#it's one forty five and i have thirty five minutes left

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses. 

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy. 

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly. 

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials. 

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has. 

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed. 

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer. 

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal. 

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come 

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party? 

i can be ur escort ;) 

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you. 

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before. 

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes. 

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself? 

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy. 

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly. 

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway. 

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy. 

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are. 

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood. 

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can. 

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams. 

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird. 

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room. 

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact. 

but not so bad. 

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.” 

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

day in the life with Emily?

STUCK WITH ME || EMILY ENGSTLER

summary — a normal day in the life of you and emily

pairings: emily engstler x gf!reader

wordcount: 516

warnings: just fluff

authors note: hii thanks for this request!! i hope you like it :)

“Morning.” Emily, who is now sitting up says as you slowly wake up.

“Good morning.” You turn around to place your head on her chest.

She smiles softly and starts to stroke your hair. “You okay?”

You nod, keeping your eyes closed. “What time is it?”

She checks her phone. “Eight forty-two.”

You groan and slowly start to get up.

“Where are you going?” Emily pouts and pulls you back in bed.

“I have to make us breakfast and go to the grocery. And you,” You point at her chest. “have training.”

“But I just wanna lie in bed with you.” She whines.

You peck her cheek. “We can once the day is over. Come on lazy bum.” You try to pull her arms in an attempt to get her out of the bed.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.” She gives in and lets you pull her up.

You two stand there for a few seconds before Emily leans down, kissing you on the lips softly.

“Morning baby.”

—

At about ten in the morning, you guys went your seperate ways. Emily was off to training and you went to get groceries.

It was about one in the afternoon and you were currently on your way to watch her train.

You entered the gym, hearing the sound shoes squeaking on the floor and balls dribbling.

You took your seat on the sidelines and brought out your laptop to try and get some work done.

After about thirty minutes, their coach blows the whistle.

“Lunch break! Be back in 30!”

Emily goes straight to you, kissing the side of your head and sitting in the vacant spot next to you.

You pull out the sandwich that you had made for her this morning.

“Thanks baby. How was your morning.”

Your eyes brightened as you closed your laptop. “Oh my god Em! So I went to the grocery right, and there was this girl-“

She maintained eye contact with you as you talked about your eventful morning.

“-you should’ve been there Em. Seriously.”

She chuckled. “From what you said, I think im glad I wasn’t.”

You smile and check the time. “Go, you have five minutes left.”

She used her thumb to stroke your cheek before making her way back to the court.

You decide to put your laptop aside and watch her last two hours of training. You loved to see Emily do what she loves and does best.

After they had cooled down, you grab your things and start to stand, making your way towards the locker room.

“Hey girl!” Some of her teammates greet you as they exit.

You walk to Emily’s locker as she grabs her duffel bag. “Ready to go?”

You nod and let her wrap an arm around your waist. “You’re all sweaty and gross.”

She laughs and opens the car door for you. “I don’t care. You’re stuck with me.”

Once she gets in the car, she doesn’t start it yet. Instead, she turns to you with a big grin on her face.

You grin back. “What?”

“I’m just glad I get to spend these kinds of days with you.”

[pucked-bunnie]

hands off ⎜m.barzal

pairings: mat barzal x reader prompts: "can you please come get me?" + "Don't fucking touch what isn't yours." warnings: mentions of stalking? ⎜drunk people ⎜reader is uncomfy ⎜ word count: 1.4k note: I got a lot of request for Mat so I decided that these two go well together and ended up combining them. Requests are open!

(UNEDITED)

+

+

The party was supposed to be fun. 

It was supposed to be a good way for you to find new friends - to bond with some of the other wags. 

And sure the night started out fun. 

“I promise they’ll take good care of you, it’s just dinner and some drinks.” Mat had assured you as he watched you pull on your coat, the oversized denim jacket holding in any warmth it could manage, stopping the slight tremble of your limbs at the winter cold. 

Moving to New York had been a big adjustment, especially in the dead of winter. Mat had talked to some of his teammates, hoping to be able to set up a girls night with some of the wives and girlfriends on the team to help you adjust to being in a new city, to help you make some new friends to keep you company when he was away so often. All the girls were quick to agree, adding you to the team group chat to discuss the details. 

“I know, but it’s been so long since I’ve gone out and my sister warned me about the bars around here.” You respond as you glance up at him, pulling your lip between your teeth. 

You wanted him to comfort you. 

To give you a reason to cancel. 

Or to say he would come with you. 

Meeting new people was terrifying. 

“I swear it’ll be fine, just message me when you’re ready and I’ll come get you.” You nod slowly at his words, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek, Mat giving you a big smile as he pushes you lightly towards the front door of the bar, leaning against the side of his car until the front door closes behind you. 

Mat was right. 

The night started out fun. 

But things changed so quickly. 

“Hey, you’ll be right to head home on your own right?” Anders asks, his wife draped against his side, a drunk smile on her face as he holds her steady with one arm around her waist. “Mat’s on his way?” He questions, you don’t really respond, just giving a tight smile. 

You had messaged Mat. 

You swear. 

Anders pats your shoulder softly, before dragging his wife out of the club, trying to avoid her incessant affections. You watch as they leave the constantly filling bar, the crowds of people getting louder, more boisterous as the night carries on. The others had been picked up earlier by their partners, each whisked off in a slightly tipsy haze. 

You had been left on delivered for the last thirty five minutes. 

And there was no sign of Mat responding anytime soon. 

“He’s probably fallen asleep.” You reassure yourself, you phone showing a time of eleven forty eight pm, way past Mat’s normal bedtime. 

Letting out a long sigh, you push away from the spot at the bar, grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, slinging it over your shoulders, buttoning each button tightly before hefting your purse up on your shoulder. 

Your apartment wasn’t far away. 

The walk would have to be brisk with the cold seeping into your bones, but it was do-able. 

You smile softly as the door managers as you exit, crossing your arms over your chest with your phone tight in your hand as you start walking down the block. 

You can hear as they exit behind you. 

The four men bustling amongst each other. 

Each of them daring the other to close the gap. 

You type quickly on your phone, pressing the cold glass to your ear as the dial tone rings in your ear. 

You dare to glance back, the men pausing for a moment, discussing something between themselves. 

“Baby?” Mat’s voice is groggy, coughing a few times as he repeats, “Baby, are you there?” You catch yourself nodding in response - despite the fact that Mat can’t hear you - your free arm tight around you as you speed up a little more. 

“Can you please come get me?” You ask softly into the phone, you can hear the rusting of a blanket and the padding of Mat’s bare feet on your apartment floor as he moves around the rooms. 

“Where are you?” He asks quickly, “Are you safe?” 

“Like five minutes from the bar, I thought I could make it.” You continue, your body jumping as you hear the footsteps close in. 

“Hey, wait.” You hear a voice call out from behind you, the man's voice slurred slightly, his friends egging him on. 

“Who was that?” Mat asks, the jangling of his keys ringing through the phone. “Are you walking?” He asks again, his voice deeper, more gravely, the easiest to tell that he was angry. 

“You weren’t responding.” You justify, “It’s only a fifteen minute walk, I thought it would be fine.” You hear Mat let out a cuss, the words sounding far away. You can hear his fingers swiping on his screen before he swears again, the sound of a grunt a thump before his voice is close to your ear again. 

“I’m on my way - stay on the phone with me, okay?” You nod again, glancing once more over your shoulder the men are closing on you now. 

Mat’s breathing heavily into the phone, reminding you to keep walking. 

He’ll be there soon, he promises. 

The hand lands out your arm roughly, your body swung around to face them. 

“I asked you to wait.” The man groans, he couldn’t have been more than mid twenties, you wish he knew how scared you were right now. 

“My boyfriend is on his way to come get me. I’m not interested.” You speak confidently, you can hear the muffled sounds of Mat saying something into the phone, but you can’t make out the words, your arm dropping to your side as the man's friends stop around the two of you. 

“Let me go.” You say, firm in your words. 

“But you haven’t even heard me out yet.” The man whines, his tone similar to that of an upset child. “Please give me a chance.” He whines again, his hand still clamped on your arm. The man is clearly drunk, his friends goading him on. 

“I bet she’s lying.” One says. 

“She probably doesn’t even have a boyfriend.” The other adds. 

“Show her what she’s missing out on.” The last one says. 

The man in front of you pauses, his eyes flicking over your shoulder, heavy steps stopping behind you, the man’s hand loosening slowly. 

“Didn’t your mothers ever teach you boys manners?” Mats voice hisses from beside you, his hand reaching out to close around the drunk stranger's wrist, the man releasing you quickly. 

“Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours.” Mat sneers, his body moving in front of your as he pushes the man away from the two of you. 

The men are smart. 

They retreat quickly, excuses falling from their mouths. 

“Sorry man.” One sighs. 

“Didn’t mean any harm.” The other adds. 

Mat glares at the back of them as they stumble back down the street to the bar, their attention finding some other people to focus on. 

“You ran all the way here?” You ask. 

“Yes.” Mat responds. 

“Are you mad at me?” You question quietly, Mat’s chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“What?” He asks, spinning on the spot to face you, letting out a long sigh as he reaches for you, his arms wrapping around your head to pull you into his chest, his hands stroke your hair as he lets out another long breath. 

“I’m mad at myself.” He says quietly. “I told you I would come get you as soon as you messaged and I was an idiot and fell asleep.” 

“It’s okay.” You grumble into his chest, your words muffled by his thick hoodie. 

“I was so scared.” 

“So was I.” You agree, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, smiling as you pull yourself out of his arms, reaching to latch your hand in his as you pull him to start walking besides you. 

“I can’t believe you ran all the way to help me.” You chuckle softly, finally tucking your phone back into your pocket, the danger ebbing away as you watch your boyfriend's shoulders slump as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe I did, either.”

[letstrip13]

I feel like you should do False God 😏or like Forever and Always (with a twist) or any breakup song, but they end up meeting each other again at a party, and get back together. A solid fluff would be nice too tbh

🪞 - forever and always

summary: you and chris were the perfect couple, or so you thought until you broke up. what happens when you run into each other a month later at a party?

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, drinking/alcohol, some angst

word count: 2,460

author's note: another re-upload from the summer. it's kinda giving cheesy romcom imo

------------------------୨୧------------------------

one month. thirty days. seven hundred twenty hours. forty-three thousand, two hundred minutes. two million, five hundred ninety-two thousand seconds. no matter which way you put it, it had been that long since the breakup with chris. that long of feeling agonizing heartbreak.

you sit in front of your vanity, applying glittery eyeshadow to your eyelids, making sure to pack it on there so your eyes pop. you're filled with a horrible sense of dread as you continue to apply your eye makeup, counting down the minutes until you'll have to see his face again; the first time since the breakup.

you couldn't back out of the party now. it was a birthday party for a mutual friend you and the triplets had in high school, actually the one who introduced you to them. you weren't ever super close with matt, nothing was remarkable about the bond you shared. just friends, plain and simple.

but you got close with nick fast, continuing to stay close with him throughout your ten month relationship with chris. that's why it hurt so much when you stopped talking to him. nothing against nick, of course, he was an amazing friend but you just couldn't bear the constant reminders he brought you of chris. you needed to cut them all off for your own sake.

“baby, what happened? please, tell me cause, one second, it was perfect now you’re halfway out the door”

you didn't even know how it had happened. one day something just changed in chris and he left. was it something you said? something you did? you didn't know. sure, you could've gotten closure by asking nick or you could even get it tonight at the party, but there's no chance.

“and i stare at the phone, he still hasn’t called and then you feel so low you can’t feel nothin’ at all and you flashback to when he said, “forever and always””

your goal for tonight's party was to get drunk, have fun, and forget about him. you had spent far too much of your time, waiting for the moment he comes back even though you knew deep down there's a chance he wouldn't. but that didn't stop you from perking up at every new notification, only to be disappointed when it's not him.

you finish your makeup before drying and styling your hair - still wet from the shower - and picking out an outfit. you put on a little black dress that chris bought for you when you were still together. you probably would've showed up on his arm in this very dress. but instead, you're wearing it in hopes that he'll regret ever leaving you.

you order an uber and arrive shortly after, your friend's house being close by. as soon as you get there, you're greeted by the host of the party along with a group of girls you were friends with in high school that had all drifted from each other after graduation. when you start taking shots together, you feel as close to them as you used to. for a split second, you feel okay, completely forgetting about chris.

until you glance over your shoulder and see him staring you down. you stare back for what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few seconds. you don't react, you don't really have time to before another shot is shoved into your hand. you take it and as you've barely swallowed it, you're being pulled away to go dance with your friends.

after a while of you dancing, you have to go to the bathroom. you make your way upstairs, and walk down the narrow hallway, trying not to bump into anyone. you're about to turn the doorknob to walk in when you hear a familiar voice behind you. it's nick. “hey, i haven't seen you in forever. how've you been?”

you were glad to run into him but you feel bad because you're the reason you haven't seen each other. “i'm good. umm just hold on a second. i'll be right back.” you go into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. you take a moment to breathe before doing what you went in there for.

as you're washing your hands, you hear nick's voice followed by another one you recognize all too well. you should've known this would happen, wherever one was, the other two often weren't far. it had always been that way. you hope and pray that it could just be matt, maybe he has a sore throat or something. please, just let it be matt with a sore throat.

you finally open the door and as you take a step out, you almost walk right into chris. of course, the one you did not want to see. “excuse me,” you say, not unkindly but with an expression he can't quite read, as you try to side step him. “wait, princess, please.”

him using his nickname for you makes something inside you break, but also makes you angry. “you can't call me that anymore, not after you left.” he reaches for your arm which you quickly pull away. “please, give me a chance to talk to you. we can work things out. i miss you.”

“i miss you too, but i hate you for what you did. you broke your promise, chris.” nick has walked away by this point, wanting to give you two space to talk things out. “i know i did but-” you're quick to cut him off. “i'm not done! it wasn't fair of you to do that to me. you promised, you said “forever and always” but you still left me. you fucking broke me like i was nothing and you just expected me to be okay with it.” tear after tear is streaming down your face by now with no sign of stopping anytime soon. “and after all that, you expect me to just let you say “i know i did” as if that's supposed to make everything better.”

his heart breaks watching you cry, seeing how much he hurt you. guilt takes over him and you notice a few tears roll down his cheeks too. “i'm sorry, i really am. and i know it's not an excuse but i felt like i had to leave because i was afraid. the thought of being with one person for the rest of your life can be terrifying.” you're about to speak up but he continues before you can. “but i realize now that it's all i want. i want to be with you forever, i can't live without you.”

“well, you might have to learn to.” you walk past him, going down the hallway towards the stairs. “please, i love you!” he shouts over the music. you give him one last look, not saying a word before going downstairs. you go back down to find your friends while he shuts himself in the bathroom, wiping away the rapidly falling tears as it hits him just how much he fucked up.

you and chris don't see each other until way later into the night. almost everyone is intoxicated by this point, you lost count of how many shots you've taken. suddenly, yours and chris’ song was playing. several months ago, late at night while you two were cuddling in his bed, you agreed that having a “song” sounded cliché. but you both knew that if you had one, this would be it.

both of you, forgetting everything for a moment, search the room for each other. you find each other and within a matter of seconds, you're in each other's arms, kissing feverishly with an amount of passion neither of you had felt before. it felt as if you were the only two in the room. as your hands found their way to his back, you could practically feel the regret of leaving you dripping off chris.

“back up, baby, back up did you forget everything?”

you reluctantly pull away, still not 100% sure if you should be doing this. despite being as drunk as you are, you know this may not be right. but the pleading look in chris’ eyes are almost enough to change your mind. almost. “please, baby. just one last time and you never have to see me again. just let me taste you one last time.” that was what convinced you. if there was one thing you missed about chris, it was his tongue. “yes, let’s go,” you say, taking his hand and leading him upstairs to an empty guest bedroom.

as soon as the door is closed and locked behind you, he’s pushing you down on the bed and getting on top of you, kissing you again. within a matter of seconds, he’s gained access to your mouth and his tongue dances with yours. it feels so familiar and intoxicating, more so than the alcohol. he slips his hands down your sides and bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your hips. he runs his finger along your panty-covered slit as he trails wet, sloppy kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. soft gasps of pleasure escape your lips as he leaves marks across your skin.

he pulls away after giving you a final, playful bite. he pulls you forward so your legs are hanging off the bed and he gets on his knees. you lift your hips as he pulls your panties down, eyes locked with yours the whole time. you let out another small gasp as the cool air hits your wetness. he teasingly licks a stripe up your folds, but once he gets a taste of you, the slow, teasing nature goes away.

he lifts your knees, letting the backs of them rest on his shoulders as your legs hang down his back, crossed at the ankles. he practically buries his face in your pussy acting like he's been starved for a hundred years. your fingers tangle in his soft, brown curls as you moan and buck your hips closer to him.

he dips his tongue into your hole, causing yet another moan to escape your lips. his nose bumps your clit slightly so you buck your hips forward, craving more contact. he pulls his tongue out of you and before you can even protest, it's back in again. he gets faster with it and switches between that and lapping up the juices spilling from you as if this is his last time ever tasting you and he needs every single drop. he doesn't find a steady rhythm to it, he's quite sloppy, but it feels so good.

it's a drunken blur of grinding against him so his nose hits your clit just right and of his tongue making you feel lightheaded until you're crying out to him, legs shaking as you finish. “shit.. feels so- oh fuck!” he smirks up at you for a moment, and you take in his hazy blue eyes, and his lips and chin covered in your cum. he licks his lips before going right back in and lapping up every last drop he left behind, holding your hips down as you squirm under him.

“i missed your taste, your pussy's so fuckin’ good.” he smiles up at you as you sit up. “want you to fuck me,” you murmur in a sultry tone, “missed your cock.” the words were barely out of your mouth as chris starts fumbling with his belt, trying to get it off as fast as he can. you scoot back on the bed as he figures it out and takes it off. he unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling them down a bit so he can adjust his boxers and take his dick out.

he doesn't give you any warning before slamming into you, his thrusts gaining speed right away. the way he’s stretching you out after not having him, or anyone, inside you for a month is a wonderful pain that has you crying out. it’s quickly overtaken by pleasure as the tip hits that magic spot inside you with every thrust. he leans down to kiss your neck, his hands squeezing your hips as he whispers to you, “take. me. back. please. i. miss. you. i. still. love. you,” each word punctuated with his hips slapping against your skin as he goes as deep as he possibly can.

since both of you were so pent up from not having each other for so long and since you’re still sensitive from chris eating you out, it doesn’t take much longer for you to finish together. your walls clench around him as he shoots his release inside you. he slowly gets off you, both of you panting and sweating as you lay together to catch your breath.

you pull your dress down and he fixes his pants before he pulls you close. he runs his fingers through your hair gently, something he’d often do when you’d be cuddling. “i meant everything i said tonight. every single word of it.”

“i,” you hesitate for a moment, “still love you too. but i don’t know if i can fully trust you. you made a promise, a commitment, to me but you didn’t keep it.” he considers what to say next for a moment, wanting to make sure it’s the right thing. “if you take me back, i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. anything you want, i’ll do it.”

you stay silent, taking some time to contemplate it. you love chris and you want to be with him, but you don’t want to risk him leaving and hurting you a second time. “i will take you back..” chris immediately perks up, an excited shine in his eyes and he appears to be having a thousand thoughts running through his mind. but you speak again before he can get a word out. “but, if you fuck up and break another promise, i will leave. and you will not be having a chance like this again. if you lose me again, i will be gone for good.”

he nods, trying to look serious, but he can't seem to contain his excitement. he pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. being in each other's arms like this feels like a weight getting lifted off your chests. “i understand. like i said, i'll do whatever it takes. i just want to make you happy.”

he loosens his hold on you and pulls away to look into your eyes. “i will love you for the rest of my life.” “forever and always?” he gives you a sweet, tender kiss on the lips, pouring every ounce of love he possibly can into it. “yes, princess. forever and always.”

------------------------୨୧------------------------

𐙚 ࣪ ˖ tags: @chrissturniolosbitch @christhopersturniolo @mattscurlygirly @fratbrochrisgf @d3axplr @junnniiieee07 @rubyjaneaxx @remussbitch @sturnpooks @ribread03 @mattsfavbitchhh @blahbel668 @asherrisrandom @55sturn @joeblzy @ivysturnss @certifiedstarrr @stvrnzwrld @strnlslut @edwardscoldhands @emely9274 @strangelife122 @loveparqdise

check out my masterlist for more!

join my taglist!

[heartsforvin]

BAD FOR BUSINESS

guys i got this idea from reading a matt sturniolo fic 🙏🏼

buckle up mfs, its a long one

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, age gap ( r’s 23, v’s 30), use of pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names, use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: when vinnie hired you on to babysit his four year old, he never expected things to take a turn the way it did

you started the job right before the boy turned one. he was the sweetest infant, and even more sweet as a toddler.

it was hard to believe it had already been three years since you started the job, it feeling like yesterday.

you show up at the household five days a week, everyday like clockwork at seven in the morning just so vinnie could be at work on time.

just like today. it was six-forty-five when you pulled up to the hacker residence, fifteen minutes early.

there was really no actual set time you had to be at the house, but vinnie did say before at least seven-fifteen.

knocking on the door softly but loud enough to be heard, you waited for the man to answer.

you were met with the man on the other side, giving you a greeting smile.

you would never admit this to anyone but you always thought vinnie was attractive. with his blonde curls, strong bone structure, and not to mention the obvious muscle.

he still portrayed that ‘dad bod’ but it wasn’t as obvious as most.

“goodmorning ms l/n,” he smiles. “come on in, wes is still asleep but i’m sure you don’t mind.”

you smiled back with a nod as you walked into the house. it wasn’t big, a single story with only two bedrooms, perfect for vinnie and his son.

over the years you came to find out their story. you found out that vinnie’s girlfriend at the time had just up and left the baby as his responsibility.

it was clear he needed the help, and daycare was just too expensive for him to handle, so he decided to hire an ongoing babysitter.

that’s where you come into play. three years ago you had found this ad on a website, clicked on it and read the description.

once you did you knew you had to at least interview for the family, you didn’t ever expect to be hired.

now here you were three years later, wesley had become someone you truly loved like your own son.

“should i wake him up if he sleeps in a little too late?” you asked the older man as you set your things down on the kitchen counter.

vinnie shook his head. “no, not unless it’s past ten.” he informed.

you nodded and watched as vinnie grabbed his things off the counter. he had tattoos run along his hands that you swore was the hottest thing.

shaking your head, you look at the man across from you as he repeats his words you didn’t hear.

“there’s yogurt and strawberries in the fridge, strawberries are all cut up so all you have to do is serve them. you know he’s going to want apple juice with his breakfast so — water it down.” you cut him off with a smile.

vinnie returns the smile and nods. “right. i’ll be home probably about five-thirty, six so i’ll see you then.”

the two of you say goodbye and that’s when you go and sit down on the couch a bit until the boy wakes up. it was around seven-twenty in the morning so you knew it would be at least an hour or two before he wakes up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

about an hour later you saw the young blonde peek into the livingroom, wide smile across his face when he noticed you were there.

“y/n!” he exclaimed as he ran up to you. you scooped him up in your arms and kissed his head.

“morning, wes. sleep good?” you asked as the boy squirmed out of your arms and sat beside you on the couch.

with a nod to his head, you smiled. standing up, you grabbed his hand and helped him off the couch before saying, “your dad got breakfast all ready for you, you hungry?”

the blonde smiled widely as you helped him down and ushered him into the kitchen.

you grabbed his booster seat and sat him in it before going to the fridge and grabbing the yogurt and strawberries for his breakfast.

“here you go wes. you want your apple juice?” you knew his answer but just thought to check in case there was a chance he didn’t want it.

like always, wesley smiled as he asked politely for the drink. your went to pour it in a sippy cup and watered it down just a bit like always.

handing it to him, he thanked you as you ruffled his hair with a smile. you had eaten breakfast on the way here so you decided to sit at the table and wait for the boy to finish.

once he was done you cleared the table and helped him out of his seat. you put it back in its respective spot and then took the blondes hand and told him it was time to get dressed.

“which shirt today, dinosaurs or trucks?” you asked the boy as you held up two shirts.

he looked between the two before pointing to the one in your left hand. “dino’s!”

you laughed and smiled as you put the other shirt away. after dressing him, you told him you had to clean up the kitchen and to stay in his room to play with his toys until you got done.

once done with cleaning up the kitchen, you decided to take wesley to the park. it was a pretty nice day out, plus it was the last few weeks of summer so you wanted to make sure he got all his time outside in.

“hey wes, you wanna go out to the park? you can bring your car with.” you ask, the boy’s eyes lit up at the last words you said.

for wesley’s fourth birthday vinnie had gotten him one of those battery operated toy cars. wesley loved it the minute he saw it and was outside for a good two hours riding it around that day.

after getting very excited about hearing he could bring his car with, wesley immediately ran to the kitchen to wait for you.

you laughed at the boy's excitement as thee two of you made it out to the garage.

opening up the garage door, you got the car out and wesley immediately got into the toy car and drove out of the garage.

"hold on bubba, gotta close the door." you informed the boy, seeing as he was already halfway down the driveway.

after closing the garage door the two of you were off to the park. it wasn't that far from vinnie's place, so it was perfect walking distance.

once arrived, wesley stopped his car and you watched as he made his way to the slide.

as you watched the boy, your thoughts immediately went to the older blonde man, more specifically, how attractive he really was.

you shouldn't be thinking like this, especially since he was your boss, not to mention years older than you, but you couldn't help yourself.

you wondered if he thought about you the way you did him. he couldn't have though, he's acted nothing but professional to you for the past three years.

you've always thought about what it'd be like to be in a certain situation with him. how would he react? would he be polite and push you away, or would he give in?

that's what you had to find out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

back at the house, it was around five-forty-five and you were getting wesley ready for dinner. he had demanded chicken nuggets and mac and cheese to you on your guys' way home from the park.

you of course couldn't tell him no, so here you were, preparing everything for his dinner.

after getting the boy into his booster seat, you finished up cooking the mac and cheese before serving some in a bowl to him, the chicken nuggets were served soon after that.

"had a good day today, wes?" you ask as you sit down at the table with him.

wesley smiles and nods. "when's daddy gonna be home?" he asked you before scooping up mac and cheese.

you checked your phone for the time before answering him. "soon, bub, probably after you're done eating."

wesley smiled and continued to finish his food. about twenty minutes later vinnie walked into the door and wesley immediately ran up to him.

"hey bud!" vinnie said as his son hugged his legs.

vinnie set his things down and picked up his son. "had the best day!" wesley exclaimed to his dad.

you watched with a smile as wesley told vinnie all about your day today. vinnie flashed you a smile and for a minute your plan was working.

"alright bud, go in your room and play for a bit while yn and I talk, okay?" vinnie said as he put the boy down.

wesley ran to his room while you and vinnie watched. once he left you started to clean up the dishes from dinner.

you watched as vinnie rounded the other side of the island and took a seat on one of the barstools. "you don't have to clean up, you're good to go home for the day." vinnie informed.

you smiled and shook your head. "its alright, i don't mind," you told him. "plus you worked all day, it's the least i can do."

vinnie noded and just stay put. after dishes were done you had offered to bathe wesley to help out once more before leaving.

"you don't need to do all that." vinnie says as he takes a sip of his drink. "I can bathe him, he is my son of course." he laughs.

it was the first real laugh you've gotten to hear in years, and you had to admit that you loved hearing it.

although, he was right, you definitely did not have to wash wesley up, vinnie could do it himself. you just loved spending time with both vinnie and wesley, you couldn't help it.

"okay, let me just say goodbye to him and i'll be out of your hair." you tell the man before you walked out of the room.

once you left, vinnie let out a heavy sigh, thanking everything that you left when you did. recently he's been having thoughts no boss should have about the person they've employed.

thoughts like how pretty you are, how pretty you looked in your bathing suit that one summer when he had invited you over to swim because wesley wouldn't stop asking for you.

"fuck." he cursed under his breath, now trying to not get a tent in his pants before he sees you for the final time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

the next day you arrived at the house exactly at seven. knocking on the door, vinnie opened it moments later with his eyebrows furrowed.

"shit I'm sorry, i forgot to tell you wesley's at my parents house today. you don't have to work today, go home and take the day off." he informed with a smile.

you smiled too, that's when you took in his appearance; tousled hair and sweats, no shirt.

your breath caught in your throat at the sight. you hadn't seen him like this since that summer he invited you over for a little pool party with wesley.

vinnie notices how you react and chuckles. "this looks unprofessional, know," he breathes. "i just needed a day to myself, i know it sounds selfish but it's true."

you shrug it off. "don't need to explain yourself, it's fine i understand." you tell him with a smile.

vinnie returns the gesture. "well i guess i'll get going," you sigh. "thank you, i'll see you tomorrow."

vinnie smiles before he watches you walk off, that was until he called you back over.

"hey actually if you'd want, i could have some help around the house a bit." he tells you, opening the door for you.

you walk into the house and set your things down on the counter. vinnie comes up behind you, hand gliding against your back before he faces you.

he's still in his sweatpants and no shirt. he looks at you and takes in your outfit.

a nice baby blue sundress paired with black converse. he loved how you dressed cute but also a bit casual too.

"so uhm," vinnie clears his throat, making you smile. "you can start with whatever you want first, no rush and you definitely don't have to do this." he explains.

you smile as you start to walk over to the kitchen sink, vinnie follows in suit and sits at the island chair that faces you.

you start with the dishes that are already in the sink before going to the ones on the counter

"what'd you guys do last night after i left that has the sink overflowing?" you ask with a small laugh.

vinnie reciprocates, laughing with you before answering. "wes wanted cookies before bed, unfortunately he makes it hard to say no and so i gave in."

you laugh, the four year old can be very persistent with things. as you continue with the dishes, you can feel vinnie's gaze linger on you.

he watches as you wash the dishes then set them on the counter to dry. watches as you glance over at him and starts smiling.

he smiles back, not even hesitating before he does, almost like its on cue, an instinct.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he doesn't know what possessed him to say that, but he's glad he did.

the reaction he gets out of you is one he suspected, your cheeks tint to a red color, smiling wide as you look at him.

"thank you, vinnie. you're not so bad yourself, even when looking casual." you return the compliment.

you both don't know what is going on right now, this was extremely unprofessional, at least it felt like it.

vinnie didn't care right now though. he'd been having these thoughts about you for so long, he needed to act on them.

taking a bolder approach, he stands up and rounds the other end of the island so he's now by you. you turn to face him, and that's when you notice the slight stubble on his face.

you thought it made him look sexy, paired with his tattoos, you almost didn't want to give in.

his hand travels to land on your waist, you look down at the placement and that's when vinnie asks, "is this okay?"

it shouldn't be, but it sure does feel okay. nodding your head, you give him a verbal response too, just so he knows.

his other hand cups your jaw and that's when you watch as he leans in, so you do the same until you're met in the middle.

the way his lips felt on yours was like nothing youve experienced before. it was needy, hungry, like you've both needed this for so long.

its almost like you did, you've both imagined this moment too many times, and finally acting on it almost felt unreal.

"jump." vinnie says against your lips. you do as told, jumping up so you're now in his arms.

none of you break apart as you feel him gently place you on the counter. his next movements however were not so gentle.

a gasp slips out of you when you feel his hand come in contact with your clothed pussy. he smirks up at you, watching your head tip back as his finger presses against your clit.

"vinnie." is all you muster out, it coming out as more of a moan.

vinnie smiles as he continues to rub at you through your panties. he watches as you widen your legs for him and bite your lip.

"let it out, baby. its only us, let me hear you." vinnie says, making you let out a loud moan once he circles your clit again.

carefully, he pulls your panties to the side and chuckles softly when he sees how wet you are already.

"barely touched you and you're already this wet f'me? dirty girl." he rasps before gliding his finger over your folds.

a whine slips from you and he smiles up at you, standing to give you a quick kiss before going down on his knees.

the sight in front of you almost makes you let go right then and there. vinnie's head disappears from your view and under your dress.

he grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them on the floor somewhere before dipping his head between your thighs again.

you feel his fingers on you again, making you moan out his name for the second time. vinnie smiles to himself before easing his middle finger into you.

"shit," you moan, holding onto the edge of the counter. "vinnie, please."

he removes himself from between your legs and looks up at you, asking what you want. "you want more?"

you nod an he happily obliges, dipping his head back under. this time, his middle finger and mouth make contact with you.

his finger his sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace as his tongue prods at your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

soon, he gets antsy and lifts himself up again. "can i take this off?" he asks, referring to your dress.

you nod with a smile and before you know it, its off in a second. he asks to take your bra off too, to which you do for him, landing somewhere in the room.

his hands immediately find your chest, taking both of your breasts in his hands and squeezed them, making your head tip back.

he kisses from your lips all the way back down to where he was moments prior. his mouth lands on you again and you grip his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan into you.

"taste so good, princess." vinnie mumbles against you as his tongue laps up your juices.

you push his head into you more, causing a groan from him and moan from you at the feeling. you feel his ring finger enter you and that's when the pleasure intensifies.

"vinnie, g-gonna-" you're cut off by a whine as you feel his finger hit that one special spot.

vinnie looks up at you, continuing his actions as he speeds up his pace on you.

before you can utter the words to him, you're summing on his face in a second. vinnie lifts off of you and smiles, making you smile with him.

"so fuckin' good, baby," he breathes out before kissing you. "stand up f'me."

you do as told, hopping off the counter and standing up. before you have the chance to speak, vinnie's turning you around so you face the counter.

"gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy? huh, sweetheart?" you can't even answer him, the tone in his voice already making you wet.

you nod as you feel his hand make contact with your ass. his sweats pool to his ankles, letting his cock spring free and smack against his abdomen

"gonna give it to you so good, baby." he whispers in your ear as he strokes himself a few times.

you wiggle your ass just to tease him, he smacks it again before asking if you're ready.

with verbal conformation, you tell him you're ready and that's when you feel him push into you for the first time.

"shit, feel so fucking good already, don't know if i'll last." his words make you smile as you bite your lip.

vinnie grabs your hips and starts to move in and out of you at a slow pace. you grip the counter, already feeling like it's too much.

"so big." is all you can say, making vinnie smirk.

his thrusts soon become needy and face paced as time went on. when you noticed, you moved your ass back on him, making him moan.

"that's it, fuck yourself on my cock. good girl." the praise goes straight through you, making you whine in pleasure.

vinnie kisses your shoulder as he fucks into from behind. he can't believe this is happening. he doesn't want it to end.

his hands move from your hips to your chest in an instant, squeeing both of your tits as he thrusts into you.

"feel so good princess," he rasps. "god we should've done this sooner."

you smile at his words and agree. even though this is completely wrong, it feels so right.

"vinnie," you whine when you feel his thumb rub circles on your clit. "baby please."

he takes that as a sign that you're close and his pace along with his thumb on your clit becomes harsher.

"give it to me baby, come on. be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

his words only spur you on more and before you know it you're doing as told. a loud moan rips from you as you let go on vinnie's cock, making him smile as he reaches his release.

with a few more thrusts he cuts deep inside you with a moan followed with it.

"fuck." he says once he catches his breath.

he grabs your dress off the floor and helps you put it back on. he grabs his pants and puts them on himself after.

"that was.." you trail off with a laugh, not even knowing the correct words to use.

vinnie laughs with you, also not knowing the right words to use to explain what just happened.

you fix your hair and dress before you hear the doorbell ring. both you and vinnie go wide-eyed when you hear the door open and the sound of his son's voice.

"shit." he mutters. you watch as he quickly picks up your bra and puts it in your purse.

wesley comes around the corner just in time, followed by vinnie's parents. they've met you before so you say hello before grabbing your things.

"I should head out. thank you again vinnie for letting me help out, i'll see you tomorrow." you say to the blonde man.

he walks you out real fast and as you two are alone, he kisses you quickly. "see you tomorrow."

you smile and walk to your car, checking your purse for your keys. that's when you realize you left something on the kitchen floor, no doubt one of the three people who just walked into the house finding it.

tomorrow's going to be an awkward day.

hiii this has been in my drafts for months so i’m glad i finally got it out !!

i switched to writing on my new laptop but some things i do still have to do on my phone but majority of my writing will be from there (not like you can tell LOL)

but i hope you guys liked this !! i loved writing it <33

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @sturnioloshacker , @khackerr , @42angelgirl , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @kriissy4gov , @laylasbunbunny , @khxna , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy , @jpg3 ,

[ryiju-muunie]

Chocolate roses

18+ viewer discretion advised

fem!reader/toji fushiguro Warnings: aphrodisiac, divorced Toji, mama-guro POV, make-up sex, creampie, breeding kink, squirting, pussy eating, fingering, doggy style, nipple play, make out, fluff, a bit of angst, the reader is in her thirties and Toji is like forty :/ Word count: 4577 words DESC: Your ex-husband Toji shows up unannounced to surprise your kids after school! At 10 AM! And some things go down when he eats chocolate meant for a bachelorette party and not him.

PSA this is inspired by the lovely I Always Come Back by HXLTIC that I read at 3 AM. This is not proofread although my friend was reading along so we ball ^-^

When Toji Zenin showed up at your door, the first thing you wanted to do was slam it shut in his face. But… the father of your children? You couldn’t bear to do that to him. So instead you heard him out. 

“I wanted to surprise Tsumiki and Megumi when they came home from school,” was all your ex-husband said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. His shirt was black and too tight for his well-built body. That was one thing you missed, but it was too early to think about running your hands up his chest. 

Instead, you turned your head to the side to peer behind him on your porch. It was a sunny day and only 10:03 AM. School typically got out at 2:30 and knowing your kids they’d be doing all sorts of extracurriculars, pushing their arrival home back by another two hours. 

God! Why did he want to come so … early? It would be about four hours of pure torture with the man you once swore you’d devote your life to. But things were different. Your vows were broken on both ends and you weren’t proud to admit it but a lot of the fall of your marriage was your fault. You had decided to go back to work and force your husband to stay home and watch the kids. He didn’t mind he enjoyed spending his mornings watching little Gumi and Miki. 

But then you started coming home later and later, dodging his kisses and calls in favor of making money. You lost sight of your marriage and he left you for it. If you truly admitted to yourself, you missed him. You missed him so much. But how could you tell him that? It had been five years since your divorce and the last thing you could do was call him crying trying to mend it. 

Toji had his walls up and you didn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I don’t know…” You trailed off, looking down at the oversized orange cardigan you had bought at a local shop a few years back, “They won’t be back until the mid-afternoon.” Your voice took an unsure tone and your hands took to mess with the ends of your knitted sweater.

Toji always liked that on you and you could tell he still did. While he had his walls up he didn’t exactly hide his gaze. It slowly trailed up your body but not in a sexual way this time. In more of a familiar way. You hadn’t stopped this long to talk to him in a few years. Every time you’d see each other you were too embarrassed to speak to him for more than a minute. I mean, your failed marriage was your fault, right?

“I think you’ve been avoiding me,” Toji rested one hand on the frame of the door and the other on the door itself, pushing it forward with one strong movement, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It was almost six years ago, I’m over it.”

Your eyes narrowed. Was it that obvious on your face? Could he just read all the emotions coming off of you? All the shame and regret he didn’t get to see because you were too busy waving him off. 

Without saying anything else your ex-husband pushed past you and plopped himself down on your white couch, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the side. He stretched out his legs and arms without looking back at you. Instead, he was focused on the decorations. It had been so many years since he was invited inside. With every year more regret and shame built up in your mind, so you stopped inviting him inside. 

“Yeah just… make yourself at home,” you sighed, walking to pick up his jacket. But then you stopped yourself and let out a breath. If he said he was over it then the least you could do was make it less awkward. Offer him something to drink?

“Do you want something to drink? Tea or lemonade?” You raised an eyebrow, motioning to the open-concept kitchen you had opted for, which differed from the one you two used to share. 

The raven-haired male glanced over towards the kitchen and one-half of his mouth turned upwards in a lopsided smirk, “You have any beer?” 

You blinked a few times as the request registered in your mind, “Toji it’s almost 10:30.”

“Fine,” he waved a hand and stood up, walking straight past you as if he had owned and built the place himself. He strolled up to the fridge and opened it, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at the limited options, “I’m kinda hungry too… you don’t mind do you?” 

With that, a smile appeared on your face. For once Toji wasn’t very tense and for once you weren’t either. Maybe he was really over it, or at least somewhat over it. Or… maybe he was trying to move past it and make amends. Maybe coming over today so early was his way of saying “It’s okay, let’s move on together.” It was mature of him, something you never thought you’d think about Toji. He was mature. 

He noticed your smile and nodded, taking that as a yes to the fact you didn’t mind. Maybe your relationship was going to change for the better. 

“I bought Megumi and Tsumiki some rollerskates,” you began turning and walking to sit back on the couch. You didn’t want to hover over your ex-husband and he could pick his food himself. Besides, it was nice to talk as if no time had passed. 

“Am I gonna have to teach them how to skate?” Toji asked, with his head stuck inside the fridge rummaging around. There had to be something in there that he would like. After you divorced you stopped buying the things he liked, so maybe he wouldn’t find anything after all. 

You thought for a moment before nodding, like he could see you, “I think it would be a good bonding activity.” As you spoke your ex-husband came and sat down a foot away from you on the opposite side of the couch. 

He was munching on something you hadn’t bothered to glance over to inspect. Well you didn’t mind, he was the father of your children so if he ate your snacks it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the entire world.

You two sat in silence for a moment. You grabbed the remote and opted to play an old show you were both familiar with but didn’t have the energy to fully commit to. The silence was nice. It was comforting to sit next to someone who you once loved. Well… you still did love him but he didn’t need to know that. It was nice to pretend that nothing had changed and you were back to normal. 

“These chocolates are weird…” Toji murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his right hand. Then he got up to go to the sink and wash his hands. 

Chocolates? Well, there were only a few chocolates in the fridge. Some you got as a Valentine's Day gift from Megumi, then some you had bought for a bachelorette party. But those were hidden away in the butter container on a high shelf, so none of your kids found them.

The special chocolates had some aphrodisiacs in them and for some weird reason, the bride-to-be requested you brought them for her. Something about a last day of freedom. Whatever it was you shrugged and did so. The packaging said you were supposed to keep them refrigerated and then in twenty to thirty-five minutes they would work. 

“Were they good? Megumi picked them out for me,” you looked back at him as he washed his hands. There was a different aura about your ex-husband as he stood washing his hands. His body was stiff and his muscles looked a bit tense.

He glanced back at you with a faraway expression before nodding and swallowing visibly, “They tasted a little weird, but eh,” Toji shrugged and sat down on the couch again. This time, though, just a bit closer than before. He crossed one of his legs, in a manly way, resting his ankle on his knee and bouncing the resting leg.

“Weird? Were they expired?” You frowned and stared at the TV. You never understood the hype of 1990s sitcoms but it was something better than sitting in more silence. With good silence, you always needed something in the background.

Toji blinked a few times as his lips pressed into a firm line. He took a moment to respond with the muscles in his jaw tightening. His eyes darted back and forth between the girl and the man on TV before he replied, “...Yeah.”

You frowned but said nothing else. Hopefully, you didn’t food-poison him. The one time you had your ex-husband over and he got sick? How bad would that look? You shook your head and moved some hair back behind your ear to the best of your ability, trying not to stare. He looked… different. More focused on the TV like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Maybe ten minutes had passed before he broke the silence again, “Can we turn on a fan? I’m running hot,” was all he said, but it was different than before. His voice was low, husky, and rasped. When he turned to meet your worried gaze, you were met with a familiar stare. 

He was… horny. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization as to what chocolates he ate, and why they tasted so weird. You were married to him for almost a decade of course you knew the exact look and what it meant down to the way he looked at you through a thick row of eyelashes. You knew what that clenched jaw and tightened bicep meant. He was trying desperately not to make a move on someone he swore he was over. 

You turned away and nodded, standing up to turn on the fan from the knob on the wall. As you did so, you felt those eyes penetrating your back and burning holes deep into your skin. Five years of pent-up lust was coming out and being thrown your way. You swallowed and looked back at the wall. You had to say something. Toji probably already knew he had eaten something laced and he was probably mentally freaking out, as much as Toji Zenin could freak out. 

“Toji-” You couldn’t even get a word out before he hissed and threw his head back. 

“Don’t… speak, doll,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I don’t think these were Gumi’s chocolates, huh?” Was the last thing he managed to say before he used his forearm to wipe off some sweat forming on his brow. 

Just from sitting there for almost twenty minutes, he had looked like he had run a marathon, drenched in sweat and now … panting like a damn dog. It was so attractive you didn’t know what to do. Of course, you still loved him, we’ve established that. You’d do anything to get back with him and get one more chance to prove you aren’t money-hungry. But you wanted to do it if he wanted it, and you wanted to do it if he asked. You couldn’t take advantage of him, even if seeing him this aroused made you wet.

“They’re laced from a bachelorette party,” you explained quietly, slowly inching your way back to the couch to sit as far away from him as possible.

“That why they were in the butter dish?” He asked, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. 

“Yes- did you seriously look through my butter dish?” A frown appeared on your lips before you shook your head, “Anyways. I’m really sorry. If you want you can go to the bathroom and … relieve yourself. I won’t judge.”

A few silent seconds passed before Toji moved his head to stare at you. It was pure lust, sure, but mixed into the lust was admiration. It was as if he was staring at you for the first time in a hundred years and seeing you for your soul. No one had looked at you like that, especially not Toji fucking Zenin. 

He blinked a few times and looked away, “Yeah… I should,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. Sweat marks lined his black shirt and you swore that they hadn’t been there before. 

“But,” a curious and sly expression came back to face you, “I’ve been missing you.”

You let out a breath, “That’s just the aphrodisiac talking.” 

He raised an eyebrow and moved his leg that had been crossed down to man spread a bit more than he had before. He was hard! Wow almost like we expected that, right audience? You glanced down at his bulge and for a moment you could picture exactly how it looked in your hands. But he cleared his throat and your eyes snapped back to your ex-husbands.

“So the aphro… whatever-s been making me miss you even before today?” 

He… missed you? Toji Zenin, the heartless man you managed to hurt… missed you? The man who divorced you because you cared more about money than your own family… missed you? 

That was the thing that made you realize you had completely soaked your underwear as you felt it uncomfortably cling deep into your cunt. You shifted around and pressed your lips together tightly. 

Of course, you missed him. Of course, you wanted him! Of course, you wanted your family back! 

“You miss me? Even after the shitty things I’ve done?” Your voice was barely above a whisper but you weren’t even sure he heard it over the throbbing of your heart. 

Your ex-husband nodded and looked down at his lap, “I haven’t been with anyone else in almost six years because I thought there’d be a chance you’d come back.” 

The puzzle clicked into your head and in that moment you felt like the most stupid person in the world. It wasn’t you who was waiting for the first move, but it was him. Toji, the one who was forward -the one who started your relationship by approaching you in that bar- wanted you to make the first move. And you were completely blind to see it. 

“I… was too scared to come back after treating you like that. I always thought if you wanted me back, you’d come back,” with that you laughed hollowly, but the laugh was cut short when you felt the couch's weight shift around. 

Within a second Toji was facing you then on top of you. His body hovered over yours with his face just watching you. It was completely different than the sex-hungry Toji you had married. Yeah you loved each other and you had romantic sex, but it wasn’t to this extent. He looked at you with five years' worth of lust and love. He hadn’t been with anyone since you, he hadn’t touched anyone, he hadn’t tasted anyone. Because… he was waiting for you. 

“I’ve been craving you, princess,” he whispered, “I haven’t been able to touch myself without thinking of you…” One of his hands slowly moved to your right side, cupping your waist and sliding to the top of your hip, “I should have never let you go.” 

You nodded slowly, letting one hand snake up to the back of his neck, “I want another chance. I want to make it better.”

Toj breathed out and a laugh followed suit. You had never seen him this incredibly desperate before. You had never seen him stare at you as if you were the only woman in the world and you never wanted it to stop. 

“Make it better and kiss me, doll,” was all he said before you did as he asked. Your lips melded together in a way that they hadn’t in several years. It was instant muscle memory, with his taste and his soft lips making your core ache for penetration. 

But it was different. He didn’t deepen the kiss at first, instead, he took his time to suck on your bottom lip. Toji wanted to taste you and savor you until there was nothing left to taste and savor. He wanted you to intoxicate him until he passed out. Even if he had never taken that aphrodisiac, his feelings would have never changed. Sure, they wouldn’t have been as sexual but where's the fun in that?

You felt a guttural moan pass your lips when he tilted his head to the right to deepen the kiss, and you heard him snicker. God you missed how cocky he would get and it seemed as if nothing had changed. His hands hadn’t changed either. They dipped into the hem of your sweatpants and traced the soft skin of your stomach. 

Toji had always loved how your stomach hung out of your body. It was a sign you had birthed two beautiful joys. And it was a sign you were capable of creating more joy with him and only him. He loved to bite and kiss every stretch mark and mole, every fiber of fat, even if he’d never say it out loud. 

Now he was too busy taking your mouth against his to speak about how beautiful your body was. One of his hands pulled down your sweatpants and the other pulled down your underwear. Your head was swimming from arousal you hadn’t noticed his hands pushing your legs open. But you did notice when he pulled away from your kiss. A trail of slobber dripped from his chin and onto your aching cunt. 

He knew exactly what you liked. I mean, you were married for almost ten years. He knew how delicate you wanted him to start, even if he’d groan and complain while doing it. Toji was always gentle when he began to stimulate your vulva. 

Two fingers ran down your slit before pulling back your lips and letting him use his tongue. Fuck, how you loved it when he fucked you with his long tongue. You didn’t know where he got that magical talent from but you weren’t complaining. Toji’s tongue slid from your clit down into your center, focussing on sliding his tongue back and forth against you. Your breath hitched at the sudden sensation. 

