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tojikai · 8 months

Text

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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#angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader

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leaderwonim · 3 months

Text

SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top☝️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

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bloomingdog · 2 months

Text

Price with an ADHD reader

So self indulgent!

John Price who feels self-conscious thinking you like Soap more because of your similar personalities.

Soap and you are a tumultuous pair, feeding off each other’s energy, you’re good friends, you hang out together just the two of you. He’s not jealous, especially not of Johnny, but he does feel a pang of self-consciousness at times, feels bad about not being able to keep up with you sometimes, about not being enough. He wouldn’t share those thoughts with you, more of an inside thing, he feels silly. Of course those doubts melt away as soon as you’re telling him about how your day went, about how much you missed him, about what reminded you of him. All the possible doubts he had leaving as he gets showered with kisses.

John Price who just stands and watches when you get the zoomies.

A sudden burst of energy has you walking up and down the house following John around, jumping from topic to topic to the latest song lyrics or idle dance move stuck in your head. He watches in amusement and tries to engage in your jumping conversation.

John Price who falls asleep during your late night yapping and still responds with nonsense answers while asleep.

“-And yeah apparently emus can’t walk backwards, don’t you think that's weird? How can an animal just not do that?” Your before-bed rant has been going on for longer than usual, inspired by a Wikipedia rabbit hole that still lingers in your phone’s history.

“Does Laswell know?” He mumbles.

“About emus?”

John Price who’s reluctant to lay on top of you if you ask.

“Please, please, please it’ll feel good!”

“Love, I’d crush you.” He had gotten you a weighted blanket for this exact reason. “Ain’t the blanket enough?”

“No! Because the blanket’s cold and you’re so much better better!” He’s reluctant, your puppy eyes are working overtime getting him to agree, which he does, of course.

John Price who just sighs and plays along when you ask him to wrestle you.

In your defense, it' was's a good way to get rid of extra energy or help while understimulated. He’s currently got you in the loosest headlock he can manage while you kick and thrash.

“Are you tired yet?” No answer comes, just more kicking that makes him release you.

As you try to attack him again, John effortlessly picks you up and throws you on the bed, which earns him a fit of giggles followed by an attempt to tackle him that ends you back in bed.

John Price who comforts you if you ever think you’re too much for him.

Big tears are coming down your eyes and wetting your face, you couldn’t pinpoint where all these feelings came from. You’ve got your face against his chest, voice shaking as you explain how you feel.

“I’m just a lot, you know? And I need you all the time and you like being alone and i want to give you space and I try, but I’m too much and-”

“Okay love, c’mon, none of that.” He cut you off after probably the thirtieth ‘and’. “We need what we need, and we work ‘round that all the time, don’t we? You’re not too much, you’re good just the way you are.”

John Price who lets you use him as a human fidget.

You’ve been waiting in this queue for no more than 5 minutes and it’s still getting you impatient, he notices, of course. The rapid looking-around, your foot tapping are all tell-tale signs of it. He extends his hand to you, which you take, and begin fidgeting with his digit and gloves, it keeps you well occupied, concentrated in the repetitive moments as time passes.

John Price who <3

#i caved and wrote for him and ill write for my babygirl soap in due time as well.....#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod x reader #cod mw2 fanfic

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kiss-inthekitchen · 5 days

Text

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM.

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable.

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows.

And then you give up.

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him.

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy.

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.”

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep?”

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?”

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart.

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?”

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.”

“That’s nice.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.”

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound.

“What did you call me for then?”

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.”

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?”

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?”

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds drabble #my fics #couldn't find a cuter pic of spencer on a phone so its payphone image u have to suspend ur disbelief

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jasmines-library · 2 months

Note

Hey! i just wanted to say that your work is phenomenal! You got me sobbing in bed at 3 in the morning. I was wondering if I could request a Batfam x child!Wayne!Reader (maybe 4/5 years old) and what they’re all like (individually) when picking her up from school? In her class, they were learning about the great Batman, and all the hard work he does for the city, keeping everybody safe and whatnot. And obviously, she’s too small to know Bruce is Batman.. how would they all react to little baby Wayne rambling about cool Batman who has his own car and sidekick? I’d imagine she’s a very talkative kid, very sweet and friendly, and a very big-Daddy’s girl, but it’s completely up to you.

Thanks for listening to my rambling.. and keep up your awesome work!

Baby Wayne

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: This is one of the most adorable requests ever anon! Thank you for requesting and thank you for your kind words. I hope I’ve done your request justice.

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BRUCE:

He could see the smile on your face from the doorway. Bright and beaming as you sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning forward to listen to your teacher. The second you saw him lingering in the doorframe however, the smile grew and you were up on your feet in seconds and tottering over to him.

Wrapping your arms around his legs you hugged him tightly and looked up at him with big eyes. Picking you up and resting you on his hip, Bruce pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Hey sweetheart. Good day?”

You nodded excitedly, clinging to your dad. “We learnt about Batman today!” You exclaimed.

Bruce couldn’t help the small smirk that crept onto his face. You were still too young to know about his identity and he did well to keep it from you. You were always exploring and wondering off in the manor. He was sure you would make a fine vigilante one day, but for now he was keep to keep you sheltered.

“Oh really?” He raised a brow.

“Yep!” You said, popping the ‘p’. “He’s awesome! He has a cool car and side kicks! And he keeps the city safe! He’s super cool.”

Bruce bounced you up in his arms, savouring the joy in your voice. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded. “When I grow up I wanna be just like him Daddy!”

“I’m sure you will be kiddo.” Bruce smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

DICK:

He was waiting by the school gates, leaning up against the metal framing when your class came piling out of the doors. Bruce was out on a meeting, so he was tasked with collecting you from school, which of course he had no problem doing.

When you saw him, he made his way over slowly, watching as your face lit up at the sight of him and you came running over him with your bag hanging halfway off one shoulder.

“Dick look!” You beamed crashing into him as you ran a little too fast. Moving away you pointed to the yellow and black sticker you had plastered to the hem of the coat.

Dick crouched down to your height. “What you got there, squirt?”

“It’s the bat signal.” You announced proudly. “We learnt about it in class today.”

“You learnt about Batman?” Dick asked. He had wondered how long it would be until you began to learn about what they did.

“Yes we learnt about all of the heroes. But Batman is my favourite because he saves the city and he has a sidekick!” You grinned “Robin! I like him too.”

Dick hid his little grin by tussling your hair. He couldn’t wait for you to learn more.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

JASON:

Seeing Jason picking you up was a nice surprise for you when you finished class. You were ecstatic to see him and ran up to him squealing.

“Jay!” You giggled and he picked up and spun you around in the air. “I missed you.”

He had been away on business. You had constantly been asking Bruce about when you would see him again. You had began to miss his face at home.

“Guess what we’ve been learning about!?”

“Hmm.” Jason bit his lip pretending to think “pirate ballerinas”

You placed a playful hit to his chest with a laugh. “No silly. Batman!”

A-ha. Jason thought. this would be interesting. He wondered how much you had been told, though he doubted no matter how much you had learnt, that you had managed to piece things together.

