#and look at how his pretty hazel eyes have a bit of a stripe? yeah

[joshus-lobster]

The Colourama in your eyes

It takes me on a moonlight drive

It's the way you wing it

While you're figuring it out

[tadpolesonalgae]

Sugar Daddy Azriel - drabble?

a/n: so, I have one or two requests in my inbox relating to this sort of dynamic--one I've never written before--so we're doing a test run with Azzie (since obviously they're all feysand-related)

Also I haven’t proofread this so apologies

warnings: uhhh dom/sub dynamics, sugar baby/sugar daddy-ish vibes, no use of Daddy but occasional use of Sir, oral (m receiving), I think we're getting bit of soft Dom Az in this, reader is a reader

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You jolt in surprise when you find him sat at the edge of your large bed, one he'd had made especially to accommodate him and his wingspan. "Evening, pretty lady," Azriel drawls, a playful smirk curving his mouth as hazel eyes trail your form.

You're wrapped in a red, blue, white, and dark green, horizontally-striped jumper that comes down to the tops of your thighs. It's baggy and has a wide neckline, showing off the line of your collar bones as it sits at the edge of your shoulders. Beneath are a pair of soft, navy shorts that only peek out from the hem of the jumper when you lift your arms a significant height, feet clad in thick socks that rise halfway up your calves, full and fluffy, and partially concealed by the chunky dark-blue slippers he'd bought you last solecist.

"Azriel?" You question, smiling despite knowing how odd it is that this is your kind of relationship - with him just appearing at intervals inside your home. Often with Things in tow. "What are you doing here?" You already know what he's doing here, or can at least guess from the black paper bag leaning against his side, printed with that distinctive white and gold monogram on the parchment.

Sure enough his hazel eyes glint, inclining his chin. "I think you know what."

"Mhmm? You got me something?"

"Maybe. Come closer. You can find out."

Your smile widens with fondness as you make your way across the rug you'd had imported from the continent, pausing between his long legs, a shiver of pleasure purring up your spine as he lays his broad palms around your waist, squeezing lightly with his thumbs as they stroke your sides. "Want to take a look, pretty thing?"

"Hmm? No viewing fee?"

"I'm feeling generous."

"Mhmm. Not at all keeping the mischief for later, no sir." He huffs a laugh, before nodding to the bag. "Just take a look."

Inquisitively you slide your fingers between the two trifolds, spreading them to peer inside. Your brows narrow, spotting the thick width of a book, but when you reach to pull it out a cool shadows slinks around your wrist, and he tuts. "I don't think I said you could touch, did I?" A smile curves your mouth, eyes bright and twinkling as you retract from the bag, turning your attention rightfully to him. "And what do I have to do to get my hands on it, sir?"

He scoffs. "You've done this more than a dozen times for me. You know what to do."

"But I want you to tell me," you murmur, lips still curved as heat simmers between your thighs. Azriel's mouth quirks to reflect your pleased expression, hand sliding upward. "Yeah? You want me to give you some orders to follow?" His thick fingers hold your throat carefully, flexing once so you can feel as he lays each digit to your skin. "On your knees, pretty thing."

"There's the Dom I know and love," you whisper against his mouth, before settling into position between his legs. Azriel chuckles softly, "you want a Dom tonight? Have you been good?"

"Perfect," you murmur, fingers already greedily untying the laces of his leathers. "I've been the best."

"The best?"

"Mhmm."

"Have you touched yourself?" You shake your head, halting once you've got his laces out of the way, waiting for the instructions. "Have you wanted to?" You nod, enjoying the heat of arousal that flushes your skin. Azriel raises a brow, his fingers stroking over your hair before lightly taking a section in his fist. "What were you doing when thinking about it?"

"Reading..."

He smirks. "Of course you were."

Arousal intensifies, but you continue to wait patiently, adhering to the unspoken rules. Azriel parts his thighs, lightly tugging on your hair to tilt your face upward. "Tell me why you wanted to touch yourself, pretty thing." You flush, teeth dragging over your lower lip before answering. "There was a scene, sir..." Azriel quirks a brow, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lovely mouth. "A scene?" You nod your head, glancing briefly between his legs, un-wanting and unwilling to hide your hunger. "Eyes up here," he warns, bringing your gaze to his, "what scene?"

"I wanted to watch you read it," you admit, "to share it with you..."

"How sweet of you," he drawls.

"I thought you might like the ropes..."

Azriel chuckles, the deep noise licking between your thighs that you squeeze together. "My smart little reader's been nosing at some dirty things, hasn't she?"

"You'll like them, too," you argue playfully.

"Oh, filthy then."

You flush deeply, silently begging for him to give you the okay. His mouth curves and stark relief floods your system. "Open." He orders, and your lips part on command. His answering smirk would have had your underwear dropping to the floor had you been standing. "Be good," he goads, shadows pulling himself free as he carefully wraps your hair around his fist--for guidance.

You tighten around nothing as he pulls you forward, tapping his leaking tip against your lower lip teasingly, smearing the precum that had gathered there in a glossy mess, liking how it gleams on your mouth before slowly feeding you his cock. Moans are already aching to spill from your throat, but you have the feeling even if you allowed yourself to his cock would muffle them significantly. He's so big.

"There you go. Good girl," he praises, dragging you back by your hair, groaning when your tongue flicks out to deliver a small lick to a spot just at the underside oh his head. "Wicked girl," he amends, the groan hungry and guttural and not helping the gathering wetness in your underwear.

Azriel's mouth curves when he pushes you back down to his base, gently guiding your movements: up...and down...up...and down. "So filthy beneath that pretty exterior, aren't you?" He huffs a laugh that tails into a groan when you do something hot with your tongue. "Fuck. Not a single soul would look at my lovely little reader and think she'd be like this. So sweet on your outside, aren't you?"

Sweet on the inside, too, your eyes say when you suckle his tip, lapping up the leaking precum eagerly. Azriel grits his teeth, his breathing deepening and a flush colouring his cheeks...one that makes you want give him more. He twitches in your mouth, and you take him down your throat eagerly, an arm curving beneath his thigh to place your hand on his hip, wanting to touch more of him.

His wings shift on the bed, flaring wide then tucking in tight, his grip tightening in your hair as he bucks his hips, knowing you can take it. Scarred fingers graze your scalp, thumb stroking across your hair encouragingly, sensing the peak isn't far off now. "Gods, so sweet and filthy. And mine." He laughs when you whimper onto the thick length of his cock. "Yeah? You're all mine, aren't you? My lovely, sweet, thing."

You practically purr when he releases in your mouth, tongue swirling and mixing with his cum, a thrum of biological satisfaction shimmering through your body with sheer pleasure. He pulls tentatively at your hair, asking you to pull away, and you happily obey, keeping your mouth open and sliding your eyes shut as he finishes on your face. A growl rumbles from the back of his throat, panting with flushed skin as he looks down at you, thumb swiping at some of the milky liquid, chuckling when you lift from the ground to take it into your mouth, tongue eagerly licking over the pad.

He pulls you to straddle his lap, and you shiver as he kisses your face, cleaning you up of the mess he's made, occasionally gathering more on his fingers and letting you feed from it.

"Was I good, Azzie?" You murmur, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders--shoulders you've been thrown over more than a few times--curving your spine so your breasts push into his chest, soft and full. "So good, pretty thing," he whispers, lips curving as he plies the hem of your striped jumper down one side of your arm so he can lick and suck marks into you, trailing his way up to a space below your jaw, beneath your ear. "I think you earned yourself something extra."

"Something extra...?" His hand slides from your waist to your ass, pulling away lightly to glance down at your bare thighs, "are you even wearing shorts?"

"They've ridden up my legs," you argue, pulling the hem of your jumper higher to show the navy cloth. "I wouldn't have minded..." he drawls, hazel eyes flicking to yours as his hand slides beneath their waistband, squeezing your ass appreciatively, making you squeal and curve into him, laughing. "You're the filthy one, Az. Not me."

"Mhmm? So you weren't reading those books before you fell in with me?"

"I was..." you reply primly. Your thighs part wider, able to feel him against your centre. "I couldn't let you do all the corrupting."

"Uh-huh. Well, maybe what's in the bag will help with that."

"Can I touch now?" You smirk, clearly taunting him. Azriel grins, his eyes glinting. "Keep up with that attitude," he goads. "I'm sure it will land you in a good place."

You roll your hips to his. "Underneath you?"

"Keep it up and you'll find out." He lands a hard spank to your ass, smirking when you gasp, before nodding to the bag. "Take a look, princess."

You flush at the pet name, pulling the bag between you and pulling free the book. Your eyes nearly shoot out of your head, cheeks ablaze as you scan the bespoke design--the gold-threaded title catching your attention almost immediately. It's the dirtiest (and favourite) book you've ever read. You splutter, staring at him. "Wh- How?"

"Spymaster perks."

"That doesn't answer anything!" He smirks when you shoot him a suspicious glance. "Alright," he relents, "Helion has particular connections."

You shake your head. "That still doesn't answer anything."

Azriel smiles faintly. "Do you like it, though?"

That certainly gets you grinning, holding the thick book in your hands, tilting it back and forth so the thread catches in the light, glinting decadently. "Of course I like it," you mumble, flipping the book to trail your fingers admiringly down the ridges of the spine. "I love it." You glance up, meeting softened hazel eyes. "That's why you got it though, isn't it."

"Maybe I like seeing you contented."

"Maybe I like seeing you coming."

Azriel chokes on a laugh, large palm sliding beneath your jumper to stroke across the bare expanse of your back, hand shifting so his fingers wrap around your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. "Maybe the feeling's mutual," he murmurs over your lips, and you feel yourself beginning to melt as his mouth slants over your own, his taste still prominent in both of you.

When he pulls away, he pushes hair from your cheek that had fallen from its place behind your ear. Your heart skips, and then you're opening the book, swiftly scanning the pages until you find the right passage. "As a thank you from me, and a reward from you..." You flip the book around, pointing to the section. "Can we try this, next?"

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[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | pta meeting

i literally don’t know how to shut up about him

also this is all because i saw a drabble of dilf!zeke and it’s been on my mind nonstop

warnings/notes: dilf!zeke, fem!reader, cursing, eventual smut, zeke is a divorced/widowed dad(at 33), reader is 21, cursing, zeke has a mean daughter and a sweet daughter, breeding kink, overstimulation, brief choking, slight degradation, shit one shot i’m sorry

you swear to the lord that zeke’s 11 year old daughter is a menace to society.

she’s brutally honest, just like zeke, and mean. she’s oddly mature for her age, and you think it might have something to do with her late mother. she looks almost nothing like zeke, but she certainly inherited her personality from him. she’s got curly dark brown hair that ends at her armpits and zeke’s grey eyes. she has a button nose along with rosy cheeks, something else she inherited from her mother.

“y’know my daddy only dates you cause you take care of me and aloisia,” isolde says to you as she slips on her school shoes.

you feel your eye twitch as you turn to zeke’s other daughter, aloisia, who’s seven and looks exactly like zeke. she’s got his nose, his hair color, and even eye shape. she’s got hazel eyes and a slim face. she’s as bubbly as they come, always greeting people she passes by on the street, always making friends at the park.

“i’m ready,” she holds up her small hand to you, a silent request for you to hold her hand.

“same,” isolde stands up after she swings her back pack onto her back, brushing off the nonexistent dirt on her navy blue skirt.

“zeke, the girls are ready!!” you shout out, taking aloisia into your arms.

zeke comes stumbling out of his bedroom, a white sleep shirt covering his torso and grey sweatpants.

“you’re going in that,” you raise an eyebrow at his attire, “we’re going to a parent-teacher meeting, not the gym.”

“yeah daddy, my teachers are gonna think you’re a bum or something,” isolde snickers.

“i’ll help your dad, go watch tv for a little bit longer,” you chuckle at zeke’s pout and put down aloisia, who runs to the couch.

isolde takes off her backpack and joins her sister on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table as aloisia puts on avatar: the last airbender.

“i thought the dress code was casual,” zeke furrows his brows as you take his hand and lead him back into his bedroom.

“it is. sweatpants are not casual, they’re lounge wear,” you snicker as he flops onto the bed while you close the door and go into the closet.

you know zeke’s rolling his eyes at you, judging from his silence. you grab ahold of a white button up with light grey vertical stripes on it, trying to picture your boyfriend in the shirt. you shake your head and put it back on the rack, deciding that the default outfit would be best for now. you take a white button up off the hanger and grab a pair of black dress pants from his dresser. you hand him a pair of black loafers to go along with it and some long black socks that would cover up his ankles, you’re so glad you reminded him that they exist. you throw a black belt next to him as well.

“this is boring.”

“zeke, this is a pta meeting, the whole thing will be boring,” you watch him rid himself of his shirt.

“should i wear a tie?”

“no, you’ll look better with one button undone,” you smile as he struggles to balance correctly when he puts on his pants.

he tucks the shirt inside his pants and slips on the belt with ease. he unbuttons a button before he slips on his socks.

“i thought today was my day off,” he smirks at you while you roll up his cuffs a bit.

you roll your eyes and he slips on his shoes. he doesn’t need to do his hair, it’s just effortlessly neat.

“time to go,” you scurry to the front door with the girls following behind you.

“he doesn’t look homeless anymore,” isolde notes when zeke follows you all out of the door.

“not funny,” he huffs while he locks the door behind him and the girls get into the black SUV zeke drives.

you help aloisia buckle herself up in the car seat and then slip into the passenger’s seat next to zeke. he’s grumbling something about ‘uncle eren’ and ‘getting the girls’ as he turns the car on.

————

you try to ignore the women ogling zeke as you all walk down the school hallway. you send isolde off to her class since her meeting is after aloisia’s.

“i hope you’ve been good,” you say to aloisia, who’s holding both your’s and zeke’s hands.

“i have! ms greene says i’m one of the best,” she gloats, and you hope for zeke’s sake that ms greene isn’t bluffing.

you three walk into the second grade classroom, which is empty because you reserved the appointment, only to find the teacher isn’t in there. it only seems to make aloisia more excited as she tugs you and zeke towards the class wall with a bunch of pictures of it.

“look, look!!” she jumps as she points at her’s, “they said to draw our family and she said i did a good job!!”

the picture is a messily drawn family portrait of zeke, isolde, and aloisia.

“you drew (name) very pretty,” zeke smiles at you when you snap your head back to look at the picture in closer detail.

there you are, stick figure holding hands with zeke’s and aloisia with isolde on zeke’s other side. you never expected to be on aloisia’s family portrait, you’d barely been in her life for two years and weren’t exactly motherly. you’re a struggling college student that she occasionally sees crying at the kitchen table with zeke comforting you from behind. she, on very rare occasions, sees you come home, absolutely plastered, with a sober zeke leading you to his room. you’re the woman that wakes her up when you cry on the couch late at night. you were, admittedly, okay with not being seen as their mom.

it wasn’t your place, for so many reasons. one, you didn’t exactly act as a role model. two, you could never replace her mother and would never try. three, zeke never referred to you as such. you’d only ever act like their mother whenever you were in certain situations. but that didn’t mean you didn’t want them to see you as a maternal figure.

it made you want to cry, but luckily you didn’t. you just smile at the picture and pat aloisia’s head in approval.

“you did do a very good job,” you smile down at her and before you can give her a hug, you notice a woman walking into the room.

“oh, you must be zeke yeager, aloisia’s dad! i’m ms greene,” her face flushes while she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“yea, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand.

she turns to you, “oh my goodness, i didn’t know aloisia and isolde had an older sister!”

“no, she’s my girlfriend of two years,” zeke chuckles uncomfortably.

“i’m (name), nice to meet you,” you wave your hand, “i’m just here to keep an eye on aloisia while you two talk.”

zeke and her go to a table in the corner of the room and aloisia drags you towards a bookshelf.

thirty minutes of aloisia rambling about her favorite book go by seemingly quick, and you watch as she cheers when her classmates walk into the room. zeke’s walking towards you, holding a thumbs up with a cocky smile, for whatever reason.

you kiss aloisia goodbye, who doesn’t seem too fazed, and head towards isolde’s classroom. you hold hands with zeke while swinging them back and forth while he repeats everything the teacher’s said to him.

“i can’t believe my little girl’s at a third grade reading level,” he exclaims, “that vocabulary studying did wonders!!”

“you should thank me since i was the one who studied with her cause she asked about my assignments for class,” you taunt and laugh when zeke pulls you closer by the shoulder.

that’s how the two of you walk into isolde’s classroom. she’s sitting at a table with her teacher, miss dunst, and fidgeting with her thumbs anxiously. she’s covering half of her face with her hair. with the one eye you can see it looks puffy and her cheeks are red, as if she’d been crying.

it has both you and zeke rushing to sit down on both side of her, zeke asking miss dunst what happened while you tend to isolde.

“hey, why are you crying,” you’re squatting by her chair and you reach to brush the hair out of her face.

when you see her other eye, you gasp out at the black eye starting to form on her eye.

“oh my god, zeke, look at her face!!”

“that is what i wanted to speak about with you. isolde has been getting bullied by some of her classmates. today, a little girl hit her after isolde defended herself while they argued,” the poor woman looks sad watching you and zeke check isolde for more wounds.

“why has she been bullied? she’s not mentioned this to me or (name),” zeke asks while examining her eye more closely.

“well, during the first day of school, isolde introduced herself and told the class about her family. she mentioned you, mr yeager, and her sister. the kids asked about her mother before i could stop them and she was honest with them and said that she had passed. she then said that she still, in a way, had a mother. your girlfriend, mr yeager.

“i asked her occupation, to which isolde said a college student. the kids got loud but i managed to quiet them down, and i thought it was the end of that. after that, her classmates started to pick on her verbally about your age gap and her late mother. i didn’t find out about it until this morning when isolde was hit,” miss dunst frowns as she explains.

before zeke could open his mouth, you speak up, “i’m the girlfriend, (name). i am hoping that these children will be punished accordingly and that their parents be notified. if this has really been going on all year like you say, then at this point their parents should be involved.”

“of course! i’m giving all of their parents a call after classes today. the little girl who hit her is sitting down with the principal right now, so she should be safe if you two would like her to stay at school.”

“give us a moment,” you smile kindly, which she returns, and walks to her desk to give you ‘privacy’.

“isolde, why didn’t you tell your daddy or i about what was going on,” you ask while she hugs zeke.

she peeks her head out of his chest, “didn’t want to seem weak.”

“why would you be worried about that,” zeke asks.

“after mom died, you were always so sad and stressed. i thought that if i was strong, you would be happier,” she explains shakily.

“isolde, look at me,” you put a hand on her knee, “you were six years old when your mommy died. six year olds shouldn’t know how to accurately take care of themselves, it’s why your daddy was there. i’m sure your daddy appreciated the effort, but i promise you that all he wanted you to be was his happy little girl. you don’t need to be strong at 11 years old, and you don’t need to be strong all the time. like you said, your daddy was sad when your mom died. it didn’t make him weak, it made him a person. and that’s what you are; a person. a little person.”

she sniffles and nods at you, “people can’t do everything by themselves. i’m sorry if we made it feel like you couldn’t tell us, and it’s totally understandable that you felt that way.”

zeke hums in agreement, “we love you, baby. so much.”

“love you too,” she mumbles with a small smile.

“do you want to stay at school,” zeke asks, he didn’t want to force her into a situation where she didn’t want to be.

“i have a math test later, don’t wanna miss it,” she sighs, now looking up at you.

“(name)...?”

you tilt your head while you wait for her answer.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so mean to you. everyone was making fun of me and called it weird, so i guess i wanted to believe that too,” your heart warms whenever she looks away shyly.

great, now zeke’s horny from seeing you act motherly.

————

ever since you and zeke had stepped off school campus, one of his hands was always touching you. it didn’t matter where, zeke was shameless.

even as you unlock the door to the his house, he has his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. his lips are kissing softly at your neck and his hands are shamelessly groping at your boobs.

“zeke, what is up with you,” you laugh whenever you open the door, kicking off your shoes immediately.

“horny,” he admits, swiftly following after you and locking the door behind himself.

“what about this morning made you horny,” you ask shyly while you sit on the couch.

zeke’s buttons are halfway undone and his belt is somewhere on the floor. he squeezes in behind you, once again pressing his chest against your back.

“acting maternal, i guess,” his beard tickles the back of your neck as he kisses it.

“is this why you told isolde it was okay if she wanted to stay at school,” you snicker at his fingers pulling your shirt over your head.

“why else,” he scoffs, “my only day off in a while and i’m horny. sounds like a deal.”

you whimper whenever he starts biting at your neck and when his large hands slip under your bra.

“zeke, if we’re gonna do it on the couch, can i at least lay on my back,” you ask while zeke unclips your bra.

without a word, he’s thrown you onto the couch on your back and climbing on top of you seconds later. your hands quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it halfway off of his body.

zeke throws the shirt onto the floor and kisses you, hands running up and down your torso. he pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck while his hands grope at your tits. you’re stuck between laughing and moaning at zeke’s beard dragging against your neck.

his mouth trails down to your tits, mouth attaching to your left tit while he continues to grope your right one. you let out a moan whenever he tweaks your nipple with his right hand and bites softly at your left nipple.

he pulls away from your chest, tugging off your pants and panties in frustration. it leaves you laughing and assisting him. whenever your pants do come off, he throws them to the ground and spreads your legs.

“zeke, they’re not opening too far, we’re on a couch,” you note, but soon stand corrected as zeke grabs your ankle and puts it on the back of the couch.

“nevermind,” you snicker at his cocky smirk, as if he’d done something amazing.

your other leg hangs off the couch, leaving you spread open for zeke. zeke spreads open your glistening folds with thumbs and gives a mindful lick up to your clit. after realizing that his beard is not rubbing against you uncomfortably, he dives in like it’s a pool, which he thinks it is because of how wet you are.

his mouth his sucking on your clit vigorously, as if he were a man starved. you’re moaning wantonly as he suddenly ups the speed. how did he even go that fast, you have no clue, but either way you enjoy it. your back in arching off of the couch and your toes are curling as zeke starts bringing you closer to an orgasm.

“zeke!! i’m... i’m gonna come,” you tug at his hair as your legs start to convulse and close around his head.

he only goes faster, and you wonder to yourself if zeke is powered by batteries or something. but the thought is quickly shut off whenever you finally orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy and throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

zeke slows down his pace, helping you ride through your orgasm. he pulls away whenever you’ve calmed down, fingers immediately pressing at your tight entrance.

“zeke... i-i’m too sensitive,” your complaint goes ignored as two of zeke’s fingers are suddenly inside of you.

“don’t care, deal with it,” he huffs as his fingers stretch you out.

with his other hand, his thumb is rubbing at your puffy clit at the same time of his fingers curling inside of you. your hips buck up with a mewl and zeke chuckles at the sight. unlike last time, he’s moving his tantalizingly slow.

his fingers curl once more, rubbing against the spongy part inside of you sweetly. you buck your hips up again at the contact and curl your toes whenever zeke starts abusing that spot with overwhelming speed. curling his fingers against the spot each time he pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“zeke!!” you come again while moaning his name and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

zeke chuckles when he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to watch your juices stick together in strings. he plops the fingers in his own mouth, rubbing his other hand up and down your quivering thigh as he pulls away from your sloppy cunt.

he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obnoxious ‘pop’ and pulls off his pants and boxers at the same time. he groans at his cock hitting against his lower stomach.

you stare at zeke’s cock. the tip is flushed with a bashful pink and his hair is trimmed nicely against his groin. he’s more girth than he is length, a whopping 6.5 inches, which is something he absolutely gets arrogant about.

“hurry,” you huff while watching zeke fist his cock.

“nah, you gotta beg for it, baby,” the corner of his mouth tugs upwards as he watches you wipe away your tears from the previous orgasm.

“zeke,” you whine and wiggle your hips, “please please please give me your cock. need it so bad.”

he hums thoughtfully, and it already gives you his answer.

“please... i want it so bad, need to be fucked by you,” you pout but perk up at his dismissive shrugging.

“since you want it so bad,” he’s laughing while he puts his right hand on your pelvis and his other on his shaft to enter you.

you gasp at the feeling of him pushing inside of you, grabbing for his, now, free hand. when you catch his hand, you guide it to your bruised neck for him to grasp on. he’s chuckling once again, fingers lightly squeezing against your throat as he continues to push himself in.

he groans whenever he bottoms out, letting go of your neck to grab at your plush thighs. he pushes the towards your chest and thrusts into you shallowly after he spits on his cock buried in your pussy. he hits you deeper than he would’ve before, that much is obvious by your moans raising octaves when he starts to thrust roughly.

your hands reach up to grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you than before. he’s groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing onto him each time he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“fuck... zeke!!” you cry and throat your head back.

“fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight. even after how much i fuck this pretty little cunt each week.”

his words make you whimper and squeeze your grip on his thighs, making crescent moons into the skin.

“i’m gonna come... i’m gonna come again,” you pant out, back already starting to arch, “come with me please..!”

he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass getting increasingly louder as he does so.

“you wanna come with me so badly,” he asks tauntingly while you nod.

“god, zeke, please,” you try to ignore the saliva and tears on your face as you continue to scream out for zeke.

“i’ll give my sweet girl my cum since she asked so nicely,” he’s biting his lip whenever he feels his orgasm getting closer.

“yes! yes! please,” you sound so desperate as your orgasm gets closer, “zeke, please, fuck a baby into me, please..!”

zeke almost comes right then at your pleas, but ends up stilling and adjusting his stance to thrust into you more efficiently. the sudden stop makes you whine but it’s soon interrupted with a gasp as he jackhammers into you harder and faster than before.

“fuckin’ whore, wanting me to fuck a baby into you. to make you a mom. since you asked so nicely, i’ll oblige,” he berates.

“you me to fuck a baby into you? make you a mom?” it has you nodding frantically.

zeke continues to degrade you as you’re orgasm comes rushing towards you, fingers now clawing at his thighs as a signal.

zeke thrusts into you two more times before the two of you manage to orgasm simultaneously. his jackhammering slows into a grind, helping the two of you ride out the euphoria you’ve both just went through.

you whimper whenever he pulls out, uncomfortable at the sudden emptiness in you. he watches his cum start to dribble out of you, telling you to keep your legs up. he scurries off to find a paper towel or something to wipe it up with before it falls onto the couch. you shiver whenever you feel a wet cloth wipe away the dribbling cum.

he’s wiping down your chest and neck as well with a clean side of it after you put your legs down. he carries you off into his bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he readies the shower.

“i can’t believe you said that,” he raises a questioning eyebrow at you while he checks the water’s temperature.

“i wouldn’t mind having your kid,” you shrug and watch him put two towels on the counter next to you.

“i might just give you one, don’t say that,” he jokes as he starts to hug you.

“‘m okay with that,” you sigh and lean into his touch, enjoying his warmth.

“you’re stupid,” he snorts and kisses at your shoulder.

“only for you,” you snuggle your head into his neck with a giggle.

“i love you,” he sighs.

“i love you. enough to have your kids.”

maybe in a few hours when you weren’t bathing in the afterglow, zeke would bring it up to you.

[glamrockerfredbear]

Hello^^ May I have a match up, I’m Achilles!

I’m a gender-neutral & bisexual! I’m 5’7 leaning more on the chubbier side. I have shoulder length brown hair with blonde streaks at the front. I have hazel eyes and lots of freckles, I also wear glasses and have a few scars around my body that I find lowkey cool. My MBTI type is ENTX - A, I’m also an Aries. I’m usually pretty self reserved and observant when first getting to know someone, but after a bit I start to open up and show my more goofy side! I always crack jokes and laugh at almost anything (very dark humor). I love talking and hanging out but I also adore reading (Books, manga, fanfics ect..) or listening to various types of music. I also game a bit, usually with friends. I’m a very observant and curious person, and though I act hyper and crack jokes a lot I’m usually very sleepy and take lots of naps. I’m pretty laid back and chill for the most part, usually getting hyper when I’m with friends. Butttttt yeah that’s it!

Bro 🦭 <it’s a seal!!!

. . . Your Fazbear Entertainment matchup is 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 !

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Okay so, Monty likes your glasses! It matches his own sunglasses. He saw you walk into the PizzaPlex with your glasses and he said 'yep that is the one' and did nothing but follow you around with Roxanne questioning him.

"Monty get back on this stage goddammit!"

He also loves your hair. You've inspired him to try out dye and that's how you ended up with a Monty with a rust red mohawk and some experimental purple stripes.

Monty doesn't read any books or anything, to be honest. He's either too busy doing stupid things with the STAFF bots or tuning his bass. When he catches you reading whatever he gets really curious. But Monty being Monty he doesn't ask you what you're reading like a normal man. Instead, he likes to sneak up behind you and tower over you so he can spook you.

Sometimes it feels like only Monty understands your dumb jokes because Freddy will always gasp and go 'that's horrible!', Chica will make a confused noise and Roxanne most of the time just shakes her head. But Monty? he laughs along with you. You two like to spend your free hours watching people falling off of whatever and your laughing makes the STAFF bots shush you both.

Let me get something straight: Monty is the biggest idiot of the PizzaPlex. He'll do things so you can either look at him or laugh. I'm talking he'll try to balance himself on 5 stacked wet floor signs and fall off and probably scratch his paint. Or maybe if he's feeling especially stupid, he'll climb Freddy's statue and take a tumble you know hurt. You know that when he says "HEY C'MERE LOOK" it's something he should not be doing.

And it's funny every time. And you can't even feel bad for him because he got himself in those situations.

You two will definitely laze out together. No ifs, whats or buts. Monty likes to laze about when the PizzaPlex isn't incredibly hectic so of course, that means he drags you into his laziness. Lots of sluggish cuddling and scrolling mindlessly through social media with a lazy gator resting his snout on your shoulder.

No matter how tall you are, Monty will always be taller. So you will catch him resting his arms on your head or watching you struggle to get something from afar. He’s a bit of an ass about it.

You and him are both incredibly observant and knowing of your surroundings! Monty mostly does it since the PizzaPlex has been having…issues with children going missing. He wants you to be safe even if you’re not a child. Who knows, maybe that person could be targeting you next.

On the topic of Monty protecting you, he is incredibly protective of you. The last thing he wants is for you to be stuck in a first aid station with a dumb old STAFF bot or worse, Freddy. Monty will not let you do stupid stunts the same way he does unless you 101 reassure him that you won’t get hurt. He couldn’t care less if he got hurt but if you got hurt? He might not even perform!

Monty’s love language is extremely physical! Always touching and hugging. And I don’t believe Monty is extremely sexual but I do believe his humor is right up that alley so don’t be surprised if he starts saying some dumb adult joke. He will once a year say ‘that’s what she said’ and make you groan. He absolutely loves it.

Just love this idiot please. He’s got some issues but he needs some love.

[masonscig]

kiss it better

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 3.6k

warnings | mentions of broken bones and blood. nose setting scene but not in gory detail. smut. minors dni

author’s note | i literally could not shut up with this one smh. anyways this is for day 6 of hot in wayhaven – worship. 

•─────────────────•

“Have you broken your nose before?”

She asks out of the blue, running a gentle stripe down the bridge of his nose with the pad of her finger.

He scoffs. “The better question is, how many times?”

She blinks, shaking her bangs out of her face. “I guess I hadn’t considered that.”

“Yeah it’s somethin’ you get used to after a while.”

“It can’t get easier, though,” she murmurs, reaching up to pull a strand out of his eyes. She holds her hand there, fingertips grazing the hair above his ear.

“What?”

“Breaking bones, I mean. It’s still painful, right? Even if it’s a little sting?”

“Yeah, the nose is nothin’. Just a pinch and it goes away as soon as it sets. Ribs on the other hand…” he trails off, grimacing. “Not fun.”

“You’re pretty brave to be running headfirst into missions knowing you’ll probably hurt yourself every time,” she smiles, tucking the same piece of hair behind his ear.

He rolls his eyes, unable to hold back a smile of his own. “Why’re you trying to flatter me all of the sudden?”

She laughs, crossing her hands over his bare chest, balancing her chin on her knuckles, her hazel-eyed gaze mischievous and warm.

“I thought maybe you’d let me practice resetting your nose.”

He cocks a brow at her. “You thought wrong.”

She leans forward over her hands, just enough that she has room to press a kiss on his bare chest.

“I could go another round, you know…” she trails off, easing her thigh between his legs, rubbing just enough that he groans and tightens his arms around her.

“You’d wanna fuck me anyways,” he teases, sliding her back up till they’re nose to nose.

She peppers a few kisses down the bridge of his nose, hovering when she reaches his lips.

“I think you’re underestimating my self control,” she whispers, grazing his lips with her own. 

He runs his palms down the swell of her ass to the top of her thighs, gripping the skin there. She sighs, but clamps her mouth shut. She pulls back, a soft giggle already bubbling off her tongue. “Nope.” 

“Do you hate my nose that much, sweetheart?” He chuckles.

“Oh, no, I love your nose,” she says, kissing it again. “I was just thinking that I learned how to reset a nose back in undergrad and I wanted to try it out again.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I think so,” she muses, shaking her bangs out of her face again. “A kid in my bio class sophomore year learned how to reset his own nose because he’d broken it a couple of times playing soccer. He showed us how on a CPR dummy once during class and I practiced a couple of times.”

“So you want me to be your dummy?”

“You’re already my dummy,” she flashes a smile, laughing when he grunts in faux annoyance at her. “If you don’t want me to, that’s okay. I like your crooked nose.”

She nuzzles his jaw with her nose, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Ugh,” he grunts once, and taps her ass. “Okay, get on with it. I don’t have all fucking night. I’ve got things to do.”

Sofía’s head pops back up, her messy bun springing with the sudden movement. “Wait, really?”

He shrugs. “I trust you.”

Grinning, she kisses him deeply, just as sweet as the first time she kissed him like this. He doesn’t normally think about past missions that much, but now he has reason to.

Yeah, he was in the hospital bed after fighting off Trappers, but he’d gotten a kiss that’d stuck with him more than any of his wildest sexcapades.

“Sit up, please,” she says, always polite, despite the fact that she knows he likes it when she’s rude.

He hasn’t had her fiery side aimed at him in a long time, and he’s not sure if he misses it (or if this version of her is his favorite).

Scooting so his back is against the armrest of the couch, he keeps his grip tight around her waist. She shifts, straddling him, her eyes fluttering at the brush of his cock against her.

“If you distract me, I’ll do it wrong,” she breathes, squeezing her thick thighs around him.

“Practice makes perfect,” he says, curling his hips ever so slowly, feeling himself slot between her –

“No. I wanna do this right,” she says, her brows furrowed in determination. “I’ll be right back.”

She hops off of him, stark naked, and tiptoes across the cabin to the kitchen. He’d never get sick of the sight of her.

He watches as she grabs an old rag from the drawer, a box of tissues, and a plastic bag, filling it with ice.

She bounds back towards the couch, her face bright.

“Sit with your back against the cushions, please,” she says, before tugging the blanket over his bare lap, straddling him again.

“Oh, so I don’t get the privilege of skin to skin contact? ‘S’kinda cruel of you,” he smirks.

“Ah, stop it. You get enough skin to skin contact with me,” she laughs, before combing her hands through his hair, gathering the top layer into one hand.

Yanking the hair tie out of her bun, she shakes it out, pausing to resituate her hair for a second before she’s onto the next thing.

She gently twists the elastic around his hair. “Is this alright?”

He’s watching her face, which is screwed up in determination to get it right the first try. “Mhmm.”

No one’s ever taken care of him the way she does. He’s always been averse to the idea of being babied (both in and out of bed), but maybe it’s because he hadn’t met a person who balanced the task of challenging him and caring for him the way Sofía did.

And now that he has that balance, he couldn’t really imagine his existence without it.

Deep down, he’s always craved this, he thinks, but figured that he was itching that scratch with physical gratification. No one told him how good sex is when the other person actually cares about you. Nate probably tried, but he wasn’t listening.

She brushes his hair off of his shoulders, runs her palms down his shoulders and chest. “You always look so handsome with your hair back.”

Compliments without ulterior motives didn’t come easy to him. For the longest time, when a person complimented him on his looks, he’d assume that was the ice breaker before tumbling into bed with them.

He’s gotten used to Sofía’s mindless affirmations, and he kind of… liked them.

It wasn’t hard for him to fall into the pattern of telling her what he liked about her. It was truly so damn easy to praise her.

While he muses, she tucks the old rag underneath his chin, splaying it out across his chest as far as it’ll go.

“What’s this for?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know if you’ll bleed or not.”

He chuckles. “Can’t remember the last time I had a nosebleed.”

“I still wanna keep you clean, dummy,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Hold out your hand, please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She plops the box of tissues in his hand, then the bag of ice on top of that.

“Okay, I’m not so sure if I’m strong enough to re-break your nose, Mason.”

Her hands are forming a triangle, her thumbs pressed together. She places her nearly cupped hands around his nose, massaging the bridge of it with a gentle touch.

“I think this might be for freshly broken noses –”

He cups his hand around hers and snaps his nose, just enough that it curves to the left.

“– Mason!” She jolts in surprise, and he raises a brow at her.

“You’ve got about ten seconds before it resets, sweetheart. Hop to it.”

He thinks she’s gonna bicker with him, but instead she springs into action, tightening her fingers around the bridge of his nose, squeezing lightly and pulling downwards towