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lemonlover1110 · 9 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Passionfruit

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Praising, Referenced Cheating (MEANING TOJI ONCE CHEATED ON READER AND IT'S TALKED ABOUT), Creampie, Sad Sex(womp womp)

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Getting married to Toji was the worst decision that you’ve ever made. You love him more than anything, yet he’s been the worst husband that you could’ve asked for. Your wedding day was the happiest day of your life, yet since that day, you haven’t been happy. You try to be shocked but since the beginning of your relationship, Toji told you that he wouldn’t be a great husband.

You had dumb hopes, of course, that you could turn him into the perfect husband– Not necessarily perfect but at least a good one. You should’ve backed out on your plans the first month of your relationship, when you caught him in bed with another woman. But you were so into Toji back then that you managed to move past it, luckily, the incident never occurred again, and of course, he made it up to you.

But Toji was never a great boyfriend though. He did the bare minimum every time, and you praised him for it. You don’t recall him even telling you that he loves you until your wedding day. To this day you don’t know why you stuck with him when the universe sent you a clear sign the first month of your relationship. You were still young, and even if you broke up with him you would have accomplished your five year plan in time.

You met Toji when you were twenty two and he was thirty four. He had a nine-year-old son and your first thought was no, you didn’t want to be a stepmother at such a young age. You just hooked up with him a couple times, and eventually you caught feelings. It was nothing too passionate, but you liked him enough to start a relationship with him, and to stay when he betrayed you early on.

By twenty four, you got engaged. You surprisingly didn’t have to ask him, he did it himself with no issue. He heard about your five year plan, married by twenty five, and he knew a wedding or at least the type you wanted, took at least a year to plan. Within a year, you were married.

You were getting cold feet on your wedding day, coming to the realization that Toji had never told you that he loved you. While he wasn’t a man that expressed his emotions, he surely would’ve told you that he loved you at least once, right? Toji heard you were getting cold feet, and he was at your door thirty minutes before the ceremony started.

“Isn’t this bad luck?” You asked him, unsure of what he was doing at your door. You didn’t really couldn’t stomach having a conversation with him. Toji looked as handsome as ever, it was the first time you’d ever seen him so dressed up. He shrugged.

“Heard that you were having second thoughts.” Toji began, and you crossed your arms. You couldn’t even look him in the eye. He cleared his throat before asking, “Care to explain?”

“Do you even love me, Toji? We’ve been in a relationship for three years, and you haven’t even told me that you love me. I do love you, Toji, but I don’t want to get married to someone who doesn’t love me.” You told him, and his brows raised. He took slow breaths, and you were on the verge of tears. You stumbled over your words as you continued, “Just please be honest with me, Toji. I can move on and start over, even if it’s hard at first.”

He took a couple steps toward you before his hands cupped your face. His lips met yours in a short but sweet kiss. He smiled at you before telling you, “Have I really not told you how much I love you?”

His words made you continue with the marriage, bringing you a sense of comfort and safety in your relationship. You weren’t so hesitant about being married, and the first month of your marriage you were genuinely happy– Until you weren’t.

Being a stepmother wasn’t hard. Megumi was a sweet child, only twelve when you got married to his father, but old enough to make his own decisions and to know right from wrong. You didn’t have to teach him anything, in fact, Toji asked you to stay out of that aspect of Megumi’s life. Unless Megumi did something that was clearly wrong, he didn’t want you to discipline his son. However, you never had any issues with Megumi.

You only ever had issues with Toji. The honeymoon stage is supposed to last longer than a month, but within a month Toji was dismissive of you. He was cold towards you, he didn’t bother communicating any issues. It felt like Toji was just using you to come home to a clean house, a cooked meal, and for sex. You tried to fix it many times, but he never bothered to change.

You weren’t treated like his wife. He couldn’t care about your interests, blamed any of the issues of your relationship on you, and what you found the worst, constantly compared you to his late wife. You were worried about that before you got married, and you expressed your concerns to him; sometimes it felt like he did it on purpose.

You had this concern that you never felt in your relationship, even after the incident of your first month together. He was cheating on you– He had to be. He came home late, and didn’t pay any attention to you. But you were proven wrong after you followed him around and he was just working. Simply working. He didn’t even look at another woman… It relieved you, and once again filled you with this sense of comfort in your marriage.

You were fine until he nearly forgot your twenty-sixth birthday, he only remembered at night, and your heart broke. But he was so loving towards you after he remembered, for a week, he treated you like his wife but things quickly went back to normal.

Dismissive, cold, reserved.

But you still dealt with it because you loved him. Even when you constantly argued and he blamed every issue of your marriage on you. You were growing tired of it, and each time that he brought up her name, you threatened to leave. He didn’t take you seriously though. And you weren’t serious until your twenty-seventh birthday, when he completely forgot to congratulate you again. But this time it completely slipped. He came home late that night, but you didn’t get to see him because you had cried yourself to sleep.

You were the wife that he wanted for some time– Quiet. You didn’t bother talking about his day, asking if he liked dinner, if you were going to do anything special for the weekend (you never did but you always asked), you didn’t ask Megumi anything either. You mentally checked out of the relationship. Until you realized that you can’t live like this forever, just emotionally isolated while you played housewife. And now you’re sitting on the couch of your apartment, waiting for your husband to come home.

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, your hands shaky and getting worse with each second that passes. He’ll get home at any minute now, and it’ll all be over. He won’t argue your request, Toji isn’t one to argue much. You’re usually the one that starts the arguments to actually communicate with him, but you won’t be arguing with him tonight.

“Why are you still awake?” Toji’s voice spooks you, you were so lost in your own thoughts of what will come next that you completely missed the sound of the front door opening. Toji furrows his eyebrow as he looks down at you. You blink slowly before shrugging, the same response he would’ve given you. You stand up, pointing to the coffee table where the divorce papers lay.

“I want a divorce.” You’re brief. Before you can see his reaction, you take off your engagement and wedding ring, setting them down on the coffee table beside the divorce papers. You go back to your bedroom, leaving him in the living room to process the news. You doubt he cares too much.

“Are you sure you want this? A divorce?” He ends up following after you which surprises you. You get in bed, throwing the blanket over you. You don’t pay much attention to him before you respond,

“Yes. It’s what we both want.” You answer. He shakes his head.

“It’s what you want because I don’t want a divorce.” He responds, and you raise your brows. You shake your head disapprovingly.

“Right… You’re right. Because with me you have a live-in maid.” You point out, your voice calm as ever. Toji blinks slowly, tilting his head to the side before he opens his mouth.

“Don’t I pay the bills?” He argues, making you get out of the bed. You can’t stay calm at this moment, even if you try.

“And you hold it over my head every damn day. I don’t even get an allowance to buy myself some clothes because all the money you have left over, you throw away gambling!” You raise your voice at him, so much pent-up anger slowly unleashing. “And I wouldn’t care too much about that if you gave me the place as your wife– You treat me as if I were your fucking servant.”

“What the hell? Since when do you care about that?” Toji asks, and you freeze in your spot. You end up laughing in disbelief because you can’t believe your own husband is saying that. He’s supposed to know you better than anyone. Yet he doesn’t seem to know you at all.

“Since always! I want to be loved, Toji, how do you not know that?” You sound defeated, and he’s stepping closer to you. You’re nearly crying, realizing how you’ve wasted your time. The man that stands in front of you doesn’t love you, he’s only with you because– You don’t even know why he’s with you. “What kind of wife doesn’t want to be loved?”

He cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You’re getting lost in his eyes, and you have to force yourself to look away because it never ends well when you look into his eyes. You’re so fucking weak for him. You never thought you could love someone as much as you love Toji; at first you definitely didn’t think it’d be such a strong emotion since you didn’t care much for him at first but when you fell, you fell hard. You truly believe that the man that stands in front of you is the love of your life, yet you’re leaving him because you doubt that you’ll be able to be happy by his side.

It’s the worst kind of love. The one that makes you unhappy because you yearn for it to be reciprocated.

“Then let me love you, baby.” Toji says, his lips moving down to meet yours. You’re taken back, and even though you want to pull away you also want to stay like this forever. Instead of pushing him away, your hands meet behind his neck and pull him closer to you.

His tongue swipes on your lips before you part them to let his tongue meet yours. His hands move down your body, his fingertips like fire, arousing every inch of your body as they move down your skin. You should pull away since a strong sentiment takes over as you realize that this is the only way Toji knows how to love you, and you hate it. But you’ve melted into the kiss and you can’t pull away now.

Toji’s lifting up your nightgown, and the back of your mind is telling you to stop. You’re not listening though. You only ever pull away– You don’t pull away, Toji does. He kisses down your neck before focusing on that sweet spot on your neck that makes your knees weak.

His finger hooks under your panties, and he begins to play with the waistband before he pushes them down to the floor. When he stops kissing your neck, his fingers go to the hem of your nightgown and he lifts it up. When he takes off your nightgown, he picks you up to put you down on the bed. His hands cup your face and he gently kisses your lips, and while he looks down at you, you’re thinking that maybe– No, no, nonononono you can’t be so weak. What are you even doing under him?

Just as you’re about to get up, his lips go on yours again. He caresses your cheek, “I really love you. So much.”

His lips kiss you again and then they move down. He kisses every inch of your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So fucking perfect.”

“You’re my perfect wife.” He praises you with each kiss to your body, and you can’t deny how you’re like putty under his touch. Toji seems to realize the grasp he has on you, that’s why he’s kissing every inch of your body so you won’t leave him. Toji isn’t always so loving with you as he is right at this moment. He presses one final kiss on your lower abdomen before he goes to your face. He kisses your lips again, “I love you so much.”

Your hands go to Toji’s tie, and you loosen it up. Toji takes it completely off and your fingers begin to unbutton his shirt. Toji takes off his shirt completely, tossing it aside. Your hands go up his torso, and you’re almost in disbelief that Toji manages to keep his build even after getting an office job. He kisses your lips one more time before kissing down your body once again, each kiss making your body crave for more. This time he gets lower than your lower abdomen.

Toji kisses your folds before his tongue runs through them. His tongue begins to flick your clit and your bottom lip is quivering before a soft moan finally leaves your lips. Toji’s tongue is slow but slowly picks up speed.

There’s nothing Toji loves more than the taste of you on his tongue, yet he rarely does it. It’s a treat for both you and him. He’s doing it to get you to stop, hoping that his tongue giving you pleasure is enough to stop the insanity that you want to ensue.

Your voice is soft as you let your moans into the air. It doesn’t take long for pleasure to consume your mind since Toji knows how to use his tongue. He knows your body too well, and you know you’ll grow to hate it when you’re away from him, but right at this moment you love it more than anything.

His tongue moves down to your entrances, and he teases it. A low moan leaves your lips when his tongue enters your cunt, while his thumb begins to play with your clit. Your back is arching while your bite down on your lip. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but you have to be quiet. Megumi’s room might be on the other side of the apartment but you don’t wanna risk him listening to any of this.

Toji’s tongue moves in and out your cunt a couple of times before it goes back to your clit. You’ve always loved how Toji is always so determined to get you to come, even when you weren’t dating and you were just his hookup. This is one of those times that he won’t stop until you’ve climaxed.

He gets his index and middle finger wet enough before he pushes them inside you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. He curves his fingers so they brush right against that sweet spot that’s enough to drive you wild. You fucking hate it so much– Not in the moment, in the moment you’re loving it; you absolutely hate it because you know it’ll make it hard to leave. But sex is not the only factor in a marriage.

“Toji–” You moan. Your orgasm begins to approach, and it feels harder to hold back the noises that threaten to leave your lips. Your hands grip onto the bed sheets as your climax nears. Toji does such a great job, and if he wasn’t so focused on your cunt, he’d be praising you because you feel so nice around his finger and taste so good on his tongue. “Oh, fuck– I’m gonna…”

You stumble over your words until you finally reach your high, and God, the sound you make is like music to Toji’s ears. And while usually clarity hits you when you hit your orgasm, it doesn’t this time. He takes his fingers out of your cunt yet he continues flicking your clit until he’s had enough. When he’s finished, he kisses your clit and detaches himself from your cunt.

Toji stands up and unbuttons his pants. He pushes them down with his briefs. His arm goes under your back and he brings your back up, kissing your lips ever so lovingly, which is rare from Toji. Your legs wrap behind his back. One hand holds your back, forcing you to sit up, while the other strokes his cock a couple of times before he runs the tip through your folds.

“I love you so much, I really do.” Toji kisses the tip of your nose as his cock stretches you out. He’s making eye contact with you as his cock bottoms out, and you feel the tears that well your eyes. You wish it was of pleasure– While it does feel great, your tears are filled with sadness. Maybe he does love you.

A tear falls from your eye, streaming down your cheek and Toji doesn’t waste a second before he wipes it away. He kisses your lips and he begins to move, letting go of your back so you’re able to lay back down. “Will you stay with me, please? I need you.”

No, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you. He just doesn’t want to be alone. A need is something you need to live, and he clearly doesn’t need you. You bite down on your lip, looking away from Toji because just looking at him makes you want to burst into tears.

“Please look at me.” Toji says, his hand going to your chin and moving your head so your eyes fall on him. He’s so… Perfect. Toji might have many imperfections, but in your eyes he’s perfect. That’s why you’ve stayed for so long. You will never find someone as perfect as he is. You try to focus on what’s happening to you physically, his cock filling you up and hitting every right spot, but it’s hard when so many emotions run through you at the same time. “Do you love me too?”

“I love you, Toji.” The words slip past your lips. You watch as he smiles, and you avert your gaze elsewhere. You don’t like giving him the satisfaction of knowing that, even when he deeply knows it.

“I love you more than you know, baby.” Toji tells you, his hand going down your body to play with your clit. You try to ignore it, letting the feeling of pleasure take over, but your other emotions are too overwhelming. So many emotions flow through you.

Tears keep streaming down your eyes as Toji reminds you that he loves you so much. His hands land on your hips. His hands feel so gentle on your body. “Please stay with me.”

Toji is usually much rougher during sex, but this time he's gentler with you. It still feels so fucking good. You bite down your lip, feeling as your second orgasm of the night approaches. Your walls begin to squeeze around him, and Toji begins to curse under his breath. He fucking loves this, fuck fuck fuck fuck, he could stay buried inside of you forever.

“Will you stay with me, baby? Do I need to trap you?” He says, and what he’s saying is so wrong but it just sounds so fucking hot. It arouses you even more. “Do I need to knock you up?”

“Fuck–” You’re so close to finishing and his words are certainly helping. His cock just hits every right spot and he plays with your clit perfectly. You have to put your hand over your mouth when you reach your climax, not being able to contain the sounds but at least your hand muffles them.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I need you by my side, baby.” Toji continues, his thrusts slowly becoming sloppy. His nails unwillingly dig into your flesh. “Gonna make you a mommy, fuck–”

Toji throws his head back, shutting his eyes. He groans when he finally finishes, filling you up with his cum. He stays buried inside of you until he makes sure every drop of his cum is inside of you. He finally pulls out after a minute.

Toji lays down beside you, an exasperated breath leaving his lips. He tries to bring you closer to him, for you to lay your head on his chest how you usually do. He doesn’t usually like it, normally he pushes you off saying he has work early the next morning before he turns on his side. But not this time, he’s the one that tries to bring you closer, and Toji feels a sense of relief when you do.

You hear his heartbeat as it settles, and it brings you so much peace. His hand lovingly strokes your arm, an action that Toji only ever does when he’s making up for something. He places a kiss on your forehead before he mutters, “I love you.”

No kiss or caress can change your mind though. You’ve made your decision. He’s so loving now but within a week he’ll go back to being the same cold Toji. Toji doesn’t know though, and he thinks you’re all good when your hand fondles his chest. His lips then peck yours.

“Are we good now?” Toji asks. He doesn’t want you to leave, and while he might not show it, he does love you. Toji would not sit on his ass for nearly twelve hours a day, five days weekly, for anyone else but you. Plumbing was paying more than enough for him and Megumi, but it wasn’t going to be enough for you.

Toji changed jobs for you, wanting to give you a lavish lifestyle. He bought you a somewhat expensive ring, gave you a proper wedding, and now you’re living in an apartment that he wouldn’t have been able to afford in his previous job. Sure, he does have somewhat of an addiction and he doesn’t give you money to buy whatever you want, but you’re a housewife, you don’t get to buy whatever you want. At least that’s what he believes. Toji has done so much for you, and it pains to see that his efforts go underappreciated.

“We are.” You answer his question. You peck his lips again. He’s smiling at you but you can’t bring yourself to smile at him. “But we’re still getting a divorce.”

“What?” His eyes widen when those words leave your lips. Your head remains on his chest, your hand still running on his chest. You’re ever so calm listening to his heartbeat.

“Toji, if this is the only way that you can show me you love me then I don’t want that.” You tell him. You’re ever so calm, you have come to accept that your marriage is ending. You did think you’d be more of a mess while telling him this, but the tears from before are more than enough. “You’re better off with someone else.”

“But I want to be with you. You’re the woman I love.” He says, and it causes you to laugh.

“You just like having sex with me.” You argue, even though you know that he does love you. But you want to leave. You have to because by his side you won’t be happy.

“I told you I wanted to have a baby with you, that’s no small deal.” He brings up.

“Just a spur of the moment thing. If I thought you were serious, I would’ve pushed you off.” You tell him, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom to clean yourself off. Toji watches you from the bed, watching as his cum drips out of you. He’d find the scene hot and pull you back into the bed if it weren’t for the fact that–

His hand go over his face, a sigh leaving his lips, “She fucking wants a divorce.”

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literaila · 2 months

Text

slip-up

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi says something he's not supposed to

warnings: bit of sad megumi (same babe), gojo is a terrible comforter, reader doesn't get a lot of screen time but she's always there, a good lack of conflict resolution

a/n: the one-shot that started this series. i figured it was time to give it up

last part | next part

year four.

megumi doesn't notice the slip-up right when he says it. he's not even really paying attention to the conversation.

instead, he's thinking about the homework assignment he was supposed to turn in today--the one that gojo refused (couldn't) help him with.