It didn’t take him long before he was circling back and sucking on your swollen clit. His mouth was made from gods and he used it to please you. Your hands trailed up your own body to grab onto one of your breasts. If he wasn’t going to stimulate your nipples then you were going to yourself. One hand slid underneath your cardigan to pinch the pink nub and roll it under your fingers. 

“Toji…mm-fu..fuck,” you breathed out, rolling your hips against his face which was completely stuffed into your pussy. Toji would tell you straight up he enjoyed eating you out for his pleasure, not anything else. Sure, he wanted you to cum, but he wanted to be able to taste you cum even more. 

He wanted to feel you squirt in his face and drink it up. Even if you thought it tasted bad he relished in it. And god did he miss this. He missed playing with your cunt until you were sore. He could just cum from eating you out and Toji was getting close. Just sinking in the tip of his cock in your folds at this rate would completely milk him. 

Toji pulled his face back to wipe off his mouth with the back of his hand, “Do you want me to fuck you… or would you prefer I make you squirt?” His voice was even more perfect than you could’ve remembered, and hearing it through your ringing ears made it more heavenly. 

“...Both,” you whispered, looking down at him with one eye closed and a smile pressed against your lips. 

He blinked a few times then grinned, “That’s my girl,” and he went nose-first into your center. It took him a few seconds to pry one hand from your thighs to pump inside you. At this point, you were accustomed to two fingers being the minimum for Toji, and that’s what he promised. 

Two fingers gently pushed inside of you but didn’t stay gentle for long. The last knuckle on his index and middle finger curled, followed by the second to create a motion he knew would touch your g-spot. Toji slowly moved them in and out, and in and out, and in and out. With each thrust of his hand, it got faster and you could feel a sensation rising in your lower body. 

Toji knew the only way to truly get you close was multiple ways of stimulation. So he’d typically eat you out, finger you, and massage your nipples. Thankfully you were taking care of your breasts which left your pussy to him. He ate you out like a starving man on death row whose last meal was something he hadn’t eaten in ten years with an endless supply. 

The sensation rising in your core hasn’t been talked about enough, huh? You felt it build directly inside your walls, as your G-spot was stimulated. Then it moved further out to your clit, then down your thighs and legs. Before it rushed over your head and made you throw it back in a loud moan. You were getting close and you couldn’t even verbalize it. But Toji knew exactly what to look out for to know when you were close. And he could tell when you were about to squirt. 

And you were about to squirt. 

“T-T…hah fu-fuck Toji,” you groaned, letting go of one of your breasts to grab a fist full of his hair. He didn’t say anything so as not to disrupt the magic he was brewing in your nether regions (ba dum tss). 

He bobbed his head up and down a few times and tempted fate by adding in a third finger. It wasn’t so much that you couldn’t take it, but more so that he knew exactly what it was going to do. Within a few seconds, you gasped and let out a loud moan, with a shudder running through your body. Another shudder and you felt yourself release on him. It was one thing to squirt and not feel it, but it was another to feel the sensation of releasing your liquids. 

It jutted out of your pussy and onto your grinning ex-husband's face. He laughed a bit and wiped his mouth with his forearm, before going down and licking up your juices on your thighs and a bit on your clit. 

“H-hey,” you whimpered, nudging his forehead as he started to eat you out again, “You’re getting distracted…” 

Toji blinked a few times before sitting up and looking down at your shaking body, “Shame this couch is white…” He shrugged, reaching one of his hands out to grab your shoulder. Both hands grabbed your shoulders and gently turned you around so you were lying on your stomach, with a pillow added to your front to make sure you were comfortable. 

You heard a belt unbuckle then some shifting as he undid his pants and then underwear. Toji knew you enough to know you were on birth control, so condoms weren’t a concern of his. You both had a breeding kink, who doesn’t? He loved the feeling of filling you up with his cum until he was completely dry, and it wouldn’t take him very long to finish at this rate. 

“I’m gonna go in,” he whispered, patting your hip. 

Then before you could speak, but let’s be honest you were completely gone by this point, you felt a swollen tip press against your folds. You didn’t even get a moan in before you heard a faint… whimper from Toji. He cleared his throat and thrust in fully, gasping and leaning forward against your body involuntarily. 

“I… haven’t fucked anyone in six ye…years,” he gasped again. Any other movement and he’d cum instantly. So much for hot rough sex. But still, he was determined to fuck you until you came again. 

“Me… either…” You murmured into the couch, letting your eyes close against the wet cushion. A wet cushion you would be dealing with tomorrow. 

“God. I missed you. I missed you so much,” Toji repeated a few more times, straightening his posture and fastening both hands to your hips. He pulled back and slowly began to thrust. Not for your sake but for the fact he wanted to elongate this feeling as much as possible. 

His thrusts got a bit faster and his grip tighter, “...I’m… mm gonna fill y-you with my seed. I-I want anothe…mm fuc-fuck another b…hah…. Baby.” That was all you needed to hear. 

A family, you’d be starting another family together. Too bad you were on birth control. But for now, you could pretend this would be the start of your new family. It turned you on as much as it made you happy. The man you loved, loved, and wanted a family with you. God, that was nice. And what was even nicer was the fact he was beginning to rail you. 

Six years was six years too long. You ached for him to fill you up with fat, hot spurts of his white cum. You wanted him to stuff you to the point where you leaked and cried for it to end. You needed him to impregnate you so you both would be together for the rest of your lives. 

You needed Toji to be yours now. 

Toji was getting close, it was obvious by the way he thrust and the way he cursed. It was sloppier than his typical sloppy strokes and his voice got a bit higher than normal. That’s when you knew he was overstimulated and about to burst at any given moment. You wanted to speak and scream for him to fill you up, but the only thing you could do was mindlessly beg into the air. Neither of you seemed to hear or notice each other's words as he… came. 

You never heard Mr. Zenin full-on whimper until that day. It was clear it came out accidentally from how his hips jutted forward and he pulled you instantly to him. He whimpered out a loud “I love you” and whined as his cum shot out. It filled you up more than you remembered he used to. His whimpers weren’t very high-pitched but they were pathetic. It was the cries from a man who hadn’t fucked in almost six years, and the cries of a man who missed your pussy so much.

If you ever get the chance to make a buff, deep-voiced, grown man whimper, I highly encourage it. 

Toji slid out of your cunt and flopped back onto the couch, leaving you for a moment to lie with your ass in the air. You were so tired you didn’t even notice when he grabbed you from behind and pulled you to his chest. His warm arms wrapped protectively around you and for once you felt as though everything had gone back to normal. 

Toji Zenin would be Toji Fushiguro again. 

[revehae]

sexcapade

pairing ↠ co-worker!johnny x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, professor!johnny x professor!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, almost getting caught

summary ↠ with things in the bedroom getting boring with your husband, you start searching for excitement and your co-worker, johnny, is more than willing to provide it for you. on campus, you barely acknowledge each other, but in the sheets, you can't stop calling out his name.

wc ↠ 2.2k

a/n ↠ part 1/5 of the college-capades series! connected to do you like it, dr. lee?

don't like it, don't read.

it started in the spring. like there was pollen in the air, too there was lust, gentle breezes seemingly sweeping you flush against johnny’s chest where you could never not inhale the manly scent of him; never not leave with it clinging to you.

you were very aware that it was wrong. matter of fact, every time you laid eyes on your husband’s face and looked into his, saw how they twinkled at the sight of you and how they were bewitched by the charm of your soul, guilt ruptured your heart with an angry, unmistakable pang of ire.

so you did not think with the throbbing inside your chest, but the throbbing between your thighs.

a woman needed excitement in her life, a specimen that johnny was more than glad to offer. sex quickly got boring in the bedroom after so many years of unlively routines and you taught molecular biology to a class of undergraduates that couldn’t wait to get the fuck on with their lives. to say nothing of the long nights spent sifting through overdue assignments. you were allowed to have fun sometimes. after all, you were only in your early thirties. you still considered yourself young.

like many other women, specifically younger ones that found him attractive for an older man, you noticed that johnny did not wear a ring on his finger. upon further discussion, you learned that though he was no longer married, he had a twenty-something-year-old son who took your class. apparently, his son spoke delightfully of you, which was flattering, but you’d always been more interested in what johnny thought.

and you quickly found out.

“had enough?” johnny asked, poking his head through the doorway. 

not that you could see. there was a blindfold taut around your face, hindering your vision for the past forty-five minutes. to you, it felt like an eternity. the toy between your trembling thighs buzzed, inducing orgasm after orgasm, a number so great that it had tears slipping down your cheeks past the fabric of the blindfold.

speaking of orgasms, you couldn’t stop the cry that parted your lips as heat unfurled throughout your body for the umpteenth time, spreading from between your thighs to your head where there was nothing but empty thought and faintness.

“that was beautiful,” johnny remarked, only watching.

“please,” you croaked.

johnny played dumb with you. he had a penchant for it, drawing out your agony by pretending as if he were oblivious to your needs, when in reality he was the most attuned to them. “you want more?”

“no!” you exclaimed, desperate. you couldn’t even feel your legs if you tried, that was how long he had left you here with yourself - and this fucking toy. “please, no more. it’s too much, johnny.”

“but baby,” johnny started, donning his sweetest tone. “you wanted this. remember?”

that was true. you knew when this affair first started that johnny was available to open you up to new, exciting things, because your bedroom experiences with your husband could all be described the same way. though with johnny, there was room for variety.

it was just overwhelming sometimes. johnny could be so harsh under the guise of merely giving you what you wanted. you knew that it was what he wanted if anything, that you were just his lab rant to experiment on, but you never admit that you liked it that way. nor would you admit that you would’ve also liked to be a little more. 

but johnny knew that. he never mentioned a word of it, because it didn’t need to be said. it went without saying that you were his to do whatever he pleased with.

“johnny…,” you trailed, your voice shaky.

johnny, ignoring you, asked, “how many times did you cum?”

you gulped. racking your brain for an answer, you ultimately came up empty. by the third one, time lost all meaning and so did thought. “i… i lost count.”

“then, you know what that means, right?”

you gasped when the toy was moved. not at the action itself, but because you didn’t realize he’d gotten so close. his footsteps were so quiet.

“but…,” you started. 

“but nothing,” johnny said, snatching the blindfold off of your face. you blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness. the cuffs around your wrists were next. “you know the rules, don’t you?”

you whispered, “yes, johnny.”

“hands and knees.”

you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the said position, regardless of the exhaustion weighing down your body, because you knew what to expect if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. there were times were johnny was generous enough to let you cum, times where you didn’t deserve it, much like now. you wanted to get around punishment, but it would never happen if you didn’t satiate him.

the bed creaked when he raised himself atop of it from behind you, the sound of him fumbling with his belt making you wetter. once upon a time, you didn’t even think that that was possible, but you never stopped dripping when with johnny. somehow, he made even simple things like the anticipation arousing.

johnny dropped his shirt, followed by a toss of his pants. he had no need for them anymore. for the forty-five minutes that you’d been ruining his sheets, weakened by the overstimulation, johnny had been in his study trying to shake the thoughts of you while he attempted to grade papers. he was already hard from his imagination and the memories of stuffing you full of his cum, but seeing you in front of him, waiting for him, your pussy soaked for him, it did unfathomable things to his cock.

you released a shaky breath when you felt him lubricating himself with your arousal, slipping between your glistening folds, and writhed from the sensitivity. “johnny, it’s too much,” you whimpered. 

johnny chuckled. “baby, i’m not even inside you yet.”

your face burned. you could feel yourself dripping and it was humiliating, because you only got like this for him and him only.

“so fucking wet,” johnny cursed, having fun teasing your folds. “just for me.”

you cried out when he suddenly slapped your cunt, mouth parted as you gasped out, “john.”

“fuck, you always get so wet for me. isn’t that right, baby?” johnny asked, enamored with you. it was magical how he could pretend as if you meant nothing to him at work and become so addicted to you when nobody was watching.

you bobbed your head. “yes, johnny. just for you.”

that must’ve did it for him, because the very next second, you felt johnny finally start to roll inside of your cunt, mumbling curses under his breath. you almost collapsed then, almost slumped and gave out just from the tip of his cock, but you resisted because you had something that you needed to prove.

johnny was slow, but his cock slipped right inside you with ease, it was almost pathetic. not to mention that he was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined taking, so much that you always found yourself gasping when you realized that he wasn’t completely buried inside of you yet. you couldn’t believe that he had so much to give.

“oh my god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back from how full you were. no man had ever satisfied you like this, and johnny was just getting started.

not only were you filled to the hilt with his hard cock, but also the ache for him to fuck you until your entire body went numb like he’d already done countless times. johnny gripped your hips, using them as an anchor. when you felt so good as you did, as tight as you were, it would be dangerous not to ground himself.

johnny grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling just tight enough to let you know the trip was there. you were basking in his warmth and being crushed underneath his weight while he balanced your hips in one hand and the grip on your hair in the other. he smacked your ass and hissed, “so fucking pretty.”

sometimes you wished that he was yours. you could imagine coming home with him day after day, singing to music in the car together while his company made minutes feel like hours. you didn’t mind that he had a son, either. you always wanted a child, though not one that would be the product of shitty sex and a broken marriage.

the liking you’d taken to johnny went beyond sex, though the endless orgasms and fulfillment he never neglected you of definitely encouraged those feelings. moments like now, when he was balls deep inside you, you were more than willing to risk it all for him. you would get a divorce. you would move in. anything he wanted, just as quick as he said the word.

i am out of my mind, came your thoughts, though your grip on them slackened the more johnny fucked you into oblivion. 

“it’s so… deep,” you gasped, marveling. 

johnny chuckled. though you had never said it outright, your constant fascination with how big his cock was or how deep he could fit inside you, stretching out your velvety tight walls, was more than enough of an indication that your husband was not exactly packing like he was. you made it a point to mention that johnny was huge.

“yeah?” johnny asked huskily, wanting to suck a bruise onto the side of your throat, but he willed himself not to.

“mm-hm,” you mumbled. “can feel you in… in my stomach.”

“where?” johnny kept one hand at your hip but dropped the one at your head, wrapping it around you, and reaching for your stomach. “here?”

you bobbed your head. he could feel it too, and it elicited a deep growl out of him, one that had you clamping involuntarily around his size.

johnny could fuck you for hours if you let him. the same way that he was the best you’d ever had, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. there were times throughout the day where his mind would only flicker with debilitating thoughts of you, memories of your face and how you tasted. at times, you made it difficult to move on.

“dad,” came a voice from down the hall, one both of you were very acquainted with. 

“shit,” johnny hissed, irritated, and clamped his hand around your mouth. your cries and whimpers were muffled into his hard palm and your breath was cut off, because it was so difficult to breathe solely through your nose. “be a good girl and keep quiet.”

“dad,” sounded his son’s voice again, just outside the door. 

your heart was racing. your eyes were wide, the fear and excitement of getting caught fighting for totality in your icy veins. his son was one of your students and students talked. if it got out that you were having an affair with johnny, this could destroy you, but there was something so arousing about the thrill.

“i’m in here. don’t open that door,” johnny said, breathless voice betraying what was happening behind that door. 

his son was far from stupid, that you knew all too well, and retorted, “dad, are you getting laid? is it the hot nurse you were flirting with at the hospital? tell her i said ‘hi.’”

you frowned.

before johnny could even get a word out, his son added, “i’m leaving. you two have the house to yourselves again.”

“bye,” johnny huffed, dropping his palm from your face. 

you inhaled sharply. you could finally breathe again.

johnny kissed the back of your neck, nibbling at your ear. “you did so good,” he whispered, voice gentle and sweet as ever. “if you beg good enough, i’ll change my mind and let you cum.”

you hopped at the opportunity like a ravenous pack of wolves starved through the winter, begging with the utmost desperation, “johnny, please. please let me cum. i’ll do anything, oh my fucking god, i need it. i need you.”

“you need me?”

so fucking bad. more than anything. “i need you,” you repeated, whinier. needier.

“cum around my dick,” johnny commanded, voice deep and throaty and just the way you liked it. you would steal a soul for him if that was what he wanted.

it wasn’t very long before one final cry of his name escaped you, pouring out of your lips like honey as you stuttered around his cock, heat spasming between your legs. tears trickled from your eyes, the stimulation from all of the orgasms you’d had in one night alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from convulsing. your muscles slackened and your limbs went limp to your sides.

johnny was directly behind you, spurred on by the sight and feeling of you coming undone around him, and you knew when his hold on your hips tightened and that lethal growl parted his mouth that he had met his climax, the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt being the unnecessary confirmation.

