#red is a creep towards his buddies

[animal-stuffed-cookies]

Red on Valentine’s Day 🫶

[catbureau]

i had a wild fox run right up to me the other day and maybe try to steal my cigarettes

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part Two

The calming effects of the incense burning within his Acadian–style home in Baton Raq. Lauryn Hill playing from a vinyl record was enough to ease his mind after grading over thirty midterm papers. Terry shut his laptop and released a soft sigh. He reached up with his long fingers, taking off his glasses. The burning at the corners of his blue-grey eyes caused him to rub. He was exhausted and in need of a long vacation somewhere tropical after this semester ended.

He pushed away from his elegant, black oak wood desk to stand, stretching his long legs and flexing his quads. Terry wore a boxy–fit graphic T-shirt with a photo of Nina Simone printed on the front and thigh–hugging drawstring, black shorts. His feet covered in long, black Adidas socks led him towards the door to his home office. He would have stepped on the tail of his British Brown Shorthair cat if he hadn’t spotted him creeping between his legs as he walked.

“Orion, watch out…”

The cat slowly moved away, staring up at Terry with its golden eyes.

His stomach grumbled. Terry remembered that he’d had leftover red beans and rice. He walked into his spacious kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a soup bowl and then he strolled over to his silverware drawer, grabbing a large spoon. Ex–Factor faded in the background while he scooped the last of the food into his bowl. He paused, snapping his fingers in remembrance of the honey butter cornbread he’d made to eat with it.

After warming his food, Terry didn’t bother sitting in his dining room. He leaned over the counter and tucked into his food, appreciative sounds between bites mixed with his spoon scraping the side of the bowl the only noise. His tongue slipped out to catch a few crumbs from his lips after scarfing down the last of his cornbread. Terry shook his head and rubbed his belly as he cleared his mess.

“Damn good,” He muttered while walking towards his sink.

He accepted the burn of his muscles from his morning workout while crouching down to grab some surface disinfectant from beneath his sink. That let him know he went hard in the gym. His tongue smoothed over his teeth to get rid of food while he used a Bounty paper towel to clean. His eyes flicked to the window in his kitchen when he’d heard loud voices passing by his home.

The Apple Watch on his wrist with a stainless steel band alerted Terry to a phone call. He headed back to his office and reached over his desk to grab it from the charger.

“Wassam Bitch!”

Terry released a boisterous, deep laugh. All his teeth showing.

“Cousin! You good?” Terry replied.

“Chillin’ fam. Just left Unc house…”

“He straight?”

“You know how he do. Was in the garden wit’ his woman picking tomatoes and shit. I had to break it to ‘em that he ain’t invited tonight. HE CAN’T COME!”

“Mike, don’t do Unc like that…he wanna be there to support his son.”

“No old heads, TJ. We discussed this. I don’t want him getting a heart attack seeing all that buku ass clapping.”

Terry snickered with his phone to his ear as he made his way into his living room. He wanted to break in his new furniture.

“Layla snoopin’ ‘round the house. She heard about the strippers…”

“Thought you said she was cool about it?”

“She is. But ya know…”

Terry made a face on the other end of the line. He knew how his cousin could get. Tonight is indeed about fun, but if Mike messed up, Layla wouldn’t take him back a second time. Out of all the men attending, Terry is the most levelheaded. Majority of the men in his family and Mike’s friends were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. He already knows how tonight is gonna turn out.

“No fuckin’ up, Cousin.” Terry stated.

“Already, Marine.” Mike joked.

——

She did a slow two–step with a roll of her hips in a sinuous manner to the late, great Aaliyah – she was honored to share her name – and Tank.

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (I just wanna)

Come over (Be with you, baby)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (Just wanna)

Yeah (Be with you, baby)…

Bonnet on her head, a tank top that’s way too cropped and showing off under–boob with skimpy hot pink boy shorts covered her curvy frame. Aaliyah had just finished making her bed, freshly laundered sheets feeling cozy beneath her hands as she spread out the wrinkles. The next song on her Slow Jamz playlist was Ciara–Promise. Aaliyah tapped the side of her mouth in thought while staring at the neatly stacked money on her side table. She didn’t feel like digging for her mini safe tucked in the back of her closet, but she needed to put the money somewhere safe.

She made almost three grand. Aaliyah really enjoyed herself a week ago at the Fire Station. She craved that attention and excitement. Doing content from home was great, but to show out in person? Oh…it stroked her so good. She was so damn ecstatic that she came home and rubbed one out with her fingers deep in her pussy. Making a man react the way he does to her literal being just ignited something in her.

Aaliyah placed the money in her safe and organized her closet. After that, she grabbed herself a bowl of green grapes and crawled into bed. She popped a grape into her mouth while watching re–runs of P–Valley on mute, eyes reading the subtitles. She already knew what was going on, just something to distract her. She rocked her body in bed to Donell Jones–This Luv, lip syncing and snapping her fingers.

She wondered what Professor Richmond was up to…

Aaliyah kissed her teeth at her lingering thoughts. This week was filled with tension. She walked into that classroom on Wednesday, hauling her school bag and a pep in her step. She dressed in skater jeans and a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt with a gray hoodie unzipped.

“Today class, we’ll discuss morality…”

He had a tiny sculpture of Aristotle in his hand, long, manicured fingers grasping it firm. Today, he wore a perfectly fitting, short sleeve, mock neck black shirt with charcoal grey slacks and black loafers. The glasses on his face reflected the light perfectly whenever he moved his head. It was something about his eyes today that just…drew Aaliyah in. They seemed brighter.

She propped her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her hand. That foot started to bounce beneath her desk, and when his eyes met hers, she had to turn away to simmer down the butterflies. Something embarrassing happened in the middle of his lecture. She forgot to turn her ringer off, the lyrics to P*$$Y Fairy playing.

Don't be surprised, baby, it's just me (Just me)

Don't be surprised, boy, when I bust it wide

I hypnotize you with this pussy (Pussy)

Now you feel like you can fly—

“Sorry! Sorry…”

Aaliyah silenced her phone and with a sheepish smile she allowed her eyes to roam the class, catching on to a few snickers. She felt heat creeping over her honey skin. Aaliyah bashfully tucked hair behind her ear, and then her sultry gaze connected with Professor Richmond’s.

He had one brow quirked up and his eyes were unblinking and concentrated on her firm. He was the first to slowly pull his eyes away before clearing his throat to finish speaking. That look in his eyes…

After class, Aaliyah approached his desk to drop off an in class assignment. She left her hoodie at her desk. Terry was standing there, propping himself up against his desk with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to scan her body. She paid attention to the way his piercing eyes fixated on the exposed skin of her midriff. A quick circular motion of his eyes on her breasts caused her to part her lips, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“Here?” Aaliyah pointed to the pile of untidy papers.

“Yes.” Terry replied with a slower tone.

She slipped it there, patting the top of it. Terry clenched his jaw, his eyes returning to his laptop.

“Have a good day…”

He couldn’t stop himself from standing at his full height. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes trapping her.

“Yes, Ma’am. You as well.”

Aaliyah gave him one final once over, her eyes doing a double take to the veins in his arms…

Damn…

She walked away, the silence in the lecture hall unnerving. Terry crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back and forth on his heels. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side with a smirk. Aaliyah made her way out of the room, itching to look back and wave, but instead she looked back and gave him one final word.

“Sorry about my ringtone…I know it was inappropriate…”

Terry licked his lips, “Don’t even remember the lyrics.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah finally leaving the class.

——

Stickin' to the code, all these hoes for the streets

I put it in her nose, it's gon' make her pussy leak

Pussy niggas told, ain't gon' wake up out they sleep

You can't hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…

That imposing beat had the house jumping off. Like That lyrics bounced off the walls, hyping up the room full of men that came out to support Mike.

Got your girl in this bitch, she twirlin' on the dick (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

(He was once a thug, he was, he -)

I got syrup in this bitch, turn up in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

And it's 'bout the 'Ercs in this bitch, get murked in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)…

Terry wore an oversized tank top in beige with the sides cut low, giving you a peek at the muscles in his biceps and obliques. He gave himself a fresh line up and moisturized his low curls. Straight fit, light wash jeans hugged his lower half and he wore a pair of crisp, All White’s. Terry bopped his head precisely to the heavy bass, green solo cup in his hand between his lips. The gold Cuban link hanging from his neck matched the gold Cuban chain on his left wrist and the gold band of his Apple Watch on his right wrist.

The front door opened, more handsome black men pouring in and greeting everyone. Terry saluted the ones he recognized and shook hands firmly with those he didn’t. Terry knew the lyrics to Kendrick’s verse word for word. When the ‘Big Three’ line came up, everyone chimed in. Smile on his face, Terry headed towards the kitchen to fill his cup and mingle with some family he hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t believe his little cousins were old enough now to attend functions like this.

“This nigga freaked out already!”

One of Terry’s little cousins, Malik, who just turned 21 sucked his teeth at everyone laughing. Terry did notice the way he kept checking the door for the strippers every time it opened.

“They ain’t here yet, nigga!”

Mike entered the kitchen with enthusiasm and shades on. Terry caught the smell of weed on him when he approached his side. Terry picked up his trucker hat to clear some space from the kitchen island for more liquor bottles. A big ass bottle of Hennessy caught Terry’s eye. He was currently sipping on jungle juice.

“Got that shit that turn you into a beast, TJ. Real King Kong shit!” Mike shouted over the loud music.

“I see you came through,” Terry held the neck of the Hennessy bottle firm, veins in his arms popping out.

“We about to see TJ in rare form tonight!”

Terry shook his head at the men surrounding him all agreeing. He refused to let it get to him. He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid from Red Stick. Wasn’t the same teenager who got picked on in the schoolyard for being too quiet or too nerdy. He was a grown ass man with intellect and vocabulary beyond the slang words and a muscle strength so powerful he could take down an entire room full of wannabe gangstas. But, he didn’t wear that on his sleeve. He remained stoic with his strong and silent presence. Tonight, however, he’d let himself enjoy what was to come. He had his money ready. He just hoped they were deserving of it.

He was a hard man to impress.

“Make yourself a stronger drink, Cousin. We got all night….”

Terry was more of a bourbon guy. But there wasn’t any around and he refused to bring his good shit for everybody to help themselves to. He poured Hennessy into his cup and took a sip. It was cool.

He sauntered towards the spread of party food they had catered. The smells made his mouth water. He grabbed himself a plate and piled fried chicken, smoked turkey greens, gator bites, mac and cheese, and whatever else he could fit. Today was his cheat day.

Terry ate his food while standing, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there. On one end of the room, a group of men, most likely Mike’s friends, were laughing at whatever was on one of their phones. Across from him in the kitchen, there’s a debate about which they’d prefer: no ass and big titties or a big ass and no titties. Terry snorted. Childish behavior.

Tha Biz-, the Bizness

Uh, I like a long-haired, thick redbone

Open up her legs, then filet mignon that pussy

I'ma get in and on that pussy

If she let me in, I'ma own that pussy…

Terry didn’t care much for the mac and cheese. Too dry and not enough flavor. Every thing else was delicious. He tossed his plate and excused himself to the bathroom. He climbed the stairs to the guest bathroom instead of the basement because he was informed that the basement was reserved for the ladies who plan to entertain them tonight.

He relieved himself and flushed before washing his hands. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he hadn’t stained his new shirt.

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Terry could overhear the commotion downstairs.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…”

That sounded like Mike’s best man and bestfriend, Cliff.

“Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Terry left the bathroom and walked down the stairs at the same moment they closed the basement door behind them. His eyes that appeared blue–green in the dim light scanned the room, taking in the eager and impatient looks on the faces of men ready to throw cash.

“Fuck you mean they gotta get ready? Type of shit is this here?” One dude complained.

“They work at Crazy Horse, Bruda, you know how them dancers are.”

“Busted and dusted,” Another replied with a drunk cackle.

Terry held up the wall, cup in hand, tripping off of the conversation.

“Kiesha thick ass can get this anytime, anywhere…but that one that walked in last? Man…”

The man that spoke, short in height with a bald fade and teeth lined with gold caught Terry’s eyes and shook his head as he blew air out his cheeks. Terry smirked into his cup.

“She the truth. I wanna see what she do…”

“She one a ‘dem pretty natural ones…rare.”

That interested Terry. He paid closer attention.

“Probably taste like sugar.”

“Im’a put my tongue in it!”

Cliff cracked the door to the basement. He stuck his head between the opening and shouted down the steps. Terry could hear him communicating with one of the dancers. He shut the door quickly and motioned for his friend to pause the music.

“I’m a grab Mike. It’s about to go down.”

He did the Birdman hand rub as he rushed away to collect the groom. The room started to flood with the others, all too anxious to get a glimpse and participate in the fun. Terry pat his back pocket, feeling the folded stack of cash he’d brought. He had more tucked away in his wallet just in case. Mike entered the room cross–faded. He moved with unsteady legs and a bottle in hand, the contents almost spilling onto the carpet.

Terry grabbed the bottle and sat it down on a table.

“AIGHT! ITS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF YA’LL READY?!!!”

Someone activated the strobe lights and the room flooded with ultraviolet light. The melanin in the room looked a deep blue beneath the black lights. Terry knocked the rest of his drink back and sat his cup down next to the Hennessy bottle Mike was holding. From the corner of his eye, he could see someone carrying a chair out from the dining room. They forced Mike to sit, Terry laughing at his cousin’s goofy smile.

Ear Drummers

Strippers

Mike WiLL Made-It

Bands a make her dance

Bands a make her dance…

The door opened and Terry locked his eyes forward, cupping his mouth and howling along with the others.

——

Aaliyah couldn’t control her indecisive habits if she tried. She’d spent majority of her day into the early afternoon cleaning and now her room looked like a disaster. It was nearing eight and she still couldn’t decide what to wear! Keisha was gonna kill her ass…

Aaliyah flipped through her clear tote filled with old outfits from her stripper days. She was about to give up and settle for a neon green fishnet set until she spotted a bright pink holster top with matching bottoms. There were hot pink fishnets with the back cut out for her ass that she could pair with it. Oh! pink pasties over the nipples would spice it up real nice. Aaliyah remembered her seven inch stiletto heels with rhinestone fringes. Perfect. She quickly grabbed it and worked as fast as she could, glancing at her phone.

So far, Keisha hadn’t called her. Aaliyah slipped off her satin, black robe and flung it over the chair situated in front of her vanity. She already applied her body oil with the aroma of fresh peaches blended perfectly with a hint of the tropics creating this rich, sweet, sultry scent. Her favorite fairy dust body powder clung to her soft skin and glittered in the light like diamonds.

Aaliyah tied the last tight bow on her bottoms before sitting to slip on her heels. She decided to go with a light beat, not wanted to wear anything too heavy and end up sweating it all off. She tapped the screen of her phone and with twenty minutes left, she swooped her edges and sprayed oil sheen over her two, long braids. Her French tip fingers smoothed down as much frizz as she could to keep it neat.

Situated in front of her body length mirror, Aaliyah admired the final look. Lastly, she tugged on a white, bodycon dress with a sway of her hips.

Buzz Buzz…Buzz Buzz…

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Diamond and Precious is in the back. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah grabbed a pair of black, thong flip flops, “heading out now.”

She ended the call and with one final sweep of her room, she turned off the lights and headed straight for the door. Stanley cup in the crease of her arm, she locked her front door. Aaliyah angled her body, descending the stairs carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened a year ago. She sprained her ankle so bad she couldn’t dance for two months.

Kiesha rolled the window down to her Hellcat, smoke billowing out. Aaliyah rolled her eyes. She did not want weed smell lingering on her. Keisha leaned over and opened the door since Aaliyah’s hands were full. She climbed in and shut the door, Keisha not waiting a moment longer before hitting the gas hard. Aaliyah looked over at Keisha with a mug on her face while her friend laughed.

She noticed that she was the only one ready. Aaliyah looked back at Diamond and Precious. Redbone Diamond had her bubble gum pink frontal pinned up while holding a Hello Kitty compact mirror as steady as she could, drawing on her thin eyebrows. She had on a matching camouflage, short set. Aaliyah recognized that set from Fashion Nova. Her eyes moved towards Precious. Precious was a tiny girl. Petite and spunky. She had a buz cut dyed blonde. She was wearing her outfit beneath a tube dress while puffing on a fat blunt. Her eyes squinted at Aaliyah before giving her a toothy grin filled with braces.

“How ya’ll been?” Aaliyah asked.

“Good!” Diamond replied.

“Straight! How ‘bout you?” Precious said.

“Been good. Dealing wit’ school. Good to see ya’ll. Ready for tonight?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Turnt!” Diamond shouted before snapping her mirror shut, “Pass that here…”

Aaliyah relaxed into her seat.

“Girl, you told me to be ready by eight. Why the fuck you ain’t dressed?”

Keisha reached back, accepting the blunt while one–hand whipping the car.

“Cliffy told me we could use the basement if we needed to. I brought all the goods just in case. The coochie spray for Diamond—”

“BITCH don’t get hurt!”

Aaliyah chuckled.

“You got your LED plug?” Keisha asked Aaliyah excitedly.

Aaliyah dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip with a mischievous smile.

“Nasty bitch….lemme see it.”

Aaliyah leaned her body against the door so her meaty buns could face Keisha. She lifted her white bodycon dress over her cakes and with one hand, she spread one hefty cheek. There, buried in her ass, was the LED plug. It lit up like a pair of sketchers. Keisha giggled.

“Girrrrrlllllllllll I told Cliff about you…”

Aaliyah fixed herself and straightened up in her seat.

“Keisha, don’t set me up with no nigga. No more of that shit.” Aaliyah retorted.

“I didn’t set you up. He remembers you from Crazy Horse. When he used to show up on Tuesdays…”

“Keish, not that nigga…he ugly and his breath stank. You know exactly what to do to piss me off!”

Diamond and Precious cackled in the back seat.

“His dick big.” Keisha replied as if that would change Aaliyah’s mind.

“Bitch, big dick, little dick, a dick made out of the purest gold if phat ma don’t get wet and this heart don’t skip a beat I’m not finna give you my time. That shit is crazy…”

“You shake ass for an ugly nigga though.” Keisha argued back.

