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d3add0vedonoteat · 4 months

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Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #sickfic #carmen berzatto fluff

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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i’m obsessed with everything you write! you write our boys so well 🖤🖤 could I request poly!marauders maybe with some casual dominance and just taking care of the reader? like picking out her clothes, making sure she eats, just being protective but also so soft with her

Thanks lovely! Here you go :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Morning, angel,” James chirps as you step into the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good, thanks.” You take the coffee he hands you, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “You?”

“Phenomenally. How do you want your eggs?”

“I’m alright without, thanks though.” You sit down next to Remus at the table, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s just the way you like it, with heaps of cream and sugar.

“Can’t skip breakfast, dove,” Remus says, hardly looking up from the newspaper as he speaks to you.

“I don’t feel like eggs,” you reply, watching him warily over the top of your mug, trying to gauge if he might let it go. “And I’m not really hungry anyway.”

Amber eyes flick up to yours as Remus turns the page. “You’re not going to work on an empty stomach. You need to eat something.”

“I’ll make you something else,” James offers sweetly. “Whaddya want, my love?”

You smile at him, batting your eyelashes. “Could I have some toast please, Jamie?”

He flips his spatula expertly, winking at you. “Might be above my skill level, but I’ll do my best for you, angel.”

You laugh, and Remus rolls his eyes at the both of you. Sirius trods in still wearing his pajama bottoms, a smirk coming to his lips as he reads the room instantly.

“In trouble already?” he drops a kiss on the top of your head, reaching over to squeeze Remus’ shoulder in greeting. “What’ve you done now, hm?”

Your eyes dart nervously to Remus, waiting to see if he’ll rat you out. Though Remus is the sternest of your boyfriends, Sirius delights in being in charge, and you know he’ll rub it in the most. You imagine it’s the older brother in him.

“It’s resolved,” Remus says simply, and you think you detect the faintest twitch of his lips when you grin at him in relief.

“Siri, have you seen the leaves outside?” you ask hastily, going for the distraction before he can attempt to pry further. “It’s like they finally turned just overnight.”

He takes the bait, leaning back in his seat to peer out the window. You’d been ecstatic when you’d cracked the curtains in your bedroom this morning to see your street had taken on a whole new color palate, everything red and orange and golden. “It does finally look like autumn, doesn’t it?” He gives you a critical once-over. “That isn’t going to do for the chill out there, sweetheart.”

You look down at your skirt and blouse. You quite like this outfit. “You think? It’s not supposed to be that cold yet, is it?”

Sirius raises a brow just as Remus finishes with the paper, folding it and looking up to see what the two of you are on about. “It’s September, love,” he reasons. “If it got cold enough last night to turn the leaves, it’s cold enough to at least wear a jumper.”

“I’m thinking fleece tights and a sweatshirt,” Sirius says contemplatively, more to Remus than to you. “Don’t run off after breakfast, dollface, and I’ll go pick them out for you.”

You start to protest, but then Sirius’ mouth drops open, and you turn to see James teetering toward you, balancing four plates across his arms.

“Fucking hell, Prongs,” he breathes, but James manages to distribute all four dishes safely, setting your toast in front of you last with a flourish.

“Good idea,” he says, picking up the previous conversation as though nothing has happened. “Can’t have our girl shivering out there in the cold.”

You roll your eyes but munch happily on your toast, ignoring how Remus eyes you watchfully as you eat.

Since you finish first, you offer to wash up while Sirius goes and selects the additions to your outfit as he sees fit, changing into them afterwards. You have to admit, the day does look promisingly crisp outside your bedroom window, and the tights and sweatshirt he has you layer with what you already have on are soft and comfy.

“Let me get those for you,” James offers as you pull on your shoes, and you place your foot on his knee obediently, letting him tie them both with a firm pat on the side of your shoe once he’s done. “There y’go, angel. Double-knotted and everything.”

You press a rewarding kiss to his cheek, and Sirius comes in from canoodling with Remus to oversee his handiwork. He hums, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in your tights and adjusting the sweatshirt on your shoulders unnecessarily while you and James exchange glances, each fighting to keep a straight face. “Might need a scarf too,” he muses, and James bursts into laughter.

“Siri, come on,” you protest, unable to contain a few giggles of your own.

James grabs Sirius around the waist, throwing him onto the bed beside you. “Work on your own outfit, Pads.”

“You’re all going to be late if you don’t get going,” Remus says, smiling at the scene as he comes in. James detaches himself from Sirius, his expression morphing into that well-practiced facade of angelic innocence.

“I was just on my way out,” he says, giving Remus a goodbye kiss. “See you all later.” He pats you on the head as he passes, and then he’s out the door.

Remus moves to the bed, leaning over Sirius, who props himself up on his elbows to meet him halfway. “Get dressed,” Remus says as he breaks the kiss, tucking a piece of silky black hair behind Sirius’ ear. “You can’t afford to be late again, love.”

You stand as he moves to you next, wrapping a long-fingered hand around the side of your hip, and you let your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you sweetly. “Be good,” he says softly, placing an additional kiss at your temple. “I’ll see you tonight, dovey.”

“See you tonight,” you echo, and then it’s just Sirius and you, his eyes playful as they meet yours.

“Be good,” he coos mockingly. “Think you can do that all day long?”

You grin, picking up your bag from the end of the bed. “Hey, at least I’m dressed.”

“Oi!” Sirius says as you leave the room. “Where’s my kiss?”

“Sorry,” you reply gaily, “can’t be late. You can’t afford to either, remember?”

“Oh, feeling bold, are we?” he calls after you. “We’ll see how bold you are later tonight.”

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 1 month

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Older (Dean Winchester)

Description: Y/N has a crush on Dean but they have a 20 year age gap. How does Dean react when she finally tells him?

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,743k

Y/N watched Dean as he washed Baby. His big muscular arms on display with the tight white shirt that had dirt on it. Baby was soapy and wet as Dean wiped her down. Y/N was trying not to drool as he went in circular motions cleaning the car. She was too into the scene in front of her; she didn’t notice Sam coming up to her side. “Stare any longer he might just notice your obvious crush on him.” He said to me, making her snap out of it. She turned towards him and rolled her eyes. He chuckled and handed her a beer. She took it from him and took a drink. “Ya think maybe he’s too old for you.” He said. Y/N pushed him and they both laughed. She sighed and looked at Dean again. He was pouring water on the soapy car. She sighed and got up from her spot and walked into the house. She needed a cold shower to erase the dirty thoughts from her mind.

It was days later that she’d be staring at the older man as he made breakfast. They had just come back from a hunt and Y/N was hungry so Dean offered to cook for her. Sam was getting some sleep but the other two were wide awake. “How do you like your eggs?” He asked her as he got them out of the fridge. “Over easy.” She said and he cracked the two eggs on the pan. She watched as he put the bread in the toaster. “You really didn’t have to make me anything.” She said as Dean put the eggs on the plate. “But I wanted to. You deserve it putting up with us.” She laughed as he set the eggs and toast in front of her. She thanked him. “Well I like putting up with you guys.” She said. He got his plate and sat across from her. “What, you got a crush on one of us?” He joked but she didn’t laugh. “Nah we’re probably too old for you anyway.” He said. She stared at him without saying anything. She shook her head and went back to eating her food. “Yeah totally.” She said.

She woke up 7 hours later in bed and yawned. She remembered the cringey things Dean asked her this morning and she sighed. She thought for a second when he asked her that she was caught. Luckily Dean was oblivious.She got out of bed and stretched. She walked out of her room and noticed Dean at the table on the computer. “Where’s Sam?” She asked. “Grocery Shopping.” He said and nodded and sat down across from him. He looked up from the computer at her. “So back to early convo you probably like Jack don’t you?” He asked. She looked at him confused. “No, not the antichrist.” She laughed. “Do you even like anybody?” He asked. “Dean, can we not talk about this?” She asked not wanting to expose herself. “Yeah sure.” He said and went back to research. The silence now,awkward and unwanted.

Why was Dean so curious about who she had feelings for or if she did? She honestly thought that Dean was too old for her but that’s how she liked it. They were eating dinner and she had a glass of wine. Dean sat across from her and Sam sat next to Dean. Jack and Cas sat next to her. Everyone was in a conversation except her. She never talked much while eating. She sometimes butted in with Jack and Cas but other than that kept quiet. Dean noticed her silence and wondered if it was about his question earlier. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. After dinner was over she helped him clean up.

She didn’t say anything to him so he figured he thought correct. “I’m sorry about the question earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He said. She looked at him. “You didn’t.” She said and poured herself some more wine. “If I did I would completely understand-” “Dean.” She interrupted him. He looked over at her and she was holding the wine and her upper body on the table a little. Her boobs are perfectly on display. “What are you-” She took a sip of wine and smirked. “I told myself I’d never fuck anyone old enough to be my dad.” She states. He stares at her in shock. She stood up and walked closer to him. “That was until I met you.” She said seductively. “Wait you like me?” He asked her confused but kinda turned on.

She nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And before you give me any of that age bullshit. I’m 22 i’m an adult.” He stared at her as her hands ran over his chest. “You have no idea what you do to me Dean.” She says and her hands lower themselves to the bottom of his shirt. She tugs on it and he looks down seeing what she was doing. “Y/N are you sure?” He asked her. She looked up at him with lustful eyes. “Are you sure Dean? Think you can handle me, old man?” He chuckled and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.She laughed as he took her to his room. He threw her on the bed and smirked. “I’m 42 sweetheart not 72.” He said and took off his shirt revealing his amazing body. She was almost drooling at the sight. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down in a kiss. He moved his lips against hers as his hands traveled her body. He lifts her tank top up a bit and she pulls away from the kiss. She sits up and removes it showing her white bra. He looks down at her boobs and cups them. “Wow you’re so sexy.” He says and moves his hands to her back. He unclips the bra and she lets it fall freeing her boobs. He smirks at the sight and leans down to put one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasps his name and her hands go to his head as he licks and sucks. Her hands moved to his jeans and she cupped his growing erection. He moans against her nipple. “Dean take these off.” She breathes out. He pulls away from her nipple and gets up to remove his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers. She moves herself to the end of the bed and pulls him closer to her. “I didn’t know if I want you in my mouth or inside of me.” She says and he chuckles. Her eyes staring at his long hard cock. “Both would be ideal but right now I really need to be inside of you.” He tells her and pushes her back on the bed.

She smiles as he pulls down her panties. He gets back on her and kisses her again. She runs her hands up and down his muscular back. He pulls away and sighs into her mouth as he lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly and she gives a sharp gasp. “Are you okay?” He asked. She nods. He pushes in deeper and her noises fill his ear. She hadn’t had sex with many people and certainly not with a guy this big before. Once he was in her all the way he let her adjust to him. They stare at each other as she adjusts to him. He got lost in her eyes not believing that this was happening right now. She pulled him out of his thoughts when she thrusted up. She moaned as the pain was gone and she was full of pleasure. He started moving his hips and she let out little moans. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened. He didn’t let his eyes close as he watched her facial expressions. He groaned as her hips started matching his. She grabs his neck and moans his name. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathes out and she opens her eyes to look at him. “You feel so good inside of me.” She whimpers. He leans down and starts kissing her neck. She gasped and pulled him closer if that was possible. “Dean, go faster.” She begged and he moved as fast as he could.His hips pounding into her hard and fast making the bed screech. His lips left marks on her neck. Neither of them cared at the moment.

He pulled out of her some and angled his hips. He slammed back in her and hit her g spot making her scream. He covered her mouth with his hand. “Gotta remember sweetheart we aren’t the only ones here.” He groans in her ear. She tried to keep her sounds to a minimum but with him pounding at her g spot that didn’t work. “Dean, you feel too good.” She mumbles in his hand. He nods. “Fuck I know baby. You feel amazing.” He moans. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. He was twitching inside of her signaling that he was close too. “Baby I'm close.” She moaned and he groaned out a me too. She gasped out feeling him fill her up which triggered her orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her orgasm hit her. She bit her lip trying to hold back the loud noises that threatened to spill from her. Her hips moved up as she rode out her high. Dean watched her and almost became hard again. Her hips slowed and she opened her eyes seeing Dean already looking at her. “That was hot.” He smirked. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah well thanks to you.” She smirked back. He pulled out of her causing her to moan.

He got up and went to the bathroom and got a wet towel. He came back and cleaned her and him up. “Such a gentleman.” She teased. He laughed and threw the towel in the laundry bin. He collapsed next to her and yawned. “Tired old man?” He turned to look at her. “Baby I could go another 5 rounds.” He said. She turned towards him and smirked. “Prove it.” She said and he smirked. Sam couldn’t sleep that night but Dean and Y/N weren’t complaining.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

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sttoru · 9 months

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STEP ON ME !

ෆ sypnosis. satoru decides to surprise you by making breakfast in bed since you weren’t feeling well. he leaves the kitchen a complete mess, which only stresses you out more and it eventually turns into a small argument.

ෆ note. had to make some satoru angst (+ comfort at the end).. based on a thought i had of satoru holding back tears & failinf t_t not proofread !

ෆ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, reverse comfort, bits of fluff, satoru holdin back tears because he isn’t used to u raising ur voice.. ehem. that’s all ima say.

satoru’s tongue stuck out between his lips as he was deeply focused on cracking an egg open without making too much noise. he had planned this surprise breakfast for you in secrecy ever since he spotted the stress and fatigue in your demeanour. it was written all over your face: you needed a break from life itself and as soon as it was possible.

the least your lover could do was make things easier for you by doing the simplest of tasks. that’s the reason behind satoru’s motivation this morning. he was determined to make you your favourite food just to be able to see that smile on your face again.

‘then, add 200ml of milk,’ the voice of a woman explaining the recipe on a youtube video sounded from somewhere in the kitchen. satoru couldn’t even spot his phone throughout the entire mess he made; he just followed what the voice said.

there was flour everywhere on the counter along with broken egg shells, spilled milk, ripped open packages of seasoning, some other pans on the stove which got toasts in them (already halfway burning). all in all, it was utter chaos, though it seemed like satoru’s been used to it.

“okay.. now we mix it.” satoru mumbles to himself and grabs a whisk to mix the ingredients in the bowl. he had a joyful expression on his face, dimples showing near the corners of his mouth, blue eyes glimmering with anticipation at what your reaction could be.

‘she’s gonna be so surprised—can’t wait,’ your lover was already imagining just what your face would look like once he surprises you. it fills his heart with pure and unadulterated love.

little did he knew that you were already awake due to the distant noises of destruction in your kitchen. you had awoken with a headache and were already in a bad mood because of whoever interrupted your (already) poor sleeping schedule. satoru was most likely the culprit since he wasn’t in bed with you right this moment.

you lift yourself up with a groan, mumbling some complaints once you realised that you had been awoken at 9 in the morning. today was the first and last day in so many weeks that you could sleep in, yet was instantly ruined. this only fuelled your stress for the day ahead.

what you didn’t expect, however, was to find the kitchen in such a disastrous condition. you freeze on spot and stare at the mess with wide eyes. the only thing you could hope for in that instant, was that this was all part of a very long and realistic nightmare.

satoru wiped some flour from his face as he was too engrossed on perfectly cutting up some of your favourite fruit. he had a proud expression on his face once the last pieces were sliced up and stepped back to admire his work, “absolute masterpiece. bet she’ll be happy about it.”

a long sigh coming from behind the sorcerer made him turn around. his face lit up at the sight of you. especially because he loves how adorable you look in the mornings; a bit grumpy, tired eyes, pouty lips— although there was no denying it; you seemed even grumpier today which didn’t surprise him. you were going through a hard time after all.

“hi, baby!” satoru greets you with a bright smile in hopes to erase whatever was bothering you, “i made you your favourite breakfast combo. i thought i’d surprise you today, but heh, guess you found out before i could.”

you didn’t even pay any mind to what was said nor did you look up at your lover even once. all your eyes were seeing was the complete mess all around the kitchen, on the tiles, counter and walls.

“satoru,” another deep sighs leaves your lips in attempt to calm your nerves and not lose your temper, “what’s all this?”

satoru hesitates a little to speak up once he senses the slight discomfort—no—irritation building up in you. he’s always been attentive to any changes in your mood and that’s how he easily comes to know when you’re upset. this moment was no different.

“hm? what?” satoru slowly asks, voice lower than it was previously. he really was trying not to accidentally strike a nerve, all the while keeping that big smile on his lips. there was a quiet voice in the back of his mind which was telling him that you were at the verge of breaking down. you’ve been on the edge since yesterday. it was only a matter of time for you to lose your temper.

thus, satoru decides to tread carefully, doing that by trying to change topics and feigning innocence. of course, he knew you meant the disaster in the kitchen, however he figured it’d be the right choice to make you forget about it;

“you mean this? it’s your favourite pancakes and—uhh— your favourite fruits and stuff. y’know what i realised this morning? cookin’ is really har—”

“don’t act dumb. you know damn well what i meant, gojo.”

the harsh words pierce through satoru’s soul. the tone of voice used by you sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. it was noticeable, the physical changes satoru went through in under two seconds: his smile dropped, lips slightly parting in mild shock, body freezing and eyes shaky as they looked back at yours.

the last thing he had expected was for you to be so stone cold to him. satoru never has heard you be this hostile against him throughout the entirety of your relationship, hence his reaction.

and the cherry on top? you using his family’s name to refer to satoru as an individual. the only ones using ‘gojo’ to refer to him were his students and strangers. it felt like your long, loving and strong relationship was shattered in that split second.

“b-baby, i..” he stumbles over his own words. what was there left to say, anyway? you clearly felt angry with him to the point your eyes were glaring at him like he was an enemy of yours. not a lover whom had only shown care and love for you all this time.

all satoru wanted was to make you happy. he didn’t want to upset you in any way, but you were too stressed out by everything to even notice his pure intentions. after all, a negative mindset drives you to hyper focus on all the negativity going on in your life.

