She doesn't accept the water. Even before he came home from his tour, she realized that the connection they once had was missing. She couldn't pinpoint when she fell out of love, but it had been a while. It was time for them to separate so that she could move on and find true happiness. He deserved happiness too, and she wanted him to find it. He was a very decent man, but he just wasn't the man for her. Not anymore."

He shakes his head. "No, baby, no, that's your depression talking. We're gonna get you some help,yeah?" He rubs her hair.

"Stop it." She swats his hand away.

He removes his hand from her. "Sorry, love. It might take you some time to feel better, but I'm home and I'll look after the kids. You can have all the time you need. We'll find the finest place in the world, anywhere, and you go and take care of yourself." He tries to hand her the cup of water again.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not thirsty."

"Baby, your voice is dry. You need to drink something."

She pushes the water away. She tries to be polite as possible, and she removes her hand from his while saying, "Please Harry, please don't make me be rude. I'm trying to be decent here. Just leave."

He stands, placing the cup on the tray. "Decent? Is that what this is? Desert your babies? Disappear without a trace knowing we were lookin' for ya? I'm here Y/N. I'm waiting for you to let me help ya', but just like the day ya left I'm lost. I don't know what to do." He sniffles as he tries to stop crying , and focus on her, and what she is saying.

She returns her gaze to the window. "Leave. That's what you can do. I'll get the help I need, but I still don't want to be married to you. As for the kids we'll figure it out, but honestly I just need to be by myself. I don't want to wait for anyone to come home, or change a diaper. I can't take the pressure anymore."

"But ya don't have to baby. I'm home now, got all the help you could want."

"Is that what you've been doing since you've been home? Helping?"

"I know I haven't been perfect, but I swear I'll try. Please at least give me the chance."

"Leave, Harry."

"No."

"Harry there's someone else." She looks down at her lap. "Is that better? Someone who doesn't make me feel like a maid or just a fuck toy."

Harry punches the wall. "No!" He grabs his hand, shaking away the pain. "You brought another man into our home, our bed?"

"No. I didn't have sex with him. But Harry, he makes me feel heard and seen. That's something we haven't had for a long time. I want a divorce. Is he the man I'll be with?" She shrugs. "I don't know, but he made me realize there is someone out there who can appreciate me as a complete woman and not just the parts that serve him."

"No, Y/N. You're not getting off that easy. You don't get to just walk away from nearly a decade at the flick of a wrist. You don't just get to leave and not give it a chance, not talk to me about how you're feelin." He wipes his face, then rubs his hurt hand.

"I'm trapped then, aren't I? Have to just keep my mouth shut and act happy. I can't Harry. I've tried and I just can't do it anymore."

"What are you talking about Y/N?" Harry walks back over and tries to hold her hand again.

"I'm a mum and a wife, your wife of all people and I'm not happy." With a shake of her head, she frees her hand from him.

"We'll work on it. I promise." He looks into her eyes, his voice firm but compassionate as he adds, "I need you to believe that I'm worth the effort."

"No matter how much we work on it, I simply don't get to be me. I'm still only a wife, your wife no less and a mother. That's all I am. It's a bitter reminder that, while I'm capable of so much more, I'm still often defined by my roles within our relationship." She closes her eyes holding back tears as she bites her lip.

"No. No, love, you're everything, that's what you are. You are a beautiful and powerful force in this world. You bring light and hope wherever you go, and nothing can stop that."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, fidgeting in bed until she finally sits up. "Harry please leave. You know I'm fine now. I'll get some help finding a place to transfer to, but please let me be. It's okay to stop loving someone. You don't get to be mad at me because of the way I feel."

He shakes his head and walks back and forth. "You know Y/N you are really a piece of work. I felt sorry for ya when they told me 'bout the shape you were in. I really did, but I see now you're just selfish." He looks at the door to check that no one is coming in. "You're bein' a coward," gritting his teeth he points at her, "not taking responsibility for your actions. You're bein' selfish."

"Oh," she says in a voice louder than she intended. She lowers her volume. "You have to be kidding, Harry. That must be a joke. Me?" She presses her hands to her chest. "I'm selfish?"

"Yeah, Y/N tha's what I said. Selfish."

"That's not true!" she declares, her voice indignant. "I'm not selfish!"

"Then what is Y/N? What are you? Those kids need their mum!" Harry shouts this time.

Y/N drops her voice. "No more than they've needed a father."

A twisted expression appears on Harry's face. "Is that what this is about? Tryin' to teach me a lesson at the expense of the kids?"

"Quit being so fucking narcissistic Harry, everything in the world isn't about you! Don't you get enough attention already? This isn't about teaching you anything."

He steps toward the bed. "Oh really? Well, Lola, you remember her, the littlest one? Big beautiful eyes, chubby cheeks, you remember her don't ya? Been sick since you left. Archer, the oldest one, gorgeous boy, ya remember him? Well he busted his foot. No to mention ya leave the whole of the world lookin' for ya." Harry chuckles as he tugs at his lip. "You can't take it anymore. Bullshit. That's what it is. How about your mum and sisters? All of our friends? You've had lots of people outta their minds Y/N"

"You think I don't know the trouble I've caused?" She asks her voice rising with each word. "You think I don't care about the kids? Well, I do! That's why I left."

"Leavin' 'ems not helpin' 'em is it? Wonderin' where their mum has gone, leavin' me to make up lies, promisin' you'll be back." Harry kicks the bed.

The door opens, a young male nurse interrupts. "Alright in here?"

"Yes," Y/N replies.

"Are you sure?" the nurse asks.

"I'm sure." She nods.

"If your visitor is upsetting you I'm sure we can have the officers remove him." The nurse looks Harry up and down.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," Y/N says.

"I'll be right outside if you need me." He closes the door.

"It's not about you or the kids, or anyone else. Don't you see that? It's about me. It's about what I want." She stands.

"Marriage doesn't work that way, and building a life together doesn't work that way." Harry reduces the space between them, stepping toward her.