“THEY PAYIN’ ME! Girl…” Aaliyah kissed her teeth, fixing her lash extensions because the windows are rolled down, “How far out?”

“Ten minutes.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way while blasting a bounce mix. Keisha’s Hellcat slowed to a stop in front of a cute little house with a lengthy drive way. Kiesha parked on the grass and killed the ignition. She gave the blunt one final hit before tossing it out the window. The ladies exited the car and before the went inside, Keisha had an idea for them to take some pics and video before heading in. Aaliyah acted as photographer and videographer while Diamond, Precious and Keisha did their thing.

When they finished, Keisha begged Aaliyah to do a video. Aaliyah scoped out the area and yanked her dress off, darting to stand next to a white SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Keisha moved her phone in different angles, Aaliyah staring back at her with a hand on the car and her ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Damn, mama…show out!”

Diamond and Precious clapped their hands in time to Aaliyah’s twerking.

“Cool it nah,” Aaliyah shooed them off before putting her dress back on, “You see that?”

The other ladies followed her gaze through the windows of the home. They all gawked at the amount of men throughout that house.

“Dayummmmm…we leaving chubby tonight. Money, money, money!” Diamond said.

This was Aaliyah’s vibe. Although she had a ball at the fire station, nothing compared to a room full of black men. She grinned beautifully and squealed. They grabbed their things and Aaliyah was last to trail behind because she forgot her thong flip flops. Keisha knocked on the door boldly and it opened two seconds later.

It was Cliff.

He hugged Keisha and kissed her cheek. Cliff did the same greeting for Diamond and Precious. However. He held his hand out for Aaliyah. Her sultry eyes flicked to Keisha then back at Cliff. She accepted his hand and he guided her inside softly, his eyes scanning her body.

“Liyah Alllure…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Hey you,” Aaliyah titled her head in greeting with a sweet smile.

“Still just as gorgeous…happy you could join us tonight.”

“Happy to be here…”

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Some dude with a skinny frame and a gold grill greeted them. They all said hello, ignoring the men in the room eye–fucking them. Aaliyah could suffocate from their stares alone.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Aaliyah remained close behind Precious as they disappeared into the basement. The door shut behind her with a soft click. They entered the finished basement and Aaliyah excused herself to the rest room. She’d been drinking water all day and needed to go before doing a bunch of dancing. Keisha got dressed while Precious and Diamond helped each other out on jewelry. Aaliyah exited the bathroom in just her pink, outfit with rhinestones to match her heels.

“How we goin’ in? One by one or?” Diamond questioned.

She was dressed in neon green. A full body fishnet outfit with black stilettos. Aaliyah was happy she decided on the ensemble she had on.

“One by one. I’m supposed to give the lap dance. After that, ya’ll come out. Simple.” Keisha said.

The intro to Bandz A Make Her Dance started playing.

“That’s me!” Keisha stood up. She was wearing a white cowgirl hat with a fringe bikini set to match and white stilettos. She reminded Aaliyah of Megan The Stallion with her blue hair cascading down her back.

Keisha climbed the stairs and when the door opened, howling and yelling pierced her ears. The other three ladies shared a look with each other and laughed.

“I’m a need some liquor.” Aaliyah said.

——

Terry’s bottom lip sat between his teeth to contain his laughter.

When the first girl entered, going by the name of Keisha, he loved her vibrant personality and spit fire attitude. Keisha had the men in that room foaming at the mouth. She sashayed over to Mike with that brazen attitude and revealing body. Ain’t no way in hell she could fit that white bikini set and that was the point. Terry’s brows rose in surprise at Keisha straddling Mike. Her bountiful curves almost swallowed him while he was in that chair. Big ol’ ass and fat titties. That country thick you got lost in.

Terry grunted when she turned and made that big, fucking ass clap in Mike’s face. His thick brows knitted together and he shared a look with a friend before chuckling. Mike didn’t know what do to. He kept his hands to his sides, grasping the back legs of the chair he was stuck in.

“All that ass, Mike!”

“You better get it in while you can!”

“Suffocate that nigga, Keisha!”

“You good down there groom?” Keisha teased.

Money flew in the air when she plucked her top off. When them titties dropped, Terry’s large hand stuffed into his back pocket. He didn’t make it rain yet, he was waiting for Keisha to do something special. The body was crazy, but where’s the tricks?

“Throw that shit, TJ.” His friend nudged him with his elbow.

Terry ignored him.

Keisha stood up and went down to the floor in front of Mike in a split. She made those twin globes dribble and that was good enough to earn some of his cash. Terry leaned over the back of Mike’s chair and flicked two Benjamin’s on her. He watched it connect with that ass before falling to the floor. Keisha arched forward and spread her cheeks before going into a head stand.

She shook her legs and clicked her heels before dropping into another split.

“THERE YOU GO!”

“Baby going stupid…”

“Buku ass…”

Terry remained close. Keisha’s eyes locked onto him and it was enough to bring her to her feet. Terry held her steady gaze, a smirk teasing his thick lips.

“You a pretty nigga, ain’t you?” Keisha walked up on him with her hands on her hips, “What’s your name?!”

“TJ.” Terry replied.

Keisha pushed her breasts up with her fists in his face.

“Like what you see with those green eyes. A pretty boi like you ain’t used to a woman like me, huh?”

Terry’s tongue grazed his bottom lip and he locked on to the dizzying motion of her fat tits. Bringing his eyes back on her, he displayed a bill and sat it in the crease. Keisha leaned forward and grabbed the money with her teeth.

“Keep impressin’ me and there’s more for you…”

Keisha had to blink out of a trance. Terry had this unspoken power that rendered her speechless. To top it all off, that deep baritone shot straight to her clit.

“Come get this money, baby!”

Keisha pulled herself away from Terry, but not before dragging a hand down his chest. The look in her hazel eyes told him she wanted to do more than give him a lap dance.

She wanted to spin on that dick.

The door pushed open and the next girl to enter had pink hair. She was a cutie.

“I’m Diamond…”

When she turned, Terry looked away.

A BBL. A bad one at that.

He folded his money back up and made his way to where he stood earlier. The other men in the room were probably so used to seeing it that it didn’t even phase them. Terry watched Diamond do her thing. She hit the splits, shook that ass as best she could, but it was boring. Terry filled his cup and just vibed, laughing at the way some of the men in the room went bonkers over her. Even Mike was stuck. Mouth wide and eyes equally wide.

Next came a tiny girl that showed off acrobatic skills and flexibility. Terry had his money out again and he made it rain on her. She made that little booty shake. Keisha was making her way around, grinding and talking shit. Diamond allowed some of the men to grab ass. The three women scoped out Terry and winked at him. He played nice with Diamond and slipped her a crisp bill. With the tiny one named Precious, he tipped more.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

Cliff scanned the room. Another girl?

“There’s more?! Ahhh shit…”

——

Aaliyah watched from the bottom of the stairs as Precious made her entrance. She wrung her hands and exhaled a sigh. She didn’t know what to expect past those doors. Aaliyah applied more gloss and with a shaky hand, she grasped the railing and climbed. They kept the light off to avoid being spotted right away. Aaliyah stared through the crack of the door at Precious working the room.

So many…so many men.

The floor was covered with money.

She allowed her eyes to scan, taking everything in. As her eyes swept past the groom in his chair, she couldn’t see the entire room because of the door, but the sound of Cliff’s voice let her know it was time.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

“Put on her old intro!”

That was Keisha’s voice.

Aaliyah felt her nerves settle. The blacklights and the song reminded her of Crazy Horse. This was her walk out song….

Waka Flocka Ft. Roscoe Dash–No Handz Instrumental.

With one hand Aaliyah pushed open that door and stepped one shaky leg out past the darkness. The ultraviolet light caused her skin to twinkle and the blue hue made the pink she wore pop. She fully came into view, her tongue curled up over her top teeth to tease and those ‘come fuck me eyes’ staring into the faces of horny men with the money she wanted.

She allowed her body to rock to the beat. Aaliyah turned her back on everyone, brought her hands up, and gave them a thunderous applause with that beautiful ass before arching her back. She twerked those honey buns and looked back at it before a lusty smile appeared on her lips. Both hands twirled her braids while she rocked those hips.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce

*clap clap clap*

Nobody wasted time throwing money. She could work that entire room on her own. Aaliyah got down on her hands and knees, crawling like a jungle cat before turning to show off that LED plug while twerking.

“You see that shit?!”

“Hot damn!”

“Fuck, she’s nice.”

“C’mere pretty lady…”

“Freaky girl!”

That song…she owned it.

She staked her claim on it.

She spread those legs on her back and gyrated, thighs separated and the barely there crotch of her pink bikini covering her meaty pussy lips. She rubbed the money that rained down on her into her pussy and around her breasts. They…were…obsessed.

The way she looked at you, it made you feel like the only man in the world worthy of her attention.

How nasty she talked…

“I better see some thick bulges tonight, boys…”

On her feet, Aaliyah strutted dangerously slow, further into the crowd of men. As her eyes swept, she came across a pair of blue eyes that reminded her of a bottle of Hypnotiq beneath the blacklights. Too familiar…

Holy FUCKING shit…

She tried to mask her surprise but his was so boldly present.

The Professor.

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through his veins leaving him momentarily stunned. To others, it could seem as if Terry was so overwhelmed with how motherfucking fine Aaliyah is that he couldn’t even function. She knew the real reason. She simmered down her astonishment as best as she could and turning away, focusing on a cute guy with thick locs to his shoulders.

Her heart raced. Panic consumed her.

She had no time to panic.

“Prettiest thang in Louisiana…”

Aaliyah cupped her breasts covered in nipple tape and licked her lips. She could feel Terry’s gaze burning a hole into the side of her face. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everybody was too drunk or too hype to take notice.

all except Professor Richmond. He could see right through her.

What the fuck was he doing here of all places?!

She blended in with her girls and tried her best to shield herself from Terry’s view.

That intensity in his eyes this time around left her shaken up.

Aaliyah pushed herself to perform. The space was too cramped. They scattered to watch her hit a clean split and when she glanced over her shoulder, Terry was right there. Like he appeared out of thin air.

He was standing above her. Towering over her. She had no choice but to look up.

Aaliyah couldn’t hide. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Back up, TJ. I’m tryna see all that…”

He was shoved to the side and Aaliyah felt the rain of money on her while she avoided Terry’s hard eyes zeroed in on her ass. He was so stuck.

Her breath hitched at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to ravage her.

Her eyes glided down his frame and she loved the way he dressed. He looked delectable.

“Arch that back, bitch…”

“Yeahhhh…”

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and made each cheek dance on its own. The heavy bass and quick melody of the bounce song compelled her to shake some ass.

The sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out the music. She locked eyes with him again and for once she grew timid. His eyes drank her in and when she lifted one leg up to pop that ass he chewed on that lip and tilted his head to see how that pussy looked from that angle.

You like what you see, huh?

“You got skills baby…Think you can show me more?”

Terry cut his eyes at the men circling Aaliyah.

Things were turning up like a raging storm.

“Pull that pussy part…”

They wanted to see her pussy. Aaliyah giggled and trailed a finger between her legs before rubbing it against one of their noses. They enjoyed that way too much. He tried to suck on that finger but Terry yoked him up by the wrist. The dread head looked at Terry like he was asking for a death wish.

“We don’t touch unless they say so…remember the rules.”

“Let go, nigga. I don’t need you tellin’ me what the fuck to do…”

“Woah, woah, woah…”

Aaliyah used that opportunity to disappear. A prickling sensation shot up her spine. She slipped down into the basement and hid herself within the darkness.

She needed a second.

“Get it together, Liyah…”

Aaliyah picked up a shorty bottle of Paul Masson Peach and took a long swig. She recapped the drink and scrunched her face from the burn. Aaliyah shook out her hands to stop them from trembling. How was she going to show her face in class on Wednesday?

All she would be able to think about was the shock on his face. There was no turning back. Aaliyah drank some more. She needed the liquor to get her through the rest of the night. The door to the basement opened and Keisha appeared. She had a look of concern on her face.

“Li–Li. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Keisha. Go back up. I was just feeling a little queasy that’s all.”

“Some shit was about to pop off. Did they touch you without your consent?”

“It’s cool. I’ll be up…”

“Don’t lie to me Li–Li…”

Aaliyah gave Keisha a reassuring smile.

“No reason to lie, mamas. I’m feeling better,” Aaliyah pushed herself up, “C’mon…”

——

Frozen.

When that door pushed open and she crept out like a sex goddess, he almost spilled his cognac.

Aaliyah?

The small hairs across his arms stood on end. Desire rushed in the moment the initial shock faded.

*clap clap clap*

Gahdamn…

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

That body outta be in a museum. This fine ass woman held a confidence so powerful he could bend at her will.

Terry Richmond sucked in a breath when her eyes connected with his.

He saw the power drain from her like Superman to Kryptonite. Terry’s chest grew tight. She drew in closer, his mouth unhinged. The glitter on her skin and the smell of her sweet fragrance made the big boy between his legs react.

Down boy…

He fought the urge to palm his bulge because it was growing out of his control. He didn’t know where to look first. Those titties sat up round and perfect. That ass was so fat he wanted to sink his teeth in it. Leave his imprint on that thick fucking shit. His eyes still lit up like Miracle on 34th Street from the glow emitting from that asshole.

Freak nasty.

He was speechless. His star pupil is a Stripper.

The biggest plot twist.

Terry wanted her even more. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay and she didn’t need to feel embarrassed or afraid. He could sense she was trying to avoid him as she moved around the room.

Terry needed her to know that he liked what he saw.

They weren’t in his classroom. It was okay to free her inhibitions and show him what Liyah Allure is all about. He found her popping ass and talking shit.

“Tip me, daddy…”

“You want it?”

“Don’t just stare at me. Spoil me…”

Honeyed voice as smooth as silk. Terry drew in closer and allowed himself to be consumed by her.

The glitter on her skin looked edible and if he could lick every single fleck off with his tongue he would.

The dip in her spine leading down to a full ass with hips and thighs to match told him she could take it deep and it would be a warm, tight, wet paradise.

He did say he wanted to escape somewhere tropical…

Those two braids would be anchored around his hands while he drilled deep with every goddamn stroke of his fat dick.

Unh…Unh…Unh…

Make her weep on his dick.

Professor…Professor…Don’t stop…

There she was.

Those eyes focused on him again and he saw the hint of shyness.

“I wanna pull that pussy part…”

Something primal and predatory sparked within him. Aaliyah stroked her lower lips with a single finger and shoved that finger against Darrell’s nose.

Darrell tried to take it too far.

Terry was quicker.

He wrapped his large hand around Darrell’s wrist with a vice grip similar to a boa constrictor. He would knock the daylights outta Darrell and leave him slumped over if he so much as put that finger in his mouth.

Darrell was stunned by Terry’s strength and the fact that he couldn’t break free. Weak ass nigga…

She disappeared.

Mike came over to settle down the growing altercation and with a pat on Terry’s back, he walked away in search of Aaliyah. She was nowhere in sight.

Terry waited for about ten minutes and then she resurfaced from the basement with Keisha. She probably needed a moment to gather her thoughts and energy. His presence stumped her.

Aaliyah scanned the room until she found Terry.

She got down on her hands and knees and popped ass in a split. Nobody else in that room mattered. She locked in on him from across the room. Terry sipped his drink and watched her.

“Who wants a private show?!”

Keisha pointed at Terry.

He gave a quick nod of his head. Keisha was about to be let down. He ain’t want nobody but Aaliyah. She was getting the rest of his money tonight. She deserves it and so much more. And when Terry gets his hands on her…

“I’ll take one. But I want her.”

Aaliyah saw the cash in his hand and smiled.

“Only if she ain’t scared.”

Aaliyah couldn’t believe he just said that.

“I get the impression she likes to tease…”

Aaliyah walked up to Terry with a seductive look in her eyes. He held onto her gaze with his money on display.

“Your call, beautiful.”

Aaliyah stared at him for another moment before taking him by the hand and down into the basement.

——

Terry allowed her to guide him. They headed towards the sofas, silence hanging between them. Aaliyah turned fully to face him before Terry took a seat. Without taking his eyes off of her, he placed his cup on the table and settled back into the cushion. Terry spread his thighs and with one hand over the top of the couch, the other smoothed down his left thigh invitingly. Aaliyah dropped her eyes to his lap and with a faint smile, she took a seat where his hand once was.

Aaliyah watched him spread his money out across his other thigh. She parted her glossy lips a fraction, eyeing nothing but one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes lit up. Terry looked up at her with low, lust filled eyes and a sly smirk. He removed his glasses with one hand and folded it against his chest before sitting it on the table, all while staring at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

“…I don’t know what to say…”

Aaliyah’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away from him. Terry used his thumb to gently pull her attention back towards him.

“I should be embarrassed right now…”

Terry was trying to keep his composure but her breasts in his face was melting his cool exterior.

“Aaliyah…I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m not judging you…”

She giggled nervously, “maybe not…but this was so unexpected, ya know?”

“Very. How long have you been doing this?”

Aaliyah stared heavenward shyly while deep in thought. He liked seeing her like this. It was another side to her he enjoyed.

“Well…this in particular…it’s my second time. Stripping…I did it for about five years before I quit Crazy Horse a year ago…now I just film content and work Verizon part time.”

Her eyes connected with his again.

“So…what do ya want me to do? A lap dance? What?”

Terry trailed his eyes down her body.

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable…”

Terry’s hand molded into her back. Aaliyah shivered. The feeling of his hand on her skin was exhilarating.

She stood, facing Terry. He placed his money beside him, and his hands out of the way. Aaliyah straddled him, bracing herself on his shoulders. She looked down at him with a slow blink and the erotic smile she gave him forced his hands into fists.

“Have you ever had a lap dance before, Professor?”

“…Call me Terrence.”

“…Terrence…”

“Once. It wasn’t memorable.” Terry responded with a hushed tone.

He reclined his head back slightly and stared up into her eyes with practiced restraint.

Aaliyah gave him a mean whine over his crotch. Her chest would graze his goatee ever so slightly. He had to stop his tongue from poking out to drag between those titties.