"my mom usually drops us off," he's telling his teacher, trying to be polite like you taught him and not start whining (like gojo taught him). "but she's out of town right now, so gojo dropped us off instead and he gets the times confused..."

in all honesty, megumi could blame this whole thing on gojo. because it was his fault.

usually, you woke him and tsumiki up, pulling on his hair when he whined into the pillows, packing their lunches while they both sat at the table, eating cereal or tamagoyaki. usually, you reminded megumi to tuck in his shirt and helped the two of them get their books together, taking an occasional moment to shout at megumi's budget dad to get up before he was late. usually, you walked them to the door, kissing them both goodbye and watching both of them until they closed the door.

later on, you'd be there again, welcoming them home with another smile, asking about their days. forcing them into a thorough recap.

but today megumi woke up with a sore neck and gojo smiling at him, asking if he was planning on being buried in his bed.

because even though megumi heard you tell gojo that he needed to help out, step up, the mornings while you were gone, all of you should've known better.

megumi hasn't even ever seen gojo out of bed before nine-thirty.

so here he was, with his shirt untucked, his homework missing, and a bag of lollipops that gojo packed for lunch.

here he was, three hours late for school, trying to explain to his teacher that it wasn't his fault.

and here he was, accidentally calling you mom.

but megumi doesn't even realize that until his teacher smiles a little bit, telling him that she understands, asking him when his mom gets back.

megumi freezes.

the word repeats in his mind, and he finally realizes his slip-up.

sure, he's heard tsumiki call you it before--because for all intents and purposes, that's what you were. after four years of your unconditional love, the two of them knew, truly, that they could depend on you.

but megumi has never had a mom, and he doesn't now.

so it's still gojo's fault when the first tear rolls down his cheek. which megumi promptly wipes away. he's not going to cry--he's not the sort of kid that cries. he prides himself on it, actually. not needing the same sort of attention that he's seen his classmates get, never feeling things that deeply.

but he's crying now, and his neck still hurts as he turns away from his teacher, going to sit down at his desk.

and megumi isn't the type of kid that cries, but when he puts his head down, his cheeks feel a little damp.

megumi's got a headache now--another reason why he doesn't cry--and he sort of wants to curl up in bed until tsumiki gets home, and then convince her to run away with him.

but he doesn't.

when gojo unlocks the door, megumi goes through it without stopping to look around. he drags his backpack to his room--gojo watching the whole time, of course--and closes the door before the man can say anything stupid.

he can't deal with him right now. or ever, actually.

megumi sets his backpack up against the wall with a brief thought about homework and the class he's going to miss because of this, but he doesn't care enough to dwell on it.

everything about him feels stiff, like glue got between the seems of his very core.

he's ten years old. he shouldn't have to worry about anything.

he takes off his blazer, sets it on his desk with sweaty palms, and feels quite naked--even with the layers of clothes and lack of eyes. and his head hurts. megumi wants to get up and restart his day just so he can tell some version of his former self not to be so stupid.

but he knows that's just the guilt talking, so he ignores that too.

and it's only ten minutes into his glooming that there's a knock on the door, and gojo doesn't knock, so megumi knows immediately that something's wrong.

he's lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, but he leans up on his elbow when you peek your head into the room.

for a brief moment, megumi is so relieved to see you that he almost jumps up and clings to you--like some child would.

he wants to hold onto you and beg you not to leave again, because everything seems to go wrong when you’re not there. he wants to tell you that he’s scared, and that he’s not sure what to do.

but he refrains, and blinks idly, confused about why you're here, and why his heart hurts just from looking at you.

“hey, you okay?” you whisper, taking a step into the dark room. you don't look banged up, and megumi wonders what gojo said to get you to come home. he probably told you that megumi was dying, or something.

you sit on the edge of his bed, and your hand is on his forehead before megumi can blink. “you feel sick?”

megumi nods, but his eyes don’t meet yours. it's a small enough lie.

“i’m sorry. did satoru give you any medicine?”

“did you have to come home for me?”

you smile, slightly. “no, buddy, don’t worry. it was easier than they said, just a grade one. plus i kinda rushed it cause i missed you guys.” you push his hair out of his eyes, “now, medicine?”

“i don’t want any.”

“if you don’t feel good—“

“actually,” he interrupts. “can—i, um, i don’t really want to talk.”

you pause, eyes roaming over his face. “oh. okay. that’s fine.”

you remove your hands from him immediately, walls of metaphorical space flying up between the two of you. “i’ll leave you alone. just ask if you need anything, okay? i’m going to go unpack.”

he nods and you give him a little grin.

and right as you're at the door, he falters. he doesn’t really want you to go. he wants you to crawl into bed with him, treat him like he's actually sick, and let him lay with his head in your lap. he wants to ask you the same question that's been in his head since he said it, but he can't.

“y/n?” he whispers, instead, your name feeling wrong in his mouth.

“yeah?"

“will... will you get gojo?" he asks, even though it's not what he wants to say at all. "i want to talk to him.”

“gojo?” you frown, looking at him. “yeah. of course, yeah. i’ll go get him. one sec.”

and when you close the door, megumi feels like he’s said something wrong. slipped up again.

he sits there and waits, feeling incorrect in his body. he wants you to come back and tell him that it'll all be fine, but he knows that you won't. if there's one thing you're good at, it's respecting boundaries.

and megumi has a lot of them.

gojo doesn’t knock when he comes into the room, and megumi is so lost in thought that he jumps as soon as the door clicks open.

megumi’s neck flies as he looks at him, wide eyes. he's already sat up, preparing himself for an influx of anger.

“is this about your lunch?” gojo asks, immediately, words fast and smooth. “because that wasn’t my fault. i thought your school did that.”

“you bought us our lunchboxes,” megumi argues, “you made me get the weird one with the dragon.”

“do not insult dracomon like that.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “whatever.”

“so, you wanna talk to me, huh?" gojo sits on megumi’s desk chair, legs hanging off the sides. “i think this is the first real conversation we’ve ever had.”

megumi rolls his eyes again.

gojo waves a hand. "alright. what is it?"

megumi pauses. he can't ask gojo. even if he had an answer, it would be the least trustworthy version of one.

he scratches his neck, not sure how to lie about this. knowing that he's not supposed to lie in the first place.

he's doing everything wrong today.

gojo shakes his head, white hair the victim of many fashion crimes. “spit it out, kid. i just did you a huge favor, and i don’t have time for the attitude.”

“you didn’t do anything,” megumi frowns, crossing his arms.

gojo snorts. “you think they just say ‘come get your child’ when you’re crying at your desk?” he asks, rhetorically, and megumi’s face goes still. “no, they disrupted my nap, saying that you needed to be picked up and handed me a card for a child psychologist.”

“they told you?”

he nods. “and i didn’t tell y/n,” he grins, self-satisfied. “so you’re welcome.”

“why not?”

“because she would’ve freaked out, and i don’t need that, and i’m pretty sure you don’t want that…”

megumi nods immediately.

“it can stay our secret if you tell me what’s going on. i’ll edit the report when y/n asks,” then he turns, looking at the door. “even though she’s already listening in.”

“really?” megumi bites the inside of his cheek, checking the crack under the door for feet.

satoru kicks him. “no. she’s in her room. now, talk. i don’t know how long she’ll take.”

megumi swallows. he doesn’t really want to ask—not his only real question—but he’s already gotten this far.

at least it doesn't matter what he says, because no one will believe anything gojo makes up anyway.

“megumi…” gojo prods.

“do you know where my mom is?”

there’s a pause. a very long pause where megumi feels like he’s being scrutinized.

he can tell that gojo is looking at him very closely, a microscope to megumi’s cell, even though he can’t see his eyes.

“i—“ gojo pulls a strand of hair by his ear. clearing his throat. “i, um, im not sure. why?”

“no reason.”

there’s a very weird wince on the man’s face. “do you want to… talk about them? your… parents?”

“no,” megumi says immediately.

gojo sighs. “look, i’ll tell you if you really want to know—“

“i don’t care. i just… i don’t care.”

“…okay.”

“okay.”

the two of them are both lying. they have the same neck-scratching, and looking away tells. if you were in the room, you would be monitoring both of them very harshly. probably scolding them for the look on both of their faces.

gojo’s expression is so much weirder than megumi’s ever seen it. “are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“i just wanted to know if you knew,” megumi says, crossing his arms, then doing it again. “i don’t care about them. they don’t care about me.”

“well, i don’t know that—“

“no. you and y/n took us in and they didn’t care. so why should i?”

“right.” gojo nods. “right we… took you in.”

megumi nods, as a finality, and then deflates a little bit.

he doesn’t care about his mom—whoever she is, wherever she might be. he doesn’t. he just… also doesn’t want to replace her.

it feels wrong to think about. she doesn’t care about his life, so why should he care about hers?

it's a stupid sort of guilt. if tsumiki said anything like it, megumi wouldn't talk to her for a week.

but it's the sort of guilt over you, and a woman he knows nothing about. someone he doesn't really want to know about.

maybe that makes it worse.

“did someone say something at school?”

megumi frowns. “no. why would they?”

gojo shrugs. “kids are jerks,” he answers, simply, and then mutters “i would know…” under his breath, making megumi want to punch him again.

“no one said anything.”

“then why were you crying this morning?”

“i wasn’t crying.”

“hey,” gojo frowns. “crying is fine. it’s good.”

“i know,” megumi crosses his arms.

“okay, then.”

megumi doesn’t even know why he wanted to talk to gojo in the first place.

“look,” gojo sighs, his fingers tapping along the body of the chair. he whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “y/n is so much better at this,” and then meets megumi’s eyes—metaphorically, of course. everyone knows that gojo doesn’t have any eyes. “if you want to talk about your parents, we can talk about them. tsumiki asks questions every once in a while. and…” he breaks away, shaking his head. “if there’s something i don’t know, then i'll—we’ll figure it out. i’ve got eyes everywhere.”

gojo is grinning at his little joke, but megumi’s frown deepens.

"i don't care about them," he says, again, as a reassurance to them both.

"they are your parents, you know?" he holds his hands up in defense, probably from the glare megumi is giving him. "i'm just saying. curiosity is normal."

"how would you know?"

gojo sighs, tilting his head back. he looks almost hurt. "i'm wise. i've got years of experience on you."

"no, you don't."

he shakes his head. "now i'm going to start crying."

megumi stares at him. if he could trade gojo for literally anyone else in the world, he would.

and yet, he doesn't want to talk to you about this. he doesn't want to talk at all. and he does.

at least he knows that gojo won’t take any of this too seriously. that he won’t get to the bottom of the problem, like neither of them wants.

"do you think..." megumi starts, whispering. "do you ever regret taking us in?"

gojo swallows. he looks almost hesitant to answer, but megumi knows that must be wrong. gojo has never hesitated a moment in his life.

"well, you guys are pretty mean to me. but no, we don't regret it. why would we?" he asks, teasing, like always. "children are for chores."

megumi shakes his head.

"you should--" gojo scrunches his nose. "i can get y/n. she's got better answers, anyway."

"no!" megumi holds his hand out when the man begins to move from the chair, heart racing. "i don't want to talk to her."

"did something happen with you guys? you think someone might mention it to me..."

"no, nothing happened. i just... want to talk to you."

gojo snorts, but he sits back down. "whatever you did, i'm sure it's not that bad. remember that time i set tsumiki's hair on fire when she was gone? that was bad."

"i didn’t do anything. i'm not like you," megumi scowls, looking away.

"would you like a reward?" gojo asks, dryly. "most people wouldn't openly admit that. i admire your confidence."

both of them are silent, megumi considering the consequences of just saying the words out loud, nonetheless to gojo--who definitely won't know what to do with them.

after a minute, gojo clears his throat. "okay, megumi. my turn. do you regret coming here with me? instead of going with your family? you'd be clan head someday, you know."

"that place with the freaky shed of weapons you showed me?"

"yup."

"no," megumi doesn't have to think about that. "tsumiki's with me here. and i--"

i like it here, he almost slips. i love you guys.

megumi sighs. he doesn't want to say that to gojo.

but the older man looks like he already knew what he meant, a dumb smile on his face. "good. okay. well, i don't know what's wrong with you," he gives megumi a pointed look, saying that he actually does. "but i'm sure it'll all work out. you've got me here, so there's nothing to worry about. and y/n would kill me if anything happened to you, so. don't worry about your parents, kid."

megumi blinks at him. because his problems can be summed up with a quick "yeah, that's cool."

he rolls his eyes.

gojo's hand nudges his knee. "you can still ask if you want. anytime. we love you, you know? y/n more than me, but still..."

megumi shakes his head. "well i love her more than you."

"good. tsumiki's my favorite anyway."

"good. she's the only one who can deal with you."

"good," gojo retorts, like a child.

he leans in, ruffling megumi's hair as he does it. "even if you are pretty annoying, i'll still do some research for you. see about your mom."

"you don't have to--"

"i can't pick you up every time you're crying in class," gojo shrugs, so simply. definitely a joke in the words, but no teasing. "and i won't tell y/n. but you should talk to her. she worries."

"i know."

gojo smiles. "okay. as long as you know."

the two of them sit there for a while more, gojo making an awful comment every couple of lapses in silence, megumi answering with an equally sarcastic retort, and the two of them not minding at all.

and megumi still can't get the question out--are you his mom?--but there's the undeinable feeling that no one else can answer it for him anyway.

and gojo seems to know that, so he doesn't say anything about it. just lingers there, like an illness, waiting until megumi is okay, or maybe waiting for him to ask something else.

even though megumi doesn’t want to give the man any credit, he knows that gojo understands a lot more than he lets on. and, just from the weird little prideful looks he gives him every time he says something, megumi knows that he probably gets what this is about.

but if gojo isn’t going to say anything, then neither is he.

still, it’s nice to have him here.

there’s no comforting glances, or squeezing of hands with gojo. no acute words and adept gestures.

megumi has never expected gojo to overcome his tendency towards immaturity, or to become something that he’s simply not.

but there is just this. just the man who’s been there for long enough for megumi to notice. to understand that he’s not going away so easily.

and it’s nice to have you both. (megumi won’t admit that the gratitude he has for his makeshift parents is much stronger, more vehement than any worry about biology, or being left behind).

eventually, megumi's eyes begin to droop, and even though his headache is less stress-induced, it's still there, a gentle pounding at his skull.

like a reminder that things are going to change, even if he doesn't want them to. that he's growing up, and he can't protect everyone from his emotions forever.

but megumi doesn't have enough energy to think about it. so he lays down against his pillows, eyelids fluttering open and closed.

and he can just see it when gojo sneaks out of the room, whistling softly as he leaves, purposefully leaving the door open.

megumi should've gone to live with that clan.

"hey," you stand from your chair, looking not at satoru, but behind him, like the essence of their conversation is going to follow him through the door. "what'd he want? is he okay?"

you dance on your feet awkwardly, looking like you were waiting that whole time (you were).

satoru smiles, leaning on the counter to stare at you, at your nervous little lip bite. "he's fine."

"is he feeling really sick? he told me he didn't want any medicine, but if he's got a headache or something, then i could give him a pain reliever. did he seem bad? should we take him to the doctor? i can probably schedule an appointment--"

you're cut off by satoru as he nears you, crushing you against his chest in a hug so tight that it knocks the air from your lungs.

seriously, jujutsu sorcerers and their sheer amount of muscle training are ridiculous.

"satoru--" you squeeze out, but he holds you even tighter.

"it's all good," he says like it's an answer, and he sounds like he knows something that you don't. probably because he does.

but after a moment you relax into him. even if you have to bribe him with cuddles, someone's going to tell you what's going on...

next part | series masterlist

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter.

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday.

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers.

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning.

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch.

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house.

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear.

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom.

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated."

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life.

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going."

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip.

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake.

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents.

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly.

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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lowkeyremi · 10 months

Note

OK HEAR ME OUT! Reader who is a single mother of one of Aizawa’s students X Aizawa???? PLEASE I need it!

IM IN LOVE WITH YOU YES OMG I NEED THIS anon im giving you kisses rn

Aizawa x fem!reader (also your denki's mom bc why not)

A small sigh escapes your lips as you pull into the parking lot of your son's school, it's still early in the year and his teacher has requested to meet with you.

He doesn't even have to explain why you're here because you already have a good idea: Denki's grades.

You smooth out your skirt and double check that your blouse is buttoned all the way. Security stopped you at the gate which took around ten minutes to defuse, they honestly thought you looked too young to be anyone's mother.

Thirty-two is a bit young to have a fifteen year old but you know how it goes: unprotected sex = baby. It's the same old story, your boyfriend freaked out and dipped on you.

It made you proud Denki got into a school like this, your goal is for him to further his education... something you never got the chance to do.

Finding his classroom was a whole other situation. UA is HUGE. So poor you is walking around every corner looking for class "1-A".

"Are you lost?" A voice loud and energetic asked, it caused you to jump in your skin. When you turn your head you see blond hair sticking upward toward the ceiling and a pair of goofy shades. He notices your giggle and quirks an eyebrow.

"Are you a new student?!" The blond questions, his face is full of energy and excitement.

"No.. do I really look that young?" You ask, smile bright.

"You do look pretty young." As soon as he says that it dawns on him that you might be a younger mother.

"Ah- sorry! I just-"

"Don't worry about it. I was actually looking for class 1-A, my son's teacher requested to meet with me." His eyes widen.

"Don't you worry, I can take you to Eraserhead's class!" With that you follow him down a flight of stairs and you guys turn like four corners. Well damn, you were way off.

You had been too caught up into your thoughts to realize he stopped, you bumped right into him.

"Sorry." He gives you a soft smile, "It's nothing!"

He knocks loudly, "Oh, Eraser! You have a visitor!" The blond doesn't even wait for a response to open the door, he just bursts in.

"Well I've gotta go now! Take care Miss..."

"L/n, the name's L/n." A thumbs up is sent your way before the loud blond man leaves.

A deep voice causes your brain to stir, "Thank you for coming on such a short notice, Miss L/n."

And what the fuck because Denki's teacher has beautiful long black hair, stubble, and a little scar under his right eye. He must be married you assume, because no way a handsome man like him is single.

You respond with confidence in your voice, "Of course, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I got lost."

His face softens as he motions for you to sit on the chair he's placed by his desk.

"Understandable, UA is not small. Let's get down to business, shall we?" He sits at his desk, organizing some papers before handing you a few. You feared the worst, Denki always strived to do his best so you shouldn't have anything to even fear.

"My students have been under attack a few times by villians, we've spoke to the board about the situation, because parents are worried about their children." You were relieved this had nothing to do with his grades but it scared you that villians were out for high schoolers.

"I thought the attacks stopped." Aizawa nods at you.

"They have for the time being but we fear they won't completely stop, which is why UA is building a dormitory system to keep students safe. What I've handed you is the consent form for your son to live on campus. It's not manditory but it is highly suggested." He explains to you and you read the pages.

"How do I know Denki will be in good hands?" You ask biting your lip, it doesn't go unnoticed by Aizawa because his eyes flicker to your lips then back up to your face.

"I understand what it's like to lose someone close to you, which is why I put so much effort and care into my students, they may say and think otherwise but they don't see what happens behind the scenes." You could tell his words were sincere, it wasn't convincing enough though. You worry too much about him and just the mere thought of losing him is enough to scare you.

Aizawa leans in to place a hand on yours, it feels tingly.

"I know all you have is my word to go off of, but I promise you I will protect your son and all my other students with my life." His eyes burn into yours. You get lost in those beautiful black eyes.

"Uh- hah. I'll look over the papers."

In the end you sign the papers.

"Mom you have to tell me who's taking you to dinner!" Denki says for the millionth time over the phone. You call him almost every night to check in on him.

"It's none of your business, young man." You'd tell him when you were ready. Just... not now. He'd freak out if he knew you were going out to dinner with his teacher.

Before you left that day, Aizawa asked for your number. You happily gave it to him, there was no way in hell you'd miss out on a chance like that.

After a month of just talking (and flirting) he asked you out for dinner, you agreed of course.

"But mommmmmm why nottttttt?" Denki whined.

"I'll tell you when we're ready. Anyways I have to go. Take care, sweetheart." He sighs but tells you he loves you. "I love you too, Denki." He hangs up, leaving you to finish your makeup.

The plan was originally to meet at dinner, but Aizawa was not letting up until you agreed that he could pick you up.

Your hands were starting to sweat again. It's normal to be this nervous, right? Dating hadn't really been in your line of vision while raising a child. It seemed to be the same process: go out with someone, get along nicely, start developing real feelings, they find out you have a son, they leave.

It seemed refreshing to finally go out with someone who knew you were raising a young man. Waiting it out seems to have been the right choice. Aizawa is a mature man.

The door bell rings and you shoot up out of your seat like a rocket.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck, I look okay right?" It felt weird to ask your reflection, but self love is everything these days.

Your burgundy v cut dress was a bit on the short side, it hugged your body which made you a little insecure. You'd heard some women say pregnancy made them glow. You were convinced otherwise, it took you some time to finally feel beautiful.

Your walk to the door was dreadful, what if he takes it all back? Upon opening the door he was standing there in all his beauty. His raven colored hair was put up in a messy bun, his stubble cleaned up some, and he looked a little less tired. Your eyes inched down his body, he's wearing a white button up and black slacks.

"You're beautiful." The two of you say at the same time. Your eyes widen.

"Thank you, I was actually kind of nervous." His face softens at your words. The hero holds his hand out so you can take it. Just like the last time his hand was warm and made you feel tingly. You chuckled at how dumb that sounded, definitely sounds like something from a cheesy romance novel.

Dinner was a little awkward but beyond amazing. A waitress spilled wine on you, she apologized like a million times. You weren't mad though, having a son meant many messes were made... especially on you. The wine didn't stain that bad because of your dress color.

Aizawa offered you the jacket he kept in his car. Accepting it was a no brainer. He held it out for you and you gave him a confused look.

"I'll put it on you, come here." His voice was low and seductive. He noticed your smile. "You're so cute." He whispers as you put your arms in the jacket sleeves.

"Only cute?" Your question was followed by your signature smirk. The food was paid for, his hand wrapped around your waist and he walked you two to his car.

"Sexy, funny, chatty.... I could go on." He says with a smug smile.

"Oh stop it, I'm not sexy-" You don't get to finish your sentence, Aizawa twirls you around so you guys are facing each other. His hands rest on your hips for a second and in a flash he's cupping your face.

Your heart started beating a mile per minute... no second. He slowly pulls you in, those lazy eyes looking into yours. His lips look so kissable.

You pucker your lips and he presses his lips to yours, there weren't any fireworks or sparks like in Disney movies, it felt like he was one with you. Your body was connected to his in a way.

When the kiss is over he's staring at you, "you are sexy, I don't know who's lied to you."

__________

When he pulls into your driveway, you realize this date is almost over. Hopefully he'll agree to going out again. He seemed to enjoy the night as much as you did.

He walked you up to your door, eyes trained on you.

Your feet stop on your doormat. It felt like you were stuck in cement.

"Will I be seeing you again, Aizawa?"

"Call me Shota, and yes, I'll be seeing you again." He faces you and kisses you again. A sigh of relief escapes your lips.

"Call me." You say and he hums in acknowledgement.

Maybe... trying again at dating won't hurt you.

Hiii anon, I hope you like this!! I don't think this has been my best work but I think it shouldn't be that bad? Lol imagine how Denki would react when he finds out you're with his teacher. Love you guys, working on Teacher's Assistant ch. 1

#bnha #mha #aizawa #aizawa shōta #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader

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cameronspecial · 5 months

Note

Drew and y/n finding out she’s pregnant after trying for a couple months maybe years?

A Trying Process

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Troubles Getting Pregnant

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

Motherhood had terrified Y/N before Drew came along. She never thought that she could be a good parent. She didn’t know anything about kids and dealing with the grosser side of parenting really didn’t appeal to her. Y/N had also never thought that she would get married before thirty, yet she found herself walking down the aisle in a white dress four years ago at twenty-two. She just knew her life was meant to be intertwined with Drew, so the decision was easy. Two years into the marriage she finally realized that having a child wouldn’t be so bad if she got to do it with him. She had been watching him play with her baby nephew when she made the decision that she was ready to take the next step in their marriage. They had love. They had the career. And they had the house. All they needed now was the laughter of a small human.

They’ve been trying for almost two years and they are losing hope. If they couldn’t conceive in two years, they would adopt and that deadline is fast approaching. Not that adopting a child wouldn’t be the same, but it would still mean another long process and the possibility of not getting a kid is still possible.

Y/N has been feeling off lately. Some of her favourite clothes no longer fit properly and she has been puking more often. She tries to do the math of when her last period was, realizing she skipped last month. She debates taking a test and telling Drew her suspicions. They’ve taken so many tests over the past few years that she isn’t sure she can handle getting her hopes up again. At least, they’ve never gotten a false positive before. Y/N hunches over the toilet, emptying the contents from last night’s dinner into the bowl. She’s glad that she doesn’t have work today, so she won’t be late. Drew walks into the room and kneels beside her. His hand wrap around her hair to create a ponytail. The other rubs her tummy for comfort. “You’ve been puking a lot recently. Maybe you should take another pregnancy test?” Drew suggests. Y/N’s stomach no longer holds any content, so she closes the lid and flushes the toilet. He pulls her into his hold, kissing her on the temple. She shakes her head, “I don’t know if I can take another. I feel it takes a little part of me every time it comes back negative. Maybe this is a sign, Love. Maybe I’m not meant to be a mother.”

Drew pulls her back so he can look into her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that, Sweetheart. You will absolutely make a great mother. Whether it be to a biological child or an adopted one, the kid will be lucky to have you,” Drew assures her with a kiss. “I know it’s painful whenever we get a negative, but I’m hopeful that it won’t be this time. Whatever we get, we’ll deal with it together.” His hand grips hers and he brings it to his lips.

Y/N takes the test from under the sink. They had been stockpiling them because they’d been using so many over the past year. She doesn’t need to read the instructions; she knows them by heart. She goes through the motions of taking the test with Drew by her side and they both sit on the bathroom floor while they wait for the test to asses her status. Drew’s alarm goes off. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was now time to see if their lives were going to change forever or not. They stand up together and walk over to the counter where the test awaits. She squeezes his hand to let him know that she wants him to be the one who picks it up. His hand shakes as he brings the test up for them to look at. Pregnant.

Both soon-to-be parents look shocked at the words, not believing what they are seeing. “I’m pregnant,” Y/N states. They both turn toward each other and a grin forms on both of their faces. Drew’s hand pumps in the air, “We are going to have a baby!” His arms circle her waist and he picks her up to spin her. “We are going to be parents,” she celebrates with laughter. Drew sets her down on the ground with a kiss. His forehead places itself on hers, “I know this was a trying process, Sweetheart. But we did it.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#daddy drew #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Text

their secret weapon: little black dress

request: Okay so secret weapon doesn't wear black often right? What if she finally wears smth black for when they all go out and they all die? Maybe smth like the iconic black dress Maddie wears in euphoria?

tags: NSFW 18+, alcohol, exhibitionism, public touching/public sex, dom!finn, slight dom!damian, poly!judgement day, sub!reader, bottom!reader, teasing, fingering, humiliation

A/N: it was time for some TJD smut again SKJDKS also this is NOT part of the regular their secret weapon series, it’s just a one shot that is aside from the usual storyline so there won’t be much plot in this!! this is also for the finn lovers out there bc it was time he had his moment

mentions: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore

Y/N was sick and tired of hearing from her partners that she didn’t wear enough black, or that she didn’t match the group. So when the group had decided they wanted to go out to a club on their weekend off, she decided it was time to give her partners what they wanted. An all black outfit consisting of a short black dress that accentuated every curve of her body, black heels, and a black purse was what Y/N went with, and she even did dark makeup on herself like Rhea’s to really give them what they wanted.

The other four were downstairs waiting for their girl to finish. “Y/N, niñita, are you almost ready?” Dominik yelled up to their room where she was supposed to be finishing up. “We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago.” Rhea playfully rolled her eyes and put her rings on her fingers. “I don’t know why you thought we were going to be on time.” She mumbled. “We’ve never been on time.” Before Dom could even give her an answer, the four of them turned to see Y/N walking downstairs; needless to say, every one of them was speechless at what they saw in front of them. She giggled at their reactions and gently tapped Damian’s cheek. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies, papi.” She teased and pulled on a jacket over her dress.

Finn blinked a couple of times before he finally managed to speak up. “I…wow, baby. We just…you look so…” Y/N raised her eyebrow waiting for a response, in which Finn cleared his throat without finishing his sentence. She playfully rolled her eyes at him in her own response. “You told me to match you guys, so I did.” She said before giving each of her partners a gentle kiss on their cheeks. “We’re ready to go now?”

The fivesome left their house and went out to a nightclub, once again showing that The Judgement Day gets rowdy when they party. Y/N was shocked they didn’t run the bar dry with how many rounds of drinks and bottles they were ordering, but after a certain point none of them cared. They were all in their own little world, in a private booth at the club where each of them were touching and kissing one another without a care in the world. Rhea and Dom were on one end of the booth, cuddling and swaying to the music while Y/N sat between Finn and Damian on the other end.

Finn couldn’t get enough of Y/N with this new look of hers; to be honest, he didn’t even think it would have that much of an effect on him. He sat behind her with his arms around her body while Damian was in front of her, the Irishman leaving kisses on her neck and shoulder as she exchanged kisses with ‘The Punisher.’ “You don’t even realize how fuckin’ crazy you make me,” Finn mumbled against her skin. “You look stunning, my love.” Y/N smiled at his words, one hand holding his while the other was holding Damian’s cheek. “I gave you what you wanted.” She teased.

Even though the music around them was loud and the club was busy, it felt like the five of them in the booth were the only people in the world. Specifically, Y/N felt like it was just her and two of her boys giving her all of the attention she deserved. No one ever made her feel like this before she met The Judgement Day, but here she was; making out with her partners in the middle of the club, their hands dangerously close to places she’d only let them have access to. One of Finn’s hands had snaked its way to the inside of her thighs and was slowly getting closer to her panties. It made Y/N shiver with anticipation and need, so much so that she pushed her hips closer to his fingers just so he’d be able to touch. Finn chuckled once he felt her clothed pussy and immediately began to move his fingers in a circular motion. “Let me take care of you, babygirl.” He mumbled into her ear.

Rhea and Dom had taken note from their end of the booth and began to watch. They couldn’t expect the two of them to not do anything, especially when Y/N looked the way she did. Damian took note as well and took hold of their girl’s chin to make her look up at him. “She doesn’t even understand what she does to us.” He said, turning her face to show Rhea and Dominik. “Our girl knows exactly what she did when she left the house like this.” Y/N smirked at his words and bit her lip as Finn’s fingers worked their magic. The other two smiled at Y/N and Rhea couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the sight. “Make sure there’s some left for us when we get home.” She teased.

Y/N tightened her thighs around Finn’s hand and finger as he got her closer and closer to her breaking point. “Oh my god…” she whined softly, leaning her head back against Finn’s shoulder. He pulled her into a passionate kiss and squeezed her body tighter to his. “Cum for us, baby.” Y/N blushed and looked at him as she whined, all of a sudden very aware they were doing this in public. Finn noticed though, and that only made him work harder to get what he wanted out of her. “It’s just us. Show us you’re a good girl.” He encouraged, his thumb working her clit while his finger teased her entrance; Finn was only giving her a sneak peak of what she was going to get when they got home, he just couldn’t help but do it now.

With Finn’s encouragement in her ear and Damian’s hands still gently wandering over her body, Y/N stiffened under their touch and reached her climax for her partners in the middle of the booth. She gasped against Finn’s lips and moved her hips against his fingers to work herself over, and she could hear all of her partners encouraging and teasing her as they watched. Her cheeks were bright red from embarrassment and stimulation, but Y/N still smiled at each of her partners while catching her breath. Dominik was the first to speak up as he finished his drink, Rhea’s hand palming him and not once leaving that spot the entire time they watched. “Please tell me it’s time to go?”

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just-another-josh · 5 months

Text

Write

“Wake up, zrhueiao.”

The sound of her wife’s tender voice is the first thing Lena registers as she is roused from her nap. As her awareness expands, the infrequent chirp of birds can be heard reverberating through the open living room window. The sound of ‘Mad Money’ droning from the television playing quietly in the background.

The suffocating smell of acrylic paint and turpentine assault her overly sensitive olfactory receptors, forcing her to turn her head towards the cool December breeze wafting in through the open window.

She begins to slowly stir, a light stretching of her arms and legs reminding her she’s lying prone on the living room couch, her favorite comfy spot. Her contentment is quickly overshadowed by the dull ache in her lower back, tight shoulders, sore breasts, and a very full bladder.

Yep, still pregnant, Lena thought ironically.

“C’mon sleepyhead, time to get your cute little butt off the couch.”

Lena gradually opened her eyes, her wife’s grinning face the first sight to greet her. As her eyes focused, she realized Kara was floating just above her, the Kryptonian’s body parallel to her own. When they first started dating, Kara’s casual use of her powers in similar situations startled her. Now, after two years of marriage under their belts, Lena didn’t bat an eye.

The CEO lazily grinned at her hovering wife. “You have paint on your face,” she pointed out groggily.

Kara made no effort to wipe at her paint-stained face, instead rolling her eyes. “Well of course I do, I’ve been painting.”

Lena lazily grinned. “How’s the mural coming?”

A beaming smile lit up Kara’s face. “Should be finished in an hour or two, tops,” she emphatically boasted.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Lena’s smile matched the intensity of her wife’s. She cupped Kara’s face with both hands and pulled her into a chaste kiss; deftly avoiding the splotches of paint peppered around her wife’s face. “Help me sit up,” she asked once they separated. She offered her hands to the Kryptonian who gently accepted them and effortlessly guided Lena to sit upright. A light touch of vertigo threw her balance askew once she was fully sitting upright; a recent development plaguing her for the last few weeks. As she a number of times since the issue emerged, Kara remained by her wife’s side to keep her steady until the dizziness passed.

Once her equilibrium returned to normal, Lena became acutely aware of the increased pain in her lower back as the additional weight settled on her overstressed muscles. Lena shook it off, old news after thirty-five weeks carrying twins.

“What time is it?” Lena asked as she rubbed her sore neck.

Kara fidgeted and smiled sheepishly at her wife. “It’s four o’clock.”

Lena was aghast. “I’ve been asleep for three hours?” Kara confirmed with a timid nod. “Christ, I slept through the whole afternoon,” Lena whined. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her loose, tangled hair.

Kara lowered herself to sit next to Lena and began rubbing her lower back. “Hey, you needed to rest,” Kara soothed. “You’re carrying two very active, very hungry girls. I know staying home and lounging around is the complete opposite of your normal routine, but you have to give yourself a break.”

“Little parasites,” Lena growled, a look of faux disgust on her face.

Kara softly giggled and pulled her wife closer, Lena shuffling to rest her cheek on the hero’s shoulder. Kara kissed the top of her wife’s head. “Three more weeks, zhaote. Three more weeks and we get to meet our kir kruvuzhs,” she whispered.

Lena snuggled further into Kara’s arms; her agitation slowly escalating. Tears filled the CEO’s eyes. “I’m so tired, Kara. They’re not even here yet and I can barely function, and that’s after I’ve had eight hours of sleep. How the hell am I supposed to keep it together when the girls are here and I’m sleeping in ninety-minute intervals?”

Kara squeezed Lena as tight as she safely could and pressed a lingering kiss to her head. “Because I’ll be with you every step of the way. And for those times I can’t be here, Alex, Sam, Eliza, and the rest of our family will be right there as backup.” Kara began to slowly rock her wife. “El Mayarah, remember?”

Lena nodded, too choked up to speak. She buried her head in Kara’s shoulder and let herself fall apart. Once considered taboo as a result of her Luthor upbringing (or as her therapist put it, indoctrination), Lena felt no shame in being this raw, this vulnerable with her wife. The progression of Lena’s emotional maturity was a testament to her work with her therapist, Kara, Sam, Alex, and a litany of other players from her found-family. It took a village, but Lena had learned to manage her insecurities to the point where she could express her emotions without feeling any shame.

After ten minutes of crying together (her wife joining in because…well…Kara’s a bit of a crier), the couple managed to separate from their embrace. An emotionally drained Lena leveled her wife with a deadpanned look. “Fucking hormones.”

Kara’s involuntary snort led to both devolving into a giggling mess. Kara thoughtfully placed her hand on top of Lena’s, a look of concern etched across her face. “Zhao, have you written in your journal today?” she delicately asked.

After thinking about it for a brief second, Lena sighed, “Not yet.”

“Do you think doing a little writing might help you feel better?”

Lena pursed her lips in consideration before nodding. “Probably.”

Kara smiled. “Stay here, I’ll go get it.”

Lena grabbed Kara’s wrist before she could stand. “First things first, I need to pee.”

Kara rolled her eyes as she began guiding Lena to her feet. “Shocker.”

******

Two years ago, Kara and Lena embarked on their journey to become parents. When they decided to bring a bundle of chaos (Lena’s words) into their lives, Lena spent the next year constructing a Kryptonian birthing matrix capable of creating a viable embryo made up of both human and Kryptonian genetic material. It was a daunting, painstakingly long task, but with the combined efforts of Lena, Zor-El, Eliza, Alex, Brainy, and Caitlyn Snow, they were able to successfully produce an embryo using Lena and Kara’s cells.

While the birthing matrix was being constructed, Lena and Kara had decided they wanted the baby to be carried to term and born naturally. That was the easy part. The hard part was deciding who would carry the future baby Luthor. After dozens of civil (and not so civil) arguments between the soon-to-be expectant parents, it was decided that Lena would carry the aos.

Considering the glut of fertilization drugs administered to and embryos implanted in Lena, it should have come as no surprise when the first ultrasound revealed that she was carrying twins (it totally was).

The morning sickness during the first trimester was so severe Lena contemplated putting herself in a medically induced coma until the twins’ due date; luckily Kara and the rest of the Super-family were there to guide her through her nausea-induced insanity.

The increase in Lena’s body temperature was another fresh slice of hell that came with the pregnancy. She wasn’t just hot, but Amazon rainforest in the summer hot. It was another aspect of carrying twin Kryptonians she should have seen coming. Kara’s body temperature always ran at least one to two degrees hotter than the average human’s. As Lena always ran a little cold, she welcomed snuggling with her Kryptonian space heater. Now pregnant with the twins, Lena carried the equivalent of two radiators in her womb. She had never sweated so much in her life; it poured out of her like a fountain. Even with the air conditioning at full blast wherever she was, it became routine for her to have to shower and change into dry clothes at least three times a day. At the office, she did her best to mitigate her overheating by wearing sleeveless blouses; she would have given anything to be able to wear shorts but knew that was unacceptable in an executive setting.