She looks at the floor, then at Harry. "Marriage is about two people and if one person is only focused on themselves, then the marriage is not going to work. This marriage is about you, and I'm not angry anymore. You can't help who you are and I can't help how I feel."

Harry grips her shoulders, leaning down to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I don't know how to make it work, but I promise I'll try."

"Harry, you can't fix it. I've fallen out of love with you." Tears fill her eyes. "Do you think it makes me happy to make you upset? Of course not. I love you, but I'm not in love with you." She speaks the words that are the kiss of death to anyone on the receiving end. "That's why I took the pills."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "What do you mean?"

"Death would be easier than leaving. I'd rather be dead than hurt you or the kids. I wish that old lady had let me be." She sighs heavily, looking away.

Harry kneels, grabs her legs and hides his face in her thighs as he pleads with her. "Don't say that. Never, ever, ever say that again." He sobs at the mere mention of her harming himself. "I know you're in pain," he whispers while rubbing the back of her legs. "But I need you to understand that no matter what, I'm here for you. We can get through this together."

She touches his shoulder. "Don't feel obligated to say what you think I want to hear."

"'m not, swear it love. I'd give up everything just to see you smile again. If that means splitting up, then I'll accept it. Walking away from my career, I'll do it. You hold all the cards love."

"Let's be serious Harry you're never leaving your career."

"But I'm willing to make this sacrifice for us," Harry said, determined to make his point clear. "I would. If that's what you want I won't fight you. I'll post on Instagram or Twitter or whatever, and announce m' retirement." He looks up at her. His eyes are full of dedication, sadness, and desperation.

She shakes her head and looks at the ceiling. "No. I don't know why I can't just let it all go," she whispers. "But it's like my heart won't let me. I don't even know how to love you anymore."

"Go, Harry."

"But would you at least discuss it with a therapist before we make a final decision? Please."

"Harry, please go home. Please tell the children I love them, and I will see them soon." Out of habit she rubs his thick, dark curls, holding him to her for just a moment. Tears roll down her face. "Please go."

He releases himself from her and stands. He takes her face in his hands, scanning her eyes for a glimpse of the old Y/N but she's not there. After placing a kiss on her forehead, he says in a soft, gentle voice. "I love you Y/N. I always will. Nothing you can do will change that. I will never give up on us, never." He's determined to be there for her.

With a trembling lip, she steps back and gives him a final nod of her head, her heart aching as she watches her husband walk away.

At the door he turns to her. "Meant what I said. Anything in the world to make ya stay, to work this out."

She nods. "Sure," she says.

"Speak with your doctors, and once you decide on a place I'll make sure it's paid for, but please let's at least talk about it again when you're feelin' better."

####

It's been two months since Harry rushed to Scotland to see his wife. It has been two months since she left, saying she no longer loved him. For the last month they have worked with their therapist to try and fix what's broken. Y/N lives in an apartment they own on the other side of the city. The kids remain with Harry. For the first few weeks Anne stayed with Harry to help, but since then he's been on his own with the children. They don't fully understand why their Mummy doesn't live with them. When she sees them it is difficult when Harry takes them back home for both Y/N and the children. There are always sobs in the car as Harry drives them home, buying their contentment with ice cream and toys and amusement parks. However, he know that isn't a sustainable way for them to cope.

With the help of a child psychologist they are adjusting a bit. But the transition is difficult for everyone and their wounds remain deep .Each day is a little bit easier. He works his schedule around theirs, and makes certain he is available to them at any time. He leaves Lola with a trusted friend or Gemma when he can't take her with him. That's usually only for therapy appointments with Y/N. During the day the two older children are in school so his only immediate concern is Lola. He has put all his plans on hold. He's even asked Jeff not to call for the time being. Jeff is one of his best friends, but Harry also knows it's all business in the end. He can't let anything distract him. The three shows in Manchester are around the corner. He's decided to stay with his mum so she can help with the kids while he rehearses and puts the final touches on the show.

####

Manchester Night Three

Harry is near the end of his final night in Manchester when he walks to the mic stand.

"Thank you everyone for welcoming me home. As most of you know I grew up not too far from here, and it's always a pleasure coming home. It's been an honor returning to Manchester and getting the chance to perform for all of you these three nights."

The crowd erupts into cheers and barking. Harry gives them a moment before he continues. In spite of the noise of the crowd, he speaks, "Thank you so much for everything, but the evening isn't quite over yet! I have something very special and unexpected for all of you."

Harry and the band have had a tremendous impact on people, as evidenced by the crowd's enthusiasm and appreciation. The cheering and applause are not only a sign of gratitude and admiration, but they also serve as a reminder of the show's success. A clear indication of the joy it has brought to countless people.

"Thank you." Harry chokes back tears, pausing for a moment as he looks at the ground. He clears his throat and continues. "Throughout our show's run, we have had the opportunity to share our message of joy and positivity with people from all walks of life. We are overwhelmed by the amount of support we have received and we are truly thankful for the encouragement and love we have been shown." He stops and looks around, taking it all in, the enormous stadium filled with people who love him, but there is one person missing, the only person that matters. "There should be glow stick necklaces in your seats. I see many of you have them already. Please make sure that you all wear them for the last few songs. Come on then, I want this room to look like a sea of stars. I usually end the show with Kiwi, but tonight we have changed up the setlist. I hope you'll like what I've got in store for you." A cheer breaks out. Harry walks to the other side of the stage.

"But before I do that, I want to share a few things with you." He looks back at the band, giving a half-smile. "I rarely talk about my personal life or business endeavors, but tonight I would like to share a bit of that with you. My contract will end after tonight's last song."

A few in the crowd murmur, mumble, cheer or shout, but most of the fans are quiet as they await his next words. Some are predicting a surprise release of his next album tonight.