“Ooh, that’s too bad…is this okay?”

That melodic voice…

“You’re doin’ just fine, Miss Aaliyah.”

Terry flexed his fingers. Aaliyah looked down at his hands.

“Can I admit something?” Aaliyah asked with a sultry smile.

“What’s that?”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. She blinked away briefly before her eyes met his again.

“What?” Terry pushed.

“I think about you every day…”

“Enough to stick around after class?”

Aaliyah’s bottom lip sat between her teeth. Terry smiled.

“Why did you turn me down?” He questioned.

Aaliyah dragged her hands down his chest and stilled her hips. Terrence rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. He couldn’t resist. Aaliyah didn’t protest.

The feel of her against his hands. The heft of her on him. The images he pictured in his mind…

“I’m not an easy girl, Terrence. You gotta work harder for me. I wanted you to…”

“Chase you.” Terry concluded with an elevated brow.

“May seem silly but…it turns me on.”

“I wonder what else turns you on…”

“That brain of yours,” Aaliyah trailed her fingers through his short, soft curls, “Your passion…expressive hands…your voice…those eyes…”

Terry licked his lips, “I would have chased you and went along with your lil’ game. If that means I get to play with you in the end…”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You do this…tongue bite thing…I like that…” Terry said.

“What else you like?” Aaliyah asked softly, doing exactly what Terry liked. Displaying the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Moving it back and forth…

“Everything about you…you’re so damn sexy…the way you look at me just…Aaliyah, you’re aware of your beauty. That confidence lights a fire under me, baby…”

“I’m baby?”

“Mhm, the prettiest baby…”

Aaliyah played with his Cuban link. Terry’s right thumb stroked the beauty mark below her lip.

Terry groped her thigh with his free hand and glided it up to her waist. He used his thumb to trace circles into her soft skin.

“I don’t like how you put your finger on Darrell’s nose.”

“You wish it were you? Darrell didn’t get a lap dance…”

Aaliyah lifted from his lap and turned so that she was grinding against his tent with enough pressure to rub her pussy over it. The hard bulge against her fat, lower lips caused her to moan.

Terry threw money over her, his ears enjoying the way her moans sounded so angelic despite her naughty actions.

After all, she is The Dark Angel.

“Aaliyah…”

That signature look back would have had him busting a fat ass nut in his jeans.

The way she moved her hips on him.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad…”

“I know.”

She smiled.

Aaliyah stood from his lap and Terry groaned deep.

“Times up.”

He glared at her with lust and frustration. Aaliyah leaned over him with her hands on the back of the couch. Their eyes connected and her glossy lips feathered over his.

“Until next time…I think I’m free for that lunch on Wednesday…”

She brought her lips to his cheek and with her jeweled tongue, Aaliyah dragged it over his ear tantalizingly slow. She pushed away from him and Terry stood from the couch. He fixed his attire while Aaliyah stared up at him with faux innocence and her hands crossed behind her back. She swayed back and forth, parting her lips to rest her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a date.”

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[sunlightmurdock]

Trick or Treat! | Firefighter Bradley

spookweek masterlist | firefighter bradley masterlist

Prompt: handing out candy | joining firefighter!bradley at the station to hand out candy to the neighbourhood kids!

warnings: pet names babe / baby, no use of y/n. .word count: 0.7k

Your heels clack along the walkway, past the clumsily carved, flickering Jack-o’-Lanterns. Ghosts with jagged edges and wide smiling faces with wonky eyes, all courtesy of the gang at Station 86.

Your lips twist, almost a smile, finding the precise attempt at a mustache’d face along the left row. Just then, you hear your name from across the lot. The classic red doors of Station 86 are pulled wide open, and Bradley is hustling his way towards you from the back.

“Baby, you made it!” His arms are loaded up with those giant bags of Halloween candy, the largest you can get. As his mouth stretches into a grin, you can see that there’s something different about his usual smile.

He drops the Halloween candy, still bagged up, onto the large fold-out table where two of his buddies sit and continues his path toward you.

“Are those fangs?” You wrinkle your nose, taking in the usual things you find most enjoyable — those fitted pants and the blue of his tight t-shirt against his tanned skin, the red of his suspenders straining against his thick shoulders — and the oversized plastic fangs in his mouth.

He beams, nodding his head as he reaches for you. “What, you don’t like them?”

Next comes the dive forwards, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and securing you to him as he gnashes the stupid silicone fangs against your neck playfully.

Just as his wandering hand creeps towards your ass, he catches a glance at his next round of trick-or-treaters rushing along the sidewalk toward the station.

“Thanks for coming, babe. Here,” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and ushers you towards the fold-out table, acknowledging his colleagues. “We’ve got it from here, guys.”

He had told you it would be fine if you had wanted to head home after work. His shift finishes at nine, and then he’s all yours for four days — starting tonight with a scary movie marathon. But, for now you’re happy to share him with the rest of the neighborhood.

Superheroes, ghosts and witches bounce along the walkway with grins on their faces, calling out your boyfriend’s name. With the class field trips to the station, and the station’s regular trips to the school, Bradley has plenty of pint-sized admirers.

Up in front of the mob are two first graders, sprinting ahead while their mothers chat behind.

“Not you two again!” Bradley mocks disgust, wrinkling his face in abject disapproval as two girls, one wrapped in toilet paper and the other wearing a bedsheet with eye holes in, rush him, plastic buckets for candy in hand. They giggle through their costumes as they come to a halt in front of him, looking up at the towering man. Their class had visited the day before yesterday, and the siren had frightened the two of them so bad that Bradley had broken out the Halloween candy a little early. “What do we have here? — A ghost and a…?”

“I’m a mummy!” She declares excitedly, waving her bucket at him.

“You’re a what?” He paints on his best look of fear and takes a dramatic step backwards, earning himself another round of giggles from the two girls. “What brings you all the way out here, little Mummy?”

“Candy!” Her friend answers for her, which they both find equally hilarious.

Bradley settles to his knees, keeping up the dramatics as more children crowd around him. He’s a natural, having them bursting into fits of laughter as he hands out chocolates and lollipops and other small bags of sugar-coated goodies.

You’ve been down to the station plenty of times, and been involved in plenty of events with them. This has always been more than a job to him, and you know he’s proud of what he does — you’re proud too.

But, even after all this time, there’s something about the fact that all of the neighborhood kids not only know his name, but clearly adore him so much, has you grinning as you help him pass out treats.

He catches you, draping a heavy arm around your shoulders during a rare break between herds of kids. Turning his face towards yours, he kisses the top of your head softly.

“Really, thanks for coming — I love having you here.” He murmurs, squeezing softly at your shoulder. “We’re about finished. You have a movie in mind for us to start with once we’re home?”

Just something scary, you think, already looking forward to the comfort of hiding your face in his chest and pretending that you can’t hear his heart beating just as fast as yours.

…

[cherry-pop-elf]

Realistic

George Weasley x Reader

You broke up with your ex, but said ex refuses to believe you moved on. That you found better than him. So, you figured you had to prove you did. Time to call a favor

Warnings: 18+, topics of abusive ex, satisfying revenge, ablism, oral sex (male receiving) public, choking (very light) fake dating, voyeurism, peeping Tom, Very Soft George, cuckholding? Sorta? Not really? But like maybe on a technical level?

Writing Comission’s Open

“George, pretend to be my boyfriend.” You asked, quickly. Hardly gave him a chance to even look over his shoulder, when he saw a man storming into his shop. Looking utterly pissed, and you anxious. He’s got a little sister, and plenty of brothers. As if he needed to put two and two together. His arm was quickly around your side, and he leaned into you. As if it was all natural.

“Was wondering when you would get here, Jellybean!” He announced, making your ex quickly look over to you two. His stare hardened, and George stared right back. Snearing. Keeping up a smug complexion through it all. You quickly stuffed yourself into his arm. As if trying to hide, as your ex came over. Nearly stomping in the process.

“The hell you doing with em-?Your ex demanded. “Uh…..Snuggling? Kissing? Whatever we want in MY shop-?” George would puzzle, as he was wondering where the such nerve came from. George would make sure to keep you close, with a hand on your hip, as he protected you. You would rest your head on his shoulder, and took in the comforting scent of fireworks and sugar. Helped you get grounded, as your ex was looking ready to fight.

“That’s what Im suppose to do, you fucking cripple-“ The man snapped, making you gasp. You were about to say something, but George was quick to slap a hand on your mouth. Knowing damn well what you would say next might get you slapped. As if he wanted that.

“Really? That’s your first course of action? Get creative buddy. Could have said something impressive. Like One Eared Arrogant Bastard. Like that’s creative. Just dropping heavy words like that doesn’t make you smart. Even Malfoy got creative.” George mocked, making you giggle. That was something you admired about him. His ability to go with the flow. Able to fight with words so easy.

“I-“ He tried to say something else, but George cut right in. “Do you sound smart to make up for the fact you don’t have a personality? Even Percy had more of one than you. What about that temper? Short temper isn’t the only thing short, is there?” George egged on and on. Wasn’t long before people were watching, and giggling. Leaving him red faced.

“How about-“ And the man was storming off. You couldn’t help your relief, as you relaxed into George. He seemed gone, but not entirely. You noticed he was still outside. Just far enough away from the shop to not be loitering. That made your stomach drop. Seemed you were dodging a bullet, and George was making sure there was plenty of cover.

“Guess he isn’t buying it…..Wanna help make sure he does?” He offered, as you rose a brow. At this point, you would do anything to get that bastard off your back. Was being a total creep now. Just waiting for you outside. With a nod, you gave your consent. George would soon whistle at someone, who would nod, as he was taking you towards the back.

“Let’s give him a show~” He offered, before you were pushed out of a side door. Your body hit against the neighboring building, as your lips met. You were wide eyed, until you noticed your ex peeking from around the alley way corner. Guess a show will be what it takes. Couldn’t imagine a better person to trust yourself with anyway.

You couldn’t help it either, as you melted into the kiss. Your hands fighting at his suit jacket, while he explored your mouth. Leaving your tongue to taste like sweet orange flavored candy. The scent of ash, the taste of sweet, and the feeling of heat. It was getting you more excited than you wanted to admit.

“Come on, love, on your knees.” He whispered, as he threw the jacket to the ground. Despite how rough he was acting, the fact he gave you his suit jacket for your knees spoke volumes. Even in the heat of the moment, he was trying to make sure you were given the best care. Made your heart sing, as you let your knees rest on the expensive fabric. Right all over the dirty alley way.

He was quick to take his belt off, and adjust his vest and dress shirt. Everything was moving so fast. There was such a thrill from it. A spur of the moment. Just no thoughts, only desire. Was so exciting. Gave you such a pleasure you didn’t know you could get. Weren’t even doing anything. Yet.

“Open that pretty little mouth-“ He asked, and you did. Just as he pulled his cock out from his pants, making your heart pound with excitement. You were really about to do this. You felt like you were in a wet dream. You always did find George so attractive. Never thought you would ever score a chance. Yet, it was this easy. Those Weasleys and their big hearts.

You let the tip pass your lips, and swallowed. His hand was gentle in your hair, as he let you go at your own pace. Not forcing it down your throat, and letting you take your time in adjusting. Letting you control your breathing, as your hands found his thighs. Just those deep breaths of fire works, and sugar. Was hypnotic.

Once you felt well adjusted, you forced your head further down. Your signal to let him keep going, and going he did. How he tangled his fingers in your hair, and forced you deeper down his cock. To the point your nose brushed against that ginger hair. Made you gag, by how much, but you quickly relaxed. Knowing you were in safe hands.

“Better be louder. I’m crippled, after all~” He teases, making you unable to stop the giggle around his cock. That earned you a moan from him, as the vibrations ran up through his body. God did his moans sound like sweet music to your ears. It gave you the motivation to try and take lead a little bit. Pulling yourself to the tip, and moaning around it.

He was soon leaning against the wall of his shop, as he was at your mercy now. His free hand busy with keeping his vest and shirt up. Exposing that slender stomach. Happy trail, freckles, and ink. Such a dashing man, with many scars. You were the lucky one to get to see it. See it all. Like how his face was flushing, and his kept hair ruffling. It was addictive.

Up and down you bobbed, as you kept your grip tight on his slender thighs. Not quite as meaty as his upper arms, given his beater history. Still was great to grab, as you milked him for more sounds. Such as the hisses, and whimpers when you ran your tongue over a vein just right. Oh you didn’t know who was in more heaven.

“Fuck, Im going to cum. Oh fuck-“ He gritted his teeth, and made an attempt to pull you off. How considerate. You figured that kind gesture deserved a reward. So, you fought against his hand. That surprised him, as you would force yourself deep down again. Moaning, as you returned to his base. Looking right up at him, and locking with those pretty doe eyes. That was the last straw.

He let his head roll back, as he came down your throat. You coughed, but you were handling it like a champ. Using those thighs for support, as you watched his stomach spasm from the pleasure you gave him. How those pretty cheeks were so flushed, and his ear so red. Oh what you would give to see more of that.

Once he was breathing steady, you finally pulled off. You panted, as he cupped your cheek. His thumb rubbing away at the spit that ran down your chin. You didn’t know if your ex was still there, and genuinely didn’t care anymore. The tender moment was to sweet to make you think about anything else.

“Say….Think maybe we can do this again some time? Gotta keep up appearances and all~” He winked, as it was your turn to be blushing. All flustered, as he would put himself away. Along with being a gentlemen, and helping you off the ground. With his jacket as well.

With a quick spell, the jacket was clean. Just some tidying up, as you were still a soft pink. Same for himself. A stupid grin on his face was keeping you flushed as well. Especially with the arm hooked around you, as you returned inside. Having to keep up appearances after all. Just for appearances.

“My lunch break should be soon, wouldn’t mind some drinks with you. Gotta wash that down after all.” He offered, making you elbow his delicate rib. He wheezed, but laughed. Yeah. Maybe this fake dating thing will really put your ex in his place. Severs him right for losing such a catch like you. Least George was the lucky one to nab you, wasn’t he?

@george-weasleys-girl

[delulustateofmind]

JJK Men x Reader: Taking care of the kids!

Characters: Satoru, Suguru, and Choso.

Your sweet husbands are taking care of the kids for you while you're at some wedding the invite clearly saying "No Kids". That's fine...your husband can handle it right?

✩｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶✩

Satoru

Satoru was sure he could handle it. After all, how hard could it be to watch over his little guy for a few hours while you attended a wedding? But what he didn’t account for was his soon-to-be one-year-old's teething phase turning his sweet baby into a tiny, drooling menace.

With his son strapped snugly in a baby harness against his chest, Satoru was convinced they’d get through the day without a hitch. He had his lecture planned, a mission lined up with the kids, and, of course, his little one’s nap schedule firmly memorized. You had emphasized that routine was essential, and he, being the ever-attentive husband, was sure he’d nailed it.

But as he strolled into the school, proudly chatting with his colleagues about how “easy” fatherhood was, his little boy had other plans. Every few seconds, tiny, sticky hands would reach up, eagerly grasping for Satoru’s fingers for a nibble. Drool was dripping steadily from his son’s mouth, leaving a little trail on Satoru’s shirt, but he didn’t mind. With his heart full and his confidence sky-high, he figured everything was under control.

When his little mochi whimpered and grabbed at his fingers for the hundredth time, Satoru finally glanced down, pressing a light kiss to his son’s wild, snow-white hair. “Easy day, right, buddy?” he cooed, still blissfully unaware of what was to come.

It was not an easy day. Satoru’s confidence shattered the instant a huge wail erupted from his little one, echoing down the hallway and catching the attention of every passing student. Big, red cheeks puffed up on his son’s face, tiny fists reaching up toward Satoru with desperation, his drooly little mouth quivering.

"Maybe he’s hungry?" Satoru murmured, patting his son's back, hoping to soothe him. "Or tired already? Ah, come on, little mochi, we were supposed to have this handled." But the cries only grew louder, and a creeping realization hit him—he’d left the diaper bag at home. And the toys.

“Oh, crap…” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in a rare moment of panic. Three hours of sleep had definitely taken its toll, and he was starting to feel the weight of every “no problem” promise he’d made to you that morning.

With no pacifier, no extra clothes, and his son's unhappy shrieks growing louder, Satoru swallowed his pride and started bouncing a little, whispering desperately, “C’mon, buddy, give your dad a break… Just till Momma gets back…”

Nanami found him standing helplessly in the hallway, looking like he'd been caught in the middle of a disaster zone. Without missing a beat, Nanami took in the sight—the wailing, red-cheeked baby clawing at Satoru’s face, and Satoru’s sheepish, desperate smile—and made an easy diagnosis.

"He's teething, probably," Nanami said in his typical stoic tone. "At that age, and judging by that wail, he's frustrated. Take it from someone who has three kids."

Satoru blinked at him, slightly stunned. What was Nanami, some kind of baby whisperer? How did he know all this?

As if reading his mind, Nanami continued, "Hold on. I have a baby bag in my car. We keep a spare unopened teething ring and some other essentials." His gaze swept over Satoru’s empty hands and slightly disheveled look. "Judging by the lack of your baby bag, I’m guessing you forgot some things."

Satoru’s face broke into a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… three hours of sleep will do that to a guy."

Without another word, Nanami turned, motioning for Satoru to follow. “Come on. We’ll get him sorted. And maybe—” he gave Satoru a pointed look, “—I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

Satoru chuckled, half-relieved, half-embarrassed as he followed. Maybe today will be a bit easier after all.

Suguru

Suguru had parenting down to an art. He practically embodied the role so well that anyone might mistake him for a mother, the way he handled each detail with care and precision. Fortunately, the twins were off at school, leaving him with his youngest—his curious little boy who’d just turned two. As they made their way to the training grounds, Suguru watched his son toddling beside him, attached by one of those child leash backpacks. You’d joked it was a control thing when he brought it home, and honestly, he couldn’t deny it. His peace of mind was priceless.

When they arrived, the first years immediately gravitated toward the little one, their hearts melting at his wide-eyed gaze and tiny fingers pointing at everything in sight. Suguru could only chuckle softly, amused by the way his son looked at the world, taking it all in with endless wonder.