“just get out.” you sigh as you walk past your lover, slightly bumping against the tall man which-surprisingly-makes him budge and stumble a step back, “i’ll clean this up.”

satoru didn’t even look at you anymore as his gaze was fixed on the cold tiles underneath his feet. there were a thousand questions going through his head. he didn’t want an answer to all of them. he only needed an answer to one:

“are you mad at me?”

satoru’s voice hadn’t sounded this weak and fragile in ages. in fact, satoru hadn’t felt his heart ache this bad in decades. he knows; he knows he messes up sometimes. the mistakes made in the past, which led to disappointment and even breaks of long lasting relationships, haunted him every night. he never blames others for leaving him since the only outcome of staying with him was disadvantageous.

you don’t answer that question, being too focused on cleaning the food and ingredients cluttered everywhere. the fact that you didn’t answer made satoru panic. even if he tried his best not to show his weakness in the moment.

if only he hadn’t made a mess, if only he didn’t try to do something he knew he wasn’t good at, if only.. he never stepped foot in this kitchen today; none of this would have happened. he wouldn’t have hurt another person who was dear to him.

satoru clenches his fists, white locks covering his eyes to hide the pain, panic and despair in them. there was a lump in the back of his throat, one which he had grown to get used to whenever things go wrong.

but, he can handle it; he can just push those feelings away and act like everything was okay. like he wasn’t hurt by your words. he should just go and help you clean up silently; with a smile on his face regardless. maybe it’d cheer you up— it’s always worth a try.

whilst being in hurtful moments like these, gojo satoru couldn’t help but be the most selfless person on earth.

“sorry. i’m sorry.” his voice breaks the uneasy silence between the two of you. without facing him, you could sense the devastation in his tone. satoru clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails making a small wound on the palm. he was trying his utter best not to break down in front of you, because that would be unlike him; unlike the strongest.

“please don’t be mad at me.” what he actually meant by that sentence was ‘please don’t leave me’. satoru’s eye twitches a little as tears begin to blur his vision. he turns his back at you so that you couldn’t notice them— or rather— can’t notice his vulnerability in general.

your movements come to an abrupt halt as your ears pick up on a small hitch of his breath. you knew it well; the little gasp of air before somebody starts crying. that’s when you snapped out of your angry trance, your whole demeanour mellowing instantly.

you turned your body sideways and bit your lip once you saw how satoru had his back turned to you—his shoulders trembling a bit from your point of view. you hesitantly took a few steps towards your lover and when you spoke, your voice was a complete opposite to its earlier used tone, “hey, satoru.”

silence.

you felt your heart break as you realised what you’ve said earlier and how bad it could’ve came across to satoru. your gaze falls on the plates he filled with your all time favourite dishes. the mess surrounding it was just evidence of his hard work— his love for you.

“baby.” you try again, placing a careful hand on satoru’s back. he’s never shown you a vulnerable side of his. you were always met with silly smiles or jokes, despite him being at his lowest.

satoru tensed up a bit as your hand came in contact with his body. it was not out of fear for you, but rather for the consequences of that touch. it was like he forgot all about your irritation from earlier and just set his attention on how you tried to comfort him.

a sigh leaves your lips before you step around satoru’s body to face him properly. his head was still held low and his snowy bangs kept covering his beautiful eyes, though there was no doubt about it: he was silently crying.

you reach out for him, pulling his head to rest on your chest, your other arm draped around his shoulders. soft pecks were placed all over his soft hair while his face was buried in your chest.

in a fraction of just a second, satoru’s entire body melts into your embrace. his arms wrap around your waist while his face was squished against your chest. your scent filled his nostrils which bought him a sense of safety and comfort since it meant that you were still with him. satoru sniffles quietly and squeezes you tightly like he doesn’t want to ever let go of you.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m the one who should be sorry. not you. please forgive me for snapping at you.” you mumble, feeling the guilt hit you in big waves when you took note of the way satoru clung onto you.

quiet sobs, ones that left you devastated, filled the silence in the kitchen. the vibrations of satoru’s soft cries could be felt against your chest and it caused you to hug him tighter than before. you nuzzle your nose into his white, fluffy hair and plant a couple more kisses on his scalp which were meant for comfort.

constant apologies spill from your lips as you realise how bad you must’ve hurt the guy to get him to cry; if anyone else saw satoru straight up sob like this, they’d be baffled yet curious as to what could’ve made such an all time upbeat man finally break down.

all it actually took was you. the most dearest person in his life at the moment, to show a small amount of disappointment in him and satoru felt like his entire future was done for. because, what would a successful future be without you present? it’d all be meaningless, that’s for sure.

“it’s okay.” satoru finally manages to say, his voice hoarse from silently crying in your arms. he slowly pulls his head back to look at you. his blue eyes were glistening with tears, the corners a red hue from all the emotions flowing through him, “i should’ve been more careful.”

your heart sinks at the sight of your lover whom was still insisting on it being his fault. satoru was always like that, no matter the circumstances.

“no, it’s not your fault.” your fingers brushed away the crystal clear drops on satoru’s pale skin, “all you wanted to do was surprise me and make me happy. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

satoru looked up at you and then down at your fingers as they gently wiped off his tears. you treated him so delicately in this moment and he loved every second of it. a small smile crept on his face and he eventually nodded,

“thank you.” the two words were simple ones, however you could feel the gratitude radiating off satoru as he slowly regains his usual form. his white eyelashes were wet with tears, cheeks flushed and areas surrounding his eyes gaining a subtly red colour.

it didn’t take much for your lover to calm down. as long as he has you, he can have the entire world and its population against him and he’d still feel the best he ever was. as long as you stayed by his side and didn’t ignore him nor hate him, he’ll live his best life.

no one else mattered to the strongest except for you. and your validation.

“you’re beautiful.” you mutter as you take a good look at satoru’s face from up close. you’ve never seen him properly cry before, so this sight was a first. and oh, what was it an ethereal one.

satoru’s eyes widen in response and he raises his eyebrows at the comment you dropped out of nowhere. all the pain, frustrations and stress were sucked out of his system. from yours as well.

“aht aht, don’t start now, babe”. he playfully scolds while poking your cheek. satoru straightens his back and gazed down at you with that signature grin of his, “we both know you’re more beautiful.”

you giggle and shake your head. you know it’s coming up next; the compliment war. the only battle which satoru hadn’t won just yet. it always ends up with a draw since neither of you want to give up when it comes to showing your love to each orher.

its what strengthens your bond and made it to what it is today. small arguments or misunderstandings, such as the one from earlier, are no match to the purest form of love that lingers between the two of you.

neither satoru nor you will ever give up on your relationship. you both only have each other left in this world after all.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #jjk x you #jjk angst

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

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Bound - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Miguel O’Hara was never known to be a man wanting. He was beyond content with the power surging through him upon his multiversal throne. That is until he lays his hungry eyes upon you. Now, he will do whatever it takes just for the taste of you… dark!miguel x reader fic. very steamy as always <3

Notes: I couldn’t stop myself from this hades and persephone-esque fic so I hope you enjoy!! SW&P is far lighter if you desire that <3

next chap

one

Morning is a sweet greeting to you, warm and incandescent to shine it’s rays upon soft skin. As it always is. Though you find it to be dreary on days like this, as it is the same as the day prior, and the day prior to that day. As if it is not sparkling gold but shadowing gray.

All the same repetitive waltz for you.

Yet to your unknowing mind, much would change within the quick hour. Change not in the way of little things but rather in the way that would make your toes curl and your eager hands grab your tresses so you might not trip upon them on your dash toward the tallest hills.

You would have run had you known what was to come.

Yet you didn’t; and so? Your morning was quite a bore.

Similar to a zombie are your sunken cheeks and coffee kissed eyes decorated with awful bags. Your toothbrush is made of oak as is your boar-bristled comb. You tend to your prettying before slipping away from the hustle and bustle of a lively home. Four sisters and two brothers you sport, and an overbearing woman you dare to call your mother.

You made routine of this. Sneaking away with the latest print picked up from the small shop next to the apothecary in town. Out the oak wood door and past the burnt toast and meat to cuddle yourself comfortably against your favored weeping willow by the bend.

Your only company is the ducklings these days, though you don’t mind them much. They are mostly quiet beyond the occasional quack.

Serenity became you as you lay there in the remnants of springtime’s shadow, willfully sprouted in peonies and lilac blossoms.

Your print is a work of Austen, an old and worn thing but one you’d found comfort in recently. It would be your fourth time revisiting.

Would… however.

“Oh heavens sakes! You must enjoy making your mother walk upon tousled soil, girl! Have you got half a mind!? I don’t presume so otherwise you’d avoid any possibility of me losing a leg!”

A whine like that of a carnaged cat rings out from behind the bend. In the grassy plains your mother struggles her way toward you. You stand to your feet in swift motion, but your wandering eye finds curiosity in an unfamiliar bloom. Its colors an odd pairing of red and blue unfurled toward the sun.

What an odd thing, you think.

The huffing and puffing snaps your attention center, and you nearly grumble in complaint as you hurry toward your mother.

“Mama I was just—”

“Oh save it. I see you slip out each morning, I know full well your disdain for the company of your own family… but I didn’t come here to admonish you, sweet girl. Quite the opposite in fact. I am here to ask a favor of you. It seems the cold air has made our chickens most unwilling to provide us with eggs. Won’t you go in town and gather some?”