"But this time I didn't renew that contract. No one, not even my wife knows that. Instead, I'm taking a break to spend some quality time with my family and reflect on the past as well as consider my next steps, whatever they may be." The stadium falls silent as he continues. However, some decide to boo Harry during such a vulnerable moment.

"I know, and believe me I'm sorry to say that, but it's important you hear it from me, and not the press or social media gossip. As most of you know I have a beautiful family, and I love them more than words, even mine can describe. They are true treasures. A pair of beautiful, sweet, and amazing daughters, as well as a handsome and gifted son. But there's one person who doesn't get the credit they deserve and that's my wife. She truly is a Sweet Creature. Everything that is good and happy in my life stems from that woman. She has been with me for almost 10 years, and that alone makes her a saint." Harry holds back tears as his voice cracks. "While I have been traveling the world doing what I love, she has been at home with our family. However, somewhere along the way I forgot how difficult it must be for her. She always shared me with you without reserve or hesitation. She inspired some of you favorite songs. I also realized just how much I'd missed with my kids. And for those reasons I am embarking on a long hiatus."

The jumbotron catches women and girls sobbing, some holding their hands to their hearts praising him for being such a wonderful husband. His gesture of love and dedication resonates with many, as evidenced by the reactions of the crowd.

"And I hope during that time you don't forget me, and that you love the music I come back with, but I want to take some time to be with my family and hopefully grow as a person as well as an artist. Now, my kids are backstage, and if you're good I might invite them out at the end of the show. " Everyone screams and yells.

"The songs I'm about to play have meant a lot to me recently. After looking through the catalogue of songs I've written or just sang over the years, some really stuck out as very significant right now. So, if you'll be patient for one more moment I'd like to ask some special people to join me on the stage."

As a customized riser comes from beneath the stage, four silhouettes can be seen. The roar and stomping that comes from the crowd can probably be heard in Liverpool.

"I think some of you might recognize these guys, but just in case I'll let them introduce themselves." The crowd begins to quiet down. The stage lights shine down on the four men as they turn toward the crowd.

"I'm Niall." The crowd cheers.

"I'm Zayn." The crowd only grows louder.

"Hey everyone, it's Liam" And the cheers continue to grow.

And finally. "I'm Louis."

The stadium is so loud that the guys can't talk to one another so they just smile and wave at the crowd. The atmosphere is electric, like a thunderstorm that has been brewing for days and is finally ready to unleash its power.

Harry laughs into the mic. "Weren't expecting that were you?" His quip elicits a roar of laughter from the audience, further encouraging their enthusiasm. Everyone seems on the verge of hysteria.

So I'd like to start off with a song that has really hit home for me lately. This one is called "Long Way Down."

Niall begins,

We made a fire Went down in the flames We sailed an ocean And drowned in a wave Built a cathedral But we never prayed We had it all, yeah And we walked away

Harry belts out his iconic, soulful lyrics

Point of no return And now it's just too late to turn around I try to forgive you, But I struggle 'cause I don't know how We built it up so high and now I'm fallin' It's a long way down It's a long way down from here

The voices of the stadium singing along all but drowned out the boys completely. The song continues with all of the boys singing their parts with absolute perfection.

"Now, this next one's even further back in the catalogue, and it's called Infinity," Louis says. Music emanating from the stage even further excites the fans, as the boys grin with joy at being together and sharing a stage with each other. Once again they are in complete harmony as though it had been days and not years since they sang together.

"And I think the fellas got one more left in 'em. Do ya guys?" Harry asks with his signature smile.

They agree.

"This one has been on my mind as I made these recent decisions about my career. Y/N I hope you're listening. "If I could fly". Harry begins.

If I could fly I'd be coming right back home to you I think I might Give up everything, just ask me to

The song is as beautiful as it was the first time the crowd heard it so many years ago. After the final note. Each of the boys nod, and say thank you. The five gather at the center of the stage and engage in a long, tearful embrace. The entire crowd is crying and cheering. Eventually the boys wave and say goodbye one last time before exiting.

"Thank you so much, guys, and to you our fans thank you for loving and supporting us as individual artists since we played as One Direction. I think I speak for all of us, when I say we are immensely grateful for each and everyone of you." The fans cheer and shout.

"Okay. So I promised if you were good I'd let you see my adorable bubs. I think my mum has them backstage. Sarah, would you mind going back and helping bring the babies in?"

Sarah nods, steps away from her drum kit and walks backstage. Harry entertains the crowd by reading signs. Soon everyone is indicating to Harry that there is activity behind him. When he turns around Sarah has Poppy by her hand, and Archer walks ahead of them. "Where's my Lola?" he asks Sarah.

"She's coming."

"What? She can't even walk without help." Harry laughs.

He turns back to the crowd, "Okay baby Styles is somewhere."

He leans down to Poppy. "Can you tell my friends your name?"

"Poppy." She grabs the hem of her lace dress and tucks her face into Harry's chest. The crowd ooh and awws.

Archer pats his dad's leg. "My turn."

"I think he's gonna be the performer in the bunch."

Harry squats as he asks, "And what's your name?"

"Archer, and I busted my foot, but it's better."

The audience laughs hysterically. Suddenly, they scream almost as loudly as they did for the One Direction guys. Harry turns around to see Y/N carrying Lola.

He mouths "What are you doing here?"

She smiles and shrugs. He extends his arms to take Lola. "And this little bit is Lola." He kisses the baby, then gives Y/N a peck on the cheek, not wanting to step across the boundaries they've set for the time being. He puts his arm around Y/N's waist. "And this is Y/N. She's everything I could ever ask for in a wife. She's the only reason I'm still doing this for you, but now it's her turn." He points to the kids. "And their turn. Like I said I hope you don't forget me and are still here when I come back. I don't know how long that will be, but no matter how long it is I'll never forget any of you, or any of this. I love you all. Thank you so much. And with that I'd like to ask the band to join me for a wave and bow."

The band walks forward and in a line they put their arms around one another, some smiling, some crying as they take the final bow.