“good fucking girl,” johnny praised, still sweetly in your ear.

you sighed contentedly when he flipped you onto your back, sweeping you into his arms and kissing your lips as a treat. he wiped the tears out of your eyes, watching you still shudder.

“stay the night,” johnny said, looking into your hazy eyes. 

you blinked, breathing heavily to catch your breath. “johnny, you know i can’t do that. my husband will...”

“i wasn’t asking.”

“well,” you replied, quietening. “i guess i can come up with something.”

johnny smiled triumphantly, smashing his lips against yours again. you sighed again, still content, though there was a thought lurking on your mind. i don’t know what i’m going to do.

[pickingupmymercedes]

When hating you was all I wanted 3/3 - Lewis Hamilton

A special trilogy part of 1K Jukebox Event

Longer than I care to admit (pt.1) | Even when I said I didn't (pt.2) | When hating you was all I wanted (pt.3).

song: Ruin my life - Zara Larsson (it's not on the jukebox but I heard it and I knew it was the perfect one to tie up the other two songs together)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

a/n: shout out to those who read Ways to say "I love you", there's a special nod to one of the prompts

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The overlapping announcements, rolling luggage, and hurried footsteps are chaotic on their own right.

But I can barely hear it over the frantic pounding of my heart.

I don’t know how I got here. My hands still tremble from grabbing my keys, slipping into my shoes, and bolting out of the apartment like my life depended on it.

Maybe it does.

Each step is a struggle against the tide of people flowing in every direction but mine. My lungs burn as I push forward, my mind looping the same damning mantra over and over:

You’re too late. He’s gone. You’ve lost him.

The flight notification had burned into my mind the moment I saw it, a flashing reminder of the time I don’t have.

Forty-five minutes until takeoff. Thirty-five if they’re boarding now.

The logical part of me knows this is reckless.

Security is probably already eyeing me, suspicious of the girl darting through terminals like she’s in a spy movie. I should stop.

Think. Breathe.

But logic doesn’t matter when you’re running for your heart.

My hand shakes as I clutch my phone, the unanswered calls mocking me on the screen.

“Come on, Lewis,” I whisper, desperation threading my voice. Another call, another ring that leads straight to voicemail. “Pick up. Please.”

The last word cracks like a plea, lost in the cacophony around me.

I hate airports. I hate how cold they feel, how big and impersonal they are. How easy it is to lose someone in the endless sea of faces.

But most of all, I hate how every passing second feels like one more nail in the coffin of my cowardice.

You let him leave. You let him leave because you couldn’t say what he needed to hear to stay.

My chest tightens, the weight of my own mistakes mixed with the lack of oxygen. My heart racing with something I couldn’t tell if was desperation or a panic attack

I glance at the departure board. Flight 238. LAX to JFK, already boarding.

My stomach twists into knots as the words flash on the screen.

He’s leaving. He’s really leaving.

I weave through the throngs of people, scanning every face, every figure.

None of them are his.

My chest aches with every breath, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my soul. The memory of his face before he left keeps playing in my head like a broken record.

The resignation. The quiet heartbreak. The way his shoulders sagged as if carrying the weight of every unspoken word between us.

I didn’t think it would hurt this much. I didn’t think I’d miss him before he even left.

But I do.

I miss him more than I thought I could.

“Can’t or won’t?”

The way he said it still cuts deeper than I expected, the pain raw and unyielding.

“The difference is everything, Y/n.”

He was right. The difference is everything. And I chose wrong. I chose fear. I chose safety.

But none of that feels safe now. Not when every breath feels like it’s crushing me. Not when the thought of him leaving makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

My mind is a battlefield of fear and hope, every thought slamming into me with relentless force.

You can’t let him leave like this.

The thought of him on that plane, of losing him for good.

I fumble with my phone again, my vision blurring as I type out a message.

Y/n: Lewis, please. Just call me. I need to talk to you.

Y/n: I’m sorry. For everything. Just… please don’t leave like this.

The words stare back at me, mocking in their simplicity. I hate how weak they make me feel, how small.

But I hit send anyway. It’s the only thing I can do.

Minutes pass. Still nothing.

I make it back to the main terminal, scanning frantically for the gate. The flight number blinks mockingly at me.

Final boarding.

My stomach lurches. My sneakers slap against the polished floor as I break into a run. People turning to stare, but I don’t care.

I reach the VIP gate just as they announce the last call. My chest heaves as I lean against the counter, gasping for breath.

“Did the NYC flight just close?” I manage to ask. The attendant looks up, startled by my urgency.

“Yes, ma’am,” she says.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Lewis Hamilton,” I blurt. “Is he still here?”

She hesitates, her professional mask faltering for just a moment. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t disclose that information.”

But her hesitation is enough.

I spin on my heel, my pulse roaring in my ears. My eyes scanning the hallway from the private lounge, and then I see him.

Lewis.

He’s standing off to the side, his back to me, his carry-on slung over one shoulder, his phone nowhere in sight.

He looks calm, collected, every inch the man the world knows as Lewis Hamilton.

He’s waiting. For what, I don’t know. And for whom, I can only pray.

My breath catches, my chest tightening painfully.

Say something, Y/n.

But the words stick in my throat, my legs frozen in place. He looks so composed, so untouchable, and for a moment, the fear overwhelms me.

What if he doesn’t want to hear it? What if you’ve already ruined everything?

Then he starts to move, his long strides taking him closer to the gate.

No.

The realization slams into me like a freight train, and I stumble, my momentum faltering.

“I love you!”

The words burst out of me before I can stop them, my voice cracking under the strain of desperation. Raw and desperate, cutting through the noise of the terminal.

People turning to stare, the sound echoing in the space.

My heart skips a beat as his head turns, his eyes wide and filled with confusion. For a moment, he’s frozen, his carry-on slipping from his shoulder as if the weight of my confession is too much to bear.

I don’t wait for him to process it.

I run.

Security be damned, people be damned—nothing matters except getting to him.

“I love you, Lewis!” I scream again, my voice breaking on his name.

And then his eyes meet mine.

The distance between us shrinks, my steps faltering as I finally reach him. His eyes are wide, stunned, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

And then time seems to stop.

“I have loved you for longer than I care to admit. I have not stopped loving you, even when I said I didn’t. Even when hating you was all I wanted.”

The words are spilling out now, unstoppable.

Within arm’s reach, I take a deep breath before continue, my chest heaving as I search his face. “Even when I was too scared to say it,” I whisper, my voice barely audible now. “Especially then.”

His eyes search mine, their intensity almost unbearable.

“Y/n…” he breathes, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

His gaze locks on mine, searching, waiting, giving me time to catch up to the enormity of what I’ve just done.

His hands hover near mine, hesitant, cautious, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he moves too quickly.

I don’t take his hand though.

I can’t.

I need so much more.

So, I reach for the back of his neck, my fingers caressing the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

His skin warm under my touch, grounding me in a way nothing else can.

His gaze flickers between my eyes and my mouth, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief.

“I love you” I whisper, the words finally spilling out like a confession. “I’ve always loved you.”

The air between us crackles with tension, the kind that pulls you in and refuses to let go.

And then, as if on instinct, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

The kiss is everything and nothing like I expected.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters, but when I respond, it shifts.

It’s heat and longing and every unspoken word we never said, all wrapped up in his lips moving against mine.

His hands anchor me to him, one at the small of my back, the other on my jaw.

I can feel the stubble on his beard, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the salt of my tears.

It’s overwhelming, consuming, and I never want it to end.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breaths coming in uneven gasps that match my own.

“I can’t keep leaving you behind” he says, his voice rough with emotion.

“You won’t have to” I reply, my hands still cradling his face. “Not anymore.”

His eyes search mine, and for the first time, I see something I never thought I deserved—relief.

And love.

“I’m going to ruin your life, you know?!” I murmur against his lips, a shaky laugh escaping me.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes soft. “As long as you’re in it, I don’t care.” he whispers, his voice full of intent.

The sound of distant murmurs pulls us back to reality. People are staring now, phones raised, whispers spreading like wildfire.

Lewis glances around, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well,” he says, his tone dry, “now we really can’t go back on this.”

I laugh softly, resting my forehead against his. “No,” I whisper. “We can’t.”

Before I can say more, security approaches, their expressions a mix of exasperation and recognition. “Mr. Hamilton, Miss…” one of them starts, clearly trying to maintain professionalism despite the chaos.

Lewis tightens his hold on me, his smile turning playful. “Looks like we’re causing a scene.”

I can’t help but laugh, my heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks as he responds. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise as we're scorted back to the vip lounge. “Let’s go figure this out”

And none of it matters.

But him.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not running away.

I’m running towards him.

Towards us.

"Okay, so I gotta ask," I say, glancing around the sleek but surprisingly compact space. “This is the glamorous life of an F1 WAG? I thought there’d be… I don’t know, more gold-plated chandeliers or something.”

Lewis snorts, looking up from the kitchenette where he’s fiddling with a cup of tea. “You were expecting a palace on wheels?” He saunters over, his grin equal parts amused and smug. “Sorry to disappoint, princess.”

I stretch out on the plush sofa—a truly luxurious thing to have in a motorhome, to be quite honest.

“Honestly? I thought I’d at least get a jacuzzi”

“Jacuzzi?” He raises an eyebrow, setting the tea down on the small table before climbing onto the sofa beside me. “You’ve got me. Isn’t that enough?”

I roll my eyes, but my smile betrays me. “Barely.”

“Barely, huh?” He leans over me, bracing himself on his elbows so that his body hovers just above mine.

His scent—clean, warm, and uniquely Lewis—envelops me, making the space feel small.

“You want out already?” he asks, his voice low, teasing, but with just enough vulnerability underneath to make my chest ache.

“Never,” I whisper, my fingers sliding up to tangle softly in his necklace. “You’re stuck with me now.”

His lips twitch, his eyes softening in that way that always undoes me. “Good.”

I pull him down, meeting him halfway for a kiss that’s slow and tender, the kind that feels like home.

His weight settles over me, grounding me, and for a moment, everything else fades—the race, the world outside, the chaos of the past few days.

It’s just us.

“You’re terrible at pretending you don’t want me, you know” he murmurs against my lips, his tone playful.

“I wasn’t pretending” I counter, though we both know it’s a lie. “I was… confused.”

“Confused,” he echoes, kissing the corner of my mouth. “You sure about that?”

I laugh softly, threading my fingers through his hair. “Positive. Now shut up and kiss me again, Hamilton.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His lips crash into mine, and this time, there’s nothing slow about it.

It’s all heat and need, his hands finding my waist as he presses me further into the cushions.

And in a motorhome, surrounded by the hum of a f1 paddock outside, I finally realize something.

It doesn’t matter where we are—whether it’s a cramped motorhome, a five-star hotel, or the middle of an airport.

As long as it’s with him, it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

My decision of a lifetime, one that after that day I'd make every day, over and over.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend @unlikelystay @thesizzler

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[yelenasdiary]

in response to that hilarious pic of flo, maybe the prompt could be Flo giving an interview to the reader but she’s not listening to the questions because she’s distracted by the readers looks? maybe reader even “tricks” Flo into answering “yes, of course” to a “will you go out with me?” question because reader knows Flo is not paying attention to their questions? 😂 can’t wait to read whatever you pick!

Drabble || Trick Question

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: You've got the opportunity to interview Florence Pugh and Timothée for the new Dune movie, when you notice that Florence is struggling a little to focus on the interview you take a leap into the deep end and try to draw her attention back to the interview.

Fluff

Warnings: None, this isn't proof read or corrected! | 0.5K

AC: I fell inlove with this idea the moment I read it! Thank you for sending it, I hope you enjoy!! x Post in question

"My next question is for you, Florence" you said with a soft smile. The actress whom had been in and out of this entire interview. The first you thought maybe you had asked something she didn't feel comfortable to answer but as the interview went on you soon noticed how she was unable to keep her eyes off you.

Florence tilted her head slightly, as if to tell you to go ahead with your question. "Did you get a chance to learn how to sand walk from Timothée?" you asked. Timothée laughed, shaking his head. His laugh brought Florence's attention back to the interview, she chuckled. "Unfortunately not, but it does look really cool!" she replied.

"Good to have you back on earth!" Timothée joked, poking fun at his friend. Florence threw him a cheeky side eye and chuckled.

"I agree! it does look really cool" you commented before moving onto the next question on your queue cards.

After a few more questions for Timothée and Florence, you wrapped up the typical questions and had a few minutes left to play a little game with the cast.

"We have a few minutes left so I thought we could play a little trivia question game" you suggested.

"Sounds fun, let's do it!" Timothée smiled.

"I'm in!" Florence added.

"Sweet! The first question is, which animal has ten hearts?" you asked. Florence frowned instantly as she tried to think of the answer, meanwhile Timothée only needed a few short seconds to have the answer pop into his head. "Ten hearts? god, that's a lot" Florence commented, "do you know?" she asked, looking to her friend and cast member.

"Yeah, it's the earthworm!" He replied.

"That's correct!" you smiled. Florence looked to be in disbelieve but the moment her eyes landed on your smile, her mind went blank. "What is the run time of the first Dune?" you asked.

You noticed Timothée's eyes widen while he racked his brain for an answer but Florence didn't react, she just looked at you with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Timothée soon noticed that Florence was once again caught in the beautiful of your eyes but didn't say anything to pull her attention back to the little game.

"I wanna say it's like three hours and fifth teen minutes" Timothée replied, completely unsure of this answer. "Florence? your thoughts?" he asked.

"Uh? oh, I think it's like two hours and forty five minutes" she quickly replied.

"You were very close, it's run time is two hours and thirty five mines!" you said before taking a quick look at your queue cards once more but once again, Florence's attention was quickly shifted back to you.

"This one is more for Florence, again" you started, just to make sure that Florence's attention was else were, and it was. "Would you like to get dinner after this?" you asked.

Florence nodded, "yes, I love too" she replied, "wait, could you please repeat that?" she added, leaning slightly forward. Both you and Timothée broke into laughter making Florence's cheeks to turn redder than ever.

"You need to pay better attention" Timothée teased.

Florence chuckled, "if you were serious about that question, I meant it, I would love too" she said, looking back at you.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[cloveroctobers]

SWEET DREAMS — Terry Richmond [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: It’s really making me happy that I have someone new to write about! And now I get to do that some more during my favorite season? You know I had to! Thanks for all the previous love on my first work about this stunning lion looking man! Hope to do more for the next season too 🤩

WARNINGS: Get your sage & holy water ready! This fic includes — Fluff, grief, and Mike is alive! Most likely language, written with a black woman in mind, & this ended up much longer than I intended! Basically…fuck around and find out?

SYNOPSIS: Life is short, shorter than you can imagine but sleep can feel like a eternity.

Firstly this is inspired by the haunting of hill house just a little + PROMPTS can be found here & I’m using: 25. “Well, it is a seance.” / “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.” + 28. Playing with an Ouija board.

<- read my previous spooky anthology prompt here.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭

Terry remembers her roller set digging into his collarbone as they lounged on their couch together one (always) warm autumn afternoon. She often complained about wash days but each one was different when it came to how she wanted to style it for the next two to three weeks. He helped her roll and clip the back of her head once she started to whine that her arms were about to fall off. He may have worked her too hard in the gym two days ago but regardless, dealing with a crown like this would always be a task, so he didn’t mind taking on some of the weight.

He made sure to kiss her temple once she stated that she can handle the rest, while he left her to get started on dinner. It was always a rule between the two to have dinner at the table, since they hardly got the chance to experience that in their own upbringings. Majority of the time, this rule was followed but that day she struggled to keep her head upright as she shuffled around the waterfront raised french provincial home.

Terry was pretty commanding and even guided her to the table once everything was ready, although she wanted to throw a tantrum, a tender kiss to her lips snapped her out of it as they sat across from each other to have dinner. Once that was over? He had no issue lounging on the couch for a while; her nodding off with the aroma of rosemary being prominent from her roots.

“We should be fall shopping since scary movies aren’t really our thing.” She croaked, through slits in her eyes, as some football game was playing on the flatscreen.

Terry snorts, “I told you I was down for: it’s the great pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”

“What are we, five?” She sassed.

Terry leaned away to peek down at his girl, “Huh? You’re more of the scary one out of the relationship than I am.”

“…SO?” She huffed, followed by a yawn that ripped through her lips.

Terry chuckled, “yeah you must be real tired because that comeback was not challenging enough.”

She hums, tightening her crossed arms as she closes her eyes once more. Terry loops an arm across her chest, leaning the elbow of his other arm along the arm of the couch while pressing his knuckles against his mouth, eyes focused on the game now while he let her get her nap on. He already knew the deal, that he wouldn’t let her sleep too long since she had to go into her regular shift down at the library the next morning.