Like the rainfall’s mist caught by breath of wind, your hopes and plans of reading in the bend till dawn have dissipated. Pursing your lips, you nod— not wanting to administer a guaranteed headache at wake of your protest.

In to town you’ll venture.

✧*̥˚ … *̥˚✧

The cobblestone is cracked underneath your boot, as it is dampened by springtime’s departured mist. You like the clicking sound, though it is most lonesome at this ungodly hour.

The house cannot be run well with lack of your aid. Father left long ago and mother is just a dreadful housewife. The doctor blames her dissonance on the ailments within her mind’s confines though— she swears herself always to be whole and well.

Regardless, for the sake of your sisters— you help. Besides this, you owe it to her.

Your basket is made of weaved wicker and adorned with crimson cloth, at the end of the cobble is where life shines proud. A more lively gathering of townsfolk in search of early morning eggs to enjoy with their breakfast.

A single carriage, outdated as the things are, surges forward in an unstable command by a young man. He cannot be past twenty three, and his face is speckled with pale freckles. His hair is a burnt orange rasp.

The stallions are dark as midnight, sweat being huffed like chimney smoke from their nostrils. Dear god, the way he commands them is certain to ensure an accident.

You tuck the thought away in to the back of your mind to be focused upon your task. You’ll need no more than a dozen or perhaps three what with the vacuum cleaner your eldest brother refers to as his mouth.

Babblebrooke, it is where you’ve lived most your orphaned life. Surely some places have technology of picture books and magazines you skim through when you are awarded the rare chance but— you find yourself content with a place so simple.

You cannot imagine a life of loudness, no quiet space to tuck away and read. It’s a frightening thought.

The stand is nearby, only a few more passing steps and you’ll reach it. Your eyes are locked on the fresh berries, but you know full well you won’t have enough for them.

A bark startles you out of your trance, one excited and pointed. You jump at the sound and turn your head to find a cocker spaniel hound circling round and round to chase its own tail. You giggle at the sight, and its chestnut ears raise in alarm at the vibration.

Oh, it’s noticed you.

The little thing hobbles over excitedly, and you cannot help but bend on your knee to brush back its silken locks.

Beyond a canvas collar of pale pink lays a heart, engraved in molten silver the title: “Lyla.”

So she belongs to someone. Such a kind thing, they are to be a lucky companion indeed.

You smooth back the hair from her excited eyes before lifting to your feet again and continuing forward. She begins to follow you, but a movement in the alleyway shadows is a matter she finds far more pressing for her attention.

“Lyla…” you test in a whisper as you make your way behind a man hunched and gray— awaiting his eggs for breakfast.

Time seems agonizing and the line moves awfully slow, you peek behind the elder man to find annoyance laced in the eyes of the townsfolk. Blaire has taken a liking to the farm boy— it seems she’s busying herself with conversing nonsense with his mother rather than picking her fresh fruits for tart pastries.

You sigh, checking the time on your cracked, golden watch with impatience brewing at the soles of your boots. You sway on them, shifting your weight forward and back. No use just staring ahead.

Though it is quite loud, it doesn’t stop you from reaching in to your tote for “Jane Eyre.”

You find your favorite part, their first midnight meeting in the hallway. How romantic it is, you only wish that to be a possibility for you one day. You forbid yourself from joining the season of course but somewhere tucked away inside— you wonder how marvelous it would be for a broody and handsome thing to appear upon your doorstep with a bouquet the size of France.

You grin at the thought. Though it is swiftly interrupted by the quick patter of familiar paws.

“Woah! Easy!”

Your head snaps up at the gasps of those around you, and you are most horrified to see that the horses have reached the steep bend mere steps away. The ginger fool, they halt in warning and he kicks at them— slapping them with a russet pole. They comply, and the carriage loses control.

It creaks, hurling forward and disconnecting from its rusted shell. Tumbling at godspeed down the cobble and straight for little Lyla who lays mindlessly and happily on her back now.

Panic surges, and your eyes find worry in everyone’s features and yet no motive to act alongside it. Such cowardly men, allowing the poor thing to succumb to the bite of freak nature and cruel fate.

You won’t allow it. Though you feel frozen, the sharp and desperate shout of “Lyla!” from a phantom voice is enough to snap you back into the most horrible moment present.

“Christ!” You breathe, tossing Jane Eyre to the sapphire sky before surging forward. The carriage stalls on a pebble for a quick moment and it’s enough time for you to beat it by a mere step. You scoop the silly thing into your arms and as the wheel just grazes your skin— it is you now that is saved from immediate death.

A warm hand tugs at your wrist and you’re certain the brick wall has grown awfully large palms and fingers; for what you slam up against is hard and unpleasant.

You grunt, Lyla yelping in surprise where she is tucked up tightly against your chest.

Whistles and claps overtake the coward crowd and you sway upon your own boots as the wind itself makes you unsteady with its light graze. Firm palms steel you, grasping your shoulders tight to keep you together and well.

Your eyes venture on an upward path to find two crimson pupils imploring your features as if they are etched in stone and stored away in a beloved museum somewhere in Rome.

Brows pinched and quite bushy, eyes cold but curious, his reddened orbs search your face for what feels like a millennium. Fascinated.

Awed.

You blink, and the cry of the sweet creature in your arms breaks the trance you were entangled in. Lyla leaps from your arms and onto the cobble path— and you only huff and reach a weak arm toward her before the exhaustion of a skipped meal and your adrenaline fueled actions bring you to sit on the cobble ground.

He kneels beside you, the stranger. Yet you cannot find yourself mustering enough energy to truly examine his face. Just his eyes, rare things they are.

“She’ll be alright.” He whispers, hands still pleasantly upon your shoulders as if he fears you’ll topple over and shatter once he parts.

When you do lift your gaze however, stricken curious by the sickly silken sound of his voice, he’s gone.

“Thank y-”

The word croaks in your throat, and you can only wonder how it was possible… how quickly the phantom left you upon the cobble. The farm boy rushes over soon, much to the demise of poor Blaire. She stares on at the carriage and ginger man as if she wishes it was her nearly trampled.

He hands you fresh water and berries, and you wave his concern away and the crowd’s curiosity with a weak hand.

Your mind is only glued upon one thing.

The phantom.

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @queenb27sblog-blog @dprmooni @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things @heartfeltlonging @coralreefses @knightowl019 @cybersry

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year

Text

LILIES & ROSES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive comment. WORD COUNT: 1.2k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddos! megumi & tsumiki

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend hates being woken up in the morning, but her unconventional family has a surprise for her. AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy mothers day to all the mamas out there! here's a quick little fic for oc gojo girlfriend and how much tsumiki, megumi, and satoru love her. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

"alright kiddos, here's the plan," satoru started a huddle in the middle of the living room with tsumiki and megumi. megumi rolled his eyes and sighed, he never liked to entertain anything satoru was thinking of. tsumiki had a big smile on her face and always followed along with whatever he said. "megumi is going to get flowers across the street and tsumiki is going to stay behind and start breakfa—"

"and what exactly are you going to do?" megumi glared at his white haired guardian.

"well, your brave and handsome caregiver is going to obviously be the one to wake up (y/n)." satoru said.

megumi, tsumiki, and satoru shuddered at the thought of having to be the one to wake you up from your slumber. if there was one thing they all knew in the household, it was not to wake you up from your sleep on your days off.

7 year old megumi held out his hand to satoru, "give me your credit card." satoru scoffed in disbelief at how straightforward megumi could be. he sighed and pulled out his credit card as the 7 year old boy swiped it from his fingers with the swiftness.

megumi walked down to the flower shop across the street. he thought out how you and satoru had "adopted" him and tsumiki almost two years ago. you and satoru were still students at jujutsu high school. it was a huge adjustment as satoru and you were only 18 years old at the time, entering into your third year as sorcerers.

the flower shop owner smiled as megumi walked into the shop, "hi megumi, are you here to get some flowers for (y/n) for mother's day?"

megumi softly smiled, "how did you know?"

"oh, i had a feeling," the shop owner said. little did megumi know, satoru gojo was a regular at this flower shop. mainly because he stopped here to buy you flowers whenever he made you upset.

"(y/n)'s favorite flowers are lilies," she recommended as megumi was looking at the huge bouquet of roses. "mr. gojo always gets her roses, but secretly her favorites are the lilies."

megumi turned to look at the beautiful white lilies. he had an idea.

"can i have a big bouquet with both roses and lilies?" megumi asked the shop owner. she smiled at him and nodded.

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

at home, tsumiki was standing on a small step stool in front of the stove flipping small pancakes in a cute pink frilly apron that satoru had bought for her. the kitchen smelled of bacon and coffee. at the ripe young age of 8, tsumiki was quite skilled in the kitchen. she hummed to herself as she set the pancakes onto four plates and started to crack eggs into a new clean frying pan.

"megumi and i like overeasy eggs... gojo-sensei likes scrambled... and (y/n) likes sunny side up..." tsumiki spoke softly to herself. the toaster popped up as she stepped to the side and took the four pieces of toast out. she returned back to watch her eggs.

"i'm home," megumi announced as he set the large bouquet of flowers on the dining table, "where's the idiot?"