###

Backstage.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asks Y/N.

"Your mum told me there was something I really needed to be here for."

"Does this mean?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet Harry, and I don't know if or when it will be, but tonight was a start."

She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek.

"That's all I need, some hope, at least a start."

"Okay." She nods and takes his hand. "A start."

[daydreamingleclerc]

kinktober #12 - pierre gasly

pierre gets off on watching you, and there’s nothing better than doing it in public.

prompts: in public / voyeurism

warnings: female masturbation, mutual masturbation, public!play, unprotected sex, biting, a mention of our lord and savior ted kravitz at the very end <33 i wrote this in 15 minutes so i apologise that it’s short & kinda bad…. i also apologise that it’s late :) the last 2 charles & mick ones will be up asap.

“that’s it, baby,” pierre purred, watching you from across the way, “just like that.”

you couldn’t quite believe that he’d managed to persuade you into doing this — skirt up on your hips, one hand buried into your lacy black underwear, one toying your nipples, sitting in the back corner of the alphatauri garage on race weekend.

anyone could see you, or better yet, anyone could film you. you could quite literally be fingering yourself in the background of a sky news broadcast, and that got pierre off.

“you look so pretty like this,” he cooed. the pair of you were sitting on metal boxes, pierre’s feet skimming the floor while yours were up on the box to give him a full view of your pussy. “anyone could see you, baby.”

“mhm,” you breathed, fingers switching between curling inside of you and rubbing at your clit, “feels so good.”

pierre palmed at himself through his jeans, his eyes focused entirely on you. “looks good too.” he joked, and you noticed the wet patch of pre-cum on his jeans.

“pierre — fuck — your jeans,” you bucked your hips up into your hand and fought back a stifled moan, “they… you, do you..”

“do i what, babe?”

“do you wanna fuck me?”

he shivered at that. your words were so filthy but your voice was so innocent, and it made him groan. your fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, and you whimpered and groaned, “come on pierre, i know you want to,” he watched your fingers glisten as they slipped out, “my pussy is so wet for you.”

he slid off of the box and wrapped a hand around your wrist, guiding it so your fingers pumped in and out of your pussy deliciously, and with his free hand he unbuckled his jeans, pulling himself out of them brashly.

he pulled your fingers from you and shoved them into your mouth, watching as spit spluttered around messily. your legs wrapped around his waist and he pulled you closer, pushing into you without another word.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, “you are wet.”

“you’re not the only one who gets off on this stuff,” you breathed, your head falling down onto his shoulder, “faster, pierre, fuck.”

he grabbed one of your legs and held it out, the angle allowing him to fuck you deeper. you cried out, teeth biting down on the flesh of his shoulder, and he winced.

“god you’re so tight,” he groaned, “reacting to me so well. you must love this, hm? the thought of being caught, the thought of being watched. i wonder if any of the mechanics can hear you moaning my name from their meeting room, hm? wonder if the hospitality suite can hear your pretty little noises.”

his words erupted something beautiful inside of your stomach, and you realised you couldn’t hold off on your orgasm much longer.

“‘m gonna cum, pierre,” you clamped one of your legs around his waist, “please… fuck!”

before you could even finish your sentence, the orgasm washed through you like a wave, and pierre fucked you through it. with wobbly, trembling knees, you jumped off the box and got to the floor, hovering underneath the shaft of his cock.

his hand worked up and down, the tip resting delicately on your flat tongue as you held it out, waiting patiently for his cum to seep down your throat.

“fuck, Y/N,” he grunted, and you watched as the hot beads of white liquid coated your tongue and cheeks. “you look so pretty with my cum all over your face.”

he helped you up and handed you a clean towel from the pile on the side, and you frowned, “i’m gonna have to take this home and wash it,” pierre’s eyebrows furrowed.

“why? just run it under the faucet.”

“no! everyone’s gonna know that we just fucked in the garage,” as you and pierre laughed about the events that had just taken place, ted kravitz walked past the alphatauri garage with his camera crew. you and pierre smirked. “maybe everyone might know a little sooner.”

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

Shortly after Feyre and Rhys start trying for a baby, Feyre discovers a new kink that her mate is all too happy to help her indulge in.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Breeding Kink, Cock Warming, Exhibitionism

Chapters: One-Shot

AO3 Link

• ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ • ❤︎ •

Stuffed

Feyre wasn’t entirely sure how it started.

Actually, that was a lie. She knew exactly how it started.

It was after Rhys had stuffed her full of his beautiful cock, eager to make their dream of a child a reality. It was all she thought about now. Her new obsession. One her mate was all too happy to indulge in with her.

Every morning found them clutching each other as if starved. Rhys slip sliding his way into her body and mind like he belonged there. Until, inevitably, they would reach their peaks and she would feel his body slip out of hers and leave her feeling…empty.

At first she tried to smother such a reaction. She had just had a lovely time making love to her mate. Who was she to want more? To be so…needy. So desperate. So eager to trap him in the clutch of her body like some carnivorous plant.

Eventually though, Rhys caught wind of her thoughts (as he always did, the sneak).

It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship Feyre Darling, he whispered into her head one night when Feyre was all but drifting off. Do you really think I don’t dream of spending every waking moment inside of you?

Suddenly, she was wide awake.

“But-” she protested, simultaneously repulsed and intrigued. He was a person. Her mate. Not some toy she could just straddle and use-

Yes. Use me.

The words hit her like a punch to the face. She felt dizzy. Bewildered.

Elated, Rhys thought slyly, pulling her in close so he could cage her in his arms. I belong to you Feyre. My body is yours to do with as you please. It’s not an imposition to use what is yours. So use me.

Those words haunted her in the days and weeks that followed.

Every day she woke up thinking about it. Being stuffed full. Not the grinding and movement of sex, but the deep, possessive satisfaction of knowing Rhys was hers. Held tight in the grasp of her body. It satiated her, fed a deep and hungry part of her that needed her mate to be with her at all times.