“Was it good?” He asked you.

“It was great! He saves all of the people and is a real hero!” You said waving your arms animatedly. “He’s so brave!”

“He is.” Jason agreed. “Just like you little Wayne”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TIM:

Tim found you doodling at one of the tables in the library. You had an array of colours sprawled out in front of you as you scribbled on the pieces of paper infront of you.

He peered over your shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of your drawing. You had draw stick figures, which made it hard to go by but even with your messy doodles he could make out the distinctive domino masks of the Robin and the black of Batman’s suit and cowl. He knew them like the back of his hand, so it was no surprise.

“What you drawing, kiddo?” He asked you.

You gripped the drawing with your hands and held it up proudly to him. “Batman and Robin. We learnt about them in class so I wanted to draw them.”

“It’s very good kid.” Tim told you, handing you back the drawing of the lopsided people only for you to hand it back to him.

“Can we put it on the fridge?” You asked curiously “I want to show it to Dad. I bet he thinks Batman is awesome too!” You blabbed “do you think he will like it, Timmy?”

“I’m sure he will.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

DAMIAN:

Dami was reading in the library when you plonked yourself beside him. Well…kind of. You struggled up onto the couch first.

“What are you doing?” You frowned, trying to read see over his shoulder.

He was reading up on one of Gotham’s villains that was causing havoc in the city. His first instinct was to shut it so you couldn’t read any of it…but then he remembered that you were still only learning to read.

“I’m reading a book on Batman.” He half-lied, setting the book to one side so you could clamber into his lap.

“Ooh I like Batman too.” You nodded.

Damian frowned. You weren’t supposed to know about that yet. “Where did you learn about him?”

“At school.”

Damian relaxed a little.

“He has a super cool cape! And a big car that he drives really fast around the city to stop the bad guys!”

“Sounds dangerous.” Damian smirked.

“Yes…” you trailed off. “But he is allowed to do it because he is Batman.” You decided.

“Is that right? He teased.

“Yes.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

I hope that was okay! I hope you don’t mind that I changed it a little at the end: I didn’t want it to get too repetitive.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao

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elliespassagerprincess · 7 months

Note

Can we please get some milf Abby or Ellie the lesbians who like older women are in a drought

💘

Headcannons: milf!abby anderson x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who was divorced and who had full custody of her 4-year-old daughter.

☆ Milf Abby who worked as a lawyer and got her daughter into the best schools.

☆ Milf Abby who went to a parent teacher meeting, to meet her daughters’ new teacher.

☆ Milf Abby who met you for the first time and thought you were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

☆ Milf Abby who stood behind everyone else because you made her shy.

☆ Milf Abby whose palms felt sweaty when you walked close to the direction where she was standing.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart rate increased when you asked the parents “any questions?” with a smile.

☆ Milf Abby who went home that night and stared at the ceiling because she just saw an angel.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter about you the next morning.

“What’s she like?” Abby asked as she placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Aubrey.

“she’s nice” the little girl started. “she always likes my drawings, and she tells funny stories!”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s face.

Pretty and funny, huh?

“she’s pretty too” Aubrey said with her mouth full off eggs. Abby chuckled at that.

“Your right baby, she is”

☆ Milf Abby who almost shit herself when Aubrey told you that she finds you pretty.

“You did what?” Abby said frantically.

“I told my teacher that you said she was pretty”

Abby groaned, her large hand coming to rub her temples.

“Baby you aren’t supposed to tell that to people, it was a secret”

“Yeah, it was red ones”

“But Heathers dad brought her flowers, and that’s not a secret”

“what?”

“roses?”

“I think so” she spoke

☆ Milf Abby who gets jealous even though she barley knows anything about you.

☆ Milf Abby who watches Heathers dad bring you snacks almost daily when she picks up Aubrey.

☆ Milf Abby who wants to vomit every time you smile at him.

☆ Milf Abby who realizes she had to make a move.

☆ Milf Abby who was nervous because it’s been a while since she’s asked someone on a date.

☆ Milf Abby who writes you a letter and sends it with her daughter.

“My mommy sent you this” Aubrey ran to you with a white envelope. You thanked her, as you opened the letter, eyes widening at what it had to say:

“Hi, are you Tennessee because you’re the only ten I see.

I’m sorry I know that was inappropriate I didn’t know what to say.

Would you like to go on a date with me? I promise no cheesy pickup lines”

☆ Milf Abby who almost jumps out of her car when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Milf Abby who rolls down the window and tries to act cool.

“Sup” she said, but soon cringed.

You giggled “I’d love to go on a date with you Miss Anderson”

“Call me Abby”

“Abby… I’d love to go out with you”

A grin spread onto the blondes face.

“Friday?”

“Friday”

☆ Milf Abby who fist bumps the air because she’s just that excited.

☆ Milf Abby who almost cancelled because she was so nervous.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her 4-year-old outfit advice.

“What about this?”

“No”

“Aubrey you can’t keep saying no”

“But I don’t like it”

☆ Milf Abby who kisses her daughter goodbye as she bought you a bigger bouquet of roses.

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to a fancy restaurant to impress you.

☆ Milf Abby who finds out you were 20 years younger than her.

Abby blinked a couple of times at the information.

“26?”

“yeah… do I not look my age you?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You really don’t”

☆ Milf Abby who enjoys the date more than she intended to.

☆ Milf Abby who almost combusts when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night in denial that she liked someone so young.

Age is nothing but a number, but you were years younger. What were you doing with someone like her? Why her? Why not someone your age? What happens if Abby grows so old that you become bored?

☆ Milf Abby who ghosts you for 5 months.

☆ Milf Abby who avoids looking at you when she gets her daughter from school.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your texts because she thought you deserve someone better.

☆ Milf Abby’s daughter who gave her an awaking.

“Can you stop crying at night mommy? It makes noise”

Abby looked up from the stove.

“you hear that?”

“Yes”

A few seconds of silence passed before Aubrey spoke again. “You made my teacher sad”

“she’s sad?”

“yes and she asked me about you”

“and what did you say?”

“Nothing, you said it was a secret” Abby groaned at Aubrey’s response

“you need to stop pushing people away because you’re insecure”

Abby looked at Aubrey with wide eyes.

She was right, because Abby was so insecure she’s losing a perfect girl because she was scared. How sure was she that you would leave her? How sure was she that you were only using her? Maybe you were the one.

“Where did you hear those words?”

“from grandpa” she said with a shoulder shrug.

“He said that to Nora”

Your back was facing the door as you were writing something on the board.

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your classroom the next day with flowers.

“I’m sorry” she spoke. She watched you flinched as you turned around.

“what?”

“I’m sorry for just disappearing and not saying anything”

“ok” was all you said as you turned back around to continue writing.

Abby walked towards you with long strides.

“no- no don’t say ok please- give me a chance”

she watched you sigh as you turned around:

“look Miss Anderson-“

“Abby”

“Miss Anderson” you said through gritted teeth.

“It’s ok, this should have not happened”

“Don’t say that”

“Let’s move on, I’ll pretend this never happened” you said with a fake smile on your face.