With a practiced calm, Suguru spread a soft blanket over the grass, laying out toys and a couple of sturdy board books for his little one. Settling down, he reached for the sunscreen, his voice gentle as he coaxed his son to sit still. "Come on, let’s put some sunscreen on you," he said softly, hands cradling his son's round cheeks as he carefully smoothed the cream into every nook and cranny of his chubby face.

Every so often, he’d throw a glare at the first years when he caught them stealing glances instead of focusing on their stretching. “Eyes on your forms,” he reminded, his voice just stern enough to bring them back to reality.

Suguru returned his focus to his little boy, who was already distracted by a toy, happily babbling.

"Pink!" His son shouted as he pointed at Yuji.

"That's so good. Yeah, his hair is pink." Suguru would speak soflty and slowly as he put on a little sun hat on his son.

Today was going to be a good day—quiet, simple, and fully excited to see his wife when he got home.

Choso

Choso was great with kids—everyone said so. But when it came to his own little one, especially now that she was sick, he felt completely out of his depth. His heart twisted painfully as he looked at his sweet four-year-old daughter, who’d woken him from a much-needed nap after a grueling late-night mission.

“I threw up, Papa…” she whimpered, her little face streaked with tears and a sniffle escaping her as she looked up at him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Choso got to work. He changed her sheets, gathered up the laundry, and made sure she was comfortable as she crawled into his and your shared bed, nestling herself among the pillows. He placed a kiss on her forehead, murmuring a soft, “Rest here, baby. Papa will be right back.”

Heading downstairs, he mulled over what he’d need. Being half-curse, he’d never experienced sickness himself, which left him a little lost on how to help his little one. Juice seemed like a good idea, right? He also started a small pot of rice, recalling something he’d read online about gentle foods being good for sick children.

A quick call to Nanami confirmed he was on the right track. Suguru added a few more helpful tips, and by the time he went back upstairs, juice in one hand and a bowl of rice in the other, he felt a little more prepared.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently nudged his daughter awake. “Here, baby,” he said softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I’ve got some juice and a little bit of rice for you. It’ll help you feel better.”

She blinked up at him, still sniffling, but managed a small, grateful smile, reaching for the juice first. Choso settled beside her, his hand resting on her back as he rubbed slow, comforting circles, silently wishing he could take all her discomfort away. He might be half-curse, but nothing could change how deeply he cared for his little girl.

[fangswbenefits]

Broken

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You wonder if Miguel is broken beyond repair, because he surely believes that.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Angst + hurt/comfort (some fluff)

To say you were pissed off would be the understatement of the year. There was only so much a single person could withstand when it came to this.

You kept shoving your belongings hurriedly inside your backpack, determined to leave his place before crossing paths.

It would be better this way. For everyone involved.

That was until you caught sight of flashes of electric red outside the bedroom window.

“For fuck’s sake…”

You took pride in being fast, but Miguel O’Hara was faster and far more relentless, and before you could react, he was standing tall beside you. “Hey.”

Your spine snapped straight like a whip and you glared at him. Unmasked and unmoving. There was guilt written on all over his face, which fueled your anger even more, because now you knew you were justified in your feelings.

“Bye,” you said, slinging the backpack over your shoulder and heading towards the open window ready to take a dive into the cool air of Nueva York.

“We should talk,” he called from behind you.

“Nah, we’re done.”

“Let’s talk.”

You turned back around, walking straight into his chest.

“I’m done with you,” you said with an indignant growl.

“You’re not being reasonable,” he said.

“Reasonable?!” you hissed. “You let our personal relationship get in between work! You dismissed my perfectly adequate advice during that mission, because I’m just some toy to you or whatever.”

He held up a finger. “Now, see, that’s the issue. You keep misunderstanding things.”

“Okay,” you huffed, reining in your temper as you planted your fists on your hips. “Tell me why you ignored my advice — no, tell me why you always do this. I’ve been here for years and any new recruit has more of a say than I do! Is that because we’re fucking, huh?”

You hadn't bothered to keep you voice down, which you knew was a sure way to get on his nerves, but you couldn’t care less.

But evidently Miguel did care. “Can you calm down so we can talk?”

“You don’t take me seriously,” your went on. “I mean, what is this? I don’t know what to do with whatever it is we have — had,” you promptly corrected yourself. “We screw around, I then try to prove myself on the field, and you shut me down like I’m a nuisance.”

You were about to turn to leave through the window when he held it one hand to you, causing you to roll your eyes and folding your arms. “You’re not sweet-talking your way out of this.”

“That's alright, then.”

Miguel’s hand fell to his side, and he just stood there in silence, eyes boring into yours.

You scowled at him. “Well?” you demanded. “Go on. Why so quiet now?”

“I know you’re upset with me,” he said, face hardening.

“Nice observation skills.”

“I shouldn’t have been that harsh,” he sighed.

You scoffed. “It keeps happening, so it’s a habit by now. We’re both old enough to know fully well how to separate personal from professional, right?”

“I do, but you don’t,” he said simply. “You need to understand my position here. It’s a great deal of responsibility, and you can’t expect to be favoured just because we got involved.”

“Excuse me? I never expected favouritism.”

“But it sure looks like it. Look,” he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “In here, you have my attention, but out there I need to have yours. For the sake of each mission.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. “Attention? What attention, Miguel? Aren’t we just fuck buddies? Wasn’t that the understanding?”

His shoulders slumped. “Initially, yes. And I could stand here and blame it on you, but it’s entirely my fault.”

“Now, why would I be blamed? And for what?” you asked impatiently. There was this unshakeable feeling creeping in on you telling you he was merely speaking in riddles with the sole intent of being purposefully vague. “Are we just going to throw blame at—”

“Because you have feelings for me!” Miguel’s temper finally exploded.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but no sound came out.

An empty silence weaved around you, filled only with the beeping sound of Miguel’s watch which he promptly silenced.

He had made it abundantly clear that your relationship was purely built on the principle of mutual pleasure. You both had needs, and it was a very straightforward ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ type of deal — albeit concerning different body parts.

Miguel broke the deafening silence first. “Trust me, it was against my better judgment.”

“Why didn’t you stop, then?”

There was no point in denying the feelings you harboured for him. There was only so much intimacy one could experience with someone else before other thoughts crept through your mind.

But what really made your heart clench was that mownyou knew that he knew, and it made things worse. So much worse.

Miguel took a long and deep breath. “Because by the time I realised how you felt, I found myself enjoying your company more than I had anticipated.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I should have stopped it,” he went on. “I don’t like dealing with attachments. Those lead to liabilities.”

Well, you’d sworn to yourself not to cry because of this. But the lump was in your throat and your eyes stung, and when you spoke your voice had turned into a whisper. "You should have told me," you said through clenched teeth.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want to put that pressure on you!” you exploded, feeling your eyes water. “I knew it was one-sided, so what would be the point? But knowing that you now know just makes me feel so…”

Miguel paced to his bed, taking a seat by the edge. “This is why I said it’s my fault. I can’t have this in my life.”

Your eyes widened. “Have what?”

“This!” he grunted, motioning with both hands to the two of you. “This is what I do. I get involved and fuck things up.”

“You can’t control how others feel about you,” you said as you brushed a teardrop with the back of your hand. “All I want is your respect.”

“You have it.”

“Then show it! Your words mean nothing if you don’t act accordingly.”

Miguel let out an exasperated sigh. “You want what I can never give you.”

“Respect?”

He shook his head. “Love.”

The word carved into you like a dagger and not because it was a lie, but because it was painfully true.

“Why do you think I fell for you? The sex? Sure, it’s great or whatever,” you said, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. “No, Miguel. You showed me a side of you that you show no one else. You made me feel special.”

He seemed taken aback, but said nothing.

“Everyone here thinks you’re cold and distant and some vessel of righteousness,” you went on, feeling a couple of droplets stream down your face and leaving a damp trail behind. “You want everyone to think that, but you are not that person.”

Miguel scoffed, breaking eye contact with you. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Oh, but I do,” you take a few steps closer to him, wanting him to stare back at you again. “It won’t kill you to feel something other than anger and resentment, you know? We’re humans. It’s in our nature to bond with others—”

“But we’re not really regular humans, are we?” he scowled deeply, crimson eyes narrowing at you. “I haven’t been with anyone since…” his voice faltered, hands gripping his thighs tightly. “I’m too broken.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

You saw something twist his features. Miguel didn’t like being challenged. He was so terrible at handling his emotions, that anything that he couldn’t control he grew to resent.

“I wanted you to hate me,” he said abruptly. “During missions… just like what happened today.”

“What? Why?”

“Because making you hate me felt easier than me not having feelings for you.”

There it was.

That sentence alone was enough to have your lips quiver shut, heart thumping loudly and head feeling dizzy.

“You’re an idiot,” you managed to say after a while.

“What?”

The sudden flare of rage nearly consumed you. “How could you even think that? How broken are you to convince yourself that you’re not worthy of having normal feelings for someone else?”

“Because I can’t afford it,” he explained as he rose to his feet. “The moment I give into my feelings for you, you become a liability.”

You shrunk away, feeling suddenly really tiny. “I think us getting involved was a mistake.”

He looked at you, surprised. “You’re just saying that because you know this isn’t going anywhere.”

“No, I'm saying it because I feel guilty,” you murmured, hugging yourself for comfort. “I will never understand what you’ve been through. I won’t pretend I ever will,” you paused momentarily, pondering your next words. “But I feel selfish for wanting more.”

“I'm a selfish kind of man, too,” he remarked evenly.

You nodded.

He took a step towards you and you took one back, bumping unexpectedly into the wall. Miguel seemed caught off guard by your reaction and froze, hands held up. "I’m not going to ask you to continue this.”

“It’s better that we don’t,” you whispered unconvincingly. “I’ll get over you.”

“Yes,” he said with a shrug, reaching out to touch a hand to your cheek. “I totally agree.”

You nearly melted into a puddle at his touch. It was like a punch to the stomach, knowing that he could so easily get under your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel forced to be with me.”

“Too late for that.”

Your eyes zeroed in on his and he froze under the ferocity of your glare. “It’s fucking sad, Miguel. That it took things getting out of control for us to have an honest conversation.”

“I agree,” he said. “But maybe it was necessary.”

He was now stroking your cheek, and as much as you wanted to flinch away from his touch, he had somehow managed to melt your insides.

He leaned closer and you snapped your face away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of submitting.

His lips were near your ear. “Do you want to part ways?”

Your jaw clenched.

“I’ll respect your decision.”

You screwed your eyes shut, blocking him out and seeking clarity. “What if I think we should give it a try?”

“Then we must set boundaries,” he said, breath fanning your ear. “You’re an amazing spider-woman.”

You gave him a cynical snort.

“And I think we shouldn’t be paired in further missions unless strictly necessary. At least until we figure this out.

You shared the sentiment, but also craved reassurance. “But you need to let me in, Miguel. I can give you space whenever you need it, but you can’t keep building these walls around you,” you took a deep sigh. “You don’t have to with me.”

His hands were moving down your sides, and you let your backpack slide down one arm, falling to the ground. He came to rest his chin on the top of your head.

“I know.”

Having him this close to you never failed to make your heart flutter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, bringing both arms to cradle your face, pulling you into his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

Somehow, that confession brought a faint smile to your lips. “No, you don’t.”

“Was that a smile?”

“No,” you huffed in annoyance.

“I think that was a smile.”

“Stop it. You sound as obnoxious as Lyla,” you mumbled.

“Well, I did program her,” he said, hands caressing the back of your head adoringly. “Are you calling me obnoxious?”

“Maybe.”

“Ouch,” he feigned pain in his voice.

Your stubbornness crumbled at once and you finally wrapped your arms around him.

“How could you ever think your feelings were one-sided?” he whispered, lulling you in his arms. “Silly, silly spider.”

Masterlist

[devilfic]

More matt content?

I was thinking, Matt’s reaction towards reader wearing something real cute (like a beautiful red dress) or anything idk-

My mind is plastered with this man, god-

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship, suggestive content. words: 334.

Matt pinches fabric—satin, he’s certain, silk satin—unable to hide the smile creeping up on him. He can feel where the sleeve ends and your skin begins, his fingers sneaking along the hem to paint the picture, “Did I buy this?”

You laugh and the fabric of your sleeve slips from between his fingers, “Yeah. You like it?”

It helps that you trust him, even more that you’ve been lovers for months, because when his hand passes over your chest to feel for the neckline, his ears burn. His fingers travel over the peaks and valleys and wonder of what is left in their wake. Telling by the hitch in your breath, you must feel the same.

“What color is it?”

“Crimson.”

“So we’ll match.” Matt is stroking down your front now, feeling for the length.

“Of course. What kind of partner would I be if I let you embarrass yourself in public like that?”

His head tilts to the side. He laughs once, wetting his lips to spite the urge to kiss your arrogant mouth, “Oh, sure. If anyone’s to blame for the poor color coordination, it’s me.” He feels you shrug as his hand travels back up to settle on the back of your neck. He takes the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss anyway, “I love it. You’re stunning.”

"You're not so bad yourself, Murdock," you trace his chin with your thumb, "glad you like it, though. You weren’t a fan of that velvet number from our last date night.”

“Yeah, no, this is much better… although,” his fingers slip around your waist and feel up your back, pausing with his hand at the middle of your spine, “I don’t imagine you’ll be wearing it long.”

“No ripping,” you nip his nose and his nostrils flare at a distant, heated memory, “replacing this will be expensive.“

Being cheeky, Matt tugs you into him without warning and you grab at his lapel to steady yourself, “What can I rip?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[midmourn]

like the movies

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre fluff, slice of life, angst, suggestive warnings language, suggestive on jeno’s, brief death joke on haechan’s note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 here’s the tropes if you can’t tell: mark: best friends to lovers. renjun: enemies to lovers. jeno: fwb. haechan: fake dating. jaemin: second chance. chenle: arranged marriage. jisung: brother’s best friend. i cant remember who inspired this but i do know it was for enhypen lol ( masterlist )

resting on his elbow on your bed, mark’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, blinking furiously. was he dreaming? you, who stood in front of the floor length mirror, smooth down your clothes for non-existent dust and smile to yourself, “okay, how about this outfit?” you wait a few seconds before frowning, “mark? hello— mark?” you wave a hand in front of him and he jolts, “wha—? oh, um, yeah, it’s great. you look really good— … dude.” he winces inwardly at the name, but you don’t bat an eye at it and frown at his seemingly insincere words. “you’re right, it’s bad. i’m going to change.” mark catches your hand with a laugh, “dude, no! seriously, you look really— …” he trails off, looking hesitant to say the next word, even though he’s said it so many times before so easily. what was different now? “— pretty. gorgeous,” he says it without even thinking, realizing it the moment you smile bashfully, ducking your head to your chest to try and hide it but failing miserably. he studies your face for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. and— oh. he wants to kiss you so bad. you, his best friend. oh. oh shit.

renjun doesn’t know when the lines blurred from enemies to frenemies to … lovers? crushes? all he knows is that the burning rage that used to fill him every time your mouth opened was now replaced with warmth spreading over his chest and the urge to kick his feet while giggling. words neither of you would dare to speak around your mothers, intended to hurt, were replaced with teasing, playful words with no hint of malice. your head turns swiftly, knocking him out of his daydream as you raise an eyebrow at him, “take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.” cheeks flushing a subtle red, his eyes narrow at you, “you might break my camera.” but his pinky creeping towards yours and lips curling up at the ends says how he really thinks. you smile, flipping your hand over and making the first move to intertwine your fingers. his heart stuttered in his chest, “i— you—” you laugh, squeezing his hand once before going back to your textbook. and, yeah, he was certain he’s never felt this before.

“if you squeeze any harder, i think you’ll break the glass,” mark attempts at a joke to diffuse the tension radiating off jeno. jeno’s lips barely twitched up as he glanced down at the glass in his hand before setting it to the side, done drinking for the night. he didn’t feel like it anymore when he saw how closely some guy holds you to his side, hand on your waist. he didn’t like the funny feeling it gave him and he could only imagine how it’d feel when alcohol was added into the equation. “jeno, dude, when are you gonna make a move? you guys have been—” he glances around, checking for eavesdroppers even though the music was far too loud for anyone to hear, “—messing around for months, basically a couple without the label. and you know there’s more people interested in y/n than just him.” the two look back to the opposite side of the room where the guy was whispering something in your ear, a smirk on his face. “you need to tell them you want something more than just fuck buddies. or else you’ll lose them forever.”