Of course, whatever he said, it was a wholly unreasonable desire. She couldn’t just…stuff herself full of him and then leave him there.

“And why not?” Rhys asked her amusedly when she tentatively broached the subject. “I don’t think there’s a male alive who wouldn’t want to live inside their mate’s cunt.”

And it was like the floodgates opened after that. 

She started seeking him out. In his office. In the kitchen. In the garden even. Cornering him like prey and shoving him onto the nearest surface so she could straddle his lap and take what she wanted.

And he let her.

If anything, he reveled in it.

“Greedy thing,” he would moan happily whenever he found himself victim to her whims. “Take what you need.”

It didn’t seem to matter where or when she took him, he was always willing to let her do anything she wanted.

Even in his sleep, he couldn’t escape her attentions.

“Mmm?” Rhys murmured sleepily one morning. It was still dark outside their bedroom window and yet Feyre was wide awake.

“I just…I need it. Inside. Just for a little while,” she told him breathlessly.

And Rhys, bless him, didn’t utter a single word of protest as she stuffed his cock inside herself like a woman starved.

She just couldn’t stop herself once she’d begun.

Every moment she could get away with was spent subjecting her mate to the sweetest of torture.

Straddling his lap in his office, pressing her nose into his neck like a curious little kitten as she speared herself on her favorite part of him as he struggled to read reports on tax law.

(After all, how could dry lists of grain prices and port taxes compare to the squirming, writhing little creature who would strangle his cock with every flutter of her perfect cunt?)

Honestly, it was a miracle the Night Court hadn’t fallen into chaos and disrepair with how little work they gotten done lately.

But even in their own time, they barely slept. At the end of a very long day they would arrive home intending to sleep only for Feyre to suddenly shove her mate down in front of the fire and sit on his cock like she owned it and Rhys would be able to do little more than gasp, “You do! It’s yours! All yours!”

They are addicted to the fevered feel of one another. A fever of the heart. A fever of the brain.

Even in the Court of Nightmares he wasn’t safe from her insatiable need.

They sat on their throne, Feyre on her mate’s lap, listening to the whine of courtiers as they bowed and scraped before them. All the while, she shifted restlessly.

Really? Rhys thought, amusedly. Here? Right now?

Right now. Feyre agreed, fingers already undoing the claps and ties to release his cock for her to sit on. All it took was one of Rhys’s cleverly placed shadows to conceal her shifting the panel of her dress to the side and then-

Ah. They both groaned.

Here was her real throne. Rhys could have his gaudy, brutal stone chair. She was much happier with the High Lord as her seat, with his most vulnerable part nestled deep inside her where no one could see.

She rocked back, just a bit, and she felt her mate twitch as he slid his arm around her waist to keep her in place. Keep her close. Pressed back until she could feel the beat of his heart against her own. As if he wished to pull her back even further, until she lived inside his chest.

Maybe he did.

If only, he whispered longingly into her mind. I would keep you there, right next to my heart.

She moaned.

He kept her like that for the rest of the audience. Speared on his cock underneath the suspicious, hateful eyes of their court. He only let her come when everyone was finally dismissed and then was allowed to ride him with abandon.

And so it went.

“Give me a baby,” she gasped into his mouth one afternoon, rocking atop his lap. “A son with your laugh. A daughter with your eyes.”

And Rhys could only groan in response, completely lost in the fantasy she spun for him. Afterwards, she drew him even closer, skin to skin, cock and seed still trapped inside her.

It wouldn’t do to waste any, after all.

“What happens…if I do get pregnant?” She asked one day, tentatively. “Will this stop?”

And Rhys knew immediately what she meant.

He sifted his fingers through her hair, gently, but almost possessive. “You think too highly of me if you think I’ll give this up.”

Coming from anyone else she might’ve recoiled from such words. But instead all she felt was relief.

“Good.”

And they got back to work.

After all, they still had a child to make.

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 4

You were just coming down with something, that was all. The flu, food poisoning...or something...

Warnings: Throwing up, so emetophobia warning. Like one or two mentions of drinking alcohol. Mentions of failed protection. Spot the accidental FNAF reference. Proofread, again, lazily. Word count: 4,479 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

These are your texts. These are Craig's/Tinder's texts.

Part 3 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 5

Santiago was gone by the time you woke up the day after your date. You hadn’t expected him to be there, at all. You’d have been more surprised if he had stayed for breakfast.

He at least tidied up after himself, putting back the plant pot he had knocked over, although it looked like he had just shoved the plant back in with the way it was tilted on an angle. You snorted before grabbing the pot, quickly fixing it up and giving your poor peace lily some water.

You’d had fun last night. Even though you’d both agreed that this was probably not going to lead to anything else and was a one-time deal, you would probably meet up with Santi again if the opportunity arose. He was a good laugh, and the perfect gentleman, even if he did knock over your plant.

Not to mention he was insanely good looking and gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Giggling at the memories of last night, you made yourself some coffee, intending to catch up on a few emails as you made your breakfast. Sundays had always been your day to clean and tidy up your apartment, usually to feel fresh and organised for the week ahead. You had no plans to leave today; you’ll prepare some stuff for work in the afternoon, so you had a head start when you go in on Monday, but your plan was to lounge around and watch Netflix.

But first you needed to shower, because you had all kinds of funk going on.

Emily cornered you the minute she stepped into the office on Monday. She demanded you tell her how well your date went with Santi since he didn’t ‘give anything up all weekend’.

You shrugged at her. “It was fun, we had a good time.”

Emily waited for you to say more, but when she was met with silence, she waved her hands at you frantically. “Is that it?”

You snorted. “I don’t know what you want me to say, we went out, we agreed we weren’t looking for anything serious, and that was that.”

“So my match making didn’t work? You went out, ‘had a good time’, and nothing came from it?”

“Let’s be honest, Emily, I’m probably never going to see Santi again.”