“god you’re so-“ before Abby could even finish her sentence she grabbed your face, and caught your lips in a kiss.

☆ Milf Abby who was surprised when you kissed her back.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpered when you pulled away.

“What can I do to fix this?” she spoke as she held your face.

“take me out on a date again”

a smile spread on the blondes face: “yeah I’ll do that”

☆ Milf Abby who realizes you won’t make it easy for her.

☆ Milf Abby who was willing to work for this relationship because you were worth it.

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marcsburnerphone · 3 months

Text

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), mentions of readers past relationship, some bond building, smoking, some tense moments

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4!! - part 5

————-

“Captain?” Soap yells from afar to get what seems to be prices attention. When he realizes that is indeed his captain he jogs to where John stands.

“What’re ye doin’ back?” Soap question a little confused, after their last two month mission John was granted leave for three months to recoup and rest.

“Just came to turn in these files.” He says waving the Manila folders in his hands.

“You could’ve just done that online, you know.” And yes John does know and by the look he gives Johnny he also knows.

“What, trouble in paradise?” Johnny smiles widely at the guilty look on his captain's face.

“Something like that.” John replies clearly a little tense.

“Well, tell me about it.” He says waiting expectantly.

“Over some drinks Sergeant.” Price replies before making his way into the building and soap returning to the trainees.

————-

“Oh that’s fucked mate.” Ghost says.

“Captain no offense you’re a very intelligent and capable man but that is so fucking stupid.” Gaz states before taking a drink of his beer.

“You thought oh I’m catching some feelings for her, let's just ignore her.” Soap says in a mimicking voice.

“No, it's not only that, I don’t have time to entertain dense feelings and she likely doesn’t share those same feelings.” His gruff voice replies as he takes a puff of his cigar and blows the smoke out into the pub they sit in.

“Did you ask her?” Gaz asks, already knowing the answer.

“Am I twelve? What grown man asks a woman if they have feelings for them usually there’s hints and clues you can pick up on.” Ghost grumbles in agreement from price earning a slap on the arm from soap.

“And she’s done nothing that may even give you an inkling that she’s into you mate?” Gaz quips in.

“Like “oh hey captain can you help me open this jar?” Or “price can you please help me fix this?” Johnny tries his best at a womanly voice.

“First of all she doesn’t call me captain or price and second of all, yes she does that but it’s only because she needs the help.” They all look at him with blank stares.

“I bet you wish she’d call you captain.” Soap whispers but before John can reply Gaz starts.

“Captain, does she ever stutter when you talk to her?” Gaz asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“sometimes.” He excuses that as human behavior.

“When she noticed your avoidance, did she get upset?” I mean you got a little mad at him that once but that was cause he was overstepping.

“A little.” He replies not really seeing where it’s going until oh.

“Yeah cap, you're being naive.”

“You should go back there, be kinder and less weird. She probably thinks you don’t like her and if that lasts too long she’ll start to actually not like you.” Well he obviously can’t have that.

“We need a mum anyways.” Gaz says under his breath and soap agrees.

“What?”

———————

“Hey you’re back.” You can’t resist the small smile that makes its way onto your face as John walks into the kitchen.

“Told you I’d only be a day or two.” He repeats his words from a couple days ago, hands awkwardly in his pockets.

He notices there’s something different in your energy that he picks up on or maybe it’s his energy that has changed.

“Yeah but last time you said a month and we’re gone two.” He remembers that and sees your point then he thinks about the fact that you remember that.

“Well last time I really didn’t think I’d be gone that long but you know.” He says not going into detail and just waving it off.

“Well I have a job to get too.” You say closing the package of blueberries you’d been eating out of then place them back in the fridge.

“On a Saturday?” He questions the unusuality of it.

“Yeah I had a woman call me this morning, said her wedding was next week and she really wanted me to be the one to give her her dream hair so I agreed.”

“Okay then, I’ll see you later, doll.” He says as you grab your keys and purse getting ready to leave.

“Bye John.” You smile softly looking anywhere but him cause if you did the smile that lays on your face at the newfound nickname would be too evident.

————-

“Hey so we’re just doing some highlights and a cut right.” You ask the woman in your chair as you drape the cape over her paying mind to her swollen belly and button it in the back.

“Yeah I actually have some pictures if that’s okay.” She says pulling out her phone to show you.

“Great, I’d love to see them.” You say getting your equipment ready.

She shows you and by the already light tone of her hair this will be easy work. You get everything settled and ready, mixing the bleach and color and sorting through the pieces you’ll paint.

“So what made you ask me to do your hair?” This is a question you always love to ask your clients. Was it social media or a referral or maybe something else.

“My finance actually recommended you.” Her fiance.

“Oh I don’t actually do men’s hair, who’s your fiance?” You question a little confused but clearly he might’ve just seen you on instagram or had a friend who’s been with you.

“Brian, he said he used to know you and heard you did really good hair.” No fucking way.

“Oh yeah I know Brian old friends.” You smile through the tears that threaten to escape your eyes.

How could he? How could he give this woman everything you’ve ever wanted then send her to you to show off that goddamn-

“He says to tell you hi.” She smiles looking back at you not having a clue of who you really are.

“Oh tell him I said hello.” You reply shortly.

“How’d you two meet?” You ask curiously.

“We actually worked together and when we first started talking he was actually in a relationship but nothing serious and the more we spent time together it just became clear we were meant to be together.” Her.

“So he cheated on his ex partner?” You say in a polite tone, one a girlfriend would use.

“Well I guess you could say that but according to him their relationship was over before it was over.” You smile at her nodding in understanding.

Scream, you wanted to scream your fucking head off the rest of the appointment. But no you stood there politely and gave this woman the most beautiful hair you could’ve imagined you even took fucking pictures for her to send to you’re cheating ex.

—————

On the way home you cried out of anger not even out of jealousy, or sadness just anger at the audacity that man had and the years you wasted with such a fucking loser.

When you pulled into the driveway you turned the car off and just sat there. You sat there and pondered on everything. You’d always asked him for a baby and he’d said he would never be a father. You always wanted to get married and he would say “marriage isn’t my thing.” And yet he’ll do it all for another woman. A woman he really loves.

But in the end you're glad it’s not you. It isn’t you that has to deal with that man child, it won’t be you who’s stuck with someone who isn’t faithful. In the end you’re the lucky one and finally you feel like you can let it go.

So you dry your eyes and head inside, kicking off your shoes by the door and paying notice to John that’s currently in the living room. You walk over to the couch and sit a comfortable amount of space away from him simply testing the waters and watch the football game he has on.

“How was your appointment?” He says suddenly taking in notice of your puffy eyes.

“Good.” You reply in a whisper with a half smile.

“You’re lying.” He assumed maybe just an asshole client or the outcome wasn’t good.

“It was my ex boyfriend's new pregnant fiancé, who also happens to be the woman he cheated on me with.” You admit with a small laugh at the end with how ridiculous that sounds.

“You got cheated on?” He asks, thoroughly shocked not paying mind to the other details.

“And she’s hot.” You reply looking him in the eye. All he’s thinking is hotter than you?