She’s been taking up extra hours, (since the mortgage rates continued to go up rather than down around here) even went in on her day off for four hours before she came back home to get started on her hair. So he’d wake her up so this nap didn’t disrupt her night routine in the next thirty to forty-five minutes.

Terry, always the active one and grew tired of the game—since he wasn’t rooting for a particular team anyway—left her with a honey colored Sherpa blanket to finish out her slumber and ventured outside underneath the house, through the carport to his workshop to see what he can get into. He had his timer set on the Apple Watch she got him last Christmas, although he was used to just tracking time on his regular wrist watch, he appreciated the gift.

She came and found him before time was up, arms sneaking around his waist while Terry’s humming along to Luther Vandross’, “Don’t you know that?”

He was too in his zone, fixing up Mike’s bike and jamming to old classics that he didn’t even hear her come in, which he should scold himself for but with the way she held onto him so lovingly, nuzzling her cheek against his back, made him put that on hold for now.

“Having a good time without me, Grandpa?” She teases while Terry turns to face her.

He runs a thumb over her cheek as she smiles up at him, “Never. You’re just who I was waiting for, grandmomma. All you’re missing is the moo-moo.” He jokes back, using his other hand to flick one of her rollers which she tries to smack his hand away to not mess with.

Soon that hand is up and intertwining with her’s as Terry leads them into a sway to the beat. She’s well enough rested as she grins up at him with a slight shake of her head, knowing Terry’s in a good mood now that he has her out here slow-dancing in this muggy workshop.

“Who knew that your simba looking self would be a big softie?” She tells him as he leans towards his woman.

He keeps his intense eye contact locked only on her and stops humming to reply, “You secretly love it.”

“I do…and you too, I guess.” She jests with a whisper, also inching forward so their lips can meet once more.

There’s a red light behind Terry’s eyelids before he decides to open them. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a while and picking up on the chirping of birds, buzzing of bugs, and the possible motor of a neighbors’ nearby boat in the water. His senses were always heightened. It’s late, he knows it but he doesn’t move as the door to the back patio across from the bed is pushed open.

There she is, surrounded by the orange sunlight that fights against the fog. It’s almost too bright that he can’t make out her facial features, when he knows he usually can with his eyes closed.

“Good, you’re up.” She says closing the door behind her but the opacity still blocks out her features yet not her hair, “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

He wants to move but finds his body stiff and unmoving. There’s a furrow of his thick brows as they start to search the brightness of the room, which is a contrast of what it’s been like for months. Terry flicks his eyes downwards, trying to move his fingers but they stay put.

He feels the dip of the bed and the clinking of a utensil against a teacup that looks an awful lot like his mother’s. She takes a sip and sighs while she then says to Terry, “This feels familiar doesn’t it?”

Terry swallows, his throat feels extremely dry and as if a lump has formed there. He wants to cough but makes no motion to do so. He keeps blinking, hoping that he can figure out what’s going on but part of him feels like he should already know.

“Don’t worry, honey. Just be thankful that you got the prettier version of me to haunt you, instead of whatever I was forced to see when I got like this.” She informs Terry, leaning over to finally show him what he remembered her to be.

The softness of her eyes, the way she sounded, the way her tongue pressed behind her front teeth when she smiled along with the way she smelled.

“I just hope you keep having sweet dreams and not what the night brings.” The last of her words echo off his ears before Terry is able to sit up with a sharp gasp of air.

His hand goes to his throat, massaging the space and clearing it as his wide eyes look around the room for her but she’s no longer here. He feels the beads of sweat appearing on the back of his neck, and the vibrating of his phone already tells him that it’s one of three people that’s probably calling him. Terry reaches over to take a peek, declining the call and sending a text that he would catch up with them later, then drags himself into the bathroom to get ready for another long day.

The obnoxious ringing of his doorbell, makes Terry stride quickly to the door to reveal his cousin, Mike along with their old friend, Summer McBride. She’s got her hands full while Mike straightens up from his position of getting ready to send a horse kick to Terry’s front door.

“I’m convinced you lost your mind.” Terry says to his family member, who just grins at him, “And I know auntie Josie taught you some manners, help Summer out, man.”

Mike scoffs while Summer sends him a knowing look with her doe eyes, “She almost chopped my hand off when I tried to take the bag from her, fam. So I did try.”

Terry steps aside to wave the pair in before saying to the short haired woman, “I told you that every time you visit, you don’t have to bring anything.”

“The only good thing my family taught me,” Summer speaks over her shoulder as she makes her way through the foyer, “was to never show up empty handed and this is nothin’.”

Terry and Mike unfortunately got to meet her (racist) family down at the usual court dates Summer had to attend. Every time they turned around her ex husband was having her down there and although Terry attended more so than Mike—not that it mattered—he had his own trauma of not wanting to be in any more courtrooms, they all showed up for one another in various of ways.

“Tell that to my still stinging hand.” Mike comments while the blonde sets her things down onto the wooden dining table.

He heads into the kitchen while Terry exhaled before moving around his own home as well.

“Oh, you complain more than my own kid!” Summer sassed while Terry gives a small smile at their bickering.

He finds himself tuning them out as he checks on the sides again before turning the stove off. When he turns back around he sees Mike rubbing his hands together in excitement, “what’s on the menu, cuz? You never answered the texts?”

Terry inhales as he glanced over his shoulder at the various pots and pans, “Nothing too crazy, thick cut pork chops with three options since I’m not sure what Summer prefers: hot sauce, applesauce, or smothered in gravy and onions.”

Mike scoffs, “well aren’t you a kind hearted son of a bitch. How come I don’t get options when we have dinner together on Thursday’s?”

“You’re just a picky eater and don’t nobody got time for that.”

Mike sucks his teeth, “you did all that extra work and watch Summer like her shit borin’ and plain.” He turns back to the blonde who stands by the side of the island counter, awaiting her answer with his brown eyes.

Summer sheepishly smiles, “I actually brought a mini hot sauce in my bag if it wasn’t an option.”

“See,” Terry laughs at Mike’s shocked face, “we got to know our friend by now, she ain’t regular.”

Summer questions, “Thank you?”

“Yeah it’s a compliment, Goldilocks. Now tell us what you did bring because if it’s coleslaw with raisins? I’m taking my plate to go.” Mike informs while Terry pinches the bridge of his nose followed by a chuckle, before moving around the kitchen to start grabbing plates.

Summer frowns, “do I look like a coleslaw kinda woman, Michael? And lucky for you, I can’t cook so I just bought over some fall inspired things that we can all try later.”

Mike pretends to gag, “this lady tryna to kill us with that pumpkin shit.”

“Mike, clear the table for me man, so we can have a clean space to serve ourselves.” Terry encourages while Summer just folds her arms and sticks her nose up at Mike’s actions before circling around to look at the prepared food until it was time to bring everything over.

Dinner was never awkward by any means. This wss a routine that they picked back up, having Sunday dinner or if they couldn’t make it or if Terry wasn’t feeling up for it they would come over for leftovers on Monday. Since Summer moved closer to where Terry and Mike resided in Lullin it was easier for her to stop on by. On Thursday’s Terry and Mike would mostly spend time at Mr. Liu’s for dinner. Although they had a business together where they saw each other every day, it was always important to continue their bond outside of work with food.

That’s been instilled in them since they were children, meeting up at Terry’s grandmother’s house and Mike’s grandfather—Terry’s great uncle—would always come by with Mike underneath his arm. That’s what started their bond thanks to their grandparent’s tight sibling relationship.

Sometimes Terry would even put on (grandpa, as she would like to call it) music while they carried on a conversation, it would mostly be Mike and Summer debating over something while Terry intently listened. If you didn’t know him, you would probably think he’s blocking them out but he could repeat back everything that was said. Since Mike was the only drinker and the pumpkin beer was mainly for him, he deemed it as not bad, shocking Summer who mocked him into giving her some credit and he even asked if he could take the remaining three pack home with him.

This was all after they stepped in to clean up the kitchen, Summer was on dish duty, Terry was putting everything into containers and making to-go boxes for the two, while Mike sipped and wiped down the counters and placed the decorations back on the dining table like how she used to have it.

Soon they were all seated on the couch, binging some ridiculous show Summer put them all onto before Mike pointed out that Summer never showed them what was in her large reusable bag that she brought with her. The blonde peeks at the time on her spot on the two seat sofa and sighed, “I guess now is a good enough time as any.”

Mike’s eyes are already low lidded as he’s lounging on the couch and looks over at Terry who simply shrugs at him.

“I’ve been thinkin’…Terry hasn’t been getting the best sleep lately, rightfully so and I thought maybe there was a way to get rid of that weight in your heart.” Summer speaks as she brings the bag over to the living room.

Terry blinks but there’s confusion in his light eyes, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not!” Summer argues, “Sure you’re going to those therapy sessions but I know a sleep deprived person when I see one, believe me.”

Mike mumbles before taking a final swing from the bottle, “Blondie ain’t wrong, cuz. Normally you’re on your game and you always push through—don’t get me wrong—but I caught you sleeping in the office lately and that ain’t like you.”

Terry looks back and forth between the two but still speaks calmly, “so…this was your plan this dinner? To plot on me and have some sort of intervention?”

Mike shakes his head, “I don’t know what summa summa summa time brought with her, I don’t play no parts in that. I just know the anniversary of losing her is coming up and we just want to make sure you’re good, is all.”

There’s this slight ache that wants to punch through the numbness in his chest but when Terry sits up, burying his elbows into his knees, he’s able to make it subside some.

“…Because we care and we show up for one another.” Summer added, “and you started telling me about one of your dreams before in pieces but they were still so vivid. So I thought maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”

Both sets of eyes flicked to Summer as she turned to the bag that sat next to her on the sofa, her hands digging through the bag to pull out a board.

“…I know she fucking lying.”

There in her lap sat an Ouija board.

Terry drops his head while Summer blows out a breath and tries to plead her case.

“Before you all go houndin’ me about doing white shit, I just want you both to know that this was very effective for me. I got the chance to speak with my pawpaw—

“Oh yeah sure, Paw-Paw!” Mike does air quotes while Summer waits for him to be done.

“…He’s the only stable adult I had in my life and talkin’ to him through here instead of at a gravesite did me a helluva lot good. I just thought it could help you too.” Summer speaks, making Terry lift his head to meet her eyes.

Terry and Mike have known Summer for a while and she’s always been genuine. Maybe this did help her grieve her grandfather, Terry always gave people the benefit of the doubt and the chance to show their character or right their wrongs. He didn’t think Summer would purposely steer him wrong yet he’s seen some things going through training and being a marine.

He didn’t break then.

He still didn’t break when he lost her.

He couldn’t.

“You got me?” Terry finally finds himself asking Summer after a brief silence, who holds his stare before slowly dipping her head.

Summer affirms because Terry was keen on words, “I do.”

Mike wasn’t having it so Terry and Summer moved to the office that used to belong to her. Summer sets the board on the built in desk once they pass through the double doors. Terry grabs a chair from the main desk that’s in the center of the room for Summer and grabs the second from another but much smaller built in computer desk off to the side by the windows for himself.

“You’re going to have to walk me through this since this isn’t my expertise. I normally don’t mess with spirits and if this ever gets out to my grandmother—

“It’ll be our little secret and Mike’s.” Summer squeezes his shoulder before motioning for him to sit and then drags her bag in between the chairs, “it’s simple work really. We light a candle, you have something that was special to her, and we call upon the spirit realm to reach her. Then she’ll talk to us through the board.”

Terry’s expression held skepticism but Summer double checked if he wanted to go through with this. He said he would after pausing, feeling a draft at the back of his neck. He been cut the air off on the first day of autumn and was more of a let the fresh air in while she once preferred the automatic timer for the AC.

Since the evening was here already, Summer didn’t have to make the office dark. She closed the double doors per Mike’s request and lit the candle.

Playing with an ouija board was not on Terry Richmond’s bucketlist.

Ever.

“So—

Summer starts but Terry is glancing around him, “Did it just get cold in here or is it just me?”

The blonde also peers around herself and around Terry towards the wall on his right that shielded the other closed door that led to the loop of the rest of the home.

“Well, it is a seance.” Summer tried to ease her friend’s worries with a crooked smile while Terry just blankly stared at her from underneath his lashes.

“Not yet,” he mutters and fiddles with a trinket that belonged to the late love of his life.

A third time Summer asked if he’s ready before asking the second most important question, “What did you bring?”

Terry’s whole hand was wrapped around one of the many trinkets she once collected. It started in twenty-twenty when lockdown happened. The depression was hitting and she needed something that brought her out of it, she couldn’t safely continue doing piano lessons like she wanted once the library had to shut down for a while. This was her side hobby turned hustle, being musically gifted with the piano and composing.

Most of her sheet work was safely in one of these drawers.

It was really something to watch her get in her zone. Eyes closed and dainty fingers just barely touching the keys but the music always flowed and captivated. Terry was more into the physical connection with his body whereas the mental was more on her. With lockdown, Terry still knew how to manage and pushed himself even harder with keeping his body right, whereas she fell into a reading slump for awhile and started to play off key on the keys (which she hardly ever missed) along with her sleeping habits becoming problematic.

She’s always loved little trinkets, while she joked calling Terry a grandpa because of his music choices, he also joked that she was grandpa’s baby. The obsession with Calico critters actually brought her out of depression some and although she would wait weeks on weeks for the packages to arrive on their doorstep thanks to shipping delays, he never forgot learning how important these were to her.

And how by placing one, specifically from the new collection at the time, the hedgehog family, Maxwell the son and brother was placed right on her keyboard that used to rest on the main desk behind Terry and Summer. Apparently he was the pianist out of the family and was that little source of encouragement that watched her play. Sure it was kiddish by first glance but many don’t realize they have to heal their inner child to live. So you can look back at whatever you dealt with as a child and make them see, as you grow into your adulthood that this was all worth it.

Terry had no problem listening to her view on her latest obsession once the teasing was out of the way. He even tried not to be a little jealous that this toy got to give her some joy back and find her passion for piano again. He was stuck listening to her gift from around the corner instead of taking one of the chairs and sitting it in backwards in the same room to listen like he used to do. She had plenty of trinkets all over the house here and there or in plenty of storage boxes she got from tag sales. Yes they were toys but people aren’t just people, they have stories.

They talked about children before and Terry even speculated that she maybe keeping a certain secret from him (she wasn’t) once the overload of figurines started to take over but Terry wanted to be married first. Plenty already had a lot to say since they lived together, bought a house together without being married but what worked for them didn’t have to work for everyone else. She was a product of divorce because of infidelity, Terry was a product of a single hard working mom who raised and provided for him mostly whenever his grandmother didn’t step in to help.

She and Terry agreed that their marriage had to be the best example of love, they didn’t have to try very hard but they wanted the way they loved to be what their kid should expect. That love can kind, patient, fun, overwhelming, have unity, it should feel and show all the good things but also something that can be built and shaped within that unity when it got tough. They didn’t want to repeat a cycle or screw their future kid up but Terry had to remind her that there’s no perfect parent. No perfect love story but it could be perfect enough just for them two. Sometimes she had her head way up in the clouds, she was the dreamer and sometimes he had to reel her—not down but beside him again. To see that dreams are beautiful yet sometimes reality can be a nightmare and not on purpose.

They could always handle it together and not particularly with only one taking the lead.

This hedgehog full of hair as big as her’s, whenever the shrinkage stopped playing around! symbolized a lot. The rest of Maxwell’s family was around here somewhere and this is why Terry chose this one specifically to bring out because trinkets maybe of little value as a standalone but once you get them into your hands they become so much more.

Terry wished he had infinite time with her.

He’s been so lost in his grieving that he missed out on the candle blowing out on its own. The scent of the blown out wax hits his nostrils and he loosens his grip on the critter as he sits up now.

“Terry? You alright?” Summer questions, although her doe eyes are searching around the office.

He hums, not sure how to answer that as he just got hit with multiple memories.

He missed her so much.

The candle lights itself again and Summer meets Terry’s eyes, her hands clasped right in her lap, indicating that she did not do this as the lighter was placed back on the desk and away from the ouija board.

“…are you here with us?” Summer says her name first, while deciding to be the one who asks.

Terry feels himself holding his breath, his chest feels tight as Summer reaches out for the critter to place above the ouija board. She raises her fingers to Terry, who lightly shakes his head, leaving her to do the honors of placing them on the planchette.

Within seconds, Summer’s hands are moving over to: YES.

That makes Terry rub at his goatee, feeling his heart race. He peeks at Summer who already has her eyes on him, “you’re not playing a prank on me are you?”

“I swear I’m not. This is the real deal and if you want proof? Ask her something and I’ll keep my hands off this time.” Summer encourages while Terry starts to bounce his knee.

He thinks about what he should say, anything that he asks and if the planchette moves on its own without Summer’s hands, he just might lose his shit.

“Were you alone when you passed?” Terry struggles to get the words out and Summer squeezes his shoulder, knowing what he’s getting at.

He was on the phone with her just an hour before she died. Terry wasn’t the biggest fan of her driving alone at night but she was dedicated to her job and drove out an hour and forty-five minutes to fight another round to keep the library afloat. If Terry and Mike weren’t swamped with their own business that weekend, he would have taken the drive with her. It went much longer than she expected and Terry encouraged her to just stay at a hotel for the night and take the drive back home in the morning.

There was nothing out of the ordinary on the call, the insomnia started to kick back in again for her recently—which is why she wanted to get the drive over with—and Terry claimed it as stress but she always vouched that it was something else.

Someone else.

He would wake up in the middle night, hearing sharp breaths and when he would roll over to see her face…He knew something was wrong. There were warm tears gliding down her cheeks and majority of the time she would be frozen in fear or fingers scrunched up as she balled up the sheets. They made appointments and medically they couldn’t find anything wrong but of course some sleeping pills were encouraged that she didn’t want to take.

All she kept saying was the figure that lingered in the dark it had a top hat, a hole in its chest, and the blood that dripped from its fingertips always flicked towards her, almost as if it was conducting a symphony, as it came close to the bed before she snapped right out of the paralysis.

The planchette shifts on its own over to: NO.

Terry scoffs out a breath, head wanting to drop as his suspicions came to light. The investigators concluded the crash as an accident but Terry always felt like it was more. They claimed she either fell asleep at the wheel or fell into cardiac arrest first and that’s what led to the collision with the tree but cars just don’t randomly end up on top of trees. Swerving to avoid something else on road was certain but not at this type of impact.

This confirmed it.

Before he can ask more the planchette is moving again to spell out: I-T-S-H-E-R-E-T-O-O.

“Terry?” Summer whispers, picking up on the sound of a piano but Terry relocated her keyboard from the office down to the workshop some time ago, “this didn’t happen with the seance I did for my paw…”

He doesn’t hear the symphony Summer was hearing but he gets a whiff of a smell he’s familiar and loved being intoxicated with. He looks up from his lap and peered over his shoulder, to see her sitting in a rust colored dress on top of the desk with her back to them, “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.”

Good on his part but bad for Summer as she starts to pant at the dark silhouette by the window.

She speaks to Terry, “I told you the sweet dreams don’t happen at night, didn’t i? Now look at what Ms. Summer’s about to see.”

He swallows, locked in only on her because of how radiant she appears as Summer gets to her feet, chair falling behind her while she whips around to let out a scream, which she struggles to cover once she gets sight of what only she and her can see but not Terry.

Taking his eyes off her for a second, Terry gets to his feet as well, reaching out for Summer but her blue-green eyes begin to change to a cloudy milk color as she holds onto her chest, fighting for her breath.

“The fuck is happening?!” Terry yells as he grabs onto Summer’s arms.

The voice that used to be so sweet and loving changes as she floats over to him quickly that if he had been watching he was sure he would have had whiplash, a gush of cold waves over Terry’s frame, almost bringing him to his knees but of course he fights against it, “he’s winning, you welcomed him in.”

There’s a knocking and wiggling of the knobs at the double doors and it sounds like Mike but Terry only feels his body shuddering as Summer slumps over to the side. He catches her before she can hit the ground. Terry still holds onto his friend as they both are lowered to the ground for different actions being done to their bodies. Terry still isn’t able to see what is taking control over Summer but he feels the frigidness of her hands while he tries his best to keep his friend up right.

She’s holding onto his face now, caressing it as her smile is wicked opposed to pleasant. “You can grieve now,” she tells him in a voice that no longer belongs to her.

That’s when the burning happens and Terry is yelling out in pain, using one hand to squeeze at his chest. He’s palming at his shirt, attempting to peel it off but raises it to see her name being carved into his pec.

He’s down on his knees, one arm holding onto a comatose Summer, chest burning and aching with the touch of her. A caress to his cheek allows a tear to spill from both corners of his eye.

A wink, a smile, and the humming of an old classic tune is all that is left but Terry still finds himself reaching out for her, doubling over as she steps back. A hand goes to her chest, patting just where her name is on his own before fading away from his view.

The shuffling of the board can be heard but Terry can’t move from his position as the double doors are yanked back by Mike who runs into the office to his aide.

The ouija board reads: S-W-E-E-T-D-R-E-A-M-S

Once it stops at the last letter, a sweaty Terry feels his eyes close followed by a cold yet gentle kiss upon his cheek.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[idciminlove]

Take a Slice

Part Four- The Diner

f!reader x Tashi Duncan x Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- age gap, slightly suggestive content, hickeys, anxiety and overthinking

You and Tashi finally get to meet up and talk.

Song inspo: The Diner- Billie Eilish

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟹𝟶𝚝𝚑

𝟾 𝙰𝙼

You groaned in frustration as you stood in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer over the splotchy purple marks on your neck. In forty five minutes, a car would be coming to pick you up to take you to meet with Tashi and you were hardly ready.

“You picked the worst time to do this. At this point my skin’s going to be two different colors.” You turned to Anneliese, showing her your neck. She giggled softly, and fuck, you can’t stay mad at her.

“You’re not blending enough. Here, let me help.” She got to her feet, taking the sponge from your hand and wiping it over your neck. You shivered slightly from her touch, sensitive from the contact.

You clenched and unclenched your fist, trying your hardest to stand still, despite all the anxious thoughts you had running through your mind. “Maybe I should just cancel.”

“What? Are you crazy? The car will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Maybe I could say I got sick, or something. Like really, really sick. I could send a picture of myself in one of the beds at the clinic and pretend I’m at the ER-”

Anneliese pulled away, frowning at you and murmuring your name sternly. “No. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. You worked so hard for this. You deserve it. You can’t give it up.”

You sighed softly, knowing she was right. “I’m just..scared.”

“I know, and that’s okay. It’s understandable, this is an intimidating situation. But remember, no matter what, you’re going to be okay. I know she’s going to love you. Who wouldn’t?” She stroked some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek and smiling at you.

You leaned in and kissed her, molding your lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer, swiping her tongue against your bottom lip. You let yourself get lost in her for a minute, before pulling away and pressing soft kisses down her chin and neck.

“You’re sure you can’t come with me?” You mumbled against her neck. She let out a breathy sigh, before tugging at your hair, and pulling your head back. “You know I can’t. Now, c’mon, let’s find something for you to wear.”

After a little digging, you managed to find something. A blue button up blouse with a collar that covered the rest of your neck, hiding the hickeys that you couldn’t, and jeans to go with it. It was nice and casual, perfect for your meeting with Tashi.

The next thing you knew, you got a text from her telling that the car was waiting outside. So, you kissed Annelise goodbye, and left, ready to face whatever’s ahead.

–

Unsurprisingly, Tashi had picked a very nice place. A cafe, an expensive one at that. It looked like it cost money just for you to stand inside. After she greeted you outside, you followed her to the lounge area, sitting across from her on the cozy couches and exchanging pleasantries.

“I’ll have the chamomile tea.” She ordered when the waiter came over. You searched the menu anxiously, trying to find something that wouldn’t be too expensive. But you didn’t want to waste the waiter’s time or create a long awkward silence, so you found yourself blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.” Seriously? Who orders a hot chocolate in late May? She must think you’re such a freak.

But she just gave you a small smile. “It’s my treat, so don’t worry about paying.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.” You let the waiter take your menus. You tried not to stare at her, but also found it impossible to make eye contact. She was just making you so nervous, sitting there in the sleek dark black turtleneck that complimented her complexion so well, not to mention how it looked on her body, modest, but revealing just enough to leave you wanting more.

You tried to ignore that thought, feeling your face getting hot and your brain getting fuzzy. It took you a solid thirty seconds to realize that she was speaking to you, snapping you out of your daze. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you want coffee.”

“No thanks. I’m not really a coffee person. It makes me too hyper. My Mom always says that I have more than enough energy as it is.” You laughed nervously. Fuck, I’m such a dork.

She leaned back in her chair, blowing on her steaming tea and giving you a look you couldn’t decipher. “So, you and your Mom are pretty close, huh? Was she happy to hear about your win?”

“Yeah, she was thrilled. She’s always been really supportive with tennis and anything that can make me successful.” You replied.

“That’s good. How are you feeling about winning the NCAAs? I know it’s very exciting. You must be celebrating a lot.” Her eyes dropped to your neck briefly, as she gave you a once over.

You felt naked under her stare. You cleared your throat, tugging at your shirt collar and trying to cover yourself more. “I’ve celebrated a little, not too much, and I am happy. It’s been my biggest win in a while.”

“Not since the Junior’s US Open in 2020, right?” She knew about that? Of course she did. Has she known about you since then? You didn’t know if you should be flattered or nervous. What else did she know?

You gazed over at her, seeing an intense look in her eye. This felt like a test. A challenge. So, you straightened in your seat, smiling at her. “That’s right. You’ve done your research.”

“That’s just what coaches do. I also know about your knee injury the year after. You must’ve had an amazing recovery.”

You took a sip of your hot chocolate, nodding. “I did. I was lucky, very lucky. I dislocated my knee, but I didn’t tear anything too serious. I’m grateful that I was able to recover and have the chance to come back stronger and continue playing now.”

“And you’re content with your win? Satisfied?” She pressed, as if she could read you like a book. It was like she had cut you open, and could see that fire burning inside. Like she could see that insatiable part of you.

“Maybe for a little bit..but it’s not what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

“...More.”

It was the truth. You were doing just as Anneliese had told you to, to be yourself. Your true self. Something flickered in Tashi’s eyes, and she dug her teeth into her bottom lip, grinning at you.

“Good. And if I said I could give you more, if I could train you and have you play professionally by next year, what would you think?”

The fire inside you roared to life, burning hot, screaming at you. Yes, yes, do it! You need this. You deserve this. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You almost jumped at the opportunity, but you found yourself holding back. You hesitated. “I’d have to think about it.”

Her smile faded slightly. “Why’s that?”

“There are..people..that mean a lot to me. That I’d have a hard time leaving.” It’s forbidden to play professionally while playing in the NCAA. So if you left, it would be unlikely that you’d be able to come back. It would be burning a bridge, and leaving everyone you cared about behind. Leaving Anneliese behind.

“I want to play professionally, and I want you to train me, I really, really do. I just- I don’t know when.”

She paid the bill and got to her feet. “I get it, it’s a lot to think about. Take your time. Figure out what’s important to you, and text me when you’re ready. Your car should be here in five.”

With that, she walked off. You watched her leave, frozen in place, your mind reeling from what just happened.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

[withahappyrefrain]

Okay but I’d love to talk mob Peter and model on his yacht where he is supposed to be on vacation but keeps having to do work which leads to his girl getting bored/ finding ways to get him to focus on her and like at this point peter is no longer nervous and bad at dating he’s pissed and someone’s getting fcuked on a deck

YES also this got away from me whoops

When Peter said he would be on vacation, it really means he would be working only fifty percent of the time.

It's better than the whole time. And it certainly wouldn't be difficult to lure him away with a skimpy bikini, with promises of hot tubs and cocktails.

At least, so one thought.

The skimpy bikinis were becoming more beneficial for even tanning rather than seducing Peter.

Apparently vacation time is the best time for everything at work to go to shit.

It makes sense that Peter is the go to person. He's in charge, which means they want his approval before making a decision.

But why did it have to take thirty to forty five minutes for a damn decision to be approved?

It doesn't help that they were having such a lovely time out on the deck before his phone rang, his mouth exploring yours, hands about to discover that there was nothing underneath that cute little sundress you had on.

It has been twenty minutes past too long since he answered the phone.

Which left you no choice but to take matters into your own hands.

You flipped over onto your stomach, the action causing the hem of your dress to rise past your thighs.

Peter saw, given by the way he raised an eyebrow. For a moment, his eyes were fixated on you, on your body. But then someone calls his name over the phone, and he's back to talking to Felicia.

That just won't do.

So you prop yourself up on your knees and elbows, arching your back enough for the hem of your dress to slide closer to your waist, giving Peter a generous glimpse of your ass, revealing the surprise you had planned for him.

When you looked back, his eyes, now dark, were fixated on you. His free hand was running along his beard, up and down his freckled neck, a nervous habit he displayed ever since your first date. Long fingers danced along the silver chain you loved to pull on.

He holds his hand up, fingers spread as he mouths "five minutes" to you.

But that seems like an eternity.

You truly didn't mean to moan so loudly when your fingers found your clit. They weren't as thick or calloused as Peter's, but feeling something after going untouched this whole morning felt incredible.

It's so good that you don't hear Peter abruptly and gruffly hanging up. You don't hear him unzip his pants or reach for the bottle of lube.

When you do feel, is his cock slamming into you, a hand grabbing both of yours and holding them by your wrists.

"You little slut, just couldn't fucking wait," He hisses, slamming into you, ignoring your cries of pleasure.

"N-No. Needed it s'bad," you whine, unashamed.

His cock makes you feel so full, makes your toes curl, makes you unable to focus on anything other than how fucking good he makes you feel.

"Yeah, I can tell. Showing off your cunt to me and everyone else who's sailing by," He grunts, his tough facade almost faltering when your walls squeeze his cock so well.

"T-took s'long. Couldn't help it." It's really a miracle you're able to speak somewhat coherently, considering the way Peter's rutting into you, his fingers drawing circles on your aching clit.

"Oh? Now it's my fault you just couldn't wait five minutes?" His fingers are moving with precision, "Let's see if I can beat my personal record of making this cunt come over my cock.'

[joenotexotic99]

Hello! I just saw your Sub!Five post and I must say it's a masterpiece! Is there any possibility you can write some more? Us Doms are running on crumbs for Sub!Five lol.

A/n: I am soooo sorry this took so long love. My life as been a roller coaster these last few weeks and I have had so much writer's block. However I really do hope I have delivered some quality content <3

Five Hargreaves x F!reader

Warnings: hard-ish Dom reader sub!five, language, smut, I was partially high while writing some of this (don't do drugs,) use of handcuffs and blindfold, hand job, unprotected sex (it won't harm her to wear some armor) oral sex f! Receiving. 

Summary: five didn't come home when he promised.

Word count: 1.5k

Five didn't come home on time.

Five promised you that he would be home by the time dinner was ready. Before he left earlier that day you explicitly remember him saying that's when he would get home.

And yet dinner has already been over with and done. You even cleaned up the table. Put away the leftovers, clean and washed the dishes. Putting them in the dishwasher. Cleaned and swept the kitchen. Took a shower and brushed your teeth. You put on your pajamas for the night. And now you sat on the couch re-watching an old show. Day turned night.

Still five was yet to return home. He lied. He lied to you. He could be anywhere right now, in any time period for that matter. But at this very moment he was supposed to be in your shared home. Now here you were, alone. You trust him enough to know how to handle himself and hold his own. Therefore he should know that actions have consequences.

As you stared at the TV mounted to your wall you heard the oh so familiar squeak of the front door opening followed by five setting down his briefcase and removing his shoes. 

Rounding the corner into the living room he immediately saw you under the soft light of the lamp with an expression on your face that was anything but joy. It took five a solid second to realize what he had done. Before he squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Shit I'm sorry"

You got up off the couch before slowly making your way to him. Talking as you walked.

"You're sorry?" You scoffed

"God yes I'm so sorry. Time slipped and I didn't reali-" 

"What time did you say you would get home?" You asked keeping your voice calm

"Before dinner" five said, keeping his head down

"That's right. Now you see dinner was at six thirty. And what time is it now?" You asked now infront of five

Five checked his wrist watch before continuing.

"Ten" five swallow the lump in his throat. Still staring down at his feet

"Look at me five." You said lifting up his head with your fingers "So you're admitting that you didn't do as promised?" You continued to ask

"Yes" five said quietly

"And what happens when you break the rules like this?" You already know the answer but hearing him say it is simply so so much better.

"I get punished" 

"Mhhmh, so you think that you deserved to get punished?" You asked. Making sure he consented.

"Yes" he said, voice still ever so quiet

"What was that?" you said, teasing him.

"yes I do think I deserved to be punished"

"Good, now I'm going I'm going to finish this episode and you are going to walk up to the bedroom and take off every clothing item off your body. And if you're good I might let you choose what punishment you think you deserve. Sounds good to you baby boy?" You explained, walking back to the couch and getting back cozy under the blanket you had.

Five nodded before making his way to the stairs and disappearing into the bedroom.

If you're honest you didn't pay much attention to the rest of the episode. Nonetheless you waited and waited. You even watched one more for good measure. And to your surprise you didn't hear one whine or complain from upstairs.

After a good solid forty-five minutes passed you dug for the remote to pause the show and turn off the TV. Removing the blanket and leisurely walking your way to the bedroom. You opened the door to see five in the middle of the bed leaning against the headboard.

As expected he didn't seem so pleased

"I don't think you just finished one episode"

You walk towards the closet to get out the old case file box that was now filled with things much more fun than files. You picked out a nice pair of handcuffs before pulling out a few different colors of blind folds. Before making your way to five.

"Doesn't feel nice waiting for longer than you have to, does it?"

Five lower his head down before mumbling a quiet "no"

You laid the silk blindfolds down next to five before looking up.

"I didn't hear a single complaint when I was downstairs. And because of that you can pick one of these blindfolds" 

Five surveyed over his choices before picking up his pick and handing it to you.

"Red, perfect" you said as you kissed his head. Putting away the rest of the blindfolds.

"Now do you think that you deserved to be cuffed?" You asked, turing back to five

Five nodded and hummed before you dug your guy's favorite pair. The cuffs were thick and smooth black leather that was held by a silver chain and extended to be able to clip to the headboard.

You took his wrist and slid his hands through the cuffs before tightening it snug.

"How does that feel my sweet boy?"

"good"

You hummed in response before lifting his hands up to clip it to the small hook you have on your bed frame.

You went to straddle his lap before taking his head in your hands and laying a sweet kiss to his lips. Leaning back you took the silk cloth and tied the blindfolds across five.

"Color?" You asked

"Green" five responded

"Wonderful"

You slid off of five's lap to remove the pajamas you had put on earlier whilst you waited for five to return home. Before situating back to where you were moments earlier.

You slowly creeped your hand down five's torso. Feeling the muscles of his abdomen move under your fingertips. You continued the descent down his body until you were met with the tip of his cock.

Slowly you took a light hold of it and ran your thumb over the slit spreding the pre cum. You watched five's Adam apple bob as he swallowed. You took your time moving your hand up and down his dick. Never moving your hand fast enough to make him finish. Instead five begged you to move your hand faster. Pleases rolled off his tongue. Each time you denied. Continuing your slow, agonizing pace.

Eventually your movements came to a halt. Depriving five of his already little amount of friction he was getting.

"Whycha stop?" Five said breathlessly

You didn't reply, instead you simply raised yourself up before sinking down onto his cock.

Five cried out from shock and pleasure. His hands fought against the handcuffs, wanting to touch you. Let you know that he was yours and yours only.

You weren't slow this time. You fucked him with an eager pace. Moaning out. You leaned down into fives neck. Kissing and biting. Making hickies that you knew five was going to beg later to have you cover up. 

You made your way with your mouth to his ear.

"You will not come until I say you can" you whispered.

All poor five could do was whine a pathetic 'ok' 

You continued your pace. Up and down. Taking your breasts into your hands. It made even better knowing how much five loved them You didn’t stop till way after you finished.

You didn't stop until you could see how much five was struggling to hold back and not finish without you telling him that he could.

"You think you've learned your lesson pretty boy?" You said while slowing down your pace

"Yes yes I have. I've learned my lesson." Five said on the brink of tears

"Will it happen again?"

"No it won't, I promise. Never" five stated

You picked up your previous pace. Fast and hard. It drove five wild. It was overwhelming delicious pleasure. Nothing short of filthy satisfaction.

"You can come five" you announced

And it was over. Five spilled into you. His mouth opened with no sound coming out. You let him ride his high. Stopping when you could tell it was becoming too much. 

You reached over to the bedside table to grab the key and get five out of the cuffs. Then you took off the blind fold.

It took five a second to adjust to the light before his eyes met yours. You took his wrist into your hand making sure he was alright.

"Thank you" he said out of breath.

You smiled before leaning down and giving him a peck on the lips. Then proceed to get off and lay next to where he was.

"Well you gonna clean me up?" You asked

Five chuckled before moving between your legs and diving down lapping up your arousal. The taste of both him and you on his tongue. He may have come home too late but at least his meal is delectable.

[honeyedmiller]

A Forever Thing | Joel Miller

i do not own the gif above. all rightful credit goes to the maker of the gif.

pairing: husband!joel miller x pregnant!wife!reader

warnings: no outbreak, fluff, brief mention of infertility, pregnancy.

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: you and joel have been trying for a baby since the night you two married, but haven't had any luck... until you do.

-

You stare down at the three tests on the bathroom counter. The six lines across all three tests stare back at you, and you feel so woozy.

Three years. Three years since you got married to the absolute love of your life. Three years you've been trying for a baby, but no luck. Three years of wondering if there was something wrong with your body, that you couldn't bare a child, that you were infertile.

Three years of sobbing to your husband, who shed tears as well, because you both thought you'd never get the chance of having a baby of your own. You had your stepdaughter Sarah, whom you unconditionally loved (who'd practically been calling you 'mom' since she was around ten years old), but you wanted to experience motherhood from your own body. You wanted to see your belly grow, shower your baby with gifts, have your husband kiss and talk to your protruding stomach, saying he couldn't wait for their arrival on Earth.

Tears sprung to your eyes as a sob left your mouth, covering it quickly. This had to be a dream.

Was it?

No. This was real. This was so real, and you couldn't wait to tell Joel.

A sharp knock on the bathroom door occurred only seconds later, with Sarah calling for you on the other side.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Sarah's voice is soft, but laced with concern.

"You can open the door, honey." You call back to her, and she almost immediately does. Her brows are furrowed as her eyes flicker to your tear-stained face, down to the tests on the counter.

"Is that-?" She pauses as she stands next to you, eyes scanning the devices on the counter. "Oh my god, it is! No way!" She exclaims in pure excitement as her arms gently wrap around your torso.

"You're gonna be a big sister, baby." You kiss her head as more tears fall down your cheeks, and she starts to cry with you. She knows you and her father have been trying for a baby, and was saddened for you every time a test turned out negative. She wanted a little sibling so bad.

"How are we gonna tell Dad?" Her glossy eyes move up to yours as she stares at you in wonder, her arms never leaving your middle.

"I say we cook a fancy dinner for him and put one test in a box as a present." You smile as you rest your hand on her cheek, thumb grazing back and forth.

"Yeah! And maybe I can get a 'big sister' shirt?" She asks, knowing you two would have to go to the store anyhow to get ingredients to make Joel's favorite— T-bone steak with country potatoes and corn on the cob.

You laugh at her advances, and nod your head. "Sure thing, baby."

-

You two went to the store and came back in about an hour's time, and you started to prep dinner. It was a Saturday, so Joel wouldn't be at the construction site too late. He usually got home around five; it was currently two thirty.

Sarah helped you as she chopped up and seasoned the potatoes, putting them in a pan to simmer for awhile. You worked on the steak and the corn, and while the food was cooking, Sarah made a small cake that she frosted herself.

It was four forty-five by the time dinner was almost done, and Sarah helped you set out place mats on the table for four, just in case Tommy decided to join you guys for dinner.

Joel walked into the house not even ten minutes later, looking tired but happy to be home to his girls.

"Somethin' smells delicious in here." He calls out, entering the kitchen to find you and Sarah.

"Hey Dad." Sarah smiles, wondering if he'll notice her 'big sister' shirt she had on, which you two luckily found at the store.

"Hey pumpkin." He pulls her in for a hug before kissing the top of her head. His eyes graze over to you, a smile full of nothing but pure love drawn onto his lips.

"Hi darlin'," He moved to you as he hugged you and gave you a sweet kiss. "What's all this?" He gestures toward the food that was done, sitting hot on the stove.

"Just a little treat for my hardworking man." You smile as his eyes turn soft, bringing you in for a kiss.

"Mind if I shower before we enjoy this delicious meal? I'll be quick. I stink." Joel chuckles, and you notice a sheen of sweat covering his neck and forehead.

"Of course. It'll be ready for you when you come back." You kiss his cheek and he taps your butt softly before disappearing into your shared bedroom upstairs. Sarah gives you a knowing look and you smile giddily, serving the plates and opening a cold beer from the fridge for Joel.

-

He was downstairs twenty minutes later, his hair damp and slicked back. He smelt like musky amber wood and pine, and he smelled damn good.

"No beer for you, baby?" Joel notices your glass full of sweet tea instead of the usual beer you'd share with him with a dinner like this.

"Not today, honey. Just felt like havin' some sweet tea." You grin as you clink your glass to his beer bottle, both of you taking a swig of your drinks.

"So, what did my girls do today?" He looks between you and Sarah, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Nothin' much, just went to the store for stuff for dinner and made dinner." Sarah shrugs, giving you a small smile of secrecy, which luckily, Joel doesn't notice as his eyes move down to his food.

"Which is delicious, by the way. Thank you." He takes a bite of his tender steak, groaning at the flavor.

"Seriously, baby, there's no occasion for this? I know it's my favorite meal and all, but-"

The front door opens and Tommy emerges, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey y'all, sorry 'm late." He's breathless as he reaches the kitchen, fixing himself a plate. You chuckle at his late arrival, really expecting nothing less from the younger Miller brother.

"What'd I miss?" He asks as he takes his seat between Joel and Sarah, sitting across from you.

"Nothing, we were just talking about our days." You smile softly at him, eyes moving to Joel who was too engaged in the delicious meal, only half paying attention to the current conversation.

"Ah, seriously. It's been a long one." Tommy cracks his neck before delving into the meal, a small praise coming from him at yours and Sarah's cooking.

You take another sip of your sweet tea as the room falls silent, you and Sarah exchanging knowing glances.

"Why are you two lookin—holy shit." Tommy exclaims, first noticing you and Sarah, then Sarah's shirt, which Joel still hasn't looked at.

"What?" Joel asks, his head snapping up as he looks between the three of you.

"Are you serious?" Tommy looks at you, the biggest smile you've ever seen on his face.

Joel's brows furrow in worry, "What's goin' on?" He wipes his mouth as he swallows the last bites of his meal, and you look at him with teary eyes.

"Sarah, honey, can you get the present from the counter, please?" You ask her, and Joel's face displays pure confusion. She nods at you and happily leaps from her seat, getting the small rectangular box from the kitchen island and she brought it to you. She sat back down, looking between you and Joel.

"What's this?" Joel asks as you hand him the present, which he gingerly takes.

"Open it." You whisper, and his gaze remains on yours before faltering and moving down to the box. He lifts the lid of the box and freezes when he sees the contents inside. He couldn't believe it.

He looks up at you, glossy eyes matching your own.

"Y'serious?" His voice cracks, and you nod, a sob leaving your lips once more. You both stand at the same time, and he wraps you in his warm embrace as tears stream down his tan face.

"Darlin', oh," He coos, rocking you back and forth as you sob.

"We're gonna have a baby, Joel." Your cries fill the room as he hugs you tightly, but not too tight. He was already cautionary and it made your heart swoon. He pulls apart from you and gives you a long kiss, cupping one cheek with his broad palm as the other is splayed on your back, pulling you flush against him.

"Congrats you guys." Tommy gets up and hugs both of you, kissing you on the cheek. Sarah joins in on the hug, moving shortly after to pull out the celebratory cake.

"I gotta take a picture of this moment." Tommy beams, grabbing the digital camera that resided on the side table next to the couch. He snaps a photo of you three, with you holding the pregnancy test in your hand as your glossy eyes and huge smiles shine bright in the photo you'd later hang on a wall in your house.

-

Joel couldn't stop kissing you and touching you more than usual that night, ecstatic to finally be having another baby, and one with the love of his life. He couldn't believe this was his reality.

He kept kissing your stomach, whispering sweet things to the little one growing inside. He couldn't wait to meet them. That night, Joel fell asleep on your stomach with his arms wrapped securely around you, pure bliss coursing through both of you as this is what you two've dreamed of for so long.

It's all he ever wanted; his girls, a growing family, and a house to call home, which you and Sarah were to him.

And he knew, deep down in his heart, it was a forever thing.

[densi-mber]

Sometimes the Customer’s Wrong

***

“Hey, how are we doing?” Deeks asked, popping in from the “Squid & Dagger” kitchen with a bucket of clean glasses.

Kensi was behind the bar, serving drinks and managing the other staff. She looked around the room; for one of the first times since they’d opened, most of the tables were filled. Several patrons also lined the bar.

“Good,” she answered. “We could use some more shot glasses though.”

“You got it.” He kissed her quickly, flashing her a playful smile. “Hottest bartender around.”

“Mm, the dishwasher isn’t too bad either.”

Deeks returned to the kitchen, and Kensi kept filling orders. She filled one of the waiter’s tray with beer for a table of boisterous couples, made a peach martini for a tiny girl sitting by herself at the end of the bar, and closed the tab for an older gentleman who’d spent three hours nursing a gin and tonic.

When she turned back around a few minutes later, a man in his later thirties or so leaned against the bar, one elbow propped on the surface. Kensi sighed internally; he’d already had several drinks and each time he returned, he grew more obnoxious. As did his drink orders.

Kensi offered him a courteous smile, remembering why she tended to let Deeks man the bar more of the time. He handled rude and annoying customers much better than she did, his natural charm coming out to play when needed.

“Give me a glass of Makers,” he said, throwing a couple bills on the bar. He winked knowingly. “You can keep the change.”

Sir, I’m afraid we don’t have that brand,” Kensi replied politely. Annoyances flashed across his face, and he leaned closer, his breath wafting unpleasantly through the air.

“What the hell kind of bar is this?” he slurred.

With a second look, Kensi noticed the glassy sheen to his eyes and slightly unsteadiness even with the bar supporting him. She hadn’t been keeping super close track, but thinking back, she thought he’d had five drinks.

“I’m sorry about that. We don’t get a lot of demand for certain brands.”

He made a sound of disgust. “Guess that’s what I get for coming to a little run down place like this,” he muttered and Kensi felt the muscle in her left cheek twitch a little. “Give me another bourbon then.” He smirked, licking his bottom lip in a way that made Kensi want to take a step back. She didn’t give any external reaction though.

“We have a policy against serving more than five drinks in an hour period,” Kensi explained. “Do you want some water or juice instead.”

“What the hell? If I want another drink, you pour me another drink!”

“I’m sorry.” Kensi gestured to one of the seats. “You’ll have to go somewhere else or wait another hour.” Personally, she hoped he left, even if it meant he took his forty dollars with him.

“Pour me a damn drink now!”

“Lower your voice or I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Kensi said firmly, nothing polite about her tone now.

Faster than she anticipated, he reached across the bar and grabbed her wrist. He had a surprisingly tight and painful grip. Glancing around, she saw a couple people eyeing them, but most either hadn’t noticed the disruption or didn’t want to get involved.

“Let go of me,” she said, surprised by how calm she sounded for how badly she wanted to punch him in his drunken face.

“What, or you’ll ban me?” He taunted. He squeezed a little tighter, his breath absolutely nauseating. “Or you’ll teach me a lesson? I bet you could, you little bi—”

“Get your hand off her before I do it for you,” Deeks warned from behind Kensi, his voice dangerously calm. She instantly relaxed at his presence.

The guy took one look at Deeks and straightened up, puffing out his chest. “I’d like to see you try. You don’t look like you could fight off a chihuahua.”

“I’d love to take you up on that challenge,” Deeks said, drawing up beside Kensi. “Or better yet, see her do it.”

Despite his bravado, the guy released her wrist when Deeks leaned in closer. He didn’t back up completely though, and he still had a stubborn look in his eye.

“You should also know that I’m a cop, and a lawyer, who will happily arrest you for assault and make sure you get the maximum sentence.” Pausing for emphasis, Deeks dropped his voice so it was that much more dangerous. “So, this is your final chance to leave before one of us kicks your ass.”

Eyes flicking between her and Deeks, the man bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring. After a second, he huffed, and grabbed the money off the bar, stuffing it in his pocket.

“What I need with your crappy bar anyway?” he grumbled. Sending them one last look of drunken disdain, he pushed through anyone in his way and exited the bar.

“Are you ok?” Deeks asked, pulling Kensi a few feet from the front, and lifting her wrist to examine it.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. She’d probably have a couple bruises by morning, but most of the pain had already dissipated. His brows furrowed a, and he exhaled heavily.

“I’m sorry I kind of “white-knighted” with that guy. I just saw him grab you and instinct took over. I know you could have handled it yourself.”

“It’s ok. I was trying not to cause an incident, but I probably would have ended up punching him in the end.” She kissed his cheek. “And it was kind of hot.”

Deeks snorted in surprise, lifting her wrist to his mouth. Something crashing brought them back to reality.

“Are you ok to keep going tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you think we should be worried about that guy, though? I feel kind of bad about sending him out into public in his state.”

“I’ll pull up the security feed and get his plates. A Buddy from LAPD should be able to flag him for a DUI.”

“I love how your mind works,” Kensi said fervently.

***

A/N: Something must be wrong with me, because I almost forgot about the bar.