“you— WHAT?” haechan winces as your voice grows louder in his ear, casting a quick look around to see if anyone could hear you through the phone. “hyuck! what the fuck?” “don’t act like it wouldn’t be a privilege to date me,” haechan scoffs playfully, hiding his nervousness behind humor; as he always did with his emotions. “i’d rather die.” “okay, well, please! my mom’s already told everyone in my family that i’m bringing someone, including my sisters!” the mention of his sisters have you going quiet, and he hopes you’re thinking about it on the other end. “god, haechan— i—” you sigh in frustration, “how was my name the first name to pop up in that tiny brain of yours?” he ignores the jab, thinking back to that moment. truthfully, he already knew why you were the first name to pop up in his head when his mom mentioned bringing a date to his family reunion. but you didn’t need to know that. not right now, at least. “you weren’t, you were actually my last choice but all my other choices would’ve said no,” he teases, hearing you scoff in disbelief and he grins. “whatever. you’re lucky i love your sisters and hate letting them down.” “and me?” he raises an eyebrow, maybe a hint of hope in his voice. “you wish.” he does.

jaemin swears he’s dreaming when he looks up and sees you. never in a million years did he think you would come back home. not when you tried so hard to leave, anyway. you’re across the aisle, switching your gaze between two spices in your hands when you feel the back of your neck prickling. your head lifts, making eye contact with jaemin immediately. your breath catches, the world freezing around you as the two of you stared at one another. jaemin had only seen glimpses of you through social media the last four years, living your life in some prestigious university with your dream job and dream life in america. he watched your life through pictures like he used to watch you sleep. you break first, raising a hand to wave shyly at him, attempting a weak smile as you didn’t know how he’d react. jaemin abandoned his cart, walking closer to you as you set the spices into your cart. “hi,” you breathe out once he stands in front of you. for years, it seemed like you could never catch your breath, always missing just one thing. and now, it seemed like a breath of fresh air, standing in front of him. his lips turned up into a soft smile, eyes shining as he said softly, “hi.”

the hotel room is silent as chenle unlocks the door with the cardkey, letting you in first and doing a quick check of his surroundings before following in. he listens to the click of the lock, eyes following your movements as you grab a change of clothes and your skincare items from your suitcase. he loosens the tie around his neck, kicking his dress shoes off and turning his back towards you. he doesn’t intend on saying anything, knowing that this situation is definitely not your favorite thing in the world. while he wished it was on his own terms, he liked that it was you. it was only ever you for him. you just didn’t know that. “chenle?” he hums in reply, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it on the loveseat. “you don’t … hate me, do you?” his head snaps up, brows furrowing, “what?” the word comes out incredulous and you bite your lip, embarrassment sinking in as your cheeks begin to feel warm. “i … i know this isn’t ideal, but for me, i know it’s not the worst thing in the world.” he blinks at you. you smile slightly at his dumbfounded expression, “i was angry at first, and i was so … betrayed. but, i’m glad it’s you.” you don’t expect a response, heading into the bathroom quietly. he smiles to himself once he fully registers what you just said. i’m glad it’s you. he was, too.

from your spot on the armchair, you watch as jisung rises from his seat on the couch, next to your brother. “i’m getting a drink, anyone want anything?” the rest of your friends and your brother’s friends chime in with their answers, and you wait a second for anyone to get up and follow after him. but no one does. you smile to yourself before standing, “i’m going to help him, since you assholes won’t.” your brother waves you off, too far into the video game to give a better reply. you sneak up behind jisung, sliding your cold hands up under his t-shirt and he jumps, neck twisting to look at you. “ah!” he says a little too loudly, and you shush him. you stay silent before you hear shouts of excitement and disappointment from the living room, turning back to him. “what if—” he starts to say. “as far as they know, i’m helping you with the drinks and snacks,” you poke him in his ribs and he jumps, making you snicker. you stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the small moment you’ve rarely got since you all came home from college for the summer. at the thought, your face falls and jisung frowns, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes, “what’s wrong?” you shake your head, not wanting to ruin the moment but he insists. “i … i really want to tell him, ji.” you frown, watching his face carefully. “the longer we keep this a secret, the more he’ll be mad. i think we should just rip the bandaid off.” at his hesitation, you sigh and step away from him, making him take a step forward to close the distance again. “jisung, if we’re really serious about this, we have to tell him at some time.” you hesitate, “… are you serious about me?” his eyes widen, “what? yeah, i am. i’ve been serious about you since we were seventeen. i…” he looks shy, “you’re it for me. you’ve always been.” your cheeks heat up, eyes darting away shyly at his words as you allow him to close more distance between you two and press a meaningful kiss to your lips. “we’ll tell him … after everyone leaves, okay? i don’t want to hide anymore. i didn’t like it in the first place.”

[smooth-perceval]

“You kissed Santa!”

Dad!Carlos Sainz x Mum!Reader

Summary: Your son catches you kissing Santa, and decided he was going to tell his dad in you.

Warning: Fluff, hints of smut- but no smutty scenes. Google translate.

Key: Y/N (your name) Y/L/N (your last name) Valentino (Your sons name) Vale (your sons nickname)

Word count: 732

A/N: Quick but cute, I can actually imagine Vale and Carlos teaming up in you.

“Be quiet- otherwise you’ll wake the kids…” giggling I smacked Carlos arm.

“I look so stupid-” throwing his arms in the air he glared at me. “I don’t think so.” Smiling wistfully I tugged on his red jacket pulling him closer. “What do you think?” He tugged the white beard down below his chin, a smirk gracing his lips.

“You make Santa look good that’s for sure.” Wrapping my arms around his neck I pulled myself closer to his face. “Why don’t we skip this whole fake Santa thing and go straight up to bed?” His hands slid slowly over my waist pulling me tight against his body.

Leaning I quickly pecked his lips before pulling his fake beard back up covering his mouth. “Let me get the kids- you play your role. Then we will discuss the bedroom mister.” Patting his chest I let him go breaking away from his embrace.

“Can you permanently wear that dress?”

“It was reserved for tonight’s dinner only, now tonight’s dinner is done so is the dress.”

“Please keep the dress on.” Humming I stepped away from him backing towards the stairs. “I’ll think about it- play your role correctly and there’s a high chance you can rip it off mister.”

Groaning he stepped closer to me chasing me practically towards the stairs, wrapping me back up in his arms lifting me off the floor slightly.

“One more kiss before you get the kids.”

Laughing a little, I pressed my lips against his delicately both closing our eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, keeping it PG-13… until Carlos bit onto my lip gently- humming against my lips.

“Santa?!”

Both eyes bulged open- lips still locked both trying to figure out a way to play this off.

“Mamá!” (Mum) And just like that me and Carlos pushed each other away, Carlos rushing over to the tree picking his red sack up on the way dragging the presents with him.

“Darling- why you out of bed?” Climbing the stairs, slowly approaching Valentino.

“You kissed Santa!” his eyes welled with tears as he slowly moved back to his room. “No- no darling…”

“I’m telling papá…” (Dad)

“Vale. I wasn’t kissing Santa… I was giving him a big cuddle.” Crouching down in front of him I reached for his tiny hand. “You see, Santa is Mamá’s friend… and I haven’t seen him in an entire year. I was giving him a big-big cuddle.” Sniffling he wiped his cheeks moving a little closer to me.

“Because he only comes at Christmas?” Nodding with a small smile, I pulled him into my arms standing up, holding him close. “Only at Christmas, mama just missed her friend”

“It okay mamá, I miss friends too.” Smiling a little he looked over my shoulder and down the stairs just about seeing ‘Santa’s’ boots. “What friends do you miss baby?”

“You and papá when I’m at school.” And I couldn’t tell you how much love I had for our little boy, squeezing him closer I kissed his cheek. “Santa- can you come to the stairs?”

Heavy boots were heard before Carlos appeared at the bottom. “Vale, you want to say goodnight to Santa?”

Nodding he waved before squeezing closer to me.

“See you at Christmas.”

Carlos waved, and jingled his little bell.

“His quite shy-” whispering to Vale I bounced him up taking him to his bedroom. “His got Rudolph Mamá. He be okay.” Smiling down at him, I placed him gently back into bed, sitting down at the bottom of his bed- leaning over and kissing the top of his head.

A small light creeped into the room from the door, entering Carlos- who changed very… very quickly into a pair of pyjamas.

“Hey buddy- why you awake?”

“Mamá kissed Santa!”

“Valentino! I was hugging him!”

“You kissed Santa?” A small smile was on Carlos lips as he sat down next to me on Vale’s bed. “I saw it papá.”

“I believe you.” Leaning past me he kissed vales head also, brushing his knuckles against his cheek. “Get some sleep pequeño.” (Little one.)

“Night papá, night Mamá.” Yawning he slowly drifted off into a slumber once again.

Smiling I turned to Carlos. “You are so dead.” Giggling like school kids we both hopped out of Valentino’s room and straight into ours.

Yes I did kiss Santa.

Put me on the naughty list I guess.

[whatsaninterestingplacethisis]

Lovers

Imagine

Mat Barzal x Latina!reader

Synop: y/n locks eyes with a stranger one night and it leads to uncertain 'relationship' between the two; a one night stand leads to too many nights.

a/n: no smut but very suggestive, y/n is emotionaly unavaliable 😪, in a way i replace the smut with humor bc i think im funny 😔 angst + fluff, black cat reader x sunshine Matt in a sense ? Im indifferent w this work >:/

cw: mentions of drinking, cussing, suggestiveness

+

That stupid little red dress. The one you kept pulling down as it hiked up every step you took. That's what the oversized black leather jacket was for; to save the hassle but it didn't do much besides keeping you warm.

That same little red dress is on your bedroom floor, alongside with your black boots and his jeans with the belt still looped in them.

You locked eyes with him that same night in that crowded bar. You would never take him home but they way your makeup held that night and how the dress fitted you, it gave you confidence to do so.

It was difficult to fall asleep right after, the adrenaline had warm your body, too hot to sleep. But after some cooling down and examining his sharp facial features, you fell into a slumber.

+

With a well rested sleep, especially after that night, you woke up early. Fortunately so, you had plans with some friends late morning. You showered and thought of how to remove the man in your bed.

After getting dressed and putting your dress in the hamper, you picked up his discarded clothes from last night and messily folded them and chucked them at his bare back.

"Wakey wakey, no bakey." you sarcastically said in a loud enough voice to wake the nameless stranger. You were sure he had told you his name but had forgotten.

The nameless stranger stirred and moaned as he flipped over under the sheets. He rubbed his eyes trying to focus on your dressed self at the foot of the bed. You could see a smirk creep on his face as he realized what happened last night.

"Get dressed." you demand in a softer voice this time. You made your way to your side of the bed and started to make the bed, prompting him to actually move and get dressed.

"Jeez, no good morning or-" he finally sat up and started to put on his boxers,

"No. I have plans and can't have a stranger in my house." You walked around to start to make his side of your bed.

He stood up towering over you, "you did last night." he said with another smirk of his, his chest was bare and he messed with his belt buckle.

"Not alone in my house." you tilted up to look at him, moving him out of the way with your hips, folding the sheets back over.

You grabbed his shirt and pushed him with it towards the front door,

"I would like to see you again." he said as he quickly slid his shirt over his head,

You laughed, "I'm sure you would, bye bye." you closed and locked the door after him and continued to get ready.

+

The next weeknight you were relaxing after work, eating dinner on the couch watching some tv. As soon as you placed your bowl down, you heard soft knocks at your door.

You looked through the peephole and your eyes widened as you saw the same face of the guy who was in your sheets a few days ago.

You opened the door ajar, "What the hell are you doing here?" your eyebrows furrowed together.

"I wasn't joking when I said I wouldn't mind seeing you again." He stood with his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Maybe you don't understand the concept of a one night stand but it usually happens only one night."

He laughed at your explanation, "I know what we did. I'm just saying if you don't mind, we can hang out again."

"I don't want to be in a relationship or even date for that matter." you opened the door more as to where the conversation was going.

"Neither do I." he stated to your surprise.

"Are you implying to be fuck buddies?" you whispered the term as you two were having the conversation in a public hallway.

He struggled to hold back a laugh, "In a few words, yes."

"Okay." you relaxed against the door,

"Okay?" he questioned not understanding your answer,

"Yeah, sure." you agreed to the relation.

"Cool, we should share numbers then." he pulled out his phone and passed it to you. The new contact page had your name typed out in the right box.

"You remember my name?" you looked up at him after typing your number in.

"Yeah, what you don't remember mine?" he joked expecting a laugh but you still couldn't remember his name. He saw the slight worry in your eyes and smiled,

"It's Mat." you passed his phone back and he saved the contact,

"Sorry," you said sheepishly.

"No worries." he said as if he had been embarrassed too. But he kept standing there.

"Do you want to- tonight?" you asked indifferent of his intentions when coming over to your place.

"I mean I wasn't expecting it on my drive over here but I'm down..." he leaned forward onto the doorway.

With his face inches way from yours, you leaned forward, caressing his loose hair strands,

"I'm not. I'm on my period, so goodnight Mat." you pulled away from the tension and slightly pushed his chest away.

“Wait. We could still hang, watch a movie or something.” he tried to negotiate but failed,

"Yeah, no. Text me in a week and I should be free, goodnight." you quickly closed the door before he could speak anymore.

+

Mat had given you a full week to meet up again and it was awkward at first on your behalf. The first night with him after the bar really only happened with the help of alcohol but to plan accordingly sober was very different.

He called you, not texted, and gave you the option to see him at his place or yours. You told him yours to lessen the anxiety.

It was silly you thought. Panicking over sleeping with a guy who had already seen you naked. It was probably the fact that he wanted to see you again in that state that made you overthink so much.

But at the end of the night he came, he also came to your place.

And it became a system. He called to see you. You texted to see him. It went on for months of pure sex. Nothing else as you pledged the second time you saw him. But there were moments were he broke his pledge. Moments where he was becoming more of a friend than a fuck buddy.

I.

When he had time the mornings after he was generous to cook you breakfast,

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey" he mocked you from the first morning. He brought you a plate of a simple but nutritional breakfast and a glass of orange juice to his bed.

You groaned to be woken up but loved the smell of food in the morning, "Is this all for me?" you asked half asleep, reaching for the fork but he pulled the plate away,

"No, actually it's just for me. Your plate is in the kitchen." he deadpanned. Still half asleep you slowly blinked at what he said.

"I'm just kidding," he passed you the fork, "Just a joke because of your lack of hospitality from the first night." you noted he wasn't going to let that go for a while.

"I said I was sorry but that night was different from what we have now." you said before taking a bite of your food.

"I know. It's just fun teasing you." he said softly as he watched you eating his food.

This was from the first weeks. You had kept some walls up because from your standpoint it was all and only sex. But something about Mat forced you to open with him. With a smooth transition, the two of you became friends with benefits from fuck buddies.

II.

Mat found it easy to let your walls down by making you laugh but in other words he teased you, so he laughed at you but it all good and fun when you teased him back.

From the very beginning Mat favored talking over the phone rather than text. For your relationship, texting seemed easier and more practical because you didn't mind him just sending 'are you free?' and that be a sign that he wanted to come over. But no, for him he always wanted to have a long conversation about whatever and end the call with, "okay I'll be on my way soon."

And you always obliged, when you texted first he wouldn't text back but immediately call. So one night you decided to ignore his calls and just text him. You knew it would annoy him so even better for a small joke to play.

y/n

hey are you free after practice?

mat

Missed call

y/n

i can't talk right now

mat

Missed call

y/n

so are you free or not?

mat

Missed call

y/n

i guess not

mat

Why are you not answering my calls??

y/n

I just told you.

mat

Incoming call

After you laughed at your own entertainment you finally answered his call, contradicting what you had said.

"I thought you couldn't talk right now." he said through a grin, knowing you were lying.

"I didn't want to talk but you always want to." you admitted

"That's because I like hearing your voice. Although I can hear the sas in your texts just as fine."

"So are you free or not?" you had to get to business before he asked you more questions-

"How was your day?" he asked like always.

You rolled your eyes, "It was fine. Are you free?"

"Mine was pretty good too. Practice went great actually, thanks for asking." he said very sarcastically.

"Mat.'

"Yes?" he said too cheerful

"Are you free?"

"Like right now? Or in a couple of hours. I'm still kind of sweaty. Unless you like that type of stuff-"

Without hesitation you ended the call. Not that you were mad, just a bit annoyed but you knew it would make Mat desperate leaving him high and dry.

mat

Missed call

You kept declining his incoming calls and didn't bother to text because if he did want to see you tonight he would eventually text.

mat

I'll be there in an hour

y/n

:)

+

III.

A different morning you felt him twirling your hair in his hands,

"What are you doing?" you muttered into his cold sheets

"Trying to braid your hair." he whispered back, fully focused on trying to figure out a pattern.

"Don't. You'll just knot it even more." He didn't give up until a minute later because he was in fact knotting your hair.

You turned around after you felt his hands drop,

"Can you teach me?" he asked

"Youtube it." you whispered with your eyes closed

"I'll learn quicker from you." you felt his hands lightly touch your cheek making you lock eyes with him.

You quickly maneuvered to pull him in by the back of his neck. He smirked awaiting for a kiss, but you pulled his shaggy hair causing him to squeal,

"Ow?! that hurt." his eyes turned sad with his pouted lips,

"I just wanted to see how long your hair is. Not long enough to braid." you massaged the back of his head to soothe the pain.

You sat up straight and pulled your hair forward to slowly teach him a three strand braid. After a what felt like forever he kind of got it.

IV.

Overtime Mat broke your walls completely and you enjoyed every second talking and being with him but there were moments that brought you back to reality. The reality of what the relationship was.

It was Valentines day and you hadn't thought anything major about it. Mat would be busy that night like he mentioned before so you would spend it alone.

If he was free he would spend the night like always but you thought it would be weird to buy him something because you're only friends as you reminded yourself many times. You didn't expect anything from him either.

But he took you by surprise by showing up at your door with a huge bouquet of roses and your favorite chocolate.

"What are those?" you asked baffled from your door

"Rosses and chocolate obviously." he said with a smile

"I thought you said you were busy tonight." you still couldn't believe he actually got you something.

"I lied. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well I'm surprised!" you finally moved to let him in, taking the abnormally large bouquet of flowers to place them on your table,

"I didn't get you anything." you admitted waiting to see his disappointment,

"That's fine. I assumed you expected nothing but I still wanted to get you something. Being with you tonight is enough." he walked towards you and kissed you. It was a different kind of kiss than all the ones you shared before. This one felt genuine and not of lust. It was slow and as he deepened the kiss he was careful to not be so rough.

You felt your heart twang and your stomach fill with anxiety like from the very first nights. Even though you reciprocated with every motion in your body, you pushed him away. You stared up at him questioning everything that had happened to lead up to this moment,

"I'll make it up to you," you tried to change your train of thought.

"How?" he had that smirk on his face again

"Don't act dumb." you began to push him towards your bedroom,

"Wait, what about your chocolate?" as if he cared about the damn chocoalte.

"We can eat it after."

You had to change the scenery quickly to avoid those thoughts. You tried to excuse his behavior as him being nice but you knew too well it was more than that.

"Here's your chocolate, my sweets," he bowed to you in your bed. He had never used an endearing nickname before but you let it slide like all the other things.

"Thanks," he climbed back into your bed taking a piece for himself,

"So I was thinking," he said while chewing,

"Oh that's not good." you joked,

"Ha ha" he sarcastically laughed, "You should come to one of my games. I can get you a good view and maybe you'll like it."

You swiftly gasped almost choking on your chocolate, "Me at your game?"

"That is what I said, yes." he cleaned some chocolate off your lips with his thumb, catching you off guard.

"Okay, sounds fun I guess." you said with very clear uncertainty.

"Doesn't sound like fun,” he laughed at your nerves but reassured you, "I want you to see me play in person, it's only one game. And if you don't like it or we lose miserably I'll make it up to you."

"How will you make it up to me?" you smirked to yourself,

"Don't act dumb." he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek and neck making you squirm.

Moments like these, filled with bliss made you forget all your worries. But the hours before the actual game, your nerves sank back in.

You dressed accordingly and sat in the stands trying to follow the game. Seeing Mat distinguished by his number felt surreal almost. It was a side of Mat you didn’t indulge in often or at all.

He talked about hockey every now and then but it was very brief. To see him skate as fast as he could was shocking. To see him get slammed into the boards was more than shocking but concerning.

You were alone in your seat. Trying to follow the quick pace game. Looking around at the fans with his jersey number. You felt like an outsider even though the player himself had invited you to be there.

When the game ended and the Islanders had won you weren’t bored. You were glad you saw Mat play in person and see the team win. Mat gave you instructions where to meet him after the game.

After some wrong turns and almost giving up trying to find the locker room, you found a sweaty Matt walking in the halls,

“Hey you made it!” he jogged up to you for a quick hug and a quick kiss. Another action of Matt that surprised you. The two of you never kissed in public.

“I want you to meet some of my teammates.” His body radiated of excitement and giddiness.

“Sure,” you agreed with fake excitement. You were definitely not expecting such socialization with Matt’s close friends.

He introduced you to his teammates as a ‘good friend’ with an arm wrapped around you the whole time. The whole situation was nauseating. His teammates were kind but the whole thing was very confusing; as to what this introduction was or what you and Matt were.

You were able to end the introductions early when you told Matt you didn’t feel good, which wasn’t that far off from the truth,

“Are you okay to drive home?” he asked

“Yeah I’m just have a bad headache.”

“Okay I’ll see you tonight then?” Matt had planned to be with you after the game but you felt it would be better to have some time alone,

“Actually I think I’ll go asleep alone tonight. I’m just worn out.” you tried your best to lie and it barely worked.

“Okay I’ll call tomorrow.” You hum in agreement before almost running out of that arena.

On the drive home you felt your heart beat faster than you ever felt before. Things were getting too real you said to yourself in the car.

You and Matt had promised since the very beginning that this wouldn’t be anything more. But that promise had long been broken. You knew things had to slow down or stop completely, but only one of those options were possible.

+

You thought it would be best to see him at his place rather than your own. So you called him,

“Y/n calling me? It can’t be.” He joked

“Mat can I see you later tonight?” You asked in all seriousness ignoring his joke,

“You know you can y/n.”

“Great I’ll see you later.” You kept the call short, ignoring his calls right after.

When he opened his door for you, he cradled your face and smothered you with kisses. Something he sometimes did when he was in a happy mood.

You hated yourself for what you were about to do,

“Matt we need to talk,” you pushed him away only to see him lean in again, “What? Is it about the game? I thought I had pretty good night. What did you think?”

You despised how your eyes started to tear up but you kept a straight voice,

“We need to end this.”

“What?” He laughed as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Whatever this is. Things are getting too personal. They have been for weeks now and I should’ve been more persistent but I am now.”

“What are you talking about?” His hands dropped from your arms to his sides,

“Whatever this was is over.”

“This is over? Just like that?” He scoffed starting to become agitated, he didn’t understand where this was coming from,

“Yeah how else would you end a fuck buddy relationship?” You retaliated in attitude and nerves.

“But this isn’t a fuck buddy relationship! Not when I’m love with you!”

Mat never failed to surprise you but you should have seen this coming.

“You don’t mean that.” you unconsciously replied.

“The fuck I don’t!” His frustration was making things difficult so you had lied next,

“There’s someone else.” You tried to hold eye contact to make things believable but Mat knew better,

“Who?”

“You don’t know him.”

“So you see commitment in this ‘guy’ but not with me? The man you’ve been fucking with the past months.”

“That’s all it was Mat, it was just sex.”

“Thats bullshit! You’re telling me that you don’t feel anything more for me than just a fuck buddy?” His eyes looked dark with sadness and tears welling up,

“I told you from the beginning that I wanted nothing more. You promised too.” You lowered your voice to lessen the awful tension.

“Well I guess I broke that promise.” He stood there waiting for you say something but you didn’t know what else to say. So he broke the silence,

“Y/n, I’m in love with you.” his voice wavered,

“Mat.”

“I love you and you’re scared of being with me fully but I can wait because I don’t believe there is another guy.”

“Mat stop.”

“I’ve been in love with you probably since the very beginning and I’ll still love you for a long time.” He rambled trying to reach for your touch but you had to conclude things.

“Mat, I don’t love you.” You said harshly to get your point across.

You moved his arms from reaching yours, “There is another guy and I need to keep my options open while I’m young. You should too.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered leaving his apartment.

+

It had been weeks when you broke his heart. He didn’t give up even after that horrible fight. He continued to call and text. He even showed up to your place but kept silent.

You tried to not cry for him or the ended relationship. It wasn’t fair or right but it had to be done. That’s at least what you told yourself every night before going to asleep.

Mat would find someone better and move on. It would be like nothing ever happened between you two. Just lost in history.

He eventually stop calling and showing up at your door. It was the first steps to finally moving on you told yourself.

“Who’s ‘M’?” Your friend had pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You were making dinner for your guest as it was rare to have her over.

“This.” She showed you the polaroid. It was the polaroid Mat had toke of you one of your mornings.

~~~

“Stop snooping.” You watched him walking around your room, observing your shelves and tables.

“I’m not snooping. Just looking.” He grabbed the white polaroid you had gotten as a gift from your shelve.

“Now you’re touching.” You said from the comfort of your bed,

“Say cheese.” He climbed over you to take a picture,

“It’s too early for a photoshoot.” You held your hands up blocking the lens,

“C’mon just one photo,” be begged trying to move your hands,

“I don’t feel pretty.” You pulled your comforter above your face,

He leaned down to slowly pull down the comforter, “You always look pretty,” he whispered as he softly kissed you.

Catching you off guard he took a quick shot of you smiling. He wrote the date and his initial in sharpie after snooping in your desk.

~~~

“He’s just some guy.” You say nonchalantly avoiding the possible topic.

“Did he take this picture?” Of course she asks,

“Yeah he did.” You replied,

“This isn’t the same guy from that bar right?” You didn’t tell her much about Mat. Just that you were seeing someone very casually.

“He is actually, or was.” You tried to focus on the chopped vegetables rather than the sad eyes Mat looked at you with.

“What do you mean was?” She persisted and you gave in explaining everything.

“Hold up. This guy obviously cares about you, even told you that he loves you and you turned him down?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you everything.”

“Because you don’t want to hear the truth that this guy loves you. Love. The things everybody wants. And you just give it up like that.”

“He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me!”

“Why the hell not!? He had every reason to. Do you love him?” You hated how she asked the most difficult yet important questions.

“I don’t know.” You said half heartedly.

“You don’t know.” Her eyes pierced yours as you kept lying to yourself and others over and over again.

“It would never work me and him! He has a busy schedule and-“ you start the excuses,

“Oh but not busy enough to fuck each other!”

“Y/n be real. Let’s put the lies and excuses away. Why can’t you let yourself be happy for once while you have the chance?”

“You don’t understand. I broke his heart. I saw it in his face when I told him I didn’t love him. I don’t deserve to see him again or to ask for another chance.“

“Well I think everyone deserves a second chance. And if he truly loves you, he can understand your point of view.”

She forced you to see him again. You still couldn’t see why you should let yourself be happy even after breaking his heart. But you were on your way to his place with the same pit of anxiety in your stomach.

You didn’t call or text before to see if he was home. You didn’t want him to decline your request before seeing him in person, so you knocked on his door.

The moment he opened the door your heart ached. His face was visibly sad and his eyes red. You wanted to run away again but you couldn’t feel anything but pity and guilt.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure” His voice was deep and raspy. His face lacked emotion except when he saw you, he didn’t think he would see you again.

The silence of the apartment was deafening and uncomfortable, but you took a seat on his couch, signaling him to do the same.

“Mat, I am so sorry for the things that I said and did throughout everything. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You paused to collect your shaky breath and thoughts,

“You’re right. I am scared to be with you fully because you’re the most important and life changing thing that has happened to me and it terrifies me. From the beginning I only wanted something simple with no strings attached but then everything started to become so real without us even discussing it! I can’t blame you for treating me like how any girl dreams to be treated, I just wish we had slowed down and talked about things first and then maybe I wouldn’t have lied about there being someone else. Because there isn’t, I mean how could there be when you’ve been always by my side? What im trying to say is that if somehow you don’t hate me, hopefully we can start again?”

You could hear your pulse banging in your ears when he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you indifferently but still with those red eyes.

“You’re right too. I was in the wrong to continue things like we were official and not talk about it. I should I have said something earlier before I asked you to meet the guys. Maybe before Valentine’s Day too, that was probably a surprise.” He laughs at his lighthearted joke to soothe the tension, making you laugh too with tears falling down your face.

“You brought me a bouquet the size of a tire, so I was a little bit surprised.”

Both you laughed at how ridiculously huge those flowers were but of how sweet the gesture was. Mat broke the sweet silence with a question that had been left unanswered,

“Y/n, do you love me?”

You sympathized for him, the look of sincerity and incandescent love he had for you. You nod your head with a tearful smile.

He breaked into glossy eyed smile as he reached over to embrace and kiss you. A replica, but somehow better, kiss of the Valentine’s Day one. A slow but passionate kiss of pure adoration and love. He pulled away after what felt enough for now,

“I have to hear you say it though,” he states

“Say what?” You licked your lips eyeing his before meeting his eyes,

He slightly cocked his head to the side, “Don’t act dumb.”

“I love you, Mathew Barzal.”

[angelcakestarlet]

salvatore pt 2

richie jerimovich x reader

warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.

as requested here is part two!! thank u for the support cuties <3

"hands, fuckers! i need hands table 13, someone come on!" richie's voice echos through the bustling kitchen. it was a busy saturday night, the kitchen was in the weeds, and the restaurant was full as shit. the chicago bears were playing the packers tonight which meant men, drunk men, who would camp out the entire game sitting at the bar or at a table ordering one meal for the whole night. while your apron was stained and you hadn't reapplied lipgloss in the last three hours, you took a quick peak in the mirror and concluded you still looked good enough for that 20% tip. your cheeks were flushed from running around the restaurant getting beer refills and pitchers for nearly every damn table. you should've called off, honestly.

"I got hands!" you came up behind richie. he passed you the plates with a rag beneath them, "here wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sweetheart". you smiled at him, something about richie made your stomach drop in a way that made you feel guilty. every time he spoke to you, it churned your stomach. you knew it was wrong, the whole 'older man' ordeal, you knew that you should probably feel disgusted at his little remarks towards you. but if anything, that was the cherry on top. you walk out the kitchen, feeling his eyes burning into your back. tina smacks richie's shoulder, "staring at that girl like you wanna eat her" she scoffs disapprovingly. he smirks, eyes trailing you.

"alright guys i have the italian beef sandwich, fries on the side?" you ask the men in front of you wearing their grey bear jerseys, setting it down on the table. "they got you on the side too?" one of the guys snickers, shoving his elbow into his buddy. you fake a sweet laugh, "depends, there's an upcharge for me", anything for that tip. glancing up at the clock, "two more hours to go," you sigh. and for the next two hours, the game finishes up and people start slowly leaving the restaurant. you get those who linger, collecting their betting pool winnings or reaping their loses at the bar. you start getting ready to cash out, calculating your earnings for the day when richie creeps up behind you. "how'd you do today, doll?" referring to your tips racking up on the screen, "guess" you look over your shoulder at him. his face is glowing with a sheen of sweat, rag draped over his shoulder, chain having fallen beneath his shirt, he looked good. "a girl like you? i'm gonna say you made 200 tonight." "try 350," he peers over your shoulder, he lets out a whistle and you can feel his breath blow past your ear. "they like you out here huh?" you turn around to completely face him, his face merely inches away "why wouldn't they?" he chuckles at your response. "god you've got a mouth on you" you notice his eyes pan over you, his response makes you go red. you can only feign confident for so long, his words strike you somewhere deep inside. he notices your flushed state, smiles, and makes his way back to the kitchen. when the doors close behind him you realize you've been holding your breath.

you make your way to the office to check out with carmen, "how did you do today, y/n?" he's seated in his office chair, legs spread and obviously tired. "really good, i'm really liking it here, chef. thank you for the opportunity to work here" you smile hands behind your back, "that's good to hear, you let me know if anyone gives you any type of trouble alright? including fucking cousin over there." you laugh, "trust me, everyone's been really welcoming". once you're done cashing out, you take your purse and head out. outside you find yourself two lingering drunks from the game, "where are you heading to so fast? hold on," one of the guys approaches you, you roll your eyes and continue making your way down the sidewalk. "hey, i'm fucking talking you, you too good to respond or something" you can smell the alcohol coming from his breath as he comes up to tug on your wrist. "fuck off, don't touch me!" you shrug his wrist off, "is there a fucking problem here or something?" you hear richie's scruff voice behind you. before he gets to say anything else the guy backs away from you, you turn around to see richie lifting his white shirt just above his stomach to reveal his gun. the sight gives you that familiar feeling, you almost feel a shiver down your spine. "cause I don't think we would want any problems, right?" he gets closer to you, putting a finger through your belt loop to secure you. "you're right man, we're good, we're good." the guys shuffle away almost tripping over their feet. richie tugs on your belt loop, turning you to face him, "you okay, sweetheart? what are you doing walking home at this hour, do you want to get fucking taken by some jagoff?" he put his shirt back down, covering his gun. you stay a bit stunned, "let me give you a ride, come on." you grab his wrist lightly, "thank you, richie, fuck. um fuck..." you grip your hair, about to follow him to his car you see headlights behind you. "shit um... thank you for the offer, and for helping richie. i was just already waiting on-" you hesitate catching his eye as he looks off to the car pulling over in the distance. "I was waiting on my boyfriend." you peer behind you to see him behind the wheel, he usually picks you up from work. richie nods, smirking almost "your uh boyfriend shouldn't make his girl wait for him like that, especially at night. have a good night, doll" he rubs his chin, turns and makes his way to his car. you sigh, questioning your own moment of hesitation before saying 'boyfriend'. you stare at the silhouette of his tall stature walk away, envisioning the cold gun that rests between his jeans and his stomach and bite down on your lip.

"how was work, babe?"

[zeroible]

Outsiders Week Day One - How Ponyboy got his Bouncy Ball

It all started when Dally went to get more cigarettes.

Johnny and I tagged along because we had nothing better to do, and frankly we also needed a weed. 

“Can y'all get any slower? C’mon man hurry up!” Dally called. 

We were headed to the Rexall Drugstore. Dally, Johnny, and I usually hit it up because we never got caught using the five finger discount. That and it was one of the only corner stores in the East Side.

Gravel crunched underneath my Chucks and stray dogs barked in the distance. The smell of cigarette smoke and a slight chill wafted through the air.

Autumn was starting to set in. Soon I would have to convince Johnny to sleep at our house instead of at that old lot. Speaking of Johnny, he was kicking a pebble down the street. We were kind of dragging our feet, and this was getting Dally real worked up.

“I oughta leave you two slowpokes behind,” Dally spat.

There was no real venom behind his voice, but the comment made Johnny snap out of his daze real quick.

“Wait up, Dal!” he called, jogging to catch up. I followed close behind.

The facade of the building came into view. “REXALL STORE” was written on the front in real big red lettering. The paint was peeling and there were always signs that advertised sales in the glass display windows. We had arrived.

“Alright we’re here to lift some cigarettes. Make sure no one sees ya. I don't wanna be put in the cooler again, got it?” said Dally.

Johnny nodded profusely.

“Got it,” I mumbled.

“Great,” Dally grunted.

He pushed open the door, and a little bell jingled overhead. Dally slowly headed up towards the front, while Johnny and I wandered around. It was tough to be inconspicuous because the store was so small. We were eyeing up the penny candy when something caught my eye. It was a bouncy ball. A bright orange bouncy ball. It was like that thing was calling my name. Johnny and I stared at it for a good second. I was about to grab the ball when the owner started making a fuss.

“Hey, get back here greaser!” the owner shouted.

He was angrily waving around a newspaper as Dally bolted out the door. I started to panic. I looked at Johnny, and his eyes were real wide.

“Shoot! We gotta bounce!” 

I started to run, and almost tripped over my own two feet. Johnny followed close behind. Even though he was small, he was as quick as a jackrabbit. I don’t know how long the owner of the store followed us until he gave up, but we stopped running about two blocks away just to be safe.

“So much for not getting caught,” I wheezed.

I was on the track team, but my lungs weren’t too good. I guess it's from all the smoking I do.

“Shut your trap, Pony!” Dally snapped. He looked all sour. “No one’s getting a weed now. We came here for nothin!”

Maybe Dally was right. I started to get all glum.

Then, Johnny pulled the bouncy ball I was eyeing out of his jeans pocket. I let out a surprised laugh. I couldn’t believe it! We were getting chased by the store owner and Johnny somehow swiped the ball in the process. He dropped it into my palm. I turned the ball over in my hands and smiled. The rubber shined in the sunlight. I bounced it up and down and laughed again.

“Thanks Johnny. You’re a real buddy,” I smiled, and put my arm around him.

“Yeah … no problem,” Johnny stuttered. A little blush creeped up on the back of his neck.

We walked back, and I bounced the ball the entire way home.

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

chapter warnings: talk of sexual assault, gunshot wound, use of gun, misogyny, violence, description of gore.

When Lyle finally completed the trek to the cabin his gang had claimed as their headquarters, he was surprised to find a magnificent black horse and a wagon stationed outside the front. Who did they belong to? He hadn't seen another human for months, not since the showdown that had massacred his men and left him forsaken and alone. There wasn't a settlement besides Jackson for hundreds of miles, and as far as he knew no one ever travelled through this part of the state. So who the fuck could be holed up in his cabin right now? A horse of such stature and a wagon that looked so well maintained couldn't possibly belong to somebody destitute and without the means of survival. And that meant a fresh source of supplies for him to get his hands on.

Food. Clothes. Shoes. Fuck, maybe even some ammo.

Lyle was stealthy as he slipped through the cabin's front door, painstaking in his effort not to arouse the attention of whoever was residing in his rightful house. With his gun in hand, he peered around the wood of the door but saw no one in the main living room. Although there was a small fire crackling in the fireplace and the place was warm, he could tell that whoever was staying there hadn't been there for very long. There were no immediately unrecognisible belongings anywhere in his view. There were no changes in decor or furniture, no drastic alterations. The telltale signs of the raider's occupancy were still littered around the place, too, like the empty bottles of moonshine scattered around the kitchen sink.

No one had been around long enough to clean up the cabin and rid it from the stain of degeneracy. It hadn't changed drastically, had not been transformed from a den of iniquity into a real home.

It felt surreal to Lyle, like he was suspended inbetween two different realities. His whole life had been transformed since he was last inside the walls of this cabin, yet nothing around him reflects it. There's even the faded red bandana still hanging in the coat hook by the door, the one that belonged to his buddy Wyatt.

As Lyle made his way into the center of the main room, he was conscious not to let the weight of his boots press too heavily against the floor. He remembered that one particular spot by the table that always creaked. He stepped around it before slowly creeping across the cabin to where the bedroom door was situated. It was partly closed but he could vaguely hear snoring coming from inside the bedroom - a definitive man's snore, low and rumbling.

Lyle tightened his hand around the grip of his gun. It's probably just one man, lone on his travels, laying in the bed asleep without a care in the world. It will be easy enough to kill him, shoot him right between the eyes before he had the chance to crack open an eyelid. But perhaps Lyle could have a bit more fun with this one.

He prowled toward the bedroom where the door was ajar, and then he carefully slid through the threshold.

It was a spacious main bedroom, big enough for a dozen men to sprawl out on the floor to sleep. On one side of the room were a couple chest of drawers pushed up against the wall. Facing westward from another wall was a queen sized bed - a lavish piece of furniture in the apocalyptic world, made of solid wood with an intricately carved ornamental bed head. Whoever lived here in the before clearly had expensive taste.

The first thing Lyle saw when he entered was the large shape of the slumbering man on the bed. He was rolled on his side and facing away from the door, his messy greying curls sticking out from the thick blanket he was tucked under.

What a sucker. Lyle had every intention of murdering the man, but maybe after a light interrogation to find out where he was from and what riches he had in his possession. He smiled to himself at the thought of a full belly and a new set of clothes. Stepping closer, he then noticed the other body curled up asleep infront of the man.

Oh. He isn't alone.

Intrigued, Lyle skulks to the foot of the bed and peers over to your side of the mattress. When he spies the length of your tresses and the feminine features of your face he stops dead in his tracks. Holy shit! A woman!

But wait. You're also tied to the fucking bedframe. What the hell?

Excitement swirls in Lyle's gut, that old familiar anticipatory thrill that always rears up just before he swoops upon a gold mine opportunity to destroy and conquer. His hands flex around the handle of his weapon, his fingers tingling with giddiness.

A woman. A real one, in the flesh. Fucking jackpot. He hadn't had a woman in so long, and here you are practically served up to him on a platter ready to be devoured. Oh, the filthy fucking things he would love to do to you - for you to do to him, and all infront of the dumbass snoring next to you.

Lyle moves closer to you, eager to get a better look at you. His cock is already stirring to life, his arousal growing the longer he studies your mouth, your nose, your long eye lashes. Maybe he would take his cock out and jerk himself off until he came all over your pretty face, waking you up to a real treat. Yeah, that's what he'll do.

Lyle is about to drop one hand to his jeans when his gaze flickers over to the face of the man behind you. He stops his ministrations, totally frozen except for his eyes that widen in almost comical recognition. Well, fuck me six ways from Sunday, he thinks. It's one of the Jackson cowboys.

He stares at Joel, absorbing the details of his features. Lyle would recognise him anywhere. He was one of the leaders of the pack that decimated his men. He remembers Joel, remembers witnessing him in action, a colossal warrior firing shot after shot, fearlessly dodging between trees and boulders to advance on the raiders camp, shouting directives to the other Jackson men like some kind of army general in battle.

Lyle had dreamed of exacting revenge on the very man who lay peacefully sleeping before him. Standing here right now was like a dream come true, like he'd died and gone to heaven. Not only was he going to get some fine pussy, but he was also going to fulfil his dream of retribution.

Lyle grinned widely. This was going to be fun. And he'd enjoy every fucking second of it.

If it were at all feasible, Oscar would have continued riding through the night in his pursuit for you. His determination would push him to forgo sleep if it meant finding you sooner. He wouldn't have stopped, wouldn't have squandered a second of time if he was still able to see Joel's horse's hoof prints on the ground in the dark of the night. But alas, when the sun disappeared and the light faded, so did his ability to clearly perceive the precious guiding tracks. It would be foolish of him to travel at night with no sense of direction or little means of protection. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of another person or infected around, but he couldn't chance it. He had no other choice but to stop and find somewhere safe to camp for the night. He eventually found a relatively safe space amongst a cluster of boulders and large rocks. It would have to do.

For the whole night Oscar sat upright and wedged between two rocks. Fortunately it wasn't the most uncomfortable place he had ever slept and his body adjusted to the tight space, allowing him to relax enough to fall to sleep. It was a night of fitful slumber, however, with his subconscious slipping from one random dream to the next, as if his soul were as restless in the dream world as it was on Earth.

He was roused awake by the first twittering birdsong of the morning, at the same time the first ray of sunlight peeked over the horizon. He groaned and scrubbed his weary eyes with his fists, then cracked his neck from side to side. He hadn't eaten for over 24 hours now and his stomach rumbled loudly.

He suppressed the hunger in his stomach with a few bites of jerky he stashed in his jacket pocket, sure to save some for you incase you haven't been given food. He will have to make sure your pantry is fully stocked once you get back to Jackson. Hell, he will rush to make you whatever you want to eat as soon as you walk through the gates. You won't ever have to worry about food from this day forth, he vows.

Once up and about Oscar greeted his horse and gave its muzzle a series of affectionate strokes. "And you, you're gonna get all the carrots and oats you want, buddy." The animal snorted by way of reply and Oscar smiled. "Back on the road now fella."

There hadn't been much snow fall during the night but there was a considerable chance that yesterday's tracks would no longer be discernible. The quicker he resumed his search, the more probable the prospect of heading in the right direction. He had to listen to his gut instincts again. If he did, he knew he'd find you.

When you stir from the black abyss of dreamless sleep you are instantly confronted with the rough texture of your dry mouth and a grumbling knot inside your empty stomach. You groan a little as your eyelids gradually peek open, the scratchiness of the crusted sleep at the corner of your eyes already irritating you.

Straight away you can recognise a huge difference. Your sense are no longer groggy and your head doesn't feel fuzzy and heavy anymore. Your body feels lighter, like you've actually rested soundly for the first time in months, like a dark shroud has finally been cast away from your all physical and cognitive mechanisms.

You don't even realise your hands are tied before you feel the oppressive stare of someone close by. You roll your head to the side to see Joel still sleeping behind you, his features relaxed as he snores lightly. Then you turn to look directly infront of you, and there you find the source of your instinctual discomfort.

There's a man you have never seen before standing at the foot of the bed brandishing a small pistol. He's like a ghostly apparition, a menacing demon, tall and gaunt with unruly stringy black hair and dark eyes that gleam with malevolence. Your heart leaps into your throat and you gasp hoarsely, rapidly blinking your eyes, willing the figure to disappear and prove it is merely a figment of your imagination, a residual ghoul from a nightmare.

But he doesn't move. He remains still, a grin stretching across his face to reveal his yellowed, decaying teeth. Your legs reflexively kick out as you try to scramble further up the bed to get away from the man. Joel grunts in his sleep when your foot delivers a swift kick to his leg but he doesn't stir. You try to reach over to Joel to shake him awake, only then discerning that you are bound, with your wrists struggling against the binding tied to the bed.

"Good morning, sweet cheeks." The man jeers, his throaty voice somehow both oily and coarse all at once. It makes your spine crawl with shivers and your starving stomach sour. "Looks like you're all tied up with no where to go."

"Joel," you whimper, your eyes glued to the man, too frightened to look away incase he tries to grab you. "J-Joel, w-wake up."

Joel's eyes lazily flutter open at the sound of your voice, but his brain takes a couple of seconds to settle into consciousness, the haze of his sleepiness still thick. The first thing he is able to register is that it is now morning - the cabin is brightened by the sunshine pouring in through the flimsy curtain hanging over the bedroom window. How long had he slept for?

Joel blinks languidly a few times before he's able to focus his sleepy gaze on you. He knew to expect that you would be sad and scared when you woke up to the unfamiliar surroundings and your hands still tied. He was prepared to grant you some grace and let you cry for a bit. But when his eyes find your face he can tell something isn't right. You aren't looking at him, and even with only your profile visible he can see the panic written on your face.

His protective instinct kicks in suddenly and he bolts upright, ready to confront whatever danger has you so frightened. But when he's met with the unexpected sight of Lyle standing at the end of the bed his own body goes rigid with shock.

Joel may not recognise the raider's face but he undoubtedly knows who Lyle is. He has all the distinct physical characteristics of a raider, from the unwashed greasy top of his head down to the bottom of his filthy boots. His dark beard is straggly and his pallid skin accentuates the dark circles under his fiendish eyes. They are the kind of eyes Joel has seen countless times before, all belonging to men devoid of humanity in the face of the outbreak, men who were twisted into cruel, heartless creatures hellbent on surviving however they could while hurting all around them.

And Joel could tell right away that the man before him harboured the same ruthless hostility. He wants to hurt Joel. He wants to hurt you.

"Rise and shine," the raider sniggers.

Joel prickles at the sound, his whole being instantly irritated and disgusted. He imagines you must be feeling the same sense of repulsion, although unlike Joel, you would also be petrified. He sneaks a quick glance at you, only now realising how your body has been quivering beside him, but he can't see your expression.

Joel would die before he'd ever let that raider fuck hurt you. How did he not hear this scumbag sneak in? How long had he been asleep for? Joel mentally berates himself for letting his guard slip, for being so complacent in such precarious circumstances.

He glances over to the locked trunk pushed up against the corner of the bedroom wall. He hadn't yet unpacked the arsenal of weapons locked inside it, and right now his closest weapon is the pistol resting on the floor under his side of the bed. *Shit*. Joel needs to distract this bastard long enough to somehow retrieve it. Better yet, he should just try disarm the raider completely. But whatever course of action Joel goes with, he has to find a way to do it without jeopardising your life. He has to be cautious and toe the line for your sake.

"Stand up, asshole." Lyle barks out, jerking the muzzle of the gun to the side. "Come on, sleep time is over, hurry up."

Joel grits his teeth. Who the fuck does this prick think he is? He rips the blanket off his body and reluctantly rises from the bed, keeping his hateful glare cemented on Lyle.

"Good boy," Lyle mocks with a condescending smirk.

Joel's jaw ticks. He straightens his back and stands tall, his fists by his sides. "What do you want?" He asks flatly.

"Now, that is a great question," Lyle chuckles mirthlessly. "After you and your cowboy buddies wiped out my whole fuckin' crew, what do you think I want, fuckstick?"

Joel feels like a bowling ball has been dropped inside his stomach, its weight sinking to the depths of his guts. It's a nauseating feeling, the recognition that this isn't just any raider invading yours and Joel's private realm. It is downright stomach churning to discover that it is infact a raider with a solid reason to inflict unspeakable pain upon him. The raider wants revenge. Joel understands that. He also understands that Lyle has every right to desire it. Fuck, if the roles were reversed and Joel was the last surviving member of his gang, there would be no stopping him from wreaking destruction upon his rivals.

And because of this understanding, Joel also knows that this situation could turn very ugly very quickly. However, it is also a situation which he is woefully unprepared for. No, he had not prepared for the event of someone stumbling into the cabin on the very first morning after you'd arrived - hell, it wasn't even on his radar. The only concerns he had had was keeping you locked down and getting some rest himself. But that complacency has left him unarmed and vulnerable, now cursing the shitty turn of fate that the one person to invade your new life together was a raider with a score to settle against him.

"Can you imagine the surprise I got, comin' back to my rightful home after so long, just to find you two love birds playin' house?" Lyle snorts derisively. "And not only that, but that you're a couple'a Jacksonites?"

Lyle cocks his head to the side and looks between you and Joel. There's a glimmering depravity within the man's gaze that frightens you to your core and you angle your face away from him. Joel can't see past the hair that covers your eyes but in his peripheral vision he notices how your shoulders tense and the way your body curls on itself a little more. He longs to pull you close and shield you behind his body, to reassure you that you're safe as long as you're by his side.

"Don't touch her," Joel commands, his voice steady and authoritarian. "Take what you want and we'll leave, simple as that."

"Now where's the fun in that?" Lyle scoffs, flashing his rotting teeth in a malicious grin. "I think it's only right I get my fill, seein' as you two have been squattin' in my house."

"Your fill?" Joel growls incredulously, his large hands clenching into fists.

"Yuh-huh. But before I do, I gotta admit, I'm a little curious." He nods toward you, still grinning. "What's with the rope? She your prisoner of war or somethin'?"

Joel doesn't reply, his steely gaze giving nothing away as he stares down the other man. You look down to your hands clasped in your lap, demure and silent. Lyle's eyes dart between you and Joel for a few moments, quietly musing, before the realisation dawns on him. He croaks a little laugh that sounds like a bark, a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Ah, so she's your wife? That it?" He seems appears delighted by the discovery, his smarmy smile streching across his face. "How did a pig fucker like you get yourself such a pretty young wife?"

You cast your eyes on the floor, your face flushed and filled with humiliation. Joel doesn't answer. On the surface he appears calm, almost dispassionate, but there is a boiling fever of rage bubbling inside him. His heart is hammering within his sternum and his brain is abuzz with adrenaline. How *dare* this bastard come here and threaten his life, your life, *your* honour? Who the fuck does this raider think he is, trying to threaten and intimidate a man whose murdered countless amounts of people and a whole hospital of fuckin' Fireflies? Fuckin' idiot is way over his head. It's almost laughable.

"Got your woman tied up like a dog," Lyle chuckles. "I gotta admit, I respect a man who keeps his bitch in line. Maybe you and me ain't so different after all."

"We ain't nothin' alike," Joel grits out.

"You know, you shoulda joined our band," Lyle drawls casually, like he's talking to a business associate rather than aiming his gun in Joel's direction. "Shoulda left that town behind. Fuckin' commie pussies. You woulda loved our way of life."

Joel shakes his head slowly. The mere suggestion that he's anything like those mongrel raiders is insulting. It is downright offensive. Yes, he was a raider many years ago. Yes, he committed heinous acts. But he was nothing like Lyle and the others. Not then and certainly not now. No, Joel was far more noble than them, far more honourable and righteous. He still is. So how dare this bastard compare himself to Joel?

"Me and the boys had plenty'a laughs with the sluts we came across. Used to tie 'em up, just like your girl here. Used to make 'em beg for their lives before we fucked 'em stupid." Lyle chuckles and sighs wistfully, as though he is retelling a treasured memory. "Sound like your kinda scene?"

The raider's sickening words disgust Joel. They make him sick to his stomach. He's dealt with men like this before, the kind of barbaric predators who have lost all sense of humanity and decorum, who think nothing of stripping a person of their dignity and torturing them for their own twisted pleasure.

"Haven't had that kinda fun in a long time," Lyle murmers lowly, more to himself. His gaze crosses to you and he pauses to scrutinise you. You shiver under his lecherous gaze but say nothing. "And I'm interested to see just how much this little lady can beg."

It's too much for Joel to take.

"Don't fuckin' touch her!" Joel roars, his face contorted by the pure rage flourishing throughout his body. He takes a large step around the bed but Lyle swiftly raises the barrel of his gun to point directly at your face. A scream of fright tears from your throat, then Joel watches helplessly as you break out into a shuddering mess of sobs.

"Don't move a fuckin' step, asshole, or else I'll blow her fuckin' head off."

He stops dead in his tracks and lifts his hands in surrender. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he takes and his mouth is curled into a snarl. The pupils of his dark eyes are blown wide now. He wants to fucking kill Lyle with his bare fucking hands.

"You got two options," Lyle snaps. "Either I kill her now, or you watch - afterwards I'll let you both go. It's your choice."

An overwhelming sensation of revulsion hits Joel and he thinks he might vomit. His eyes flicker shut for a brief moment as he tries to keep composed. No, this cannot be happening. This wasn't ever supposed to happen. He inhales a deep breath through his nose and exhales from his mouth.

"What's it gonna be?" Lyle questions, his tone dripping with patronising impatience. "You gonna shut up and let me do this?"

Joel presses his mouth in a tight line. He has little choice in the matter right now. Sure, he could refuse and argue with the raider, but that would just get Joel killed right away, leaving you alone and defenceless. Alternatively, he could buy some time and give Lyle the illusion of his submission while he figures out a way to kill the son of a bitch.

Joel knows he will hate himself forever for what he's about to do. He knows that his pride will never recover. He tries to swallow the thick lump that has formed inside his throat but his oesophagus feels so tight that it borders on painful.

Joel swears he can physically feel his heart fracture when he grants the raider a nod of confirmation. The assurance that yes, he will keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself and allow the raider to do whatever he wants to with you.

Yes.

Lyle grunts, appeased by Joel's acquiescence, then turns to growl down to you. "You, bitch. Get on your knees, on the ground. Now."

Joel grimaces at the authoritarian tone of Lyle's voice and the ugliness of his cruel words. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from telling the raider to shut the fuck up. His gaze shifts over to watch you follow Lyle's direction. You tremble all over, snot and tears pouring down your face as you slide off the mattress. The rope is just long enough for your knees to reach the floor, though it pulls taut and forces your wrists upright.

"That's it," Lyle nods, "easy does it, baby. You be obedient and do what I say and we won't have any problems."

The boiling rage inside Joel morphs into a a twisting, searing heat that stirs all the way from his belly to the nape of his neck. At the crux of the heat is a revolting mix of jealousy, anger and indignation. He's never had to exercise self restraint to such an extent before, in a situation where he's teetering on the line of life and death so precariously. It is absolute torture.

"Okay folks, let's get this started," Lyle has the audacity to smile. "Judgin' by the way she's already tied up, I imagine it won't be anythin' she ain't used to."

A wave of shame washes over Joel; to hear the raider's observation about your relationship and how he treats you is humiliating for him, but what could you be thinking? He looks over to you now. Your head is slightly bowed but Joel manages to catch sight of your face; your eyes appear dull and glassy, your pupils unfocused and distant. He recognises that look, the classic stare adopted by so many trauma victims and survivors - you're dissociating, your brain disconnecting from the current reality of you being raped and murdered by the raider standing before you. A brutal and confronting reality that he himself contrived against your will.

This is the first time he has witnessed you in such a despondent state that he himself isn't responsible for. It's a startling scene to observe and it triggers a stab of shame to slice through his guts.

It's *his* fault that you are both in this predicament. It's *his* fault for being so careless and sleeping for so long. It's *his* fault for being so goddamn old and slow. And ultimately it is *his* fault for dragging you out here in the first place, away from the safety of Jackson and away from everything you've ever known and loved.

Joel had wanted to protect you from the scrutiny of other people and from the advances of someone like Oscar, yet here you are, being terrorised by some scum of the earth raider who wouldn't think twice about inflicting horrific pain on you both. And he's powerless to stop it.

When Oscar catches a glimpse of the cabin in the periphery of his vision, he has to repress the urge to yell out your name. It is like a shining beacon amidst the forest beckoning him, and he's so sure this is it. It's got to be. This has to be where Joel took you.

Oscar steers his horse to gallop through the shrubbery toward it. His whole body courses with adrenaline; it sends tremors throughout his limbs and electric sensations along all the nerves within his body. He feels invincible and fearless, like he could outrun a fucking bear. His mind races, one single word cycling through his brain over and over - your name.

He hastily jerks the reins to stop the horse outside the cabin, next to what he recognises to be Joel's horse. He dismounts quickly, the pain in his ankle dulled to nothing by the adrenaline rush. He jogs up to the porch, ready to smash down the front door before realising it is already open. He's so intent on seeing you that he doesn't stop to consider how dangerous the situation could become.

He sees no one in the large living room, but he can hear muffled voices coming from the door across the opposite side of the cabin. He races over to it, his stomach now roiling from the anticipation of confronting Joel and finally rescuing you.

He expects to find you shackled and forlorn. He predicts having to physically fight against Joel. He had prepared himself for pain and battle. But when Oscar burst through the bedroom door, he isn't at all ready to percieve the scene he intrudes upon.

He sees Joel with his hands raised in surrender, standing on the far side of the room, close to the entryway. On the other side is a gaunt and dishevelled looking man with a gun in his hands. The man's pants are unzipped and the wiry pubic hair of his crotch pokes out from his open fly.

What the hell is going on here?

The man is pointing the barrel of his gun to someone on the floor. When Oscar spots you at the recieving end of the gun, when his eyes skirt over your tear streaked face, his stomach turns a nauseating somersault.

Who is this man and why is he pointing a fucking gun at you?

Your wrists are tied to the bed frame with rope but it is long enough in length to let your bottom perch on the floor. You look pathetic and helpless, like a wounded animal that has been cornered.

Oscar's eyes lock on your watery ones and his heart skips a beat - he feels overcome with relief, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Even with the emotion threatening to pour over his lashline, he hopes his gaze conveys the multitude of comforting sentiments his heart wishes to speak in this moment; it's okay, I'm here now, I've got you. Oscar takes an advancing step toward the bed, speaking your name.

When the door to the bedroom swings open and Oscar charges through, it seems like time dramatically slows. Everyone in the room swivels their heads to the door to stare at the surprise trespasser.

Your eyes go wide. You cannot believe that Oscar is now in the same room as you, in this very cabin, so isolated and so many miles away from Jackson. He appears like an angel, a saviour to your wretched state, and when your name falls from his lips you feel like you might faint.

In reality, however, those prolonged incremental junctures in time last no longer than a couple of seconds. In reality, Lyle's instincts only take a second to kick in. He swings his gun to point from you to Oscar. Before his brain can even logically assess the likelihood of threat, Lyle's finger pulls on the trigger.

The booming sound of the gun firing pierces through your ears; it sends your heart racing and you scream. Oscar's body doubles over from the impact of the bullet, then he collapses onto the floor.

Joel takes advantage of Lyle's distraction and lunges at him, a loud primal growl ripping from Joel's chest as he tackles him to the ground. They hit the floor with a heavy crash and the pistol falls from the Lyle's grasp with a clatter. The raider may be tall but Joel's weight instantly winds him. Lyle lets out a choking gasp as his body is robbed of air and power.

Joel shifts on his knees to straddle Lyle's middle, quickly clamping a hand tightly around his neck. The raider grabs onto the collar of Joel's flannel in a vain attempt to wrestle him off, his dilapidated boots scuffing uselessly against the floorboards.

"Fucking bastard!" Joel roars down at him, spit flying from his lips. He looks incensed with rage, his hair sticking up in tufts and his eyes ablaze, his teeth gritted into a snarl.

He clenches his other hand and pulls back his fist before launching a solid jab in the middle of Lyle's face. You hear the sickening crack of the cartilage in his nose breaking. Joel then repeats the motion, landing another force driven punch into his face. And then again. And again.

You stare in paralysed horror as Joel reins blow upon blow down ontp the raider's face and head, his movements almost mechanical in their precision and vigour. He grunts like a wild beast, his chest rising and falling in heavy breathes from the exertion of his actions. Splotches of bright red blood smear over his knuckles.

The traumatic barrage is too much for your brain to witness; you have never been exposed to such carnage between two human beings before, never seen just how barbarous human nature can be once pushed to its limits. Joel is almost unrecognisable to you now, lost in the haze of his need for destruction. Your mouth gapes open, simultaneously repulsed and frightened by his animalistic assault. It seems to go on forever.

You think you might pass out. But then you feel the softness of worn leather enveloping your cheeks, momentarily startling you, making your breath hitch. Then someone whispers your name - a gentle voice that feels like a comforting sheet of silk falling upon your ears. The whisper implores you to tear your frantic eyes away from the savage scene taking place; they fall upon Oscar, who now kneels by your side on the ground, and you realise it is his two hands cupping your cheeks. You lean the weight of your head into his palms, relief flooding your body. You burst out into sobs.

He hushes you, his beautiful brown eyes roaming all over your face in desperate search of any injuries. "Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, unable to control your hiccups and weeping long enough to speak. Oscar presses a firm kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna cut the rope now, okay?" He whispers against your temple. "Gotta be quick so we can get outta here."

Oscar fishes inside his jacket for his pocket knife. He flicks it open and starts sawing at the cord around your wrists. He grunts softly as he forces the small blade through the thick thread, trying his best not to jostle either of you too much. He tries to school his face into a neutral expression, trying not to wince too much, but the pain in his lower abdomen is starting to kick in.

Hurry, please hurry, your mind begs.

You peer over Oscar's shoulder, only just able to make out Joel through your blurred vision. The raider is unrecognisable, his whole head now a mishapen mess of dark red blood and bone. He no longer resembles a human. Bile rises up your throat and threatens to spill from your lips.

Oscar finishes slicing through the rope and hurriedly unwinds the remains from your throbbing wrists. The liberation pf your hands sets your survival instincts into a frenzy, screaming at you to run. You scramble to stand up, your legs springing into action like a jack rabbit. Oscar heaves himself from the floor, dropping his knife in the process.

You both run through the door, crossing the threshold into the living room. You dodge the table and dash to the front door with surprising agility, blood rushing to your head and thumping in your ears. You burst out onto the porch and leap onto the snow covered ground like a graceful gazelle.

You've done it! You escaped!

Your heart soars with relief and joy.

You can go back to Jackson now. You can go back to your sweet little cottage and spend your days at the library and the school. You will not be hurt and defiled by any raiders. You will no longer be abused by Joel. All because you're with Oscar, safe and protected. You're going to be okay.

But then the thundering sound of a gunshot comes blasting through the air, and all your hopes come crashing down to the ground.

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[sherewrytes]

ℂ𝕆𝕄𝔼 ℂ𝕃𝕆𝕊𝔼

Gym Bro Satoru x Tom boy black reader

Synopsis: You met Satoru at your apartment complex's gym

It was a typical evening at the apartment complex's gym. You had decided to squeeze in a quick workout before dinner, hoping to burn off some stress from the day. As you approached the treadmill, you noticed someone already on it, running at a steady pace.

"Hey there," a voice greeted you, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked over to see a guy with a friendly smile, his white hair swept to the side and laced with sweat. He had a calm, inviting presence about him.

"Hey," you replied, offering a small smile in return as you stepped onto the treadmill beside him.

Satoru was eyeing you up next to him thinking "Damn, who's that?" he thought, his gaze lingering on your figure. Your confidence exuded as you warmed up on the treadmill next to him.

The way your black tank top hugged your curves, and your loc'd hair was pulled back into a ponytail and dyed red and the ends. It was like you were the only person in the room, and everything else faded into the background.

As you both continued your workouts, you found yourselves falling into an easy conversation. Satoru talked about his job as a freelance software engineer, and you shared stories from your own work as a graphic designer/ creative director.

Despite your different backgrounds, you found common ground in your love for fitness and shared interests.

Time flew by as you ran side by side, exchanging laughs and smiles. Before you knew it, your workouts were over, but the conversation continued as you cooled down.

"So, same time tomorrow?" Satoru asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You grinned. "Definitely. It's nice to have a gym buddy."

The next day, you met Satoru at the gym again, and the day after that, and the day after that. Before long, your daily gym sessions became the highlight of your routine.

Outside the gym, your friendship blossomed. You grabbed post-workout smoothies together, went on evening jogs around the neighborhood, and even teamed up for the occasional Brazilian Ju Jitsu class.

Satoru found himself being more attracted to you the more time you guys spent together outside of the gym.

One day, as you were finishing up a particularly grueling workout, (one that Satoru crafted for you to get a more toned back and waist) Satoru looked over at you with a grin.

"Hey Ma, my friends are coming over to my apartment tonight wanna come over and hang with us."

"Sure, I'd love to," you replied, flashing him a smile. "I could use a break from all this sweating."

Satoru laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Great! It'll be fun, I promise."

Later that evening, you found yourself standing outside Satoru's apartment, nervously adjusting your casual fit. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

The door swung open, revealing Satoru with a wide grin on his face. "Hey, you made it!" You eyed Satoru up and down. He was wearing a black fitted vest with a gold chain and matching bracelet paired with grey sweatpants. He looked good you thought. Satoru caught you checking him out and smirked. He opened the door wider for you to walk in the apartment.

Satoru really loved your lil fit, he knew from you both always texting and talking that you were a bit insecure about your more tom boy side, but he always assured you that you looked damn good. You stepped inside, greeted by the cozy atmosphere of Satoru's apartment. Shoko, Geto, and Nanami were already there, lounging on the couch and chatting animatedly.

"Hey guys, this is y/n," Satoru introduced you, gesturing towards you. "She's my gym buddy."

"Nice to meet you," Shoko said with a smile, while Nanami nodded in greeting. Geto being the messy best friend of Satoru's piped up and said "Oh she's the baddie you won't stop yappin' about." Satoru's eyes cut to you then Geto.

You felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks at Geto's comment, but Satoru's reaction made your heart skip a beat. His eyes flickered to you, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in them.

Gojo hid his face a lil then said "Geto wtf man forreal. but yah that's y/n" he said, his tone teasing. "She's the one who's been kicking my butt at the gym."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Please, you're the one who's been pushing me to lift heavier weights."

Shoko chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, it's nice to finally meet the infamous gym buddy. Satoru hasn't stopped talking about you."

Satoru's cheeks tinted pink at Shoko's words, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was clear that his friends meant a lot to him, and you felt honored to be a part of this moment.

Geto nudged Satoru with an elbow, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Looks like you've got yourself a crush, bro."

Satoru's blush deepened, and he shot Geto a mock glare. "Shut up, man," he said with an amused tone, while he playfully shoved Geto.

Nanami, ever the voice of reason, simply nodded in agreement. "You two seem to get along well. It's nice to see."

The rest of the evening flew by in a blur of laughter and conversation. You found yourself fitting in seamlessly with Satoru's friends, sharing stories and inside jokes as if you'd known each other for years.

As the night came to a close, Satoru walked you to your door, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks for coming, i know the invite as kinda last minute" he said, his voice warm with sincerity.

You grinned up at him. "Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time."

Satoru hesitated for a moment before leaning in to give you a quick hug, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace.

You felt a flutter in your stomach at the contact, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You felt his body pressed against yours, the light scent of cologne and Geto's cigarette smoke on his shirt.

"Let's do this again sometime," he said, pulling back to look at you with a smile.

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement. "Definitely."

As you walked inside your apartment, the memory of Satoru's hug lingered in your mind, sending shivers down your spine. The air felt charged with anticipation, and you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting more.

Thanks for reading. Wrote this in one go. lemme know if you want this to be explored more

[cailinsblog]

Autumn Adventures

Cole caufield x reader

As the crisp fall air swept through the streets of Montreal, the vibrant colors of the leaves painted the landscape in hues of red, orange, and gold. It was a perfect Saturday morning, and Cole Caufield was excited to spend it with his girlfriend, Y/N, and their spirited three-year-old son, Oliver. The plan for the day? A visit to the local pumpkin patch.

Cole, recently back from a successful game, was still riding the high of victory. He cherished these moments away from the rink, relishing the chance to connect with his family. Y/N was already in the kitchen, preparing snacks for their outing, her laughter echoing through their cozy home as Oliver bounced around, full of energy.

“Mom! Can I help?” Oliver shouted, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

“Of course, pumpkin! Can you pass me the apple slices?” Y/N smiled, knowing how much he loved being involved. Cole leaned against the doorframe, watching the two with a fond smile. The sight of them together warmed his heart.

With snacks packed and Oliver bundled up in a cozy, bright orange jacket, they set off for the pumpkin patch. The drive was filled with laughter and chatter, the car alive with Oliver’s tales about the “biggest pumpkin ever” he wanted to find. Cole and Y/N exchanged amused glances, their hearts swelling with love for their little boy.

When they arrived at the patch, the sun shone brightly, illuminating rows of plump pumpkins scattered across the field. Oliver’s eyes lit up, a mixture of awe and excitement as he tugged on Y/N’s hand, urging her to explore.

“Look, Dad! Look at all the pumpkins!” he exclaimed, pointing at the vibrant display. Cole knelt down to Oliver’s level, ruffling his hair.

“Which one do you want to pick first, buddy?”

Oliver pondered for a moment, his little finger tapping his chin. “That one!” he declared, pointing at a pumpkin that was nearly as big as he was, nestled among the others.

“Alright, let’s go get it!” Cole laughed, helping Oliver navigate through the patch. Y/N followed close behind, capturing moments on her phone—Oliver’s beaming smile as he stumbled over a vine, and Cole’s playful efforts to lift the hefty pumpkin.

Once they secured the giant pumpkin, they wandered over to the hayrides, where families gathered, excited for a tour of the patch. They hopped onto the hay-filled wagon, Oliver bouncing with joy as the ride began. The tractor pulled them through fields of corn and sunflowers, with the vibrant landscape rushing by.

“Look at the trees, Mom!” Oliver shouted, his tiny hands pointing at the changing foliage. “They’re like fireworks!”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re right, Ollie! Just like fireworks in the sky, but on the ground.”

The hayride eventually returned them to the main area, where a small petting zoo awaited. Oliver’s face lit up at the sight of fluffy goats and friendly pigs. He rushed towards them, giggling as he gently petted a goat’s head.

Cole and Y/N stood back, sharing a proud glance. “He’s growing up so fast,” Y/N mused, her eyes softening.

“Yeah, he’s a little explorer,” Cole replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “Just like his mom.”

After the petting zoo, they found a cozy spot under a sprawling tree for their picnic. Y/N laid out the snacks she had prepared, and they all sat together, munching on apple slices and sandwiches. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and stories, as Oliver animatedly shared his adventures with the animals.

“I want to be a farmer when I grow up!” he declared between bites. “And I’ll have the biggest pumpkin patch ever!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cole laughed. “You can teach me how to grow them.”

Once they finished their picnic, they decided it was time for one last adventure—finding the perfect pumpkin to carve. As they searched, Cole found himself mesmerized by Y/N’s laughter and the way her eyes sparkled in the autumn sun.

“Look at this one, Dad!” Oliver said, pulling on Cole’s hand to show him a slightly misshapen pumpkin.

“That’s a great choice, buddy! A little quirky, just like you,” Cole chuckled, lifting it up for them to inspect.

With their chosen pumpkins in tow, they made their way to the carving station. Oliver was in awe as he watched other kids carve their pumpkins, his excitement palpable. Cole and Y/N helped him carve out a silly face on their pumpkin, laughing as Oliver tried to scoop out the seeds.

“Eww, it’s gooey!” he exclaimed, making a face that sent them all into fits of laughter.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the patch, the family gathered for one last photo. Cole lifted Oliver onto his shoulders, while Y/N stood beside them, her heart full as she captured the perfect moment.

“Say pumpkin!” Y/N cheered, and the three of them shouted in unison, the joy of the day etched on their faces.

On the drive home, the car was filled with sleepy giggles and soft music. Oliver, exhausted from his day of adventure, soon dozed off, his little head resting against Cole’s shoulder. Y/N reached over, giving Cole’s hand a squeeze.

“Today was perfect,” she whispered, her heart swelling with gratitude.

“Yeah, it really was,” Cole replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t wait for our next adventure.”

As they drove through the enchanting autumn landscape, they felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that these moments, filled with love and laughter, were what truly mattered.