“Did she know who you were?” This has to be the most mind fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“Not a clue and what's funnier is he recommended me to her.” You laugh again and it’s slightly scary how calm you seem.

“You’re not upset?”

“John I was over that man the minute he cheated on me. I’m only upset over all the time I lost wanting things he said he never wanted but what he meant was he never wanted that with me.” You say quietly between the two of you like it’s a secret.

“His loss.” he says, offering you a small smile.

“I guess.”

“No doll I know.” You don’t know what to make of that comment and just smile back at him.

————-

Later that night after a long shower you step onto the outside patio for some fresh air not noticing John smoking a cigar beside you.

“Jesus!” You jump slightly at the sight of his looming shadow.

“At this point just expect me to be everywhere.” He laughs as he exhales the puff of smoke.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You reply before taking in the sight before you. John in Levi’s, a thermal and brown leather jacket, thick fingers holding a cigar between them lightly tapping it to drop the excess ash.

“I’m sorry, does it bother you?” He asks suddenly, concerned about whether that was in the policy or something.

“No, not at all.” You smile shivering at the breeze that blows through the air.

He offers the cigar between his fingers by gesturing it towards you, you’ve smoked cigarettes but this thing looked like a cigarette on steroids. Nonetheless you didn’t decline the offer and hesitantly wrapped your lips around it giving it a small puff letting the earthy flavor consume your taste buds as you exhale.

John watches you with longing eyes. Truthfully he expected you to grab it from him but instead you toked it straight from his fingers and shit it was hot. The way your lips wrapped around the very end had him running hot suddenly. The layers he wore were becoming overbearingly warm.

“Do you ever wish you chose a normal career?” The question left your lips before you could think about why you were asking it and he clears his dirty mind before answering.

“Not really, my job makes me feel like I have purpose and although my hands get dirty it’s for a good cause.” You nod as you look up into the blue sky that’s slowly becoming darker.

“You do have purpose outside your job though you know that right?” You look him in the eye for a mere second then back up.

He’s taken aback slightly by your statement and stays silent. He lets it settle in his thoughts and feelings. Wondering what prompted you to say it in the first place.

“Thankyou.” He replies shortly after.

“You're welcome.” You reply gently.

“I’m going to head inside, don’t be out here too long you’ll get sick.” You say sliding the door open and he laughs in return. If you even had the slightest idea of the weather he’s lived in.

———

You woke up the next morning bright and early, currently stood in the kitchen brewing hot water for tea and setting the coffee machine on. One for you, one for John. He was surprisingly still asleep although it also is still very early. He never sleeps past 7.

As you turn the heat off the stove, knocking sounds at the front door. Maybe a package you assumed as you made your way down the hall peeking through the small hole to see who’s out there and to your surprise it was a woman.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She looks at you a bit taken aback.

“Does John Price live here?” She asks as her blonde hair blows in the cold breeze.

“Yeah?”

“I need to speak to him.”

“Okay I’ll be right back.” Was this a lover of John’s, maybe an ex wife or something. You knock softly at his door and nothing so you knock a little louder. Before you hear a grunt and the squeak of the hardwood floors.

“Morning, y’alright?” He asks with a deep sleepy voice.

You take notice of His messy hair and pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips so you practically beg and will yourself to not look at his body.

“Yeah sorry there’s a woman at the door for you.” You reply smiling when you notice the sleep marks on the side of his face.

“Oh okay let me just put a shirt on, tell her I’ll be right out.” He can already guess who it is and quietly curses to himself. No peace of his ever lasted long.

You relay the message to her and offer her to come inside which she politely accepts but goes no further than the entrance.

“I’m Kate by the way.” She offers her hand to you.

“Oh nice to meet you Kate, are you a friend of John’s?” You pry.

“Oh yeah, a longtime one.” You should’ve known.

“We’ve been working together since he was a lieutenant and that was ages ago.” She laughs and you feel light with relief for whatever reason.

“Laswell.” A deep voice sighs out from behind her.

“Well don’t be too excited to see me.” She says to him.

You get the message to exit the room and do so. He walks with her to the kitchen, offers her a drink then they both go to his office and from the sound of it have a pretty heated conversation. Not that you were eavesdropping or anything.

———-

It was hours before she left and when she did John didn’t seem too happy. You walk to the door a bit after you hear it shut. John stands there running a hand through his hair.

“You okay?” You stupidly ask as he rubs his forehead still standing in front of the door although she left 10 minutes ago.

“Yeah doll I’m alright.” He sounds tired and bothered.

“Okay.” You begin to turn around getting the feeling he doesn’t want you there.

“Wait, actually I have to leave tomorrow for a while..” He replies quickly.

“Oh.” You try not to sound too disappointed.

“I’ll leave you a check for six months, if I’m gone longer my checkbook is in the bedside drawer. If you need assistance with anything I have a friend you can call please don’t do it yourself or have someone else do it.” He says as you stand there not getting past the eight month part.

“Six months or longer?” He meets your eyes seeing a hint of sadness.

“Yeah that’s what I can expect.” You suck your bottom lip between your teeth for a second not really knowing how to reply.

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” He replies at the random change in topic.

“Would you like to order too much food and watch a movie?” You ask again.

“Sure?”

“I mean if you’re leaving for months and you seem upset about it then it’s serious and when’s the next time you’ll eat good food, you know?” You explain.

“Italian?”

“Italian.”

——————-

You both sit on the living room couch in the dim ambient light while “How to lose a guy in 10 days” plays on the TV, your choice. Empty boxes once filled with pasta and bread now are mostly empty. You tell John every time one of your favorite parts is coming on but not like you even needed to. He can tell by the anxious shake of your foot and slightly raised eyebrow.

“So does he ever find out that it’s for the em magazine and does she find out it’s for a bet?” He asks midway through the movie.

“You’ll have to watch it.” You whisper.

He laughs and for a moment in time he feels content, at ease for once. He feels like this is the moment he’ll recall in the next eight months when nights are cold and he’s spent.

Your eyes are drifting closed before the movie is over and he watches you find sleep then returns his attention to the tv determined to finish the movie. Once all is done he picks the containers up off the floor quietly and turns the tv off kneeling to the floor to wake you.

“Doll let’s get you to bed.” He whispers in the dark. You're slightly disappointed you fell asleep but your drowsy mind doesn’t let you think too deeply as you bid him a goodnight and head to bed.

————-

The next morning he was ready to leave at 4AM. Big duffel bag in hand and a backpack. He thinks of waking you to say goodbye and even walks to your door. But he doesn’t not because he doesn’t want to but because he won’t want to leave if he does. Internally he curses himself for wasting so much time avoiding you the previous weeks.

So he writes a quick note and of course the promised check and heads on his way.

—————-

Next chapter is already written and I’m so excited at the build up!!

Comments and reposts are always appreciated<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic

#angst #captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost cod

1K notes · View notes

koishiro · 9 months

Text

# - 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

Satoru Gojo 五条悟

Congratulations, you’ll never be alone again!