"he's in the room with (y/n)!" tsumiki happily chirped.

the mutual agreement was knowing that the "idiot" in question was satoru gojo.

megumi took out a folded piece of paper from his backpack and handed it to tsumiki as she slid all the eggs into their respective plates, "here, sign it."

tsumiki opened the piece of paper to find a drawing of somewhat identifiable stick figures. she saw megumi with his dark blue hair, her with her brown ponytail, satoru with his sunglasses and white hair, and you with your long black hair and green eyes. underneath the family portrait was written in megumi's surprisingly neat penmanship, ‘happy mother’s day ’.

"awww megumi, this is so cute!" tsumiki gushed.

megumi brushed her off and said, "it's not a big deal, we had to make mother's day cards in my homeroom class".

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

satoru gojo was risking it all today. he opened the bedroom door, the room was still dark as the blackout curtains haven't been opened. he quietly made his way to the window and quickly opened the curtains as you winced from the bright sunlight hitting your face. rule number one broken. (read ‘morning routine’ here)

you grabbed the duvet to cover your face, but was felt with resistance. satoru completely grabbed the duvet cover off of you and threw it on the other side of your shared king size bed. rule number two broken.

you kissed your teeth in annoyance and turned to face him, "satoru gojo, what do you think you're doing? are you asking for a death wish?"

satoru laughed, "come on, i have a surprise! wake up already." he leaned into the bed and grabbed your hand. you groaned in tired annoyance. he held up your body and pushed you into the bathroom to do your morning routine.

"this better be a good surprise." you threatened him.

"or what? you gonna spank me?" satoru retorted back at you.

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

satoru led you into the kitchen with his hands over your eyes.

"surprise!" satoru, tsumiki, and megumi shouted in unison.

there was a delicious breakfast spread of pancakes, toast, eggs, bacon, fruits, and hashbrowns thanks to your wonderfully, talented, adopted daughter. next to the table was a bouquet as big as megumi.

you pouted your lips as you looked at the smug three, "oh my gosh... is this all for me?"

"yes!" tsumiki yelled and ran to hug your leg.

"thank you, babygirl." you bent down to hug her as megumi slowly crept towards you with the bouquet that was just as big as him.

"these are you for you, (y/n)."

you grabbed the huge bouquet from the little boy, "how did you know my favorite flowers are lilies, megumi?"

"i thought you liked roses, babe?" satoru asked in confusion as he sat down in his assigned dining seat.

"every girl likes roses, but lilies are my favorite flowers... i guess megumi just listens to me." you teased your lover. megumi quickly stuck his tongue out at the white haired sorcerer.

"oh! one last thing (y/n)!" tsumiki ran to the kitchen counter to grab the card that megumi made. she gave it to you and you swear you almost cried.

"megumi, you made this in school? babe, look at this." you showed your boyfriend megumi's drawing of your little family of four. satoru had a huge grin on his face. megumi couldn't help but turn bright red in embarrassment.

"thank you, all of you." you grabbed satoru underneath his chin with your free hand and pulled him in for a kiss. megumi and tsumiki ran to your side to hug you as you kissed them on the top of their heads. satoru bringing home two children without letting you know was a very unconventional way of becoming a mother, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“happy mother’s day, babe.” satoru grinned at you.

EXTRA:

"hey megumi, how much did the flowers cost?" satoru questioned the blue haired child as he was reading a book on the couch.

"i don't know, like maybe $20?" megumi lied.

satoru glared at him, he knew he was lying. he logged into his bank account and saw the transaction from the shop.

"maybe $20? more like $200, you brat!" satoru barked back at him.

"who cares if it was $200? (y/n) likes it."

satoru stopped mid thought, the kid was right. as much as he and megumi butt heads, if there was one thing that they could agree on, it was their love for you.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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daydreamingyuta · 6 months

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how about a bf jaehyun x gf reader and him being his silly goofy and clingy self (DID YOU SEE HOW CUTE HE WAS IN THE DANCE PRACTICE OMGGG) alone with reader but getting caught by Johnny who then teases him about it the rest of the day

[8:31 am] | Jaehyun

summary: fluff, drabble, you and bf!jaehyun getting 'caught' acting cute by johnny who can't help but tease jaehyun about it wc: 683 a/n: thank you for requesting! I'm sorry this took so long, i've just been busy with school but I hope you enjoy it! <3 and yes! he was so cute in the fact check dance practicee! I'm always so shocked when people perceive jae as someone who's intimating, like he's so silly and such a cutie!!

You were woken by the sunlight streaming into Jaehyun's bedroom. You were just able to reach your phone which was charging, but other than that you couldn't move, trapped by Jaehyun holding you, so you stay on your phone until you're fully awake. You try to gently move out of his grasp but your movement ends up waking him. His first instinct was to pull you closer as he yawned. "Good morning, baby." He says, nuzzling into your neck.

You must be feeling extra ticklish this morning because you found that you couldn't control your laughter when he started placing sweet kisses on your neck.

"Shh, it's still early. All the guys are still sleeping." He says, even though he still persists with his actions, causing you to squeal even louder.

When he decides you have had enough, he stops and hops out of bed to get ready for the day. You follow him into the bathroom, quickly throwing on your sweatshirt because it was getting colder. You two brush your teeth and wash your faces together, Jaehyun kissing you on the top of your head as you finish up your skincare routine. He decided to take a shower so you head out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

You weren’t hungry just yet, but knew you would be soon so you decided to make some breakfast. Plus, the boys would really appreciate a hot meal as soon as they wake up. You get started by getting out all the pans and cracking a few eggs into it.

The toaster makes a pop as two pieces of toast come out, causing you to jump slightly. You hear Jaehyun laughing and you turn around to see him, fresh out of the shower with a towel around his waist and wet hair dripping onto his shoulders.

“I swear there’s something wrong with your toaster, it scares me every single time.” You say, defending yourself.

Jaehyun flashes you a smile as he walks closer to you, taking a peak at what all you’re making. You turn your attention back to the food as well, making sure nothing’s burning. “Hm, smells good angel.” Jaehyun says as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

It would have been a sweet little moment if Jaehyun hadn’t just gotten out of the shower. You immediately feel your back get wet and you try to nudge him off. “Jae, you’re getting me soaked!”

You both laugh as he refuses to let go of you. “I’ll let you change into some of my clothes sweetheart.” His words make you relax a bit until you hear someone snort out a laugh from behind you. You both break apart and look at who has come into the room.

You see a grinning Johnny, more than delighted to have walked in on a very clingy Jaehyun, which happens to be a very rare sight for him to see. Jaehyun prepared himself for Johnny's teasing but they didn't come just yet because you spoke up before Johnny could.

"Good morning, I made some breakfast!" You point to everything while handing him a plate so he can grab whatever he wants. "I'm gonna go change real quick." You say, showing him your wet clothes and laughing.

Johnny thanks you for making breakfast and as soon as you're out of ear shot, he turns to Jaehyun. "I'll let you change into some of my clothes sweetheart." He says in an overly deep voice, trying to wrap his arms around Jaehyun's waist. "I'm so in love with you baby, I had to hop right out of the shower and come and see you sweetheart."

Jaehyun's cheeks become a pink color, but he can't blame Johnny for making fun of him. If it was the other way around, he would be making jokes at Johnny's expense. "Whatever, like you’ve never been in love before."

Johnny touches his heart in fake adornment. "Valentine boy’s in lovee.”

Jaehyun decides to try his best to ignore him, knowing that he’ll be teased about this for the rest of the day.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct 127 #nct #fluff #k-pop #drabble #imagine #nct scenarios #fanfiction #fanfic #established relationship #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader

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abyssmalice · 1 month

Text

@curiouskinetic

(i may have been. Inspired just now—

source convo below bc lmao: )

#crack | (an egg with some toast);#flower art dot tag;#curiouskinetic

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

cook your way to your man's heart!

Characters: Deuce, Ruggie, Jade, Malleus

Synopsis: In which you decide to cook your guy's favourite food to condition them into liking you. Don't underestimate a person in love!

Tags: fluff, crack, reader is good at cooking, food is used as bribery, bot proofread

Word count: 766

Notes: inspired by this post

Disclaimer: this post is entirely light-hearted and as a PSA, please do not manipulate people.

Masterlist

this man adores you to bits

house-spouse material!!

every time he's so curious to see what you made for him

is it an egg sandwich? a quiche? an omelette? egg rolls?

he'll happily eat all of it, he loves your food!

refuses to share with anyone else unless it’s you

he finds you so endearing and he really appreciates the gesture

he would offer to cook with you or help you wash the dishes

before he knows it, he wants to always be close to you

walks you to school every morning, saves you a seat at lunch, etc.

when you tell him you made him food bc you liked him, he’ll be ecstatic

you put in all that effort for him?? that’s so sweet of you!

he wants to introduce you to his mom and see you two working in the kitchen together, his two most favourite people in the world

"Prefect, thank you so much for making me food!" Deuce says heartily. "Everything tastes amazing, you're so talented! I'm so happy to eat your cooking!"

oh he falls for it so bad

house-spouse material no.2!!

while he's careful with trusting people, he can't deny seeing you makes him so happy and he just can't resist the food

every time he sees you his tail is shaking in excitement

he has half a mind to wonder where you're getting the expenses from to keep making food for him

but hey how could he ever resist donuts?

he's so flattered and wants to repay you somehow

finds more opportunities to spend time with you in his busy schedule

works extra hard to earn thaumarks and get you some gifts

also he's always there for you if you need help

by the time he realises, he's head over heels in love with you

he can't say he minds, you're such a lovely person and you come with great food!