The start of the second trimester brought a modicum of relief to the miserable CEO. She was more energetic, her libido came back with a vengeance (much to Kara’s delight), and she could keep her food down. Therein lay the biggest challenge of the second trimester, and the rest of her pregnancy, for that matter: her insatiable appetite. Being pregnant with Kryptonian twins required her to consume twenty to thirty thousand calories per day, anything less resulted in Lena becoming extremely ill. As a result of her daily caloric requirements, Lena quickly surpassed her wife’s already excessive levels of food consumption. Entering the Luthors’ house and finding empty takeout boxes, empty containers of gelato, and discarded bags of Funyuns strewn about became the norm. Especially the Funyuns. Lena craved Funyuns like a junkie craved their next fix. On more than one occasion, Lena could be heard screaming something along the lines of: “Kara! If you don’t get your perfect little ass to Costco and get me Funyuns before I run out, I’m going to put kryptonite in your fucking mouthwash!” or “Don’t you dare tell me to wait for the delivery driver. What’s the point of being married to Supergirl if you can’t get me my fucking Funyuns now?!?”

Despite her second trimester falling in the middle of the summer heat, Lena was able to manage her chronic overheating by spending extended periods at the Fortress of Solitude. It wasn’t uncommon for Kara, Sam, or Clark to find the CEO comfortably lounging around the frozen structure wearing nothing more than a loose tank top and shorts.

It was around the middle of her second trimester that Lena decided to start a journal. It served as a way to record the changes her body was going through during the first four months of her pregnancy. The entries were cold, clinical, and devoid of inference or emotionally driven content; only measurable, fact-based information. The thing read like a study published in the New England Journal Medicine. Lena had no intention of doing some cliché pregnancy journal. There weren’t going to be any ultrasound pictures, trimester planners, baby registry lists, or other keepsakes. She was Lena-Fucking-Luthor, and there was no goddamned way in hell she was going become some dipshit scrapbooker.

Kara was already taking care of that.

A month into her journaling, the couple had a miscarriage scare. Lena went into a full-fledged, panic induced spiral. Despite reassurances from…well…everyone that the twins were safe and healthy, Lena was inconsolable. At first, she blamed herself; her completely absurd and unfounded list of why she was at fault was longer than most novels. After a week of self-flagellation, Lena shifted the blame to focus on her wife. It was subtle jabs at first, Kara rationalizing that her wife’s comments were just her way of venting. But after a week of Lena’s increasingly hurtful barbs, Kara had had enough and called her out on her behavior. The argument that ensued was on a level not seen since Lena stole Myriad from the Fortress five years prior. As the argument reached its zenith, the yelling was so loud that Sam’s super-hearing picked it up all the way from her and Alex’s house. Luckily, Alex and Sam were able to intervene and separate the couple before they said or did anything that couldn’t be undone; Sam staying at the Luthor house with Lena, and Alex taking Kara with her to the Danvers’ residence.

After a restless night of sleep, Kara returned home and, after a tense conversation, the couple agreed to a truce and enrolled in couples’ therapy. It was during one of their sessions that the therapist suggested they start journalling daily. Kara had been keeping a journal since shortly after her arrival on Earth, so she easily agreed. When Lena proposed using the “journal” she’d already begun, the therapist allowed it with one stipulation: the CEO had to record not just her medical stats, but her thoughts and feelings as well. After minimal cajoling from Kara, Lena begrudgingly agreed.

At first, Lena was at a loss as to what to write. Well, she knew what she was expected to write but she didn’t know how to articulate her feelings. For several weeks, after recording her medical stats, Lena would stare at the remaining blank space on the page unable to corral the chaos in her head into coherent sentences. This would go on for several minutes before she’d put the journal back into the drawer in her bedside table with a huff, trying to convince herself that she would be able to come up with something the next day.

After a particularly difficult day at L-Corp, Lena was able to break through her writer’s block. That day, Lena recorded her weekly measurements as usual followed by recounting the events of the day, her frustrations with them, ways that she handled those moments poorly, and how she planned to avoid repeating her mistakes. By the time she put her pen down, an hour had elapsed, and she’d managed to completely fill six pages.

And Rao be damned, she actually felt better afterwards.

From that point on, Lena was making daily entries chronicling her workday. Her writing slowly began to include entries about both her professional and her personal life. The journal pages quickly became filled with her thoughts and feelings without the clinical structure that once governed it. Soon she wrote about anything and everything: observations from the day’s events, anecdotes, strangers she had encountered, ideas for new projects, her family, her pregnancy, the twins, Kara, her hopes, her dreams, her doubts, and most importantly, her fears. Cataloguing her fears gave her the opportunity to later assess them in a logical, calm manner as opposed to the panicked state that they originated from. Thus, robbing them of their power to control her life.

The irony was not lost on Lena that her brother was an avid journaler as well. He too would fill volumes upon volumes with his meticulously organized thoughts. But that’s where the similarities ended. Lex’s journals were filled with his bitterness, anger, xenophobic rhetoric, and obsessive hatred for Clark and Kara and ways to kill them; all laced with his usual arrogant narcissism. By contrast, Lena’s journals focused on love, compassion, inclusiveness, and ideas for creating a better tomorrow. They served as a reminder of the progress she had made in learning to love and accept love; a chronicle of where she’s been, where she is, and where she hoped to be in the future.

When she began her journaling voyage, Lena never imagined that it would become an integral part of her life. For her, doing her daily entries was just as natural as breathing, it required no forethought. She fully intended to continue journaling indefinitely; well past their therapist’s prescribed duration. The only question in her mind was what to do with the journals in the future. She already shared most of the details of her daily entries with Kara as part of their therapy. She had no intention of letting her friends and family read them, not even Sam. Truth be told, she imagined passing them on to the twins if/when they became expectant mothers themselves.

In the event that one of her greatest fears came true and she was…taken from her family prematurely, she left instructions with Kara to give the journals to their girls when Kara felt it was the appropriate time. Lena hoped that they would serve as a reminder of who their mommy was and how much she loved them; something she wished her mother had been able to do for her. While she was grateful to have her mother’s grimoire, it didn’t tell her anything about who Elizabeth Walsh was. It was very important to Lena that her girls knew who their mommy was as a person and not as some generic abstract. She had no doubt that their jeju would do everything she could to keep her memory alive, but Lena felt that her written thoughts would be a clearer, more profound reminder.

“I’m finished.”

The pen in Lena’s hand stilled as she looked up to see a very giddy Kryptonian. She was surprised that Kara had finished the mural in the nursery so quickly, but a quick glance at her watch confirmed that she had been lost in her writing for over an hour. She set the journal and pen on the coffee table and met Kara’s bright smile with one of her own.

“Done-done?” Lena said with a feigned look of skepticism.

Kara put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest à la Supergirl. “Done-done,” she gloated. “Now get that cute little butt up so I can show it to you.”

“Well get those ridiculously hot biceps over here and help me up,” Lena said as she made grabby hands. Kara positioned herself in front of Lena and gently gripped her hands; a small grunt escaping Lena as her wife smoothly pulled her up. “Darling, my ass is anything but cute or little. Maybe it’s time for a new endearment?”

Kara shrugged. “Okay, but “get those deliciously pregnant titties up” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well,” Kara said with a mischievous smirk. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

Lena snorted and shook her head. “Ah, there’s my boob girl,” Lena purred. “I wouldn’t worry about it though, I’d say they’ve rolled off your tongue quite a bit lately,” she said seductively. Kara’s cheeks quickly dusted pink, producing a triumphant smile from her wife.

As they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor and the nursery, Lena turned to her wife with an expectant look on her face, eliciting a confused crinkle from the hero. “I am not waddling my fat ass up those stairs. Put your back into it, Supergirl.”

#supercorp #supercorptober2023 #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp endgame #I don't know science #pregnant lena luthor #pregnancy

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makethatelevenrings · 1 month

Text

Angel By the Wing - THIRTY

*slaps trio* these bitches can fit soooo much repressed trauma

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

“Keep or toss?” Bradley held up the box set of the Twilight series. Jake let out a snort of laughter and you tossed the empty trash bag you were holding in his direction.

“Keep,” you announced proudly. “I noticed some empty spaces on your bookshelf, Tex. Time to get you educated.”

The blond rolled his eyes but he accepted the books from Bradley and placed them in the partially filled cardboard box at his feet. Since the three of you had the weekend off, the boys decided it was the perfect time to move you fully into Jake’s place. But there were two stipulations.

One, you wouldn’t lift a finger and simply direct them on what you wanted to keep, sell, or toss.

Two, you would wear a mask because they deemed your old apartment simply unacceptable conditions for their girl and baby.

So, here you sat in a little foldable lawn chair that Jake brought along because “my god, Angel, that couch probably has its own ecosystem” and a KN95 mask strapped over your face while two giant men puttered around your shitty little apartment, motivated by the promise of sex and Wingstop after this. Your hand unconsciously found its way to rest against the soft swell of your stomach through the thin fabric of your shirt as you wondered how exactly your life turned into this.

Your lease still had four months to go but one call from Sofia to your landlord found you free from rent payments, Her threat of legal action and tenant rights scared him straight and you were eternally grateful for your friend. Since your lease ended at the end of the month now, the boys wanted to get you out as soon as possible.

“I think this is the last of it,” Bradley announced. You moved to get up from your chair and both men surged forward to steady you.

“Fucking hell, boys, I still have my balance,” you huffed as you evaded their grasps in favor of checking out the apartment to make sure nothing was left behind. You couldn’t say that you would miss the place. It truly was a shithole. You had accepted it in the past, even with its shoddy locks and mold covered carpets, but now you had a baby to think about. You had a lot to think about, not just the growing little blob inside of you. You disappeared into the bedroom and Bradley took the chance to stop Jake with a warm hand around his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “About jumping you when you got home. I know you didn’t plan this.”

“It’s okay.” Jake brushed it off with a shrug but Bradley merely shook his head.

“You gotta stop that.” The brunet let go of his hand and instead grasped the back of Jake’s neck, making sure the blond looked him in the eye. “Just stop taking it. That’s not you. That’s not my Hangman. Next time I’m a dick, don’t just accept it.”

“And what about when I’m a dick?” Rooster’s hand was a steady, warm presence and Jake wanted to melt into his touch. Not many people can make him feel small but when Bradley grasped him like this and commanded him so easily, Jake welcomed the release of control.

“Pretty sure we’ve made it clear I don’t tolerate your shit.” Bradley offered him a crooked grin and Jake finally did relax. Good. They were good.

“Can you two kiss and make up now?” you asked from where you were leaning up against the doorframe.

“You’re objectifying us,” Jake declared through laughter. You shrugged and tried to appear innocent.

“If I didn’t objectify you, then I wouldn’t be standing here pregnant.” You wagged your finger at them. “And don’t lie and tell me that you don’t check out my ass every chance you get.”

Bradley’s answer to your taunt was a kiss pressed to the corner of Jake’s lips, leaving behind a tingle of beard burn and want. He still couldn’t believe he was allowed this. So many years tamping down these feelings and then hiding it behind closed doors and dim lighting in bars gave way to this euphoric yet burdensome realization that he could have this. It scared the shit out of him. His mother’s words wiggled their way to the front of his thoughts and fought for his attention. What happens when you decide you had enough of him? What would happen if the baby wasn’t his?

He didn’t want to think about it. It’s all he could think about.

“Alright, let’s get this stuff into the truck. I want wings. Do you think we should get a thirty pack?” Bradley pulled away from Jake to start grabbing at the trash bags and boxes that held your life.

“I think between the two of you, we need the fifty pack. It’s like sleeping with two garbage disposals.” You reached down to grab one of the trash bags full of clothes but Bradley swatted your hands away and pointed at the lawn chair.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest as you settled down in your chair, noticing the way his muscles flexed as he picked up two boxes with ease. Maybe being relegated to supervisor duty wasn’t so bad.

“Jake?” Your sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts and he offered you one of his typical cocky grins.

“Just thinking about how hungry I am, darlin’,” he assured you.

“For you!” Bradley called out from where the truck was parked out front. Jake chuckled and bent down to press a kiss to the top of your head before he went to grab some more boxes.

Between two naval aviators who both worked out like their lives depended on it, the truck was packed up with all of your belongings in less than half an hour. It gave you just enough time to look around and think about how everything had changed in such a short time. When you first moved to San Diego, it was on a whim. You had no plans, no job, and no friends.

Now you were pregnant, moving into your boyfriend’s place with your other boyfriend, and your phone was full of texts from people you considered not just friends, but family. Maverick texted you on the regular to see how you were doing. Amelia sent you TikToks and memes to “keep you young”. Penny was your emergency contact. Sarah had roped you into weekly visits that you wouldn’t miss for the world. Sofia and you discussed the pains of cleaning uniforms and how stubborn pilots could be.

The Dagger Squad members that were staying in California had even added you two into a group chat entitled “the Queens + their Jesters”.

You deserved this. You deserved to be happy. After so long of hearing that insidious little voice that sounded oddly like your mother telling you about how pathetic you had turned out to be, this was a chance to live a life on your own terms. You deserved this…right?

Bradley gently lowered the boxes into the bed of Jake’s truck and took a moment to breathe in the sea-salt-tinged San Diego air. In three days, he would be flying to Virginia, loading up all of his things into a U-Haul, and coming back here to settle down. Fightertown, USA was the place that ruined his family. It took his father and broke his mother. Could he really do this?

Tag List:

@mizzzpink@xoxabs88xox@dreaminglandsworld@khaylin27@loveforaugust@atarmychick007@itsmytimetoodream@krismdavis@emma8895eb@startrekfangirl@hangmandruigandmav@lunamoonbby@startrekfangirl2233@sihtricswife@jstarr86@drakelover78@abaker74@emma8895eb@hardballoonlove

#abtw #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick imagine

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starlightkun · 4 months

Text

❧ word count: 2.0k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, angst if you squint?, drabble, childhood friends to lovers, model jungwoo, normal person reader, mark is there but he doesn't pass the sexy lamp test so i'm not calling this a love triangle, also gender neutral reader on this one ❧ extra info: this is a reworked version of a drabble from an old multi-group writing acct of mine from years and years ago. it was previously about hyunjin from stray kids, so if you read this like six plus years ago and it feels vaguely familiar, that’s why! ❧ author’s note: happy new year!

“Oh,” you forced out a giggle, voice cracking awkwardly as you added, “You missed… again.”

“No I didn’t,” he declared steadily, closing the space between you two again.

December 31st.

New Year’s Eve.

Ever since you were little, you had spent every New Year’s with Kim Jungwoo. And he insisted that even though he was a very popular model now and his reputation could easily be ruined with any slight scandal, that fact wouldn’t change. You were his best friend, he insisted, which meant that you would keep your traditions.

And so that’s how you ended up on a balcony at some fancy hotel that his agency had rented out for the occasion, needing some fresh air for a moment. Being around so many people, not to mention that they were all incredibly famous, was overwhelming and exhausting to you sometimes. Checking the time on your phone, you winced when you saw that it was only 10 p.m. Jungwoo had told you that the party would probably last until 2 a.m. at least, meaning that you theoretically still had four more hours of this. Your feet ached from standing and the goofy dancing you had done at first with your equally goofy friend and his surprisingly down-to-earth coworkers. All you really wanted to go home and change into your pajamas and go the fuck to sleep. New Year’s never mattered much to you; it was always Jungwoo who made you have fun on the seemingly pointless holiday.

The thought of your handsome, bright-eyed, and caring best friend brought a familiar bittersweet pain to the left side of your chest. You’d realized the not-so-small crush you had on him last New Year’s, when he’d given you his routine Happy New Year’s kiss on the cheek, and missed, pecking the corner of your mouth gently. It had been pretty easy to ignore your agony-inducing feelings since you didn’t see him much while his model life kept him extra busy. But now that you were at this party with him, and he had pretty much glued himself to your side the entire time, it was difficult to push them away.

For the past thirty minutes, however, you’d had a completely different issue plaguing your mind. One that you knew you needed to talk to Jungwoo about. As if he could hear your thoughts, his voice suddenly manifested from behind you:

“You’re missing Johnny and Haechan’s drinking contest.”

“Their what?” You spun around, looking absolutely bewildered.

“I’m kidding, I needed to get your attention,” Jungwoo let out a melodious chuckle as he stepped closer to you, looking just as dazzling as before in his simple black suit, the jacket having been discarded long ago in favor of just rolling his sleeves up to just below his elbow. That, paired with the slightly-mussed up and wavy hair, gave no aid in calming your thundering heart. How was one man allowed to be that attractive?

“You could’ve said ‘hey.’ You know, like a normal person,” you snorted, going back to leaning against the balcony railing as he joined you.

“Since when have we ever been normal?” He bumped your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m perfectly normal—” You bumped his shoulder back. “It’s you that’s fucking weird.”

“You know, I’d tickle you if I wasn’t afraid of touching the art.”

Your skin heated up immediately, counteracting the chilling winter winds easily seeping into your skin. At your lack of response, Jungwoo spoke again, “So what’s on your mind? You’ve got your thinking frown on.”

Dropping your face into your hands, you mumbled, “Woos, I’ve made a grave mistake.”

“What did you do this time, Y/N?”

“I might have agreed to give Mark a New Year’s kiss.” You took your face out of your hands in time to see Jungwoo’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Like, kiss on the cheek?”

You shook your head.

He seemed more distressed than you, rubbing his face in frustration as he thought. Finally, he groaned and offered, “I’ll tell him that you know… he can’t do that, because you’re my best friend and that’d be weird for me.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about.” You ignored the twinge in your heart when he called you his friend.

Truth be told, you were doing this hoping that it’d help you get over Jungwoo. Not necessarily by getting into Mark, that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But just a little extra push to forget about your feelings for your best friend.

Jungwoo’s eyes were nearly popping out of his face as he asked, “So is it like… the actual kiss, then? What, why?”

“I’m a bit rusty,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck.

“So it’s been a few months since you’ve kissed someone, whatever. It’s like riding a bike.”

“More like a few years…”

“How many years?”

“Like… ten? I’ve only ever had my first kiss, okay?” You admitted, your skin prickling hot with embarrassment. “Got a bit… busy after that.”

Jungwoo crossed his arms. “And you’re really going to let Mark Lee be your second kiss?”

You shrugged.

“You don’t know him that well, Y/N.”

“I barely know anybody here,” you pointed out with another shrug. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

“I don’t know, don’t you want your first adult kiss to be with someone you know, and who actually cares about you, and isn’t just some guy who would get affection from a rock if he could?”

“Well yeah, but, who would that be?”

“Not Mark.”