He would be infatuated with you

This man (boy) would not hesitate to embarrass himself in front of you

And by that I mean;

He would trip himself up, walk into a door, accidentally bump into you…

He would do the stupidest things all to get your attention

And if it was back when he was a student, I can imagine him calling out a teacher on a mistake or having a smart remark so he could see your smile, especially if it was from his doings

He’d still do that as a teacher himself actually

And if it was valentines?

Expect your desk to be covered in an array of heart shaped chocolate boxes, flower bouquets and many cards

He’d probably include expensive things as well like bracelets, rings, necklaces and earrings

Even if it wasn’t valentines and it was just any other day he’d either leave a note on your desk or a bag of mochi

Be grateful he didn’t devour that shit on the way

And during training?

He could be in the middle of training his students when he’d suddenly stop and just stare at you walking past

Either that or he would show tf off

There’s no inbetween

Poor Yuji, Megumi and Nobara would walk back to their dorms black and blue

He would beg the higher ups to assign you missions together

And you best know he’s going to pick on you

If you’re short? You’re now a portable headrest

If you’re tall? How’s the weather?

“Oh! My little Mochi! How are we today hm? Would you like to know where I was yesterday - I’ll tell you anyway, I happened to stumble upon a sweet shop and found some kikufuku and they had that flavour you like so much so out of the kindness of my heart I thought to buy you some!”

Suguru Geto 下戸傑

You wouldn’t even know this man has a crush on you, he’s that chill

You’d just think he’s really friendly

But saying that, he’d try and spend more time around you

You need to go shopping? He’ll be there to carry your bags

You can’t sleep at 3 in the morning? He’ll be at your door in 5 minutes

And he would (unknowingly to him) take such good care of you

And this man is smooth af while doing it

You’re both walking down a busy street? He’ll have his hand on your lower back

“Wouldn’t want you getting lost now would we?”

Walking next to the road? Not with him around

You’re cold? Here, have his jacket

If you’re both in a room full of people his eyes will automatically search for you, making sure you’re okay and not uncomfortable

And you best know he’ll be right behind you if you are

If someone cuts you off halfway through your sentence? Geto would stare that mf down until they shut up and motions for you to continue

“Stay close to me, there are too many men here staring at you. Can’t let them get any ideas now can we? Unless that’s what you want hm? I’d be forced to change your mind otherwise”

Itadori Yuji いたどりゆうじ

He’d be so nervous around you 🥹

He’s a blushing mess every time you step into the same room as him

Impossibile for him to keep his eyes off you

He just stares at you and smiles :)

But god forgive if you make contact with him-

He passes you a work sheet or a book and you brush fingers? He’ll drop everything

Continues to try and save himself which turns out to be futile considering he can’t stop stuttering out an apology

He’d also overthink every and any interaction you have with each other

That brush of fingers earlier? Was that a sign? Should he do something to confirm this? Eye contact? Should he make eye contact?

He’ll even leave cute little trinkets on your desk that he thought you’d like from his trips

And seeing you smile at that silly little note he left on your desk makes his entire week

Would definitely try and show you how strong he is 110%

You’re walking past the training field?

He’s there lifting Panda with one hand

“O-oh Y/n! What are you doing here? You look really pretty today! - not that you don’t everyday! I just mean that you look extra pretty today but you look extra pretty all the time, I’m running out of compliments…”

Fushiguro Megumi 伏黒恵

Like Suguru, you wouldn’t even know Megumi has a crush on you

…If it wasn’t for Yuji and Nobara of course

Oh hey, I have post on that-

You’re walking past him in the halls? Nobara and Yuji are there poking him and whispering (which probably shouldn’t count as whispering)

“Oh Megumi~ Don’t look now but someone you like is walking behind you~”

Which resulted in the both getting smacked upside the head

And if Gojo caught wind of this?

Gojo would leave bags of mochi or little notes saying how pretty you looked that day and sign it from your beloved Megumi

He’d even try and give ‘parental’ advice

That didn’t end well

I can imagine you walking up to him with the mochi and card in hand to kiss his cheek as a thank you which left him a flustered mess

He just holds his cheek with a straight face as you walk off 😌

Moving on though,

He’d be such a gentleman-

He’d lay his jacket on top of your legs if you’re wearing shorts or a skirt

And if you’re cold? Have his jacket

He notices you didn’t get much sleep that night? Oh look an energy drink magically appeared on your desk

You’re sad? He’ll summon his Divine Dogs

But don’t bring this to his attention, he’ll deny everything

“Hm? You received mochi on your desk? How should I know? - why are you looking at me like that? What are you - oh… yeah, must’ve slipped my mind”

Kugisaki Nobara 釘崎野薔薇

It’d be pretty obvious she likes you

If everyone’s talking over you or you have something to say she’ll have no hesitation in screaming at everyone to shut up

“EVERYONE SHUT UP! Y/N HAS SOMETHING TO SAY THAT I’M SURE ALL OF YOU ARE DYING TO KNOW SO LISTEN UP! …Go on Y/n”

You’re going on every shopping trip she has, which is near daily so good luck 🫡

But don’t worry, she won’t make you carry all her bags no no no

That’s for Yuji and Megumi to deal with

And those shopping trips will lead to sleepovers

Which will lead to her styling your outfits for the next month

Which will then lead to her mixing her clothes with yours justifying it by saying it goes better than any of your other ones

A subtle claim but one nonetheless

She would show you off like it’s nobodies business (except it is)

“Everyone! Look at my partner!! Look how hot they are - HEY DONT YOU CALL THEM HOT! THATS MY JOB”

You have social media? She already follows you

She would drool over every picture

Comments, hearts, the whole shabang

And let’s not forget the daily compliments of course

She’d somehow know if you’re wearing a different shade of lipgloss that day

Or if you’ve changed the colour of your nails

“Ahh you look so pretty today! Your eyeshadow is so cute!! Wait is that my top? Didn’t I tell you it would go well with your skirt, I’m always right! You should keep it, it suits you better anyway”

Toji 杜氏

How in the world did you pull this guy?

He’d be cocky af though

You might not know but if you tell him something about yourself or something you like he’ll have it ingrained into his brain while at the same time pretending not to give two fucks

Like I can imagine him seeing something you mentioned in a previous conversation in a shop window and buys it, gives it to you and says;

“I bought too much so I thought I’d give you the rest.”

“But it’s wrapped?”

“…It came like that”

Mhm sure

And if you asked his opinion on a certain outfit he’d definitely say;

“Who cares? Wear whatever you want, I cant fight”

Okay daddy-

He’d be such a bodyguard though, you cannot convince me otherwise

Like Geto he’d stand behind you to silently let them know you’re off limits

Even though you’re not dating he’d still have a possessive hand around your waist idc

“Why you gotta look like that hm? Always lookin’ so pretty for me. You tryna get their attention or something? Bet that’s what you want huh, want me to show them who you really belong to isn’t that right”

Zen’in Maki┊禪院真希

First off, I’m jealous but okay moving on

She’d be a low-key soft tsundere

Lemme explain,

This girl is a strong independent woman who gives no shits whatsoever and also has a very high wall built to hide her emotions and to keep you tf out

Therefore!, she’d pick on you (and no one else) in the nicest way possible

“Where do you think you’re going wearing that, a circus? You look like an idiot… but a cute idiot I guess…”

My heart-

And if you’d tease her back she’d just push your face away and walk in the opposite direction

She’d probably let you wear her glasses if you ask nicely

She’d even volunteer to help you train just so she can spend more time with you 🥹

Would purposely make you flustered no doubt in my mind (wouldn’t even have to try)

During practice she’d trip you up and land on you CENTIMETRES away from your face and just smirk

Ahahdbjsmke

She’d grin at anything cute you do

You’re doing a lil happy dance while eating? She’s there staring at you with a small grin

You’re pouting because something didn’t go your way? She’ll just tilt her head and smile

“You always look so cute when you do that little dance of yours, what’s got you so happy huh? Wanna tell me so you do that cute dance again? Go on, don’t be shy now”

Inumaki Toge 狗巻棘

My sweet sweet boy

He’d silently fan boy at everything you do

Definitely your personal cheerleader 🤝

At any and every one of your accomplishments, he’d cheer you on with his little jig of a dance

He’d rant to Panda in onigri ingredients at how perfect you are

He blushes A LOT

But you’ll never know since he has his collar zipped up at all times 😔

Every time you make him nervous he’ll fidget with his hands and look anywhere but at you

You compliment him over text while he’s in his dorm? He’s trying not scream and just rolls back and forth in his bed in excitement and happiness

I can imagine him standing behind Nanami doing silly little dances to make you laugh

Loves head pats, that’s it. That’s all.

He malfunctions when ruffle or comb your fingers through his hair

His tail would be wagging if he was a dog

He’d give you gifts as well but not any gifts

For example;

You’re usually cold in class? He’ll buy you a scarf and give it to you the next day

You’ve been staying up lately due to assignments? He’ll place a bag of energy bars and caffeinated drinks on your desk

He does all this while reprimanding you in onigri ingredients

He’d even keep spares in his bag just in case

“What did I tell you about staying up late huh? And will you ever learn to wear something warm to class or do I need to continuously bring these things with me? You’re lucky you’re cute!”

Nanami Kento 七海健人

Bby would be so professional

He’d keep trying to convince himself that it isn’t professional to have feelings for his colleague

Yet he couldn’t help but spend more time with you

He’d ask for your opinion on certain topics (shocker I know) or if you’d be able to print something out for him

He’d do this so much it’d start to make you suspicious

Even Gojo would catch on…

“Nanamin~ how come you ask Y/n for their opinion when you have me huh?”

Like Megumi he’d be such a gentleman

He’d put his coat on your lap if you’re wearing shorts or a skirt

He’d put his hand on your back to guide you through busy crowds

He’d make an extra cup of coffee/tea for you when he’s making one for himself

I feel like he’d have a certain tick when he’s nervous like scratching the side of his head or behind his ear

It’d be so fckn cute 😤

You mention the tie he’s wearing that day suits him or brings out his eyes? Don’t be surprised if he wears it again tomorrow

He wouldn’t even be ashamed about it

“What are you looking at? Oh my tie? What’s wrong with it? Didn’t you say it suited me yesterday? Thought I’d wear it for you again”

—

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

#‧₊˚🖇️#🍓 ₊˚✩⊹#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒋𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒖 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒏 #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #toji fushiguro #maki zenin #toge inumaki #nanami kento #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #headcanon #imagine #fluff

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it.

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add.

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it.

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic.

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob.

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself.

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions.

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse.

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride.

If only it was that easy to fool himself.

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest.

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it.

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings.

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t.

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation.

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party.

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere.

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here.

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation.

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him.

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt.

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back.

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

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moonrisecoeur · 5 months

Text

gratitude — leon kennedy

author’s note: i don’t love doing taglists bc it’s kind of tedious but a couple people asked to be tagged so i’ll tag them in the comments of this post! please send asks/write comments/add tags to reblog if you liked this! that would be wonderful!

wc: 3.6k

content: sub!leon x fem!reader, sugar baby leon, mommy kink, orgasm control, pegging, hickies mentioned. leon is 21 reader is ‘slightly older’.

warnings: mentions but not depictions of financial abuse, dubcon, and prostitution (seen in a negative light; we support sex workers here)

this is a birthday gift to angel! @angelofwoe go give her some love :)

—

5. 4. 3. 2. 1…

incoming call from ‘leon ken(nedy)’

accept or decline?

you look over at your phone while you’re waiting at a red light, driving home from work. you smile, like clockwork, leon calls you at exactly 5 pm each day, and most of the time, you’re coming home. to him. the thought still makes your heart jump a little bit. leon is waiting at home, your home, and now his home too, for you.

he’s waiting for you.

god, your stomach does somersaults. he’s perfect.

you answer the call, clicking it on and waiting for it to connect the two of you, “hello?”

“hey!” he says, and you missed his voice. you smile softly at his enthusiasm, “what should i get and/or make for dinner? don’t know if you trust me to cook in your kitchen unsupervised yet…”

“i would let you,” you say, looking out the window, “though maybe i’d stop by a cafe for dinner on my way home.”

“hey, c’mon now!” he tries to defend himself, but he laughs, god you’re obsessed with that sound, “okay, okay, fair. i get it. really, though, what’ll it be?”

you think for a second, and you realize that leon doesn’t really ever get a choice, he just goes along with whatever you want, “hmm… why don’t you pick, baby?”

he goes silent for a second, “you sure?” and when you make a sound of approval, even though he gave you a chance to back out, he sighs, “fine. don’t say i didn’t warn you when we’re eating chicken nuggets tonight.”

“wow, what fine cuisine, leon,” you smile.

—

“wow, what fine cuisine, leon,” he smiles at the sound of your teasing voice. he can’t help liking you. i mean, how is he supposed to not like you? not only do you take care of him, buy him nice things, but you’re also so fucking pretty? what the hell?

“anyway, i’ll see you soon, baby. miss me a little bit, but not too much, okay?” you tell him, breaking him out of the daze that is listening to you talk. he feels bad that he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying.

“y-yeah. i’ll see you at home,” he stutters, quickly hanging up, clutching his phone to his chest. home. your… home. god, this was bad. he was going to go insane one of these days if you didn’t stop being so goddamn perfect.

leon had this preconception forever ago that sugar daddies and mommies and whatever the hell else were always old, decrepit people who gave you money for basically doing your best not to gag when you see them naked. people you take advantage of, who you give your body to in exchange for being able to afford anything. it’s an exchange, sex for money (no, sex for power). which would make him a… prostitute? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t want to know.

but god, you are so much more than that, practically his dream woman. sure, you’re a little older than him, but it’s not like girls his age are soft and sweet with him like you are. they expect so much, they expect him to be the perfect boyfriend 24/7. he could do it, sure, but it would be an act. a desperate act of manipulation for him to get what he wants.

what does he want? well, that’s the tricky part. he tries not to let on too much how intensely this one thing affects him, even with you. it would be too much power to let you have over him, and you already have way too much.

truthfully, you… leon doesn’t like to think about it, but you could take advantage of him if you really wanted to. he’s so used to such an easy lifestyle, he can’t go back to struggling and barely paying his bills. you really could use him for the one and only thing he has to give you whenever you please, and it’s not even that he can’t stop you, because he knows he’s stronger than you, but he knows you could dangle your financial control over his head and he would be at your feet, on his knees in an instant.

he doesn’t know why he even bothers to think about it. he knows you’re not like that. hell, he looks at you with half decent puppy eyes and you’re sending him more money just because he looks cuter than usual today. if anyone is the master manipulator here, it’s him, not you. you have only pure intentions, and leon appreciates that even if he can never 100% trust it.

—

leon is a weird sugar baby. he doesn’t ask for things, he doesn’t use up all of his allowance, he doesn’t beg you for every shiny thing that catches his eye. he’s simple, not demanding, not exhausting you of every last penny in your account.

not that you would… really care? leon could do anything, absolutely anything, and you’d forgive him. he doesn’t need your forgiveness, not for the sassy little jokes he makes, not for the way he awkwardly says the wrong thing at the wrong time in conversation. leon was easy to forgive. easy to adore.

but, that's off topic. you try not to think about how lovable the pretty thing was. too easily you could get lost in him, never make it out alive.

he’s not demanding, he just uses your money to pay for his rent and take care of himself, his bills, his utilities and groceries, stuff like that. or well he used to use the money to pay for his rent, but now that he’s moved in with you, he doesn’t even have that expense anymore. he might treat himself and buy himself a little something small he normally couldn’t afford. the rest he’ll save.

can you blame the guy for being so cheap? he finished the police academy, but the job he had lined up fell through. so what is he supposed to do? work a minimum wage job? serve tables until he dies or his body gives out on him? sue him for wanting better for himself.

and so… he met you. he had no intention of using you.. at first. but even now he feels bad. he truly can’t get on board with being a sugar baby, he feels like he’s extorting you. you have to tell him each and every time his bank account number skyrockets that you will always have enough to continue your lifestyle, what's the point of just having the rest of it sitting around when you could be giving it to a pretty little thing like him?

still.. sometimes leon feels awful. can’t help it no matter what you tell him.

he just can’t really afford to say no to the money, because now he has all of his debt paid off and an emergency fund and a savings account for fun trips to take you on and another one for expensive gifts to buy you as a small, tiny, miniscule thank you. it’s only one part of how he really shows his gratitude. you’ve given him a better life than he could ever give himself, and he will never forget that.

how else does he show his gratitude?

–

you make it home, and immediately see the containers of chicken nuggets on the kitchen counter. you chuckle, again, endeared by leon’s choice of cuisine. it was what he wanted, after all, and you always let him have whatever he wanted. it’s so representative of him. they’re inexpensive, perfect for someone so frugal like him. they’re a comfort food, easy on the stomach, they’re delicious, and that’s probably all of the comparisons you could make between chicken nuggets and leon kennedy before you burst out laughing in delirium.

“oh thank god you’re home…” he says softly, reaching to grab your bag and your coat to put up so you can sit down, “i’m so glad you’re back, you must have worked so hard today.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips before doing so, and he’s immediately left dazed after just one little half-a-second long kiss. his eyes follow you as you collapse on the couch, “yeah, it was a long one. just glad to be back with you, baby.”

his heart aches for you as you sink into the couch, exhaustion present in your entire demeanor, seeping off of you through the cracks in your composure.

he knows what’ll make you feel better. or at least… he hopes he does. if you’re not in the mood, he’ll just laugh awkwardly and try to play it off.

he takes a deep breath in, bracing himself for the awkwardness that always comes with saying this word, “…mommy,” he whispers, and he immediately has all of your attention, suddenly all that exhaustion in your soul is replaced by an intensity that he can’t quite understand.

one word… and you’re already losing your composure? he didn’t know he was that good.

“baby…” you coo back to him, almost warning him. as if you’re saying, if you start this, you better be ready to see it through.

“wanna help you… feel better, mommy…” he says, his fingertips brushing against your thigh. fucking tease.

you always look at him like he puts the stars in the sky, but now? you’re looking at him like you want him seeing stars.

“you sure?”

“positive,” he mumbles.

again, this is all he has to give you. his love, his soul, his… body. he doesn’t want this to be transactional, sexual submission for money. he’s not a prostitute, but he genuinely has nothing else that even comes close to the value of gifts and money and just fucking everything you’ve given him.

you don’t ask for sex too often, even when he knows you’re horny. you’re so obvious but so understanding that your kinks and preferences are a little foreign to him. in his defense, he’s had one girlfriend right before he met you and she was the most vanilla person in the goddamn world. genuinely he could have switched positions on her and she would have thought it was too much.

“take me what you want from me, mommy,” he whispers, and yet for someone so inexperienced, he does it so well.

so well that you can’t help pouncing on him, pinning him underneath you. he feels your gentle yet firm grip on his wrists, the way your hair falls in front of your face as you hover on top of him, and he just has the softest urge to tuck it behind your ear. he can’t, but he wishes he could.

he doesn't get the chance to think about it much when your lips find his neck and he is immediately melted by their softness, their gentleness that makes him want to just break down and sob. he just wants to be treated softly, just wants to be held down and kissed like you’re doing right now.

“please,” he breathes, ironic because all you do is steal his breath away. your lips touch just over his subtle adam’s apple as you switch sides, pressing kisses into his neck, collarbone, and shoulder. he kind of wants you to bite down, leave red and purple aching bruises covering his neck, make him shudder and tremble with every love bite.

he knows you won’t.

“i don’t damage what’s mine,” you’d said once, and it left him dizzy. so casually asserting your ownership over him like that had his cock twitching in his pants. you very quickly learned to take advantage of his affection towards your possessiveness. you have to be subtle and you can’t do it too much, but every once and a while, you take your opportunity. you make your small little comments, you add ‘my’ in front of a pet name, you eye him like a piece of meat (intentionally being obvious so he’ll notice), etc.

your possessiveness is even better if it’s sort of objectifying. he might just like it more.

he wishes he could touch you, but what would it even be for? if you wanted him to make you feel good, you’d have shoved his face between your legs, tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, moaned as he ate your pussy while looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, so full of an emotion you wanted to study in detail. it couldn’t be love, there’s no way. you settle for something else, even if it’s less satisfying.

devotion.

—

and even with your cock buried deep, deep inside of him, stretching him open and filling him up entirely, he’s still got that same glimmer of devotion in his eyes, but that’s irrelevant.

it’s irrelevant because he’s a desperate mess of a man right now and it’s all you should be concerned with, “mommy, fuck, please, i—”

“say you belong to me, pretty boy,” you groan in his ear, his body shivering and trembling at the pleasure that’s about to hit him. he’s gotta wait for your permission, though.

“yours, yours, fuck, all yours, my fucking body belongs to you, you can- you can use it whenever you want, however you want, for however long. it doesn't matter,” he cries,’s his voice raspy, he trying to keep himself together and he’s failing miserably, “fuck, fuck, god, and i- my body… i owe you my body as a thank you for- oh, f-fuck!- for your m-money, i- it’s all i can give you that’s worth anything-.”