One week

The launch was weeks away, and your week was filled with meetings, and looking into getting new clients on board. You had tried reassuring the other teams in your office that there will be potential but some of the more difficult members of your office didn’t want to listen to you. They had already started headhunting.

It had put you in a bad mood that your co-worker’s didn’t seem to have any faith in you, despite your reputation and how long you had been there. You knew what you were doing, you weren’t an idiot. You studied for four years to get where you were today. By midday, you had already plugged in your earphones, asserting that no-one talks to you for the rest of the day.

As it turned out, it was another late lunch day for you, you sitting yourself down to eat when everyone was packing up to leave. It was Friday, and everyone was chatting about their weekend plans. You had had plans with Beth but she had cancelled earlier that morning due to a ‘wedding emergency’. She hadn’t elaborated and you hadn’t asked, just sent her your love and help if she needed anything.

You relax your shoulders, almost groaning at the ache in them. There was a lot going on, and you hadn’t had the chance to unwind at all. Emily had been pestering you again about Santi. You told her that you just weren’t interested in anything more, and neither was he. If she thought there was someone else you should meet, then sure, you would give it a go, but she didn’t seem to understand that you had both wanted something casual.

Also, you really needed to get your AC fixed. It was getting warmer as the summer was approaching, and you couldn’t keep going the way you were. You told yourself you will be at home next weekend and get your AC fixed. You made a mental note to look up electricians when you get home.

Two weeks

God you were tired. And moody. Your period was due in a few days, so it must have been that. You better check your supplies for when you go to the store tomorrow. Not only that, but work was running you ragged, and it was really taking it out of you, and the hot weather was not helping. Thank God it was the weekend, and you were finally getting your AC looked at.

You were thinking about your date with Santiago and decided that you were going to download Tinder again. You had fun with Santi, so why couldn’t you have fun like that again? It didn’t have to be anything long term, but if you happened to meet someone who wanted a little more, you would give it a go. You were open to anything in the end.

You were scrolling left and right through Tinder when the electrician arrived. He had lots of good reviews on Google, and he seemed really reliable. You had contacted him as soon as you could, and he replied within an hour. He turned up when he said he would, and he’d even fixed your AC an hour after arriving.

As you paid him and thanked him profusely as he left, a notification went off on your phone. It was a match with a guy called Craig, and he’d already messaged you. You grinned and snorted at the cheesy pick-up line.

Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?

Wow. Think I might need some nachos for all that cheese.

I’m sorry. My buddy and I have a bet going on to see who would get a response from the worst pick up lines and you just won me $50 so thank you!

Glad I could help. Was that the only reason you swiped right?

No, you’re genuinely beautiful. The bet was just a bonus.

You raise your eyebrow and grin.

Well, aren’t you just a charmer?

I aim to please. So what is it you do for a living?

You talked well into the afternoon; Craig was in fact charming, and a sweetheart. And he was a fan of cheesy pick-up lines, and not just for bets. You gave him your number later in the afternoon, and promptly forgot about Tinder.

Three weeks

You were late.

For work and your period.

But it was fine, your body was never like clockwork. Sometimes you were late and sometimes you weren’t. There wasn’t any reason to worry, it was only a few days. It was probably from the adrenaline of the product launch.

What you were going to worry about was the fact that traffic was ten times worse than it usually was and you were absolutely about to get a severe warning from your boss if you didn’t start moving soon. The launch was tonight, and you had so many things to still finalise. You sensed you were going to be spending your day in the office going at 100 miles an hour.

You called Emily to tell her to get started without you, that you had all the faith in the world that your team could make the right decisions and hold for the fort until you got there. At least then no-one would be behind and on schedule.

You made it into the building ten minutes late.

“You’re late,” Harriet, your boss, muttered to you with her arms folded across her chest as you practically run into your workspace.

“Yeah, sorry, traffic was terrible. Emily, where are we up to?” you ask, throwing your bag and jacket on your chair.

“Uh…” Emily read through her notes, her brow furrowed before nodding. “We are good to go on the slideshows, the banners, and the drink display. We’re still waiting on the DJ and the food itself is fine, it just the waiting staff - ”

“The waiting staff? They confirmed weeks ago!”

“The flu has been going round and they’re trying to replace the ones they have off.”

You let out a groan of frustration before taking Emily’s notes from her. “You get in touch with the DJ, I’ll sort out the servers. Anything else?”

“Yeah, the mechanic for the wraps on the cars have sent over their invoice,” Emily bit her lip. “I don’t think they’re sending them out until it’s paid.”

“Send it over to accounting, let the client know, and get on it ASAP. I can’t believe this is all happening on launch day!” you snap, already punching in the catering company’s number to ask them for an update.

Turns out, half of their workforce was out of commission because they had been hit with the flu and it had spread like wildfire. You tried not to lose your temper, it wasn’t their fault, and it wouldn’t be your company that was affected by it either. You told them you understood, that if they could send whoever they could for the event, that would be great.

You slammed the phone down and searched up any temp agencies that may have had any servers available. You contacted a fair few, leaving messages and sending emails, you could do nothing but wait and move on to something else that required your immediate attention. Of course, the client had some last-minute changes to the flyers that were also finalised weeks ago and were sent to print last week. You had wanted to put your foot down on that one, but queried with the printer company anyway, to see if they could print out over five hundred flyers and have them ready for collection by that afternoon.

By some small miracle, they said they could for an extra cost and if you sent over the prints in an hour.

You got on the phone with the client and made the adjustments then and there. With the completed flyers accepted and checked off, you sent them over to the printing office with minutes to spare.

Then one of the temp agencies came back to you to say they did have some spare servers and they could work that evening. You thank whatever God is up there that someone was on your side that day!

You send an update in the office team chat, where Emily also confirmed the DJ is already on the way from Orlando. His gig that morning had ran over and he hadn’t been able to confirm back to Emily’s email regarding the launch, but he was now on his way.

You sighed, closing your eyes and sitting back in your chair, rubbing at the headache in the middle of your forehead. You needed a drink.

“We did it!” cried Emily. “We fixed the problems!”

“Only just,” you muttered, your eyes still closed. “I could do with more servers.”

By the end of the day, another catering company managed to send over a few more servers. You sent the invoices over to accounting, the last of your jobs for the day over.

You made it home with less than an hour to get ready for the event. You were feeling a little woozy, probably from the mess that was today, and how you hadn’t really eaten. You make yourself a quick dinner, just some spaghetti in a tomato sauce, and shower while the sauce was cooking.

Once you were ready, and looking fabulous, you left your apartment, not before you sent a quick photo of yourself to your friends, sending over ‘Final night! 🎉’. You were praised with congratulations and love hearts from your best friends.

You even got a text from Craig, which caused you to smile.

Well done, superstar! Let’s celebrate together soon.

You sent him a quick text back thanking him and telling him you’d definitely take him up on his offer as a notification for your Uber came through.

Making your way into the large venue, Emily was already shoving a drink of champagne in your hands. “We did it! We worked our asses off and nearly crashed and burned, but we did it!”

You give her a large smile, and cheersed her own champagne glass before taking a gulp. You grimaced at the taste. “We spent all that money on marketing, but couldn’t afford decent champagne?”

Emily pulled a face as she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? I told Harriet it was worth buying the better stuff, but no.”

You frowned before placing the champagne on a table, intending to leave it there. You took a deep breath, your stomach doing somersaults. The spaghetti you made earlier wasn’t sitting well, and the champagne had really turned your stomach.

It was probably the bad champagne.

The head of the sport’s drink company made his way up to the stage and tapped into the microphone to gain everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone! It’s amazing to see you all tonight for the launch of our product…”

You zoned out, trying to focus on breathing. You did not feel good, and as the crowd went silent to listen to the ‘big boss’, you tried your best to listen, but you couldn’t from the ringing in your ears. You can feel the beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you turn to Emily, not really looking at her as you discreetly excuse yourself. Panic sets in as you realise you can't hold it in any longer. You rush towards the nearest restroom, desperately hoping you make it in time.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear the distant hum of the speech fading away as you step into the bathroom. You're grateful that it's empty, providing you with a moment of privacy. You lock yourself inside a cubicle and drop to your knees, gripping the cold porcelain toilet bowl. As you lean over, Emily’s voice echoes through the empty bathroom. Figures she followed you, noticing your sudden discomfort. You felt the embarrassment flow through your body, but you know that she's only there to lend a helping hand, if you needed it.

The wave of nausea intensifies, and you barely have time to pull your hair back before a rush of the earlier spaghetti emits from within you. The taste is bitter and acrid, burning your throat as it leaves your body. Then you hear a knock on the door, followed by Emily’s gentle voice, muffled by the bathroom's walls. She asks if you're alright, if there's anything she can do to help.

You manage to compose yourself enough to respond, your voice shaky and weak. "I...I think I'll be okay," you say, your words interrupted by a sudden gag. "Sorry, just...just give me a minute."

She doesn't leave, though. Instead, she waits outside your stall. Her presence makes you feel even more embarrassed at this unexpected moment of vulnerability. You wanted to tell her to go back to the party, to not worry about you, that you’ll make your way back in a moment, but words escape you when you needed them the most.

As the nausea subsides, replaced by a lingering queasiness, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You grab some toilet roll, dabbing your mouth before throwing it in the toilet. You flush it, feeling as though the moment has finally passed and it was over. Slowly, you unlock the door and step out, finding Emily waiting for you with a concerned expression.

You avert your gaze and walk past her, washing your hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with empathy. “Do you want some water?”

“I’ll get it, thanks Emily.”

You clear your throat as you shake your hands of excess water before grabbing a few paper towels. You dry your hands and throw them away, before turning to Emily. You couldn’t find the right words, so with a weak smile, you both return to the event.

Four Weeks

“Just take a pregnancy test,” Courtney said, shrugging. “I’m shocked you haven’t yet, honestly.”

Now that you suddenly gained an awful lot of free time as the launch was over, you and Courtney arranged to meet up a week after. Your newest clients were more relaxed, really only happy with the updates to their social media, and a few print outs every now and then. So this gave you the perfect opportunity to gain some advice about the awful ‘case of the flu’ you’d been complaining about all week.

You’d been talking about it since you puked at the launch (and pretty much every day since). And you were constantly tired, and hungry. And just a ball of emotion. You’d thought about the other explanation, obviously, but you can’t be pregnant. You used protection each time. You couldn’t be.

You still decided to skip on the wine with your meal.

“Don’t you think I’m overthinking it, just a bit?” you ask, almost rolling your eyes. “It’s not weird for someone to sometimes be late on their period.”

“And to throw up at their important work event,” Courtney said, raising an eyebrow at you and throwing you a pointed look. “Then every day afterwards. Did you not use protection?”

You wanted to shout at her. She’s talking to you like you’re an irresponsible teenager, and not a woman who was nearing thirty. “Of course, I did.”

Courtney stared at you with a stern look on her face. “So rule it out then, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that it’s impossible for me to be pregnant because I always use protection, so there must be something wrong that’s causing this.”

“Yeah, probably a foetus,” muttered Courtney sarcastically. “All condoms have a 2% fail rate.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. You had to admit, it was a bit weird, and it was the only logical explanation at this point. The ‘flu’ symptoms weren’t wearing off. You were only digging yourself a deeper hole if you didn’t approach it now. “What do I do?”

“Whose would it be?”

You peek over your fingertips at your friend, who was raising an eyebrow at you. You had already thought about this since the last person you slept with was - “Santiago. The ex-army guy from a few weeks ago.”

“Not this doctor guy you’ve been talking to?”

“Craig? No. We haven’t even met yet. We have a date next week.”

“Do you think that Santiago lied about using condoms?”