“If you can find me someone like that within the next—” you looked at your phone again “—one hour and fifty-six minutes, then sure, Mark Lee won’t be my first adult kiss.”

As you had said that, you looked at him with a newfound fire in your eyes, waiting for him to respond to your implicit challenge. His jaw was clenched, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided to close it again, taking a step back.

“Fine.” Jungwoo shook his head, walking back into the venue and managing to disappear his tall form into the crowd.

Your friend’s cold departure from you had left you in a sour mood for all of five seconds before some of his coworkers had found you and provided ample distraction from the tears threatening to make an appearance. Never had Jungwoo ever looked so upset or disappointed in you, and it hurt. It really fucking hurt.

You had a feeling that Jungwoo’s friends had been able to surmise that something bad had happened, considering you wouldn’t even look in his general direction, a stark contrast from just an hour ago when you were laughing together while his arm had been around your shoulder. The ghost of his arm there was still present, and you desperately pressed yourself even further back into the couch you were on to try to rid yourself of it. You really only succeeded in tucking yourself into Yuta’s side, as you were crammed onto the couch with him and a few of the others, not including Jungwoo.

Mark was on your other side, trying to yell out a story above to the constant loud hum, one that Johnny on his other side could apparently understand, as his deep laughs reached your ears. The light tinkling of Taeyong’s laughter brought your attention to your other side, and you felt Yuta attempting to worm himself off the couch. You scooted closer to Mark to give Yuta some more room, and when he stood up, you saw that there was a dark brown stain all down the front of his light-colored suit. Realizing that your sudden jolt into his side must have caused him to spill his drink all over himself, you tried to apologize, but he waved you off and disappeared as well.

Now with more space, you scooted back away from Mark, only by a few millimeters, as the couch was definitely not meant to fit even four people like it was now. As you leaned in to listen to Johnny’s addition to the conversation, you felt someone slide in beside and slightly behind you again and were surprised at how quickly Yuta had returned. But then an arm snaked around your waist and an all-too familiar voice was beside your ear and you knew it wasn’t him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungwoo didn’t have to whisper too much, the room was definitely too loud for anybody further than a few centimeters away to hear anything he was saying. “If you want to fuck Mark—”

You snapped your head around to hiss incredulously, “I don’t want to fuck him! Jesus Christ, Woos, it’s a kiss on New Year's. I don’t even like him like that. Like you said, he’s just some guy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you scoffed.

“I’m sorry. Seriously.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yeah, yeah, I forgive you. I know you were trying to look out for me. You’re a good friend, Woos.”

“Yeah, I know.”

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he sounded disappointed when you called him your friend. But when he rested his head on yours and your hopeful heart hopped painfully against your ribcage, you reminded yourself that all you were was his friend, and you had to learn how to be happy with just that.

You were towards the back of the large mass of people crowded around the huge TV announcing the countdown to the New Year. With Mark on your left and Jungwoo on your right, you blamed the heat for your sweaty palms instead of the idea of having your first kiss in a very long time in a very visible place and with a somewhat-random person. It would be just a peck, you had convinced yourself. Not a big deal.

The voices of everyone counting down in unison reverberated through your brain.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Before you could even turn to the man on your left, you were yanked to the right, a pair of lips descending onto yours in one fluid and firm motion. Jungwoo’s hands were gripping either side of your face and neck, his body pressing against yours, and his mouth meshing with yours in a way you could only describe as perfect. Your own hands grappled for something to hold onto as your breath was stolen from you, finding a somewhat suitable place clutching desperately onto his shirt.

Finally, Jungwoo deemed it necessary to breathe, moving his face back just a few millimeters from yours, a thin line of spit still connecting you two. You widened the distance, taking a few shaky inhalations as you tried to look anywhere except Jungwoo. Which was difficult considering he took up much of your vision, still being only a couple centimeters away.

“Oh,” you forced out a giggle, voice cracking awkwardly as you added, “You missed… again.”

“No I didn’t,” he declared steadily, closing the space between you two again. “There, you kissed someone who actually cares about you. So if you want to go kiss Mark—”

“No.” Shaking your head with determination, you looked him in the eye, “I don’t want to kiss him. Or anyone else…”

“Except me,” Jungwoo finished your implicit statement with a shit-eating grin.

Rolling your eyes, you nodded nonetheless.

“So, can I date you on a proper date, then?”

You pretended to contemplate this for a moment before grabbing his collar and tugging him back down for another kiss, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck. Jungwoo grinned into the kiss, pulling you closer by the hips.

The very amused voice of Taeyong startled you into nearly having an aneurysm, “You two might want to stop that before the CEO comes by to say Happy New Year to everybody.”

You folded your hands politely in front of you, nodding sheepishly as the rest of his friends could only giggle at your being caught.

Mark then complained, “I still didn’t get a New Year’s kiss!”

“Come here, then!” Haechan wrapped an arm around the older man’s neck, pursing his lips as Mark tried to get away. The whole group burst into laughter, taking enough attention off you and Jungwoo for him to take your hand in his.

⤷ blog masterlist

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jjunberry · 4 months

Text

HE LOVES ME NOT ˚* ❀ part six ✎

wc! 900

true to his word jake arrived back at her dorm in fifteen minutes. he drove around for a few minutes before she decided on stopping at a convenience store. “let’s have some ramen.” she said, filling the basket with different snacks. jake put some snacks he liked in as well before taking their ramen to cook it for them. she took the basket to pay for everything.

“you didn’t have to pay for this stuff.” he scolded her. “i was going to.” a pout took over his face. she smiled. “i’ll let you pay next time.” she patted his cheek. “so there is going to be a next time?” y/n shrugged. “i don’t see why not.” he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. the pair sat quietly and ate their ramen. ‘’not to sound rude but why did you ask me to hang out, instead of one of your friends?” the girl sighed. “because they would question me about my boyfriend and i really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

jake nodded before taking a bite of his ramen. “well i’ll be glad to be your distraction and not talk about your totally shitty boyfriend.” y/n groaned and pushed jake’s shoulder. he let out a loud laugh. “jake stop it.” she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “can i ask you one thing about him though?” she nodded. “sure.” jake turned towards the girl. “ if he continues to hurt you like this why are you staying with him? and please don’t tell me it’s because you love him.”

she sighed and looked at her lap. “ i guess it’s because he’s all i’ve ever known, he was my first kiss, my first time, my first everything.” jake nodded for her to continue. ‘’ he’s older than me, so no one knows about our relationship..” “oh my god are you in danger? i can get a hold of people who can help you.” she placed her hand over his mouth. “no i’m not in danger. he’s twenty-two and i’ll be turning twenty in a month. i met him here.” jake sighed. “i don’t know y/n he seems pretty shitty.” she sighed. “so everyone says.” “but enough about him, let’s go for a walk.”

jake stood and placed his hand out for her to take. she smiled and took his hand. they aimlessly walked around the less crowded streets for what felt like hours. she didn’t mind though. the time she was spending with jake was relaxing. freeing almost. the pair somehow ended up back at the park they first met just a few hours prior. “it’s so peaceful here at night.” she said taking a seat on the same cold bench. the stem of her daisy still laid a few feet away. a soft breeze blew and she watched as the wind carried it.

“i come here a lot while i wait for my friends to be done in the bar.” jake said taking a seat next to her. “that sounds like it happens way to often.” he laughed. “unfortunately, i wish they’d cut back a little, like today they were there since eleven this morning.” y/n sighed. “ sounds like you need better friends.” he shrugged. “no they’re pretty cool when they are black out drunk.” y/n nodded. another gust of wind blew causing y/n to shiver. jake noticed and quickly shed his hoodie and handed her the soft material. she looked up at him. “oh jake i couldn’t take this from you, you’d be cold.” he shook his head. “i’ll be fine just wear it.”

she sighed before putting the hoodie on. it was warm and smelled like his cologne.”thank you jake.” he smiled. “not a problem, i couldn’t have you freeze to death.” she giggled. she checked her phone and realized it was four-thirty am. “we should probably head back, i have a lecture at eleven today.” jake frowned. “time really flies when you’re having fun.” she smiled. “come on lets go.” she stood up and they walked back to his car. she was sad to be dropped off if she was being honest. she enjoyed her time with jake and didn’t really want the night to end. jake watched to make sure she got inside safely before he took off back to his dorm.

he placed his hand on the door knob but it opened from the inside. a girl wearing little to nothing smiled and walked past him. ‘’hey tell heeseung thanks for tonight for me? thanks.” she blew a kiss and walked away. jake rolled his eyes before shutting the door. jay was in the kitchen chugging water. “hey man where were you?” he asked. “i was out.” jake gave a short reply and walked to his room.

across campus y/n’s alarm blared and she jolted awake. not really into the mood she pulled on a pair of leggings leaving jake’s hoodie on. after she freshened up she headed to classes. jungwon met her before classes holding coffees. her eyes light up seeing the cups containing caffeine. “you’re a life saver wonnie.” “is that a new hoodie?” he asked. she looked down at her appearance. jake’s hoodie stared back at her. “yeah.” was all she said before taking a drink of her coffee. once sunoo joined them they headed to their respective lectures.

y/n had completely missed the glare shot at her. heeseung watched her approach jungwon wearing a hoodie he didn’t recognize. it made his blood boil. with a clenched jaw he headed to his lecture.

during her lecture y/n’s phone was buzzing with messages. when the class was finally over she checked her messages and rolled her eyes. he really had some nerve. deciding to ignore the messages she began walking home. tears swelled in her eyes as more messages from heeseung came in.

masterlist

tag list ˚* ❀ @jjunieworld @304files @mrchweeee @sionshiii @kayleeshinee (if your name is bold i couldn’t tag you)

author’s note ˚* ❀ we all need a jake for late night ramen 🤩

love, echo🖤

#🌼he loves me not!#enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagines #kpop social media au #kpop smau #kpop writers #jjunberry

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champagneher · 1 year

Text

— MIDNIGHT KISS | MIN YOONGI

BASED ON | them spending their New Year's Eve on a party with their friends and sharing their New Year's kiss in front of everyone. GENRE | f!reader x idol!yoongi, established relationship, drabble, hidden relationship. WARNINGS | none.

The relationship between ____ and Yoongi to their friends could be described as full of flirting on both sides, with lots of teasing and hidden feelings. Both were always commenting on each other, either in a joking manner or looking to touch a nerve with the other. Pissing Yoongi off was no easy task, and ____ enjoyed finding something new to tease him with from time to time. Yoongi on the other, hand enjoyed seeing the frustration on her face when he looked completely unaffected with what she spent so much time preparing and swearing would make him lose his mind.

With Yoongi working on finishing his album and you with the holidays being when you were busiest with your work as a photographer, your friends hadn't heard from you for a while. Well, you had talked through the group chat you all had, agreeing to spend New Year's Eve together to welcome the new year in a special way. Other than that, no comments with any tease or jokes had been thrown by either you or Yoongi, which made them think that you had finally confessed your feelings for each other, or one had annoyed the other so much that you hated each other. There was no middle ground.

Chae: so we all gonna go to Soyeon's before 9pm, okay?

Soyeon: Yes! Don't be late so we can have dinner and tHEN alcohol, so we can remember at least something the next day :)

Jake: tell that to ____, she's gone after two bottles

Yoongi: Should I bring four or five bottles of champagne?

Jihyo: I think with four we're gonna do good

Jake: o.O

Chae: what now Jake

Jake: Sooo nobody saw that?

Joon: Stop being annoying

Jake: I just said how ____ is weak with alcohol and Yoongs didn't back me up :O

"Aah Jake is annoying when he wants to be," Yoongi complained, putting down his phone and leaving it on the small circular table in the living room. He stretched out his limbs as best he could on the couch, holding your legs that were in his lap.

After a short silence, you nodded your head, realizing the reason for his comment. You locked your phone and looked at him.

"Well, he has a point." You shrugged.

"What do you mean?" his full attention was now on you.

"Oh please, Yoongi."

"What?" he asked, even more confused.

"You never passed up an opportunity to tease me about my drinking skill."

"Skill? What skill? You're gone in thirty minutes-"

"See?!" You laugh, trying to feign seriousness, but you always find it difficult with Yoongi's obvious face. His brow furrowed, his eyes looked even smaller than they were, and his pink lips slightly parted in disbelief.

"Aaah," he grumbled. "I don't tease you all the time..."

"Obviously, now you have the wonderful opportunity to say it to my face," you teased him with a grin as he blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling shy at your suggestive tone of voice. "You're lucky."

"Me lucky?"

"Yes. Lucky you."

"Lucky I might be if you'd let me kiss you in front of our friends."

You let out a sigh and slumped back on the couch, things weren't as simple as they seemed.

The relationship between you and Yoongi itself was very new. Both of you having known each other for quite some time, but always under the light of friends annoying each other. Nothing more than that. But everything changed when the pandemic hit, and suddenly you found yourself talking to Yoongi every day, all the time. Both of you looking each other for the support you needed during those difficult times. Remembering the moments you both shared, laughing when a joke between the two of you came up again, or when you simply talked about music and your days of doing absolutely nothing. Yoongi showed you a side of him that you had never seen before and that you were grateful to be able to appreciate now. You let down your walls with him, you felt understood and appreciated when even your family couldn't show you the support you always longed for. Yoongi became your family in an instant. When you were finally able to leave your homes, the first thing he did was come to see you at your flat, where you spent hours talking about everything and nothing at the same time. The days went on and on, and before you knew it, the two of you were sharing days and nights together.

You could never tell your friends, and you never understood why. There were always pros and cons that they both went over in their heads, difficult not being able to say them out loud because of fear, but they both knew they were there.

Yoongi felt braver lately. And that was the effect you had on him. He felt that he could do anything, face anything and no matter what the outcome, he would be fine. He supposed that was falling slowly for someone, but, on Christmas Eve night, he realized that he was already in love with you. Spending Christmas with his family, all he wanted was to come to you and share gifts and a nice meal together.

Your insecurities always hit you. You mean, among your group of friends, you always talked about everything without any restraint. Remembering how your male friends, including Yoongi, talked and bragged with the models they had been with, people of high status, women who were practically princesses, of course hit your insecurity nerve. They would always make friendly bets on which idol Yoongi would end up with, and you were no idol. You weren't even close. So, what your friends might say or think about your relationship was seriously scary for you.

You could never tell Yoongi, but you knew he was suspicious of your thoughts, because - you mean - he's Yoongi. He might be quiet and all you want, but he was a very good observer, and he had certainly noticed how the joking tone you were making with who he would end up marrying had turned sour.

Hell, he couldn't help but stare at you at all times while saying that he might end up married to someone different from who they thought, but that he wanted more than anything by their side. Couldn't you see it? He wanted nothing more than to be by your side always. He was sickeningly in love with you, and you still had doubts that he would go with someone with a job like him, when that was the last thing he wanted.

The conversation after that moment was left in the thin air, concentrating on making dinner and then Yoongi making love to you in his room.

On the one hand, you knew that Yoongi didn't want to keep pretending to be just your friend among his group, since that meant listening to your girlfriends trying to get you to go on blind dates with one of their friends. Hell, if Yoongi didn't gnash his teeth every time he heard Jake or Chae telling you about the qualities of some guy they know with whom -according to them- you'd be the perfect match. Yoongi would be your perfect match, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from telling them that all they were saying was bullshit.

You didn't need someone to buy you all the most expensive gifts, you needed someone to listen to you. You didn't want a doctor or a lawyer, you just needed someone to love you and be your best friend at the same time. And he didn't want to brag, but he knew he had more money than any of those characters who wanted to steal you from his arms, and as you told him, he was your best friend, so.

The day passed quietly, on the morning of the last day of the year you decided to go back to your flat to get ready for the night. Obviously, Yoongi was against that idea, saying that the two of you should spend the whole day together, because he knew that at night he would have to pretend again not to be crazy about you and just call you "a friend".

That feeling of wanting to shout to everyone that you were his partner was never a part of Yoongi, he always loved his privacy, he still does. But, his possessiveness over you sometimes got the better of him. Obviously, he didn't expect to announce it to the whole world, he just wanted his friends to know about the two of you. Nothing more. The rest would remain the same, the outings, the drinks, the banter. But like you being an official couple. He was getting tired of having to leave the comfort of your bed in the morning and then pretending to arrive at lunchtime with your friends to chat about their weeks. Or making fun of you - in a friendly way - with your friends when all he wanted to do was put his hand on your leg and then tell them it wasn't true and get teased for being so gentle and soft with you.

Even though Yoongi accepted that you still had your doubts about telling everyone about you, the desire to be able to kiss you tonight at the stroke of midnight was permeating his chest.

You arrived a little early at Soyeon's house to help her with the final preparations for the New Year's dinner. You were barefoot and in your silver dress that you knew Yoongi would love, since he happened to see it a fortnight ago in a shop on his nightly runs with you, and commented on the pretty shade that would contrast with your eyes. Not to mention that it matched you perfectly, and let the imagination do the rest.

"The others should be here any minute, I think we've got everything ready."

"Yep," you agreed with your friend, arranging the cutlery on the table.

After a brief silence, Soyeon just watched you with a grimace that said she was ready to confront you. "So…"

"So…" you smiled at her, encouraging her to continue.

"You and grandpa."

You looked at her confused, what was she talking about? "Me and my grandfather?"

"No!" she laughed. "You and Yoongi."

"What?" You looked at her puzzled, turning your whole body to face her. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, ____. I've known you since we were 10. I think I can tell when you're in love with someone. And I can also tell when someone, especially if that someone has the emotional range of an asparagus, is in love with my friend. Which is kind of obvious." She shrugged her shoulders, satisfied with your surprised face. She had figured it all out. "You know, at first I thought you'd tell me after a couple of weeks, then I thought, oh, maybe in a month? But it's almost 3 months now, and I'm assuming it's even longer with you guys?"

"I- Soyeon…"

"I don't want to rush you into anything nor do I want to force you to tell anyone or am I going to tell anyone. I just want to tell you that I love to see you happy and loved like he loves you. You deserve it, and I'm so, but so proud for you."

"Loved?"

"____, you can tell a mile away that tangerine man loves you." She laughed, making you do too and lower your gaze to the floor. Everything he was saying was giving you a lot to think about. "We went through a lot when we were young," this time he moved closer to you to place his hands on your arms in a comforting way. "And when you are happy, I want everyone to see how beautiful my friend is when she's enjoying her hard work and all the good things she deserves. If you are happy, show it and don't hide it behind that hateful expression every time someone jokes about how good Yoongs would look with someone else when he only has eyes for you."

11:50 struck the night, only 10 minutes left for a new year to begin. Talking to Soyeon - or rather her being the noisy friend that she is - about your relationship with Yoongi, really gave you the last thing - that you didn't know you needed - to digest and accept that you really, at last, were living the life you'd always wanted, and Yoongi played a key part in that equation.

They were all together on the balcony of the flat that provided a beautiful view of the city of Seoul. Each with a glass in hand, ready to welcome the new year. They were talking to each other while Jake set up the audio system where they would listen to the countdown.