"Wow Prefect, are you trying to bribe me with donuts? I'm not that easy, ya know. Shishishi!" Ruggie laughs, his lips coated in chocolate. "But I gotta say, these donuts are awesome. You really know how to make a guy feel special. Thanks a ton, you're the best," he beams.

he's cautious when you start giving him food withouta good reason

he knows what you're up to fast

what else would you expect from a master manipulator like himself?

he'll play along though, only to enjoy your cooking

he does appreciate the effort you're putting in to make him happy by preparing his favorite food

even though he knows, he still finds himself looking forward to seeing what new dish you might bring

would it be octopus carpaccio? a toasted mushroom and egg sandwich?

he loves everything you make for him

eventually he'll find himself in love with you, but only willfully

by that point he'll start teasing you and play around with your expectations to keep you on your toes

truly a match made in heaven, two scheming dorks in love

but hey, all's fair in the game of love

"Why thank you, Prefect. Your thoughtfulness is truly appreciated," Jade says as he savors another bite. "This octopus carpaccio is quite exquisite. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to impart some of your culinary secrets to me? I would love learning from such a skilled cook." He's smiling but there's a certain glint to his eyes.

happy dragon noises

he's so in love with you omg

he was already interested to you when he met you in ramshackle

but one night you started offering him ice cream?

he's smitten

and you made it by yourself???

lilia's holding him back from marrying you instantly

he’ll find himself visiting you whenever he’s craving food or you

he's so fascinated by how ice cream is made and all the different flavours he can try

insert image of malleus furiously shaking a plastic bag with ice and cream in it

appreciates your determination and hard work in the kitchen so much

it makes him feel so valued and cared for

gives you all of his treasures to woo you and pays for all of the ingredients

and offers to help you in the kitchen, although you should keep a close eye on him if you don't want ramshackle burnt to the ground

Malleus smiles at you contently. "Might I express my sincerest gratitude, prefect? Your efforts to make my favorite food are not unnoticed, and I am deeply appreciative of your kindness," he says. "Your gifts are cherished, and I find myself drawn to your company more and more each day."

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland deuce #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #jade leech x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus

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irb-pascalito-99 · 2 months

Text

Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou smut #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou #sweet joel #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character

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storiesofsvu · 21 days

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Decadent Desires Ch 3

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, minor political conversation, minor mentions of sexual encounters.

It was the sound of your coffee pot automatically brewing that originally roused you from sleeping, the beeping signalling it was done the reason you finally got out of bed. Traipsing down the stairs still in your silk pj set you yawned, starting to stretch out your body, dropping your phone on the breakfast bar before padding through the living room to open the blinds. The sun slowly rising through the sky and you deemed it warm enough to crack one of the windows, letting yourself actually get some fresh air on a work day. Wandering back to the kitchen you pulled down a coffee mug, adding a bit of creamer from the fridge before filling it with coffee. Right as you went to take your first sip, your phone buzzed on the countertop and you let out a huff, scooping up the device to a text from Heather.

‘You can work from home, it’s a low day.’

‘Thank god. I really didn’t want to put real clothes on.’

‘Well you’ll have to at some point. You’ve got lunch at Old Ebbitt Grill at two.’

‘Who am I schmoozing for you?’

‘Emily Prentiss.’

‘The fed from yesterday? What’d’ you need with the FBI?’

‘She asked to meet with you. You’ll have to discuss it with her.’ ‘Put it on my card.’

‘Alright. Thanks.’

‘Wear that Tom Ford blouse I like so much.’

‘The blue one?’

‘It brings out your eyes.’

‘I’m beginning to think you might have ulterior motives going on here...’

‘Enjoy your lunch.’

You dropped the phone back onto the counter with a huff, knowing you weren’t getting another word out of her on the subject. It wasn’t unlike Heather to send you in to do a certain level of dirty work when it came to getting other politicians to do what she wanted. It was technically part of your job, she would simply just suggest you use your assets in a way she couldn’t to get them to lean her way, and it almost always worked. Still, you couldn’t possibly imagine what a Section Chief from the FBI would want with your skill set, surely the bureau had their own type of publicists to deal with whatever kind of a situation this was.

You glanced to the clock above the stove to find it was barely eight o’clock and nearly debated going back to bed but you knew that was a bad idea and turned to your coffee instead. You thought about what to do for breakfast while you grabbed your work phone and laptop from your bag, setting them up on the breakfast bar before opening the fridge. You settled on some easy eggs and avocado on toast and restarted the coffee machine to brew a fresh pot, turning on an instrumental playlist on your phone to get your day going and your brain running.

Finished with the food, you refilled your coffee and settled in at the counter to start sorting through emails, shooting one off to Heather with reminders of all the upcoming week’s appointments, meetings and appearances. The rest of the morning felt rather dull, the anticipation of lunch piquing your curiosity more often than not, sending you down spirals rather than focusing on your actual work. You caught yourself leafing through FBI websites and any news articles you could get your hands on, and considering the status you held, that was more than the general public.

Finally around eleven thirty your brain couldn’t get through another email and you opted to jump over to the gym for a quick workout to distract yourself for a bit. You left more than enough time to shower, making sure you were fresh and styled, selecting the blue blouse Heather had recommended before finally leaving your house.

Old Ebbitt Grill wasn’t far, it only took you ten minutes to get there, especially considering the lack of midafternoon traffic. You’d been there a few times before, a standard choice for business lunches among the elite of Washington, close enough to Capitol Hill that it was convenient but just far enough away that it was slightly more away from eavesdropping ears. You pulled up the drive in front and were offered valet service that you accepted, passing off a five for a tip before heading inside where you were greeted by a young bubbly hostess.

“Hi,” you smiled back, “reservation at two, could be under Walton, Prentiss or Dunbar. I think it’s only for two.”

Her finger began scanning through the reservation look in search of one of the names, “oh! There you are.” She beamed up at you, “Walton for two. You’re the first to arrive, would you like to wait or be seated?”

“I’ll sit.” You laughed softly, “god knows I could use a drink.”

“Of course, right this way.”

You were led past the bar area to the dining room and directed to a green velvet back booth, white table cloth adorning the table. You slid in as the hostess scooped up the extra place settings and wine glasses,

“Can I get something started for you?”

“Uh… two waters and a glass of pinot grigio would be fantastic, thanks.”

With another smile she was gone from the table and you were left to settle in, glancing at your watch you realized you were practically twenty minutes early and let out a soft sigh. Punctuality was almost too much of your strong point, but at least you were never late for things. You scanned the menu quickly, sliding it off to the side to pull out a work file that you’d been putting off looking through, thanking the server that came back with your drinks.

When Emily entered the restaurant she wasn’t entirely too sure what she was getting into, it almost felt weird to be doing this during the day, especially on what was technically a work day. She’d gotten an out of office lunch and work from home afternoon approved so she didn’t have to drive back, and it was Friday so she just kept telling herself it was an early weekend. The hostess picked up right away that she was meeting someone and offered up your last name to confirm before guiding her through the room.

The moment they were through the bar Emily had eyes on you, neatly tucked into a booth, a pen in your hand and a file folder in front of you that all your attention was focused on. Your hair was pulled back off your face but most of it still down and loosely styled. The make up on your face was slightly more detailed than it had been when she’d met you at the office, a little heavier around the eyes, a slightly less neutral lip. Your outfit hugged your frame, accentuating your body perfectly, blue top dipping slightly to expose a tasteful amount of cleavage, black pencil skirt leaving just enough leg out to be admired, and of course designer heels on your feet. It was all accented with a silver bracelet, necklace resting on the swell of your chest and jeweled earrings to match your shirt. You glanced up at the movement coming toward you, a smile taking over your face as you greeted her.

“Agent Prentiss,” you smiled as she slipped into the booth, “or, is that a demotion? Should it be Section Chief Prentiss?”

“That’s way too much of a mouthful.” She laughed, “just Emily’s fine.”

“Alright.” You shot her a grin, flipping the file shut and capping the pen before you slid it back into your purse, “sorry, work never ends.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” While she was concerned she may have been late, she was happy to see that you were completely content on your own, and that you took work on the go, already another green flag in her book.

“Oh not at all, I have a habit of being insanely early wherever I go.”

There was a slight pause as the server came over to ask about drinks and Emily glanced towards you, your eyes flicked to your half empty glass and you thought about it for a second.

“You may as well bring another one.”

“Heather okay with you drinking on the clock?” Emily asked with a small grin.

“Have you met a politician who doesn’t?” You laughed, “you know… I think that’s the biggest difference between our branches of government, you’re usually armed. The only weapons we carry are our words and nefarious blackmail.”

Emily chuckled at that, watching as you took a sip, “well I took a half day.” She turned to the server, “I’ll have a sauvignon blanc please.”

A few moments later they returned with Emily’s wine and the two of you placed an order for a round of appetizers consisting of scallops, beet and burrata, calamari and the bread service. Conversation flowed easily enough, chatting here and there about the day, how the weather seemed to finally be warm enough to enjoy being outside, little tidbits about work. Emily found joy in the fact that you could keep up with her when she mentioned work, that it didn’t take an extra three tangents of explaining details for you to understand what she meant. By the time the food came out, the two of you were fully comfortable around each other and after a bite of a scallop, you decided to make the jump to attempt to get to the point.

“So, I know I’ve heard that the BAU’s in a bit of hot water right now, but I didn’t think you needed a full PR takeover. Don’t you have your own communications team for those kind of things?”

Emily stalled, quickly popping a piece of calamari into her mouth to spare her a few seconds to figure out how to start things. “Uhm….” She swallowed the food down, chuckling awkwardly, “that’s not exactly why I wanted to meet. Heather… recommended you for something else.”

“Ah…” You leant back against the booth, your elbow draping over the back of it, “I knew Heather had ulterior motives about today but I didn’t realize she was passing me off to utilize the extra skill set.” You chuckled, having now figured out exactly what Emily was alluding to, but you weren’t going to let her off that easy, you wanted to hear her say it. The corner of your lips twitched up at the way she tensed across the table from you and you went in with another tease and false lead. “You want to know what other PR teams I’m close with, whose assistants have loose lips or an axe to grind, dig up a little dirt on someone. Director Bailey? AG? Who’s the thorn in your side, hmm?”

The knot in her stomach burst at the latter part of your sentence, suddenly distracted she glanced up at you with a furrowed brow, “wait, you could really get in with the AG for me?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded over a sip of wine, “she thinks she’s a good friend, would you like me to do some nosing around?”

“No, no.” She waved you off, “that could get you in trouble.”

“Emily, believe me, with most of them all you need is a few too many glasses of wine, a little flattery, maybe a hint of an illegal substance and they’ll tell you whatever you want.”

She let out a low laugh, “I’m going to ignore that last part.” You chuckled as she picked up her wine, taking another sip while you scooped up another scallop. “You certainly have some kind of pedigree, don’t you?”

“I had a lot of ladders to climb to get where I am now, and a decent education and quick thinking always helps.”

“Was PR always the goal, or did you have your eye on Capitol Hill?” She asked and you nearly snorted.

“Where I am is where I want to be. Communications Major at UCONN, followed by a stint at Georgetown.”

“What does a ‘stint’ consist of?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Just a little law degree, never really intended to use it just wanted the knowledge.”

“Did you write the bar?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, taking another sip of wine, “passed with flying colours. Just never really saw myself as a lawyer, fighting in courtrooms isn’t my style.”

“So why bother with the extra three years then?”

You shrugged, “Heather paid for it. Said if I was overqualified for a role I could bargain for better pay.”

“Wow…” Emily’s eyes widened, “she must really like you.”

“We’ve known each other a long time. She always knew she wanted me working for her in some capacity and she needed someone who she could trust, someone who was going to know what they were doing and was right for the field. When you work for Dunbar you have to fit the brand. Now making sure that brand is upheld is my job, she had to start with someone.”

“You enjoy working for her? She’s a good boss?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “being on her payroll is better than any other politician in the country, maybe even the world. She has a much higher level of expectations that always need to be met, she knows quality, she knows class and she demands it out of everyone. So she supplements with extras to make sure we know how appreciated we are and to keep us loyal.”

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.”

“She always does.” You leant forward, bracing your elbow on the table so your chin could rest in the palm of your hand, “which is why I know whatever she suggested I help you with is exactly what you need. But I’m starting to feel like I have to sign an NDA to even have this conversation.”

Emily sucked in a deep breath letting out a sigh before reaching for her wine glass, “well… I am hoping for a certain level of discretion and the previous couple of times I’ve tried this it didn’t exactly work in my favour.” She glanced back across the table to find your head still perched on your hand, eyes full of curiosity as you looked back at her and she nearly gulped.

“Do tell… what is it you want from me Agent Prentiss?” Your voice was lowered, both an attempt to get her to own up and to make sure you weren’t overheard, “I work in PR, I know how to uphold an image and believe me, I know how to keep a secret.”

She swallowed down a gulp of wine before slowly beginning to speak, “I’m… looking for someone who is willing to spend a night or two a week together, could be friendly company, could be more if you’re comfortable. And I’m willing to pay.” She winced, suddenly stopping herself, “wait, that sounded bad.”

You chuckled softly, smiling across the table at her to urge her to continue.

“Basically, I’ve got a bit of spare time and extra finances. I need someone who understands I can’t always be around, that work can and will upend plans constantly and suddenly. Someone who values privacy. I don’t have time to do the whole dating thing, the strings that come along with that.”

“Casual intimacy in exchange for fancy dinners, pricey jewels and lavish vacations?” You murmured softly, your head tilting in her direction and she nodded, “well… now we’re finally on the same page.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

Your eyes slowly raked over her, taking in her beauty, a small grin on your lips as you nodded, “Mmhm.”

“And the stipulations that come along with my work?”

“Not an issue. As you know, I have my own career and working for Heather can be a twenty four seven, seven days a week job and similar to yours, it includes a lot of travel. Discretion is easily attainable and I know how to uphold a certain image.”

“Good.” She let out a low huff of a laugh, “the last couple of dates I went on before this were garbage.”

“Mmm… I think you likely got caught with the ‘professional’ babies… they don’t want to work; they just want to get paid for being hot.” You rolled your eyes, “they don’t care about careers, they want to be center of attention at all times.”

“And lord knows I don’t have the time or patience for any of that.”

Before you could reply your phone began a series of buzzes on the table top, your eyes flicking to the lit screen and you sighed, “hold on, it’s Heather.” You picked up the device to swipe open the text chain, half muttering to yourself, “bitch said I could work from home today but god knows I can’t go twenty four hours without having to put out a fire.”

“Duty calls?” Emily asked with a near grin, watching as you finished your wine.

“Unfortunately.” You cast a smile in her direction, “and right as we were getting to the good part, sorry.”

“No apology necessary, go. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured to the table.

“Are you sure?”

“All things considered; I think it’s my responsibility.”

“Right.” You laughed softly, popping your phone back into your purse as you slid out of the booth, “you have my number?”

“I do.” She nodded, “I’ll make a reservation for next Friday, we can do dinner and discuss this further?”

“Of course.” You smiled at her, “I’ll see you Friday Emily.”

_______________

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#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

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jocelynscrazyideas · 3 days

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Kiss it better | Jack Hughes x Reader

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Warning: smut, language, surgery?

Summary: Jack demands you cook him a lunch after his surgery, but he’s supposed to be healed. As the “best” girlfriend in the world you fix up a salad and share with Jack. Jack decides he wants more to eat, but not food.

A:N- AGH first time writing for a summer blurb!! Also it’s really short bc I had lots of hw recently!! (Sorry!)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

It’s off season. Jack and I are in Michigan, Jack has been watching Quinn play, and I’ve been tanning. I called Luke to check in and he said that it’s been stressful, playing with older guys, specially ones who’ve played in worlds before.

“Baby?” Jack hollers for me.

“Coming!” I reply, I throw my Jean shorts from American Eagle in the clean pile of clothes I’ve gathered, and run upstairs. Jack and I live in the basement, and Jack likes to spend his time upstairs on the main floor watching the TV.

Normally the guys spend time downstairs playing pool, and I watch Dance Moms on the TV next to the pool table. Jack is doing well with his recovery after his surgery.

“I’m hungry, I know. It’s a lot to ask for but could you make me some avocado toast with chicken parm salad?” Jack seems like he’s on his monthly period cravings. I mean it sounds good.

“Of course, only if you help me.” I say, and Jack throws his gaming controller to his blanket on the side. He gets up, rolls his shoulders out and cracks his neck. He stands behind me when I been down to grab the chicken.

I stand up and see him towering over me. I lean in for a kiss after setting down the ingredients. I pull back to grab a bowl from a cabinet, I pull out a fork to distract myself from the man that stares at me like I’m the only girl in the world.

“You’re so cute.” Jack says, disrupting the noise of tension between us. “I know.” I say giving him a stare. Right now we’re home alone, but I’m sure Ellen and Jim are heading back from Target.

“Mom will be home soon.” Jack says. I’m sure he’s inferring that we need to hurry up if we’re gonna do stuff.

I make it known I feel the same, but before I can say anything to stop me from going in for more kisses, Ellen walks in from the garage door.

“Hey mama bear!” I rant out, I push Jack away. I pour the lettuce into the bowl and stir in a salad dressing I made last night. I cut in boiled eggs from last night and stuff them in the salad, I microwave the chicken, just because I didn’t feel like cooking. I chop the warmed meat and lose the chicken into the bowl. Done!

“Here, your salad.” I saw shoving the bowl into Jacks reach. I toasted up some toast and slice the avocados. I grab some seasoning and seasoned the toast, I spread some avocados and took a bite of my work, delicious. I hand the rest to Jack and I walk back downstairs to to finish my laundry.

“I’m coming baby.” Jack informs me as he runs down the stairs.

“Yeah you will.” I say as I throw all of my folded clothes off into a hamper, ruining all of my work. Jacks eyes glow when he talks to me, his beard needs to be shaved.

“You look so edible.” Jack says as he pulls me into his arms. Hands in my hips, he slides his head into my neck. My perfume wraps him into my chest, he’s stuck in this love bliss.

“I cant get enough of you. You look so yummy.” Jack whispers into my ear. He licks under my ear, and I feel his hot breath on my cheeks.

gross.

“That’s icky.” I say. I love to make him mad.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jack says as he lets go of me. He sits on our bed and watches me fold the laundry that I threw.

“I cant believe you did that. Y/n I need you, I haven’t felt actually love in forever.” Jack implying on my “turn off” of words.

“Sorry.” I holler back, knowing I don’t fully mean it. His medium toned hair sits right under his ears, he plays with his wristbands as I walk over to him.

“Can you sit back please?” I request. He does as I say, not making me having to push him back, which would have been easier.

I hop onto jacks legs as I straddle him. “You feel so warm. I’m freezing.” I wiggle out of my mouth as I start to rock my hips. I grab into jacks shoulder and start to whisper in his ears.

“Take everything off.” I imply.

“We could take it to the hot tub.” I suggested. “No, wr can start here and end on the boat.” Jack responded within seconds.

“Sure.”

I feed into jacks neck and leave a mark. He’s bruised from my bites. Jack groans intensely as I start to make my way to his cargo shorts. I unzip everything and pull it off.

“You’re already so big.” I let out a sigh and take his boxers off. “Only for you.” Jack caressed my check and pulled my hair behind my ears.

I start jerking him and his head leans all the way back. Jack lifts his hips up when he feels he’s going to cum.

“Are you ready?” He asked me. His eyes glimmering up ast me. I pull down my leggings. I keep my shirt on and I lay on our bed. Jack spreads my legs as he goes down.

“You look wet already.” Jack insisting to start our activity. He pushes two fingers into my hole and he starts to pump. I feel erratic, my moaning screams out.

“Quiet down.” Jack deadly stared at me, and he pushed his tounge down my throat, I moan as he massaged my tounge into his. I feel our saliva mixing. I pushed his fingers farther in and I feel I’m going to cum. He lets go of my mouth.

He takes his fingers out as i jerk up from my release. Jack shoved one finger into his mouth licked it clean, and the other into mine. I suck kn it until he leans into me, I feel his hard cock pressed up against me.

He gets up as we try to finish what we started until we heard, “Jack! Help me clean up the yard! Your shoulder should be fine now!”

Jim and Ellen are having people over and apparently Jack needs to help him fix up the yard.

“We’ll finish later. I promise.” Jack smiled at me as he zips his cargo shorts on and pulled on his shirt. He leaves the room, and up the stairs as I hear him wash his hands upstairs.

I’m left alone in our room and I’m forced to do my laundry.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #jack hughes #new jersey devils #hockey blurb #nhl fic #small blurb #jack rowden hughes #jack hughes x reader #🍇🍇🍇#nj devils

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Busybody

summary: when Steve notices your anxiety spiraling out of control, he finds his own way to help

cw: anxiety

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’d woken up with some busybody in your chest that you can’t get rid of.

It feels like you’ve had three cups of coffee despite your four hours of sleep. You’d all but jolted awake, pre-panicked about something that you haven’t identified yet. Something you have to be forgetting, or not assigning enough importance to, surely. And the way you figure it, if your body’s going to freak out at you about being idle, you may as well appease it and hop to.

By the time Steve cracks an eyelid, you’re thinking about what to make for lunch. Heart never having left your throat, you’ve cleaned the kitchen, baked a blackberry cobbler, tried to read a few pages of your book before giving up for fidgetiness, reorganized your portion of the bathroom cabinet, and begun a grocery list for the week.

“Morning,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. He’s looking endearingly rumpled, a faint red line on his face from a crease in his pillowcase and his hair pressed flat on the one side. You smile at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Smells like fire in here.”

“Morning! I made a cobbler,” you explain, not mentioning the burnt first attempt that’s smelled up his kitchen despite you opening all the windows. “Do you want some bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast?”

Steve blinks, eyebrows rising slightly. “Uh, sure. You gonna make me some?”

“Mhm.” You’re already taking the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled?”

“Yeah. Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.” You grin, happy to be of use as you whisk his eggs with a fork, turning on two burners of the stove to preheat as you do. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he yawns. “Well, pretty good. Woke up a couple times this morning, but you were already gone. Been up for a while?”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

Steve nods, frowning. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t get much chance to sleep the night before, either, right?”

You hum, bacon sizzling when it hits the pan. You put the toast down in the toaster, hoping you’ve timed it right so it’ll still be warm when everything else is done. “Oh, do you want orange juice?”

“Sure, but I can grab it.” He moves for the cabinet, but you nudge in front of him, too restless to stop moving while everything heats on the stove.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You shoot him a smile as you grab a cup. Steve returns it, but muddled.

“So between last night and the one before, how many hours have you gotten?”

You shrug. “Not sure.” Nine, give or take. “But I don’t feel tired.”

“Well, that’s good,” he says slowly, watching as you fill the cup with orange juice before hustling back to the stove, flitting between tasks at something approaching light speed.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you go on, flipping the bacon, “do you want to do some Christmas shopping today? I mean, I know you said you’re not thinking about it yet, but it can’t hurt to get a jump on things.”

Steve yawns again, stretching his back. “Yeah, that sounds okay. Not sure I’d know what to get anyone.”

You nod a few times. “Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Flip the bacon onto a plate, add more pepper to the eggs, put the bacon’s pan in the sink, turn off that burner on the stove—the toaster goes off, and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling. You jump straight up.

“Oh.” You press a hand to your chest, laughter tripping off your tongue. Your blood thrums excitedly, like it’s finally found the outlet it's been looking for all morning. “God, that scared me.”

“I could tell,” Steve says, eyebrows at his hairline and smiling faintly. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, good.” Your heartbeat has become more noticeable all of a sudden, a hollow ache behind your breastbone. “I’m almost done, just a sec.”

“No rush, honey. Thanks for making me breakfast. It looks great.”

“Of course, no problem.” You plate up the rest and spin to find Steve already there, his hand the only thing stopping you from nearly flinging the dish into the wall surprisedly.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, taking the plate from you and setting it on the counter. He brings his arms around your shoulders, and you wrap yours around him too, an automatic response. Steve sighs, his ribs expanding and contracting with the force of it, and you copy him mockingly.

“Still tired, baby?”

“A little,” he admits. “Though I can’t really complain, considering how little sleep you’ve gotten.”

You make to pull out of the hug, but Steve tightens his grip on you, palm pressing into the midpoint of your upper back. You give in, a willing captive.

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.”

Steve hums, taking another big breath. “I’m good.” A pause. “Okay, you can tell me if I’m crazy, but it does smell like something’s burning in here, right?”

“Burnt,” you admit. “I left a blackberry cobbler in the oven a bit too long. The one in the fridge is a re-do.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I think the smell’s clearing out anyway. Right?”

You sniff experimentally at the air. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah?” he sniffs too.

You inhale more fully, only detecting the faint remains of smokiness under the newer scent of bacon grease.

“I’ve never had blackberry cobbler,” he says, palm beginning to coast slowly between your shoulder blades while his other arm stays firmly around your waist. “What’s it taste like?”

You perk up. “Wanna try some now?”

“No—I wouldn’t want to ruin this breakfast you’ve made me. Describe it to me.”

It’s an odd request, but nothing you can’t manage for him. You think back, letting your tongue conjure up the memory of the last time you had it. “Well, the blackberries aren’t tangy by the time they’ve been cooked,” you tell him. Steve hums, hand solid and steady on your upper back. “And this recipe is really sweet. The dough is kind of like sugar cookie dough.”

“Sounds good,” he says appreciatively. “Hey, do you think you can smell it?”

“From inside the fridge?” You take your head from his shoulder to give Steve an odd look.

“Sure, just give it a try.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. You wrinkle your brow, sniffing tentatively. Steve opens his eyes as if to check you’re doing it, and it’s the worry in his look that gives him away. Your bemusement gives way to fondness as you take a long breath in, filling your lungs and holding the air inside you for a few moments before emptying them. You know what he’s doing, but you’re letting him anyway.

“Mmm, don’t think I can,” you tell him wryly.

“No?” Steve’s smile is sheepish, well aware you’re onto him. “Do you think we should find three things you can touch, just for fun?”

You roll your eyes at him, but inhale again as you hug him tightly. Some of the pain in your chest eases. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“What for?” he asks, hand resuming its route between your shoulder blades. “Hey listen, I’m all about your Christmas shopping idea, but do you wanna try taking a hot shower first? It might help you relax.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit, peeling away from him. He lets you this time, albeit reluctantly. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.”

Steve looks at it as though just remembering it’s there. “Right, thanks. Sit with me while I eat? You could have some of that tea you like.”

You smile at him, taking a mug and your herbal tea down from the cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me, I haven’t done a thing all morning.”

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