“…yeah? you owe me?” you smirk, pressing your hand against his lower stomach, feeling the bulge your cock inside him. it drives you insane. he’s babbling about something you don’t care to listen to. something about being indebted to you, that sex is him paying you back for how perfect you are. you don’t listen. it’ll just make you sad.

“gonna give me what i want, right? because you owe me,” you say. sure, you felt bad, but you never said you were pure good. you’re entitled to leon and everything he could possibly give you, aren’t you?

he tries to speak, but your cock always makes him as stupid as can be. he tries, oh he tries, to respond, to say yes, i’ll give you everything, i’m all yours to claim and keep forever, but the sounds come out as jumbled moans out of the back of his throat. he gives up trying to talk, clearly that’s beyond him now, and communicates his feelings by holding your waist gently, his fingertips pressing against your skin.

he moans out absolutely pathetically as you thrust in and out of him, keeping him held down with your hands pushing down on his shoulders. his body contorts to your will, his soul too. you could do anything to him and get away with it, with him in this beautiful headspace.

he’s gorgeous like this, and you take a moment to admire him. glassy, distant , tear filled eyes, sweaty blonde hair, skin little with small marks of whatever lip product you use. god, he’s nothing less than fucking perfect.

if only you both didn’t have responsibilities in your everyday lives because the only thing that could make him prettier is if he was like this every single day, fucked out of his mind, desperate, stupid from the pleasure of your cock pushing firmly against his prostate.

“gonna cum, baby?” you ask maliciously, knowing he didn’t have enough of his mind working to even register the question, “gonna give yourself over to mommy? live in her home, let her keep you as a pet? couldn’t leave her even if you wanted to, and you definitely don’t.”

he looks for an out as his eyes shift up at the ceiling, still somehow finding it in himself to be shy.

“look at me,” you growl, one hand moving to his face to cup his cheek, fingertips brushing against his jaw. he obeys, making weak eye contact, blinking the tears away from his eyes, “ask me for permission to cum.”

cruel? yes, because the most his stupid mind can come up with to say is that pretty name you make him call you, “m-mommy…”

you remember him looking at you confused, almost a little uncomfortable, when you said you liked that name. it definitely tracks, you’re his sugar mommy… and you expect him to call him mommy. not exactly revolutionary, but his hesitancy to do so is what makes these moments truly special. earlier, he said it intentionally, mainly to get your attention and get you riled up, distracted from work and responsibilities.

but now? he truly can’t help it falling past his lips. every time he says it, or more accurately moans it, he feels even more attached to it, attached to you. he’s imagined saying it more casually, in everyday conversation, but he could never get over how humiliating it felt.

you graciously let him call you by name most of the time, something he has been endlessly grateful for.

but in this headspace, leon can’t think of a single other word but mommy.

“c’mon, sweetheart. won’t get any easier to think with mommy’s cock deep inside of you. mommy can wait all night sweetheart, but i’m not sure you can.”

he can’t. he knows he can’t cum because you haven’t given him permission, but he can’t ask permission if you keep saying things that make him dumber and slower. he can hold off his orgasm for a while when he tops, he’s gotten decently good at that, but with your cock filling him up like this? he would be lucky if he lasted another minute.

“fuck- ah, mommy… m-mommy, plea…. please…” he breathes heavily, trying so damn hard, it melts your heart how badly he’s trying for you.

“please what, baby? you know i’ll say yes, just ask mommy what you want.”

wet cheeks and trembling lips from him make your heart ache for him. you’d give him anything.

“c-cum, mommy?…. c-can i…?”

you nod, biting your lip, almost more excited than he is to watch him fall apart, “mhm, ‘course, baby… let go for mommy, i got you… here…” you say, taking a hold of his cock to jerk him off through his orgasm to get everything you can from him, milk him for all he’s worth. his body tries to give you everything it can.

his eyes shut tightly as he gives you the loudest moan probably… ever? you’ve never heard him cry out like that, and you wish you could have recorded it to go back and hear it again. his voice breaks, and he takes a sharp breath in, holding it as his muscles tense and spasm until he’s left achy and exhausted and filled to the brim with pleasure.

“awhh…. so cute, baby…” you mumble, “c’mon, give me all of it, don’t make me make you cum again. if it’s anything like the first, you might just pass out, sweet boy.”

“ah… oh, oh my god,” he breathes heavily, twitching, “mommy… mommy, i- mommy, please… please, mommy,” he can’t stop thinking about it. mommy is all he can think about like this.

he cries, literally. the kind where you can’t help sobbing and sniffing and you curl in on yourself in a desperate attempt to self soothe. you half expected it; leon usually cries after more intense sex. he doesn’t know why, but usually he’s embarrassed of it and tries to hide it. he must just be too far gone right now to care.

you pull out, earning a desperate whine that makes you want to rail it back into him, balls deep, watch him squeeze his eyes shut tightly and him scream in pleasure, but you restrain yourself. he's crying right now. even though he would technically consent, he wouldn’t really want it.

you take 30 seconds to clean both of you off, and those 30 seconds are tortuous to him, even if you’re praising him the whole time.

that’s it. his greatest weakness. praise.

no, your praise.

to be told he’s good, to be told he did a good job, to be told you’re proud of him. he sobs as he soaks in your praise like a sponge. he wants to listen to your sweet words every single day for the rest of his life. you whisper to him how he’s perfect, everything about him is, how you adore him, wanna give him everything so he’ll stay with you forever, etc.

in his defense, he has absolutely zero control over what he’s saying right now, but he looks up at you, with tear-filled, red eyes, his bottom lip trembling just slightly, “you don’t have to give me stuff… i’m always gonna be yours.”

and it hits a nerve you haven’t felt in a long time. maybe it’s the subspace he’s in, or maybe you’re reading the situation wrong, so you don’t push it, but something inside your heart feels… off.

to put it bluntly, he shouldn’t be yours. he should find someone he could really love to spend his days with. there’s no reason for leon to stay with you if you stopped giving him money, paying his bills, and taking care of him. at least, there shouldn’t be?

oh, unless…

–

a couple hours later, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter with him, eating cold chicken nuggets and giggling about whatever you were watching on tv. leon looks at you a little differently than usual right now, his eyes softer, fonder than you’re used to. his eyes carefully track your more animated hand movements as you passionately explain something about this show. he has no idea what you’re talking about; he just likes hearing you speak.

he kisses the corner of your lip when you jokingly ask if you have anything on your face, which turns into a full kiss that leaves him a little breathless, that feeling of excitement and nerves returning in his stomach.

yeah, he thinks to himself, pure, unadulterated beauty.

as you kiss, he pulls back to look into your eyes, looking at you as if you held up each individual constellation for him, with a godly reverence that would almost turn you on if the moment wasn’t weirdly romantic.

“baby…?” your voice sounds shaky and unsure, and he doesn’t miss your lack of composure.

maybe that was a good thing. a sign.

he chuckles, “nothing, mommy… nothing at all.”