"Come on, Jake, didn't you study for this? It's the only thing I asked you to do!" Soyeon got angry, approaching the boy who was still moving some wires looking for the best way to listen to the channel.

"Calm down, woman. I already did. I'm just looking to make it louder."

You laughed, walking past him to where a certain someone was leaning on the balcony railing with her eyes lost in the city.

"They're something else, aren't they?" You commented as you casually joined his side.

Yoongi looked at you for a few seconds and then looked back to the front. He just nodded.

You let out a sigh, feeling the courage you had gathered over the past few hours slip through your fingers. Holding on to the last of what you had left, you snuggled closer to him and laid your head gently on his shoulder. You could feel his body quickly tense and then release the air that had built up in his lungs and relax into your touch.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, almost inaudibly. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet. "The others are going to say something."

"The night is beautiful," you bit your lip. "Soyeon is our friend, and she really helped me today."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to start this year being really happy, Yoongi." You broke away to stare into his eyes. His eyes reflected confusion but excitement at the same time. You knew he was building an illusion in his chest, and you didn't want to destroy it now or ever.

"Okay, one minute left! I'm going to faint!" Chae shouted, running from the dining room with a bottle of champagne in his right hand and his glass in his left.

"Finally!" Jake smiled victoriously as the channel host could be heard announcing the seconds remaining.

Yoongi looked at them not even for a second and then looked at you expectantly. All of your friends were now closer to you, though everyone was in their own world.

"I always thought I would be the most open in showing affection," you grimaced, ready to tease him. "But who knew my boyfriend would be the real softie."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop a small smile from forming on his lips.

"Let's start this year in the best way."

"I'd love that," he smiled and stood right in front of you, gently cupping your waist.

"Happy New Year Yoongs," you smiled softly at him, you really started the new year with a strong love in your chest, and you couldn't be happier about it.

"Happy New Year, kid." His soft smile turning into a full one of his, showing his teeth and making his eyes narrow, almost hiding the shine in them.

Feeling the euphoria running through your veins, you approached him as slowly as you could -which was almost impossible- and you joined your lips with his, looking for that first kiss of the year with him that you always wanted to have. Yoongi didn't stay behind and joined his body with yours, turning the kiss deeper.

The noise and celebration of others remaining in the background for you, while you immersed yourself in your world. If you had paid even a little attention, you could have heard the gasps of your friends when they saw that the two of you were making out - almost disgustingly, some would say - starting the new year together.

"Well, I didn't see that coming." Jake commented to then receive a soft smack from Soyeon who was looking at her friend happily.

"Oh, fireworks! We should dance After like!" Chae screamed.

thank you so much for reading! let me know what you think.

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luimagines · 1 year

Text

He’s Flirty, You’re Flustered Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will consist of Time, Sky and Four

Content under the cut!

Time

Time walked up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned around and tilted your head. When your eyes met his, you took a step away and smile, trying to keep the blush on your face from the close contact. “Yes? What can I help you with Time?”

“I was wondering if you would be willing to join me for patrol for the evening.” Time says evenly. “It’s not necessarily a grueling task in need assistance. However, company is always appreciated.”

The way he smiles sends your heart into an unsteady pitter patter pattern. You can feel your face getting warmer just at at the thought and can barely bring yourself to nod. You can feel your stupid smile creep onto your face.

Time smirks and your brain ceases to work for a solid moment. “Perfect. I’ll return in a moment and we can be off.”

“..Ah..” You say intelligently. “Of course. I’ll be waiting.”

You want to kick yourself. Can you be any more obvious?

Time comes back within moments and straps his sword to his back. He takes your hand without a second thought and begins to lead the way. “Let’s go.”

You splutter and follow without any word of objection, trying to keep your noises to yourself by covering your mouth with your free hand.

You try to keep your gaze to the ground where Time won’t have to notice that your face is lit aflame. Your walk is thankfully in silence even if Time doesn’t let go of your hand.

Bravely, you manage to lace your fingers together even though you can’t bring yourself to lift your head up to see his reaction. Time squeezes your hand a little tighter and it makes you feel a little better.

“It’s quiet.” He says. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing right now.”

You shrug. “Let’s say it’s a good thing. No need to invite calamity upon us when it’s unwarranted.”

Time hums and swings your hands for a moment. “Well said.”

“Thank you.” You flush deeper and sneak a peak at the man next to you. He’s look down at you with a soft smile on his face.

You gasp and look away again.

Time laughs. “Do I scare you?”

“No.” You say, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Do I make you nervous then?” Time stops walking now and leans closer to your face.

You shake your head. The words die on your tongue. If you repeat your previous answer, that would be a lie. But if you tell the truth he might get the wrong idea. You clear your throat and shake your head with more clarity and determination.

Time’s finger taps your wrist. “You’re lying.”

You’re stomach drops when you realize what he means. “Time-”

“You’re quite adorable, you know that?” He interrupts you. “Red is such a lovely color on your, my dearest.”

The words get stuck and you squeak.

Time smiles and reaches over to run the back of his hand against your cheek. “I think it looks even better up close.” He says as he leans even closer. “You enchant me. And yet it appears I can only get a true answer out of you when your cornered, Love.”

You knee threaten to buckle from under you.

Time takes mercy on you and leans away, but not before placing a butterfly’s kiss on your forehead. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You’re breathless. How are you going to sleep tonight?

Sky

Sky looked your way for what to be the umpteenth time in the past thirty minutes. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. It was going to set your nerves in fire. Either he stops or he does something about it. You didn’t know which was worse.

You sighed and tried to keep your cool. At least outwardly. You looked back at the sword you were sharpening. It looked like the Traveler’s. You had taken over this small chore since the blacksmith was out of the commission for the time being. Poor guy got a nasty hit and was nearly split open. He was benched until further notice.

You don’t know you’ve seen him as disappointed but silent this entire time. Maybe it hurt to be argumentative. Either way, you took it upon yourself to do it since the others aside (from Legend) weren’t going to.

And Sky was still watching you.

You didn’t want to think about it. You bit back a pitiful whine and keep at the cleaning and sharpening. It’s brainless work. No one needs to think. Just don’t get cut.

Sky stands up. Consequently, it sends your heart into your throat as well. You think that maybe he’s going to talk to one of the others instead but nnoo... The pretty boy has to start making his way towards you instead.

You put the sword down before you do something stupid with it.

Sky grins and waves to you. “Hey.”

You smile back and wave as well. “Need something?”

“You have a thing.” Sky points to his cheek and you’re mortified. How long has it been there? Is that why he was looking?

You try to wipe it off but Sky shakes his head. You wipe the other wide and it only makes Sky snort. “You made it worse.”

You ball up your sleeves in a fury to scrub out whatever it may be but Sky beats you to it.

“Here. Hold on.” Sky smile and licks his thumb, gently taking your chin with his other hand and buffering out whatever stain had gotten on your face.

He goes slow with his motions, looking at something you couldn’t even feel. He’s not really looking at you anymore but the moment feels intimate, soft and more impactful than it should.

Sky’s eyes shift to yours and you see him smirk. “Got it.”

“ThAnks.” You cough and rub your cheek anyway with your sleeve. “Do you even know what it was? I couldn’t feel it.”

“It was probably from the metal work you’re doing.” Sky pokes your nose.

You blush fiercely, cursing your reaction when you see Sky take notice of it. “WEll...”

You clear your throat, tearing your sight away from Sky. He smiles with all teeth, amused and joyful. You hate this. “Someone has to do it. I don’t mind it.”

“Well thank you for looking after our gear. You look cute.”

You squawk! “What! No I don’t!”

“You did! You’re tongue was sticking out and you had this concentrated look on your face-”

“Oh my god. No thank you. But thank you. I’m going now.” You stand abruptly, letting the sword of whoever fall over.

Sky laughs and stands with you. “Where are you going? I’ll go with.”

“Somewhere! It’s fine! Don’t worry about it!”

“Let’s go!”

“No, Sky don’t! Link, I swear!”

He laughs.

Four

You were trying to sew your pants after ripping them in the last fight. You all the more grateful to your past self for packing more than one pair because that was not something you wanted to boys to handle for you.

Sure you were close enough in size for some of them to have lent you their clothes but then you’d have them know that you were down a pair of pants. And the tear wasn’t exactly in the most flattering place. You’d rather deal with and fix it yourself without any one noticing.

“Whatcha got there?”

You jump and stab yourself, jabbing and dragging the needle across your finger leaving a blossoming line of red in its wake. You hiss and grip it tightly on instinct, dropping everything in your hands to deal with it.

Four hisses next to you and sits down. “Whoops. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” You grit out. “It just hurts.”

“I bet.” Four holds his hand out. “Let me see.”

You whine and pull back, letting your finger go. The blood seeps down in slow welts, pooling at the edges of your skin. Four takes your hand gently and turns your finger this way and that to get a better look at it.

“It doesn’t look deep at least.” Four mentions. “Just long and unfortunate. A very long paper cut.”

“That was made by a very small blade.” You mutter.

Four snorts and stands with his hand son his hips. “Give me a second and I’ll get some stuff to help with it.”

He winks and walks away leaving you mildly dumbfounded with your hand cradling your finger. You watch him go and turn back to the project you’ve all but abandoned. There’s no way you’re going to finish this now.

Four comes back in record time with a small pouch and a roll of white gauze. He takes the liberty of sitting next to you, generously ignoring how you instantly blush as his thigh makes contact with yours.

“Hand.” He demands and holds his hand out once more for you to put it in.

You bite you lip and give it to him. There’s very you’d be able to deny him anyway. Something tells you that he knows this.

He cleans it as gently as he can. It still stings and you tense with each swipe of the cleaning agent but you don’t comment on it. Soon he’s bandaging your wound and holds your hand with enough tenderness to fill your heart with need and yearn.

It hurts more than the stinging prior.

Four turns your hands around again in his, looking at it with more care and attention than you think is necessary. You want to tell him off but something in his eyes captures you and while he studies your hand, you study him.

Someone coughs and you look away from each other. Legend takes your pants from you, taking out his own needle and begins where you left off. “Can you make goo-goo eyes at each other while I’m not here please?”

Your face explodes in a blush. You’re too embarrassed to have been caught and called out. Enough so that you can’t even to reply. You go to rip your hand away from Four but he holds on this time, bringing your attention back to him.

Four is looking at Legend with a smirk. “When I asked for your help I didn’t say you had to be near us.”

“Four.” You squeak.

“I hardly ever get this chance. Come on man.” Four keep talking.

Legend rolls his eyes. “No shame.”

“I have no reason to be ashamed.” Four looks back at you and kisses the back of your hands- just shy of the bandages he just placed, so you feel his lips on your bare skin.

Your full attention is on the black smith once more. You can feel him smirking.

Legend scoff. ”Both of you. I swear. Just kiss!”

“It’s not your permission I need Vet.”

“...Oh my god.” You cover your face with your other hand.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I early forgot the premise for Four's #the prompt was going to go in a different direction entirely #i barely managed to keep it on course

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giowritess · 4 months

Text

fortnight [2]

gif by @dameronscopilot

pairing | Benny Miller x female!reader [Grace Stratford] summary | you somehow end up pretending to be Benny's girlfriend for two whole weeks. is your heart going to survive that? probably not. warnings | swearing a bit, mentions of certain body parts word count | 1k author's note | to be honest, i have no idea where i'm headed with this fic lol this time, we have some insights into benny's head. love him. english isn't my first language and this wasn't proofread. part one | masterlist | main masterlist

There was one thing in your plan, however, you hadn't accounted for. You'd have to share a bedroom with Benny for the next two weeks, and you were trying not to freak out because of that.

“Left or right side?” He asked, oblivious to what was going on inside of your head.

“Left,” you replied, and he happily tossed his pillow to the right side before plopping down, landing on his side and leaning his face in his palm and looking at you. His cap flew somewhere in the room.

Shit. Fourteen whole nights sleeping by his side. Jesus Christ, your heart definitely wasn’t going to survive.

“If we're gonna do this, we gotta settle a few things,” you said, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“Shoot.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two. You?”

“Twenty-seven. How long has it been since you left the army?”

“This feels like twenty-one questions,” he said, making you laugh. “Six years. How long have you been in the Air Force?”

“Four years. Why did you leave?”

He looked at the ceiling. “It gets to a point when you just have enough, you know?”

You nodded. Despite loving what you did, sometimes you felt that way, too. “Dad had just died, too, so I had enough,” he added.

You nodded again.

“We need an excuse,” he said. “To why no one knew about us.”

“True. We could say... I don't know, we didn't wanna rush things and preferred to keep it low?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Basic. I like it,” he said and yawned. “I need to take a nap. Carrying all my girlfriend's bags made me so tired.”

He sighed dramatically, making you laugh at his theatrics and the way he said the word girlfriend.

"Oh, shut up, it was just two bags,” you said, throwing your pillow at his face. His beautiful face. He effortlessly batted it away, sending it flying overhead, but, in doing so, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you, his strength making you land on top of him.

The laughter died in your throat when you realized just how dark his eyes were. You were straddling him, a leg on each side of his body and your palms splayed across his chest for support. His body was a rigid mass of muscle under you, your hands itching to travel all around his naked chest. He was so fucking hot, in both senses—the heat coming from him as arming you in all places. He slightly shifted and you went still when you felt the distinct outline of his cock through your clothes. It wasn't hard, but just a roll of your hips, and…

His eyes were boring holes into yours and you wanted to squirm. His hands circled your wrists. You took a breath of courage.

“There's something we didn't discuss”, you said in a meek voice, trying hard to get the words out under the intensity of his gaze.

“What?”

“PDA.”

Your voice sounded more breathy than you wanted it to. He chuckled, his body shaking slightly under you, sending vibrations up your body. You wanted to move so badly.

“I think we already established that won't be a problem,” he replied, and you wondered if he meant today, the heated kiss you shared, or two years ago, that night in his car? “But we can practice if y—”

Before he had the chance to finish the sentence that would make all your dreams come true, three rapid knocks sounded at the door before Maddie's voice came through.

“Grace? Can I come in?”

“Just a second,” you yelled back, you and Benny scrambling to your feet in seconds. “Come in!”

She did. She took one look at you and at Benny and a smirk appeared on her lips.

“Oooh, sorry I interrupted something, but I gotta steal Gracie for a bit,” she said, sitting at the corner of the bed as if she owned it. “Benny, shoo. Go get drunk or go fishing or whatever.”

He rolled his eyes and bent to press up his discarded cap. After putting it backwards—a silly thing, but it made you want to swoon nonetheless—, he pointed a finger at you.

“This conversation isn't over yet,” he said.

All you could do was nod, suddenly unable to speak.

***

Benny wanted to kick Will the moment he saw the grin on his brother's face.

“Shut up,” he said, breezing past him to grab a beer. To hell that it was only two in the afternoon—the day asked for one, and somewhere it was already five pm, right?

“I didn't even say anything!” Will argued.

Benny just raised an eyebrow at him, leaning on the kitchen counter in silence, waiting for whatever shit he was going to say

“But I gotta ask. How the hell are you suddenly dating Stratford?”

“It was her idea,” he replied with a sigh. "So I can make Sam jealous. She thinksI want her back.”

Benny accidently forgot to mention that it was Maddie's idea. She must have heard one of their conversations and misinterpreted the whole thing.

Suddenly, the expression on his brother's face turned dead serious. “And do you?”

“Hell no. Not in a million years,” Benny replied, a bitter taste on his mouth just by thinking of dating Samantha again. She left a bad taste for relationships for him, which was why he was single ever since. “You know who I want.”

Who he'd been wanting since she got in their lives, but he was too big of a dumbass to do something about it, even after their one night stand two years ago. And to think that, if it wasn't for Maddie, he'd probably have her exactly where he wanted her right now.

“So? What you waiting for?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “To be sure, I guess.”

Will placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes as serious as ever.

“Big brother advice. Don’t screw this up,” he said. He nodded. “If you want her, go for it. Now get over yourself and let's go fishing.”

Benny chuckled, a sudden feeling of resolve surging through his body. He didn't know exactly how, but yeah, he was going for it.

by @reveriesources

➜ part three

#benny miller smut #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #will miller #giowritess #garrett hedlund #Garrett hedlund fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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brimbrimbrimbrim · 1 year

Text

The Bear and The Baker: Chapter Four - CHILL (NSFW)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Summary: She’s relatable and willing to help him figure out how to stop spiraling down a dark hole of anxiety, but she’s pretty and sweet and knows what to say and do… and Carmy just can’t help himself.

Tags: friends to lovers, UST, RST, pining, wet dreams, masturbation, lots of food talk, reader used to be a pastry chef, mental health, panic attacks, anxiety, meditation, oral sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, handjob, desk sex, first times, virginity, mild dom/sub undertones, kitchen sex, love confessions, blowjobs

Words: 4k

TW: panic attacks

He's chopping peppers when his attention shifts again, and this time, when his skin opens under the edge, it's not the knife being dull that's the problem. Carmy's head is fucked, and it shows. It's been two weeks to the day, and one hand is covered in a nitrile glove for all the damn bandages around his knuckles… and now he's cut down to the nail bed, shredded black elastic with red flowing off the end.

Motherfucker!

Blood squirts out the wound before the sting hits him, but he's already in a fuckin' frenzy. No one's dared speak to him unless necessary since two-thirty. He stops, the knife still in his fist… the offending pepper having rolled between the stove burner and cutting block with a dent in its red skin. The cut's deep—the one on his hand—but it's nothing some super glue won't fix, yet he just stares at it, pooling crimson with streaky halos against the wet plastic cutting board.

The pain throbs, becoming just another place where his pulse is pounding unhappily. Every thick, sad plunk settles between his throat and sternum. It's maddening, this silence and pain and themother fucking heartache.

'Behind!'

Carmy hears it like he's underwater.

'I need three chickens and four beefs; two with peppers, two without!'

The rest of the kitchen chaos drops octave after octave as he pushes his thumb into the tip of his bleeding finger, sucking down a groan. Pain shoots through his finger and forearm; it makes his forearm jerk, reminding him of how those same muscles had flexed when he had her spread open on his kitchen counter—had her quivering thigh in this hand—when he had his mouth on her… and now it's all fucked.

Carmy watches and remembers…

She's got sauce on her cheek, and he’s feeling too light everywhere to think about it, so he leans in and kisses it, licks it off her. The giggle that puffs against his face only further unloads the heavy weights dragging him down, like cutting the ropes off an air balloon. Her fingers slide into the collar of his shirt, up his neck, and into the curls against his nape. She turns his mouth to hers for a deep kiss that takes Carmy's breath away.

When it comes back—all his air—he pecks her lips again, then her chin and throat, tasting her neck, and whispers, "I love you."

He's still smiling against her skin when he realizes she's gone stiff in his arms… that cold needle bursting his fucking balloon with a heavy dose of 'what the fuck did I just say?'

And then she's standing and thanking him for the meal with a stutter worse than his, trying to gather her things as fast as humanly possible while he's trailing behind her like some kicked puppy knowing it fucked up, wanting more than anything to fix it.

Why'd he have to open his stupid fucking mouth?

The first girl that touches his dick, and he's lovesick… spilling his guts with basil and blueberry and pussy on his tongue, talking with all this misplaced confidence that ended in the most awkward, unpleasant end to one of the best nights of his life.

How'd he fuck up so bad?

"Chef?"

Carmy blinks and looks up from the pool of blood, glancing at Marcus with several butter bricks cradled against his chest. "Yo, Chef. You know you’re bleeding, right?”

"Yeah.Yeah . I know," Carmy mutters beneath his breath, snapping a rag out of his apron to wrap it around his weeping finger. "Can-can you,uh , get Gary to clean this up for me?" He gestures to the cutting board, already backing away from the mess, feeling sick with muddled emotions.

"Course, yeah. Sure thing, Chef," Marcus says, worried.

Carmy nods, sniffing up the pain that's coming back and his own embarrassment, walking off the line like a beaten dog into the alley instead of the emergency sink to wash the cut clean. The burn from Marcus' confusion and concern still tickles the back of his head, but Carmy needs a moment alone. Good thing they all pick up on that cause after a few minutes of clotted, outside air, he's still by himself, clutching his sliced finger until he can't feel it anymore.

"Stupid…fucking… " he curses, lips thin and screwed up, sliding down to the milk crate with his back against the brick wall, "Fucking idiot."

As soon as his ass hits the hard plastic, his mind starts repeatingthat night. Loops of it, all with little added details that further sour his self-esteem. The way she leaned away when he tried to rest his palm on her elbow in the doorway on her way out—that thin-lipped smile of reassurance that was so fucking fake—her verbal regret for letting her hormones get the best of her—the subtle inflection in everything that told Carmy she didn't wanna see him again.

When the bleeding stops, and it's just dried blood and torn nitrile, Carmy throws the stained rag over his shoulder and grabs his pack of smokes out of his back pocket. The nicotine barely chills him out; if anything, it just makes his knee bounce faster—makes him itchy and on the verge of-

The back door bangs open, sending a violent throng of shock into his chest. His heart skips a beat, resetting that rapid tempo it was speeding towards. Carmy looks up to see Tina leaning out the doorway with big, dark eyes and a full, sympathetic smile.

"Hey,Jeff ." Her eyes tear down his disheveled state, smile screwing up in sad amusement. "Customer just dropped off a pie for you or some shit. Richie put it in the office, an' he's lookin' real full of it."

Customer? Pie? Her?! Fuck…

"Wait, did you say Cousin?!"

"Mmhm."

"Fuck -" Carmy shoots up to his feet, knees locked an' aching from the day, but his heart's in his stomach wondering what the fuck Richie could have said to her—might have disclosed or did… or…Jesus Christ…

"Did he say anything to her?" Carmy tries to come across chill, but his cigarette trembles as he takes a hit, cheeks already splotching with anxiety.

Tina arches a brow, still amused. "I dunno, but my guess?Yeah . Yeah, he did.”

Carmy curses again and throws his cigarette down to stomp it out.

“You know,” Tina continues, “for someone who's been bitching about his ass all day, he's lookin' mighty smug now. Do you think stitches really take that long to heal, or is he jus’ bein' a bitch?"

"I gotta take care of this goddamn mess. Excuse me."

Carmy goes to slide past her into the kitchen only for her hand to close around his elbow. He stops, looks down, and arches a brow. "Chef?"

"Look," she begins, starting off uncharacteristically soft, "I dunno what you been doin’ or who you been doin' it to, but you better fix whatever you fucked up. Cause our game was really fucking strong when you weren’t being a sad little shit all damn day…"

Carmy wets his lower lip and looks away, finding a rubber stain on the tile inside the kitchen fascinating… or trying to.

"… but these past couple of weeks?" Tina jerks him enough his eyes drift back to her as she shakes her head, pinning him with an expression of severity. "Just… get your head outta your ass, alright? You're a better chef when you're happy."

He swallows, mouth opening and closing once or twice before he clears his throat and nods. "Heard, Chef."

Inside the kitchen, it becomes abundantly clear that everyone knows abouther and the pie. Syd’s chewing on her lip at her station, trying not to smile. Tina stands behind him, chuckling. A conversation between Gary and Marcus comes to a sudden hush as Ebra clears his throat… and Richie—that fucker—grabs the doorframe to the front, swings forward, and saunters into the kitchen, loudly clapping his hands with an obnoxious fuckin' grin.

"Thismotherfucker!" Richie stands up tall as Carmy comes to a stop by the expo station. Cousin points down at him with a canary grin, looking around the kitchen for an audience. "Yo! Yo,thisfuckin' guy.You should haveseenthis chick! Guys-"

"Don't say anotherfucking word, Cousin,” Carmy grits out, veins in his forehead twitching. He squeezes his sliced finger so tight his pulse races in it.

“Who’d have thought you’d be pulling strawberry shortcakes like a fuckin’ boss!” Richie laughs aloud, and leans in to tackle Carmy into a hug, but he dips beneath the sudden swing—for once thankful he’s short—and darts past Syd, straight towards his office.

“Told you to shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells as he walks.

"How-how can?! Seriously?!" Richie boasts while hot on his heels. "This dude— guys —this fucker struck out with every chick he's ever gotten all goo-goo-eyed for an' now he's bringing in fuckin' tens! How are we not talkin' about-"

Carmy practically kicks the door in Richie’s face with his heel and slams his back against the painted wood, barely blocking out the guffawing as Richie bangs a victorious rhythm into the other side… but all Carmy can focus on is the smell of apple pie with molasses, cinnamon, and cardamom… ginger too… and that smooth buttery melody he's forever gonna equate toher .

Fuck, it’s smells good.

'Our little baby fuckin' scored. I'm tellin' you! This broad—guys! The fuckin' rack on her—Hey, don’t touch that, Fek!’ Another bang on the door.‘Cousin! Hey! Come on!'

Carmy drops his chin to his chest and purses his lips trying not to smile to himself. It's less about the jeering behind the door and more about what the pie means: she's been thinking about him. Not ideal—not like she waited for him, probably didn't wanna see him—but she still came by the restaurant and brought him a fucking pie,for fuck's sake.

Before his nerves come back, he lets the aroma of warmth fuel the sudden impulse to text her. Even as the now-clotted cut stings across the keys on his phone, Carmy's right cheek dimples. The hustle of the dinner hour goes quiet amidst the chatter outside the office—of the rushing of blood in his ears—as he swipes his thumbs over the bright screen and bites his lower lip.

'It smells delicious. Thank you, Chef.’

And then, holding his breath,'Do you want to talk about it? Closing. 10:30?' and hits send with ablip that makes his breathing stutter and his heart thud eagerly. Now… now all he's gotta do is wait,eat that fucking pie, and survive the rest of the day.

'I'm here.' You send the text despite butterflies on the roof of your mouth. Shivering, you pull your numb fingers back into roomy sweater cuffs, stuffing your hands under your arms, elbows tight in the frosty Chicago night.

It's ten-thirty, and you're standing there as cars pass by behind you—casting The Beef interior in high beams—your own shadow dancing over tables and clean, polished floors. For less than ten seconds, you stand shivering outside, wondering what the actual fuck you're doing out this late. And before twenty seconds are up, you glance away from your boots to see Carmy unlocking the door, looking nervous and wide-eyed despite his droopy lids.

The door swings open, releasing a font of warmth across your cheeks.

"Thanks for comin' by."

Fuck, you missed his voice… that sleep-deprived drawl mixed with his accented husk. Icey, sapphire eyes cut over your shoulder, narrowing with frustration so intense, you look back, glimpsing the man you left the pie with earlier that day. Awkwardly, you wave, only for Carmy to curse quietly—livid.

The man raises both hands, mouth moving animatedly, but he’s already backing up to a dark-color sedan… too far away to hear him.

“You get here okay?” Carmy asks with forced ease, pulling your focus away from Rick or Richie—your mind draws a blank—looking directly into softer blues, clearly worn down and sleepy, but eager.

"Yeah," you exhale on a wisp of chilly air, "I took a cab. And,uh , thanks for doing this here. I just… nothing against you or anything, but I don't really—I mean, thanks for not…umm , it’s fucking cold, huh?”

There's a long beat of silence where Carmy's face is expressionless, resting in apathy with a patina of exhaustion, and you feel inclined to explain yourself, "It's not that I didn’t wanna see you, Carmy. I'm just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself. It's cool.No hard feelings. Come on, I cranked the heat up.”

You nod silently, stepping through the open door supported by a bare arm. Your eyes drift to it, corded muscles and some off-blue veins punching up through blotchy, pale skin, all ruddy from the cold. You've seen more of him than just his arms, but for a long moment, you're transfixed by the tattoos, the muscles… silver scars from chopping and trimming…

Feeling wholly outside your element, you follow close behind him as he makes his way past the thoroughfare of countertop service and two-people tables shoved against the windows. The smell of diluted bleach and wet dish rags hits you as he moves through the doorway into the kitchen. Just like the front door, Carmy braces an arm and ushers you in, then a few feet further past a small cubby of lockers into an ajar door filled with darkness and a single yellow-burned lamp.

His office…

You spot your empty pie tin on the metal desk, leaning on a stack of manilla folders. It's small—Carmy's office—but it's cozy and organized in a way that looks lived in, like ordered chaos, not unlike his apartment… if not a tad less spartan.

"Look, before you say anything, I just," Carmy cards his fingers through his dirty hair, smoothing haphazard curls of strawberry blond into a messing slick atop his head that unravels just as fast, "I just wanna say you were right. I shouldn't have said what I said. It wasn't cool, and I-"

"Carmy…" you say his name, heart beginning to thump noticeably in your neck. He’s already so fucking wrong, and you want nothing more than to explain yourself before he starts apologizing for nothing. Because he didnothing wrong.

"But it just came out, ya know? I wasn't-I wasn't thinking, and you've got every fuckin’ right to be freaked out- "

"Carmy."

But he keeps talking—stammering.

"You're just-you're amazing and-and chill where I'm not and before… When I was tweezing mint leaves and making plum gelée, I-I couldn’t breathe. I’d stop and want to set everything on fire. Just cooking and cooking and cooking until I was having panic attacks just making jelly sandwiches and throwing up every morning… then I started fucking up more and more even when I'd gotten a handle on things— not that I felt any better —but you just kinda… you madeeverything click like-like I'm not just insane. Like, I can breathe..”

You try to stop it, but your eyes burn regardless. Tears well over your lashes as Carmy struggles to lay his heart out, just open and gaping and alive.

“These past two weeks,” he continues, gentler now, staring right into your wet orbs, “and-and you've been gone, and my hands aren’t steady anymore, and then the pie… and it's good— it's great . I don't know what it means... but I know what Iwant it to mean.”

He stops after that, shoving four fingers in his hair again, sliding them up his brows to his crown, where he grips tight enough it lifts the worry lines in his forehead. He casts his eyes down to the floor between you both like it's some uncrossable moat and sighs.

"Sorry-sorry.I'm sorry …" He nods with each word, voice dropping softer and quieter until his third 'sorry' is nothing more than a rushed exhale. You wanna stretch through the distance and touch him—hold him because there's a wet sniffle to his breathing that makes your heart break and grow simultaneously. But none of this is going like you thought. Everything is moving so fast, even your own feelings, and that's just… it's not something you're used to after years of trying to slow down your thoughts—of trying to walk softly through every single day, so you don't break the eggshells of glass beneath your feet.

Carmen… Carmy… He makes you wanna run again, but running feels so dangerous.

"You're-" you pause, giving Carmy a long look from his well-worn sneakers, black jeans, rumpled white shirt, trembling lips holding up his flaring nostrils, and wide, black blues.

You take a deep breath and cross the moat.

"You make my heart beat way too fucking fast, Carmy.”

His lips pinch with despair.

“It's…” You lay a palm over his chest, relishing the sharp intake of breath and rhythmic thudding beneath. “I didn't like it at first because I've gotten so used to it racing when I'm stressed or panicking—it makes me feel like I'm gonna die… but when you told me how you felt, my heart wouldn't slow down, and it freaked me out."

"… okay.” He leans against his desk with a wet blink, fist still wrapped in his greasy locks.

Quietly, you continue, "… but I was up the other night, just-I couldn't sleep, and I remembered you said I smelt like… apples…"

You blush, thumbing the heat and trying not to smile at how he said it that last time, with total unabashed reverence between your thighs. "… and I found myself making that pie I dropped off. Whole time my heart was thudding in my throat, but it was nice. Iliked it. I forgot how good it could feel for it to do that."

"Me too," Carmy exhales, finally releasing his hair to drop both arms at his sides.

"Yeah," you whisper, thumb rubbing the dip between his pectorals. Even though it's just you and Carmy here, everything feels naked; each word and touch, every breath and heartbeat.

" Umm , did you like it?" You ask, changing the topic as your pulse cools down.

His brows crease together, lips pursed into a pucker of confusion so clueless that you almost laugh, almost smile… instead you close the distance with another step, inches from pressing yourself against him, settling on massaging little swirls into his heaving chest instead. You cock your head to the side and shift your attention from those lazy still puddles of blue to the baking tin filled with crumbs.

Carmy follows your gaze, clearing his throat with a stutter, "The-the pie, right. Yeah… you used molasses instead of brown sugar and applesauce to thicken. Old school, and obviously, it was terrible."

You smile when he cracks one, attempting to joke, and though it’s lame and his face doesn’t sell it, you love it.

"You're good at this, ya know."

He chokes out a sardonic laugh, rubbing at his stubble-rough jaw before holding his red cheek in his flower-inked hand.

"I don’t believe you for a fuckin’ second.”

TheSense of Urgency (SOU) is stark against his pale skin. For the first time, you note the bandages around his fingers and thumb. The angry red dent in his third fingernail, slathered in super glue.

“No?” You giggle.

“No.Fuck no. This shit is over my head," he admits, eyes closed and lashes fluttering. You should notice the shift in his breathing as something worrisome—the thudding of his heart as a sign—but you don’t; instead, you lick your lips and tell him with raw emotion, "I think… I love you too, Carmy. But-"

"But what?"

"… but I'm not a virgin, and I thought I was in love with the first person that made me feel good too. I just-I just can't if that's what this is."

"No," Carmy says with zero hesitation, "The second time I walked you home? I-I’ve been like this since then, later that day."

You almost laugh, remembering how the rain had started coming down outside All Family just as you’d been mocking the weatherman.

… you both ignore the red cross light between idle mid-morning traffic as the spitting drops turn weighty and cold. Carmy shoulders off his jacket mid-jog beside you and mutters a loud 'here, here,' stopping you just long enough to lay his jacket over your head.

You blush as his white shirt goes translucent in seconds. His muscles flexing beside you, jogging through the topiary threshold into your apartment complex. The parking garage cuts the rain until the sting of it is gone, leaving the both of you panting in the soaked cold…

'Guess I should have listened to my weather app for once and brought a fucking umbrella,' you wheeze, licking raindrops off your lips as Carmy leans back, filling his lungs with air.

Your eyes dance down his chest and stomach. The murky hue of hidden tattoos beneath drenched cotton catches your attention, but it's the thick frame of muscular definition that you follow… leading to an exposed strip of bare stomach, glossy with rain and trailing dirty blond hairs… like… like a happy trail…

You freeze, gripped by a sense of longing and affection as your fingers dig into his soaked jacket, still hanging off your crown and shoulders, keeping you warm and wet...

Carmy fans out his shirt while you're still recovering from the pang between your legs. Then, as if by some strange happenstance, your eyes meet as the rain sleuths over the parking garage roof, creating an echo chamber of heavy breaths, and backtracked droplets. Then, when your heart starts beating again, and when Carmy swallows, something monumental changes.

"When we were drenched to the bone in the parking garage?" You murmur—a gentle coo—and slowly lift your finger to his raised wrist. The soft hairs on his forearm shift to finer baby hairs over his palm and freshly scrubbed skin. Old scars bump beneath your finger pads, and that ugly gash with the glue catches on your nail. Only when your thumb rubs across a bulging vein over his jutting tendons does Carmy open his eyes and stare deeply within you.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was what you said, ya know, in my jacket. About taking it to the dry cleaners 'cause it would smell like that perfume you had on." He admits, cupping your hand over his own and pressing all three under his chin tightly—so tight, you’re reminded of life rafts thrown to castaways at sea. So much warmth in his palms… so rough from the knives and scars yet soft and… possessive. "You,uh , you were just… kinda—you looked good in it. Safe an' happy. Justreally chill, and I smelt like you all day. I just… just wanted that… every fuckin' day, 'cause I couldn't smell you in it anymore after a while."

"So, can you smell me now?” You ask, attempting coy but failing with a crack of nerves. “Still apples?"

"And rain…" His lips twitch into a smirk for half a second, lower lip trembling.

"Makes me come up with pretty words for how you smell, ya know.”

Carmy puffs a shaky breath, trying so hard to look calm.

You mistake it for adorable nerves and press your body to his, asking, “Would it kill the mood if I asked to suck your cock right now—in your office chair? I kinda owe you, and I've been thinking about it every day since you put me on your kitchen counter."

" Jesus fucking Christ… " Carmy curses, looking like someone toasted his cheeks as he leans back, gripping the edge of his desk one-handed, his expression full of terror and lopsided. Overwhelmed, sorta and…oh… shit…

Suddenly, despite the warmth of her confession—the fact she wants to suck his dick right now—Carmy’s heart palpitates, and air evaporates in his lungs.

Not now… not now, fuck…

"Was that—was I too forward? Sorry, I just-you see; I had this dream last night that woke me up… it’s not the first time I’ve dreamt about it—getting you off, of course—and I-”

Their eyes lock, and he starts to panic, just thinking about fucking things up again. One taste of her pussy, and he nearly ruined everything.What kinda fire is he gonna set if she goes down on him?!

“ Hey… you okay, baby?"

Baby… fuck. Fuck! No-no, he is not fuckin’ okay…

“Car-Carmy?”

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until her tone dips, growing concerned. His heart's racing like an adrenaline spike at lunch hour, but it's paired with a dizzy high of elation that confuses his body and brain, leaving him strung out as she steps closer, a weight settling over his chest. He gulps down air, but it's not enough. Suddenly, embarrassingly, he feeds the panic with more panic and clutches at his chest, struggling to breathe anything but his own shame.

"Carmy? Oh, shit… ”

His vision starts to tunnel, and another wave of dread swells in his throat. Smooth, supple hands reach up to cup his cheeks, pulling his attention forward, into the present where he belongs and not up in his head where he can’t handle the idea that someone—anyone—but especially someone like her, loves him.