“No, I…” you grimace, your cheeks warming. “I watched him put them on and throw them in the trash.”

Courtney shrugged. “Well then…I guess you’ll just have to pee on a stick and find out.”

You sigh, before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom and throw up. Again.

Five Weeks

You’d put it off long enough. You were very late for your period, the symptoms hadn’t subsided, and you couldn’t avoid it anymore. You had to take a pregnancy test.

You had cancelled your date with Craig, apologising profusely. You came up with the excuse of the flu and he was very understanding but you noticed he didn’t mention rescheduling. You felt slightly disappointed, but it was fine. You had other things to worry about.

You made your way to the nearest CVS, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart before walking inside, straight to the family planning aisle. Your eyes widened at the brands. Which ones were most reliable? Why are they so expensive? Aren’t babies expensive enough? And why so many different brands? Don’t they all do the same thing?

You would ask Gabrielle, but you didn’t want to bother her with something like this.

You bite your lip as you walk up and down the aisle. ClearBlue is trustworthy, wasn’t it? And it was a well-known brand. And you were sure they had digital tests as well as regular tests. But you know that Clinical Guard is good too. And First Response. Or should you check –

"Are you okay, sweetheart?“

You jump at the sudden interruption, turning to look at the older woman who was wearing a pharmacy coat, her auburn hair pulled back in a bun as her green eyes looked at you a little concerned. You blink before shaking your head quickly and gave the woman a small smile. "Sorry. I'm...which brand would you recommend?"

The woman looked at the pregnancy tests before letting out a hum. "If you want my honest opinion, they all are the same, just have different names. But it's up to you."

Biting your inner lip in slight frustration, you sigh through your nose, looking back at the tests before grabbing a ‘triple check’ ClearBlue box, and a First Response box. You turn to the woman, who smiled at you before leading you to the counter. You pay the (more than you had planned to pay) fees for the tests. The pharmacist looked at you as she tilled in the amount. "You were stood there for a while before I came over. I thought there was something wrong."

You let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a shoulder. "Well...I mean, I could be pregnant, so..."

"We've all been there," replied the pharmacist. "Whatever the result, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Thanks," you replied, grabbing the plastic bag and leaving the store, making your way back to her apartment quickly, almost feeling the anxiousness of being found buying pregnancy tests (as if you weren’t an independent, fully grown adult).

It seemed to take longer to get back to your apartment than it did to get to the CVS. You eventually made it back, closing and relocking your apartment door as you practically ripped the tests from the plastic bag, speed walking to the bathroom, and reading the instructions on the First Response tests.

"You can't pee on a stick wrong, right?" you muttered to yourself, before shaking your head. "Well, Cassie in high school managed to do it wrong. Remove cap, pee on test, pointing down then replace cap and lay on flat surface for three minutes. I can do that. Two lines means congrats, you're pregnant!"

So that’s exactly what you did. Once placing the cap back on and leaving the test on the side of the sink, you washed her hands, watching the test with a concerned look on your face before catching your reflection in the mirror before scowling. You point to your reflection, calling your name sternly. "Come on. Staring at it isn't going to make it go any quicker." you momentarily froze before shaking your head.

Stop talking to yourself.

You took a deep breath, knowing it had been longer than the three minutes it suggested on the box. You let the breath go before closing your eyes tightly then opening them, lifting the test to eyeline.

Two pink lines stare back at you, almost mockingly.

You felt sick again. And dizzy. You were going to pass out. You need to sit down. You feel yourself grab onto the edge of the counter, slowly lowering yourself to the floor, still staring at the positive test. No matter how long you stared, the test didn't change. Those two pink lines were still as vibrant as they were a few minutes ago.

What do you do? What are you supposed to tell Santi? It was a one-night stand, you used protection! How did this happen?

You could feel yourself panicking, becoming breathless. You drop the test on the floor, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as you stumbled your way into your bedroom and to your bedside drawer, digging around for the condom box. They must be a defective batch. There was no way –

You felt your blood run cold. Expired.

You, again, felt like you were going to pass out. How did you not know? Why didn’t you check the expiration date sooner? You felt tears flood your eyes as you angrily threw the box into the trash. What we’re you going to do now? You can’t have a baby. You had a tiny, one-bedroom apartment! You had just situated yourself in your career! And you were pretty sure Santi didn’t want kids. You would be alone, with a child.

You didn't sleep well that night, if at all. Your mind was going one hundred miles a minute, going through all the aspects that you currently had going on and how you would accommodate for a baby, if you were pregnant. You would have to find a new place, big enough for two people, if not more. That was another thing. Would Santi even want to be involved? You hadn’t even spoken since the date, you might not even need to tell him.

You shake the thought away. Of course you need to tell him.

You took a second test as soon when you woke up, and it did come out positive. You waited until after you had breakfast and showered and watched a little morning TV before taking another one. You ended up throwing up your breakfast into the toilet. It was positive, again.

It was late afternoon, after hours of pacing and weighing the options when you scrolled for Santi’s number. You had taken yet another test, just to be sure (the result was no different than the first three you took), and had promptly thrown up again, into your toilet. Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he blocked your number after your date? You had no intention of speaking to each other again, what if he just ignored you? Would he think you wanted another date?

No, you couldn’t let these fears take over. He deserved to know. And if you couldn’t contact him, you could always ask Emily to pass the message along that you needed to speak to him.

You shiver. You hoped it didn’t come to that.

You press the call button before you psych yourself out more, placing the phone to your ear. The ringing twisted your stomach with nerves. This wasn’t even the hard part. You just had to ask him to talk, to meet you for coffee or something. It’ll be casual, as casual as it can be telling a one night stand you were pregnant. Oh shit, you were going to be sick –

“Hello?”

Your breathing hitched at the sound of Santiago’s voice. You take a deep breath before releasing it. There was no turning back now. “Hey…it’s me.”

“Hey,” he replies, muttering your name. “How are you? Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Er, yeah. Just…listen, we need to talk.”