“Carmy.Hey ," her words melt the lump in his throat, "... just keep breathing however you need to breathe, okay? Don't fight it… just let it happen, alright? It's not gonna hurt you. Whatever happens, you can handle it just fine… I know you can. I promise—I promise. It’ll be over soon."

He nods into her palms, panting heavily as her warm hands slide down his neck, rubbing soothing circles over his collarbones and upper chest, pinching the muscles in his shoulders and raking nails up around his neck and across his scalp. Carmy shivers, heart hammering, but his attention quickly shifts to the tingle down his spine, where his shirt sticks with cold sweat.

She smiles, forced but warm in the golden-lamp light, and tells him he's safe and it's gonna go away soon and… to just ride it out…

Let it rip , Carmy thinks… and something about that—Michael's words—and her own comforting reassurance, mixed with the stroke of her thumbs beneath his ears… he finally gets in a long, slow breath, and almost instantly, the pounding of his heart starts to ebb…

… it mellows and softens. Her lips plant kisses across his jaw with a terrified chuckle, nose nuzzling the salty perspiration cooling over his skin, chilling his heart out even more… somehow.

"… see, I told you it'd pass.Fuck ."

Carmy puffs out relief like it’s a knife in his lungs, still lightheaded. He wraps his arms around her, drawing her close enough to mold into her. The itch of her loose-knit sweater against her arms sends a pleasurable ripple of goosebumps down his limbs.

"I-did you��" he takes a shaky breath and buries his long nose in the fragrant tumble of hair at her cheek, squeezing her tighter until he can feel her heart pulsing against his own, "... did you mean it. What you said about-about loving me? Cause I…Jesus fucking Christ . I want that so fuckin’ bad.”

“Well,” he can hear the smile in her voice as her fingers pluck and twirl the hair on the back of his neck, “if you’re gonna take it that well, I might have to lie to you from now on.Seriously , how are you feeling? You okay now, Carmy?”

“Yeah, I,umm… I’m okay,” he sniffs, arms crossed behind her, grabbing her shoulder and lower back in two fists, trying to melt himself into her like a stable emulsion of buerre monté. Hot. Versatile. Spoil free.

Carmy drags his chin down her neck and drops his forehead into her shoulder, exhaling against her, only to choke up the second she draws him even closer…

… his dick’s hard, and she knows it, swaying her stomach against his. He moans, grinding forward as he hands drop down to her lower back, then brazenly scoop up her backside, finger in her soft cheeks, and angles her even closer.

“Fuck… so, was that ano to sampling somecrème de Carmen ?”

“ Jesus ,” Carmy laughs, cheek dimpling against her shoulder, genuinely amused and lighthearted for the first time since they’d eaten Michael’s sauce on his sofa, “No, no-I mean… Yes,please . You can sample whatever you want.”

“Really? Right here? Your office,” she teases, slipping her fingers down his chest to shove several fingers between skin and black denim. Carmy swallows, thrusting against her a couple more times before picking his head up in time to feel her lips skim his nose, cupid’s bow, and then his slack mouth. It’s electric—a bunsen burn caramelized with a swipe of her tongue.

He’d never let anyone do this in the restaurant, even though Richie’s probably gotten laid a couple times in here… but as hypocritical as it is, the thought of getting off in here sends a thrill down Carmy’s spine—a high that’s clear of anxiety like the palpitations of before.

All his milestones happened in a kitchen—a restaurant—for the most part, so why should this be any different?

Carmy's lips are swollen n' wet from her kisses when he stumbles backward, being gently shoved down into his chair. Metal hinges squeak loudly in the small office, but it's the rustle of her knitted sweater that echoes in his ears. He blinks, catching a glint in her eye from the sole light source; that single, aged desk lamp flooding everything within its reach in hard shadows, but it gives him the perfect view of what he hasn't seen beneath her baggy tops…

Her breasts swell against a simple black bra, heaving with every breath, making his sliced-up fists grip the armrests until his fingers are pulsing. Carmy's seen tits before, most recently at the bachelor party they'd hosted for Cicero's buddy, but it'd been through window panes or peripherals while breaking up that fucking fight… right now, it couldn't be more different—it's for him and no one else.

“You’re-you really want to-“

Her naked sides press between his knees, forcing his thighs open.

She smiles when she says, "Is it really that surprising?" and balls up her sweater, reaching up to fluff it behind his neck, immediately filling his senses with that crisp, fall perfume and the subtle warmth of her body heat smoothing the tension in his neck. Carmy swallows, leans back, and stares up at the ceiling in bewilderment, throat bobbing with a nervous gulp. His cock's been rock hard since the second or third kiss—since she'd grinded him against his desk with her tongue skimming his inner lip… fingers unbuckling his belt.

Now Carmy is taking in ragged breaths through his nose as her fingers pull down his zipper and tug just enough for his erection to press up against his boxer briefs.

"I guess the question is," she pauses to snap the waistband at his hip, "doyou want to?"

"Yeah-yeah, but… haven't gotten better since the last time. Not gonna last long, and it,uh , it's been a long day," he admits, hoping she understands his meaning without having to explain it's been avery long, sweaty day serving Syd's perfected braised beef ribs.

"Longhard day, huh?" She giggles, and he can't help but let out a mindless chuckle, sorta still reeling over what's about to happen: his first-ever blowjob.

Unconsciously, he's been preparing for this moment.

While they've been avoiding one another, Carmy's hormones have not, and he's been coming home every night this week, meditating—or trying to—laying there on the sofa with his phone slurring out gongs and chimes, doing his best to ignore the steely pulse of his dick. And every night, he's found himself edging off several times until he can't contain it anymore, cumming in thick, steamy ropes across his stomach with her name on his lips. But try as he might to last longer; even on his own, he can't. All that tension in his stomach—the simmering swell in his balls—it's about to boil over, and she hasn't even touched him yet.

Carmy hisses as she flicks his waistband again, waiting patiently with a hesitant smile, "Carmy?"

"Chef?" He says out of habit and a little bit of fantasy, "I mean…" because the idea of having her work at the restaurant, making pies and pastries alongside Marcus, hasn't left his mind since the moment he tasted her scones…

She sucks in a breath—a laugh—and peels back the elastic cotton, exposing his bare, cherry-red cock to the open air. It's never been this engorged; flared at the cap and so swollen every heartbeat makes it twitch. A dewy drop of precum rises and spills over the curvy head, sliding around the bulbous veins curling down the left side.

"I'm gonna-if you don't-"

She sweeps forward with her pink tongue and licks away the clear dollop from his slit.

" Fuck! "

Her slippery touch lingers, scooping beneath his frenulum and around the distended cap.

"Jesus…fucking —b-baby. Wait-wait!"

She gives his dick a wet kiss and swirls her tongue again, pushing and sweeping over the weepy slit.Jesus Christ… fuck, he's gonna cum, and hedoesn't wanna… not yet. He wants it to last longer—wants to hover in this forever, but he'd take five minutes just for starters.

In a moment of weakness, he whimpers her name and grabs a fistful of her hair. She hisses but quickly lays her hand over his palm before he can release her. Carmy mutters a weak apology, though, caught somewhere between wanting to shove his cock down her throat or pull her off so he can kiss his taste off her tongue. He's never sampled himself… but he figures anything would taste good from her lips… even his own cum.

"You can be a little rough, Carmy," she whispers, hot over his cock

“Really?”

“ Mhmm… ”

Drool slides down his shaft from her tasting tongue, flicking and circling around all those nerve clusters until he nearly chokes when her fist clenches around it, firm and tight, almost exactly how he does it himself. But it's too much all at once. Carmy can't help himself, so he pushes her head down—silky strands between his bandaged fingers—and suffers the overwhelming heat of her mouth with a pinched brow and clenched teeth. She sucks and squeezes her fist, and that's… that's how Carmy finds himself white-knuckling her hair and his armrest, thigh muscles tensing, toes curling, and cumming down her throat.

“ Ffffuck… fuck—shit, you’re… Oh,fuck .” He hisses, and paints her insides with more violent spurts, moaning out heavy, wet breaths that echo back at him in the tiny office.

"I didn't mean-" Carmy tries to apologize, then shivers as she sucks and pulls up, extending his orgasm from a hit to a drag…

Another string hits the back of her swirling tongue as his sack drags right against his body.

" Fffuuuuck -fuck, yeah ."

She gulps, and Carmy hears it—feels it. Another pulse shoots through his cock, then another weak drizzle’s quickly slurped up and swallowed with a hum of contentment. His lashes flutter; his heart thuds happily as buckets of dopamine bastes his brain, making his lips curl up into a loose, lazy smile.

Exceptional. Amazing. Pure… distilled and refined like clarified butter. He feels… so good…

Carmy shivers as her lips drag upward, sucking delicately before detaching from his softening cock. He releases the armrest and sweeps his sweaty curls off his forehead, feeling feverish and weak, like some overcooked slab of rump roast.

Against his cock, her words come out sticky-soft, “Was… was that okay, Carmy? I mean… I can taste howokay it was but I-"

Let it rip… don’t overthink it. Just do it.

Carmy scoops her up as she stumbles over her words, ignoring the drag of his wet, flaccid cock against her thigh and gathers her into his lap. His thumbs sweep around the balls of her shoulder, and leans down, kissing his flavor off her lips. She’s acerbic brine and… creamy, with a lingering note of nutty sugar. Layers coat Carmy’s tastebuds until her tongue presses to his. A flick here, a swipe there… teeth and lips, and a tilted suck against his tongue. His cock is hard again in minutes… and her fingers are wrapped tightly around it, stroking until Carmy is dizzy and gasping, asking her breathlessly, “Wanna fuck you… Can I fuck you?—on the desk—anywhere you want. Please?”

She whimpers, lips against his again, and nods, “... yes-yes, please.”

AO3 Link: HERE

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #the bear #the bear and the baker

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tojiscumdumpster · 4 months

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CHAPTER TWO - READER

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Last night felt… good. Well, with the exceptions of that loser creep that keeps bothering me, it was good. Refreshing, to be exact. Thanks to a certain someone, I won’t have to worry about that perv anymore. And now, my mind will be onto other things when I go to the bar.

Toji Fushiguro.

I almost didn’t go out since it was Sunday. Usually, I keep that day reserved to relax and prepare lessons for my students. However, I decided to take a break. I’m thirty years old, and although I love my career, I dedicate a little bit too much time to it. For once, I wanted to live a little.

And I haven’t felt that rush through my veins in a while until those two hours I spent with Toji.

There’s something about his demeanor that immediately made me attracted to him. His presence screams confidence in a humble yet arrogant way. How he talks with charm unintentionally is calming.

I just admire how our conversation flowed well. Never a moment of silence. I listened to him, and he listened to me. The touch of vulnerability he showed me was unexpected, but it showed his comfort.

It didn’t feel like that was our first conversation either. It sounds silly, and I can’t put my finger on it, however, Toji feels… familiar.

The chemistry. The flow of us talking… Why didn’t he feel like a stranger?

And when he kissed me? I never thought I had that much strength.

I wanted Toji to fuck me so badly, and I know he would take care of me good. Those calloused hands that gripped my ass while kissing me, made me wet beyond measure.

Fuck it being a school night, or even if we didn’t leave so late, I would’ve been jumping on his cock last night. Maybe I should’ve allowed him to have his way with me in the bathroom at the bar.

It didn’t take long to realize we were sexually attracted to each other. It’s just the kiss solidified it.

Toji gives me rough yet passionate lover vibes. He would pull me by my coils, fuck me from behind and call me his good girl…

Y/N, why are you so damn responsible?

I honestly don’t know. The unhinged thing to do would be to let Toji come over to have sex. But I’m still trying to open up my shell a bit, especially after my recent engagement.

Well, ex-engagement.

Part of me feeling alive again was to do something that would help get my mind off my ex-fiancé that’s currently in front of me presenting a budget plan to me and the rest of the teachers.

“So, for this academic year, we’re looking to…” I fade out the voice of Nanami Kento.

Actually, Principal Nanami.

My relationship with my ex-fiancé, who’s also my boss, is… complicated, to say the least. We didn’t end on bad terms, but we didn’t end on good terms either.

We were together for five years, engaged for a year until I broke things off four months ago. Our arguing increased, which is normal in a relationship. However, it’s what we were going back and forth about that I was getting tired of.

Nanami (because I refuse to call him something as familiar as Ken) makes me look like an idler compared to his workaholic personality. And it wasn’t always like that.

Our relationship was perfect in the beginning. Fairy tale like. We would go on vacation, dates, road trips, and so much more. But as years passed, I truly believe he got comfortable.

It’s like he was burnt out from all the fun we had, and I blame that because of work.

I’m a teacher. He’s a principal. I have my fair share of demands being a teacher, but I know Nanami being a principal is far worse. Having to look over students, teachers, other staff members, constantly attend conventions on the behalf of the school—it took up a lot of his time.

A lot of his personal time.

It meddled into our relationship. I was tired of doing things alone. Tired of not feeling loved and appreciated. Tired of fucking not getting any sexual pleasure from him.

And don’t get me wrong, sex with Nanami was amazing. It’s just we only had it once every blue moon. There’s certain things a vibrator can’t do that he’s an expert at.

So a few days before our fourth anniversary (I know that’s shitty), I decided to break up with him. Let’s just say Nanami wasn’t having it.

Again, we argued. Some tears were shed, but the night ended with a proposal and a promise to change.

Too bad that promise was made with emptiness. We lasted about two months before he went right back to his workaholic ways. I was over it at that point.

Now here we are, months later where I try to avoid him as much as possible like he’s a plague.

It’s kind of hard to do that when these meetings are held at the beginning and end of every month.

“Any questions before we conclude the meeting?” he asks.

Nanami looks around for a response, eyes stopping at me. He tries to give me a small smile, but I look away.

He continues, “Okay. That’ll be all. Don’t hesitate to follow up with me if you all have any questions, concerns, or suggestions. I’ll be sure to take them down to pass along to the superintendents.”

After Nanami dismisses us, I quickly gather my belongings to head to my classroom, but he stops me the minute I’m at the tip of the door.

“Miss L /N. May I have a few minutes of your time?”

“I have to prepare for homeroom, Principal Nanami. Can this wait until later?” Later, meaning never.

“It won't be long… I promise,” he says, earnestly.

Like I don’t know the result of his promises.

I deeply sigh to myself and return to the meeting room. Nanami passes me to close the door and the smell of his cologne invades my senses.

Clean, minty with a touch of lemon and vanilla.

That’s the cologne you brought him .

Great.

“Everything’s okay, Principal Nanami?”

“Y/N…” Every time he says my name it’s filled with such tenderness. Like that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“You said you wanted some of my time. Is everything okay, Principal Nanami?” I repeat.

Nanami leans against the desk, hands in his pockets while looking at me. I take notice of the three piece suit he’s wearing and think how handsome he looks. It fills out his body perfectly.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“Because you call me outside of work hours,” I argue.

He hums. “So if I call during work hours, you’d answer?”

“Ken, what do you want?”

“Can I take you out for dinner this weekend?”

I knit my brows. “Why?”

“To talk, Y/N… To see how you’re doing.”

Why are my cheeks suddenly getting warm?

I would be lying if I said I didn’t still have feelings for Nanami. They aren’t as strong as before, but something is still there. At one point in my life, I was madly in love with him. Despite us not working out, I genuinely wish him nothing but the best.

And maybe we can get to being friends again.

I just don’t know if now’s the time.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Can you at least think about it?” His voice is still soft. “Please?”

Before I can answer, the late bell rings.

“I have to go.” I’m already halfway through the door.

“Would you let me know?”

I look at him over my shoulder. “I… I’ll let you know.”

Class on Mondays is always the hardest for me. The day feels sluggish, and it moves like a snail. Again, yes, I love teaching, but I seriously cannot hang. Midnight was far too long for me to be out.

Actually, I have no reason to come since I had the company of a handsome fella.

How am I able to teach class while thinking about Toji? I don’t know, but I manage. My mind is split between today's lesson and the distinctive features of him.

Those rich emerald eyes. His dark locks. Pale yet a pretty shade of rose for his lips that’s accompanied by a scar that left me with questions.

Toji wore a baggy black outfit that had me guessing how his physique looked, however, from the looks of his hands and how they felt on my ass—I know it’s probably mouthwatering.

I’m honestly disappointed that I didn’t give him my number. I’m not a hundred percent ready for a new relationship, but also not opposed to one because I was checked out of my last for a while. But I do want to see Toji.

What’s the likelihood of me running into him at the bar again? Slim to none.

I guess we’ll see.

Anyways.

One of my students was reading a page of this week's book, a young adult psychological thriller, when the classroom door opened.

A boy stands there. Spiky hair, about five-foot-nine and green eyes. He looks at me, then around at the classroom before walking toward my desk.

“Hello,” I say with a smile. “Did you need help?”

He nods. “I’m a new student. Sorry for being late.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize I would be getting a new student today” I told him. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He stays silent.

“What’s your name? Do you feel comfortable introducing yourself to the class? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Megumi.”

No… this could be mere coincidence. I’m sure Megumi is a popular Japanese name.

“Nice to meet you, Megumi. I’m Miss L /N. Glad to have you here.” I’m left with no reaction. No expression. Just a blank face. “So, we’re reading right now. I only had a set amount of books. For now, you can share with one of the students, then I’ll be sure to get you a copy. Sounds good?”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go sit next to Yuji? He’s sitting in the back with pink hair and a red hoodie,” I said. “Yuji, raise your hand for me.”

“Megumi, here-” I called him to retrieve his schedule that he left on my desk. But before I give it to him, his full name catches my attention.

Fushiguro, Megumi.

This is no longer a mere coincidence, and now that I’m looking at Megumi, he resembles Toji— a lot. The features are uncanny. I can almost guarantee that’s how Toji looked when he was Megumi’s age.

Who knew the new student in my class would be the son of the man I’ve been thinking all morning?

Will I use this to my advantage? Most definitely.

It’s that time of year for me to schedule parent-teacher conferences, anyways.

“Miss L /N. Did you call me?”

“Ah, yes. Here. You left your schedule.”

Megumi takes the paper from me and returns to the direction where I told him to sit. Yuji tries to whisper, but his whispering is on the verge of an outside voice. I can hear the excitement in his voice when he finally has a student that’s open to sitting next to him.

Yuji is a sweet kid, but I know he had a rough time growing up based on the little information he shared with me. It’s just him and his older brother.

Teenagers are definitely more judgmental than elementary schoolers, so I notice students avoid him as much as possible yet he still gives them the kindest smile. Megumi seems quiet so I think him sitting next to Yuji will help out a bit.

“Yuji, you want to read the next page?”

He stands up eagerly. “Yes, Miss L /N!” Giggles and whispers around the classroom, causing me to shoot a glare.

“Okay, sweetheart. And remember if you come across a word you don’t know, take your time or ask for my help.” He nods and begins reading.

I pay attention for the most part, but I can’t help but think about another chance at seeing Toji Fushiguro.

It thrills me, even.

I hope he feels the same. I would like to think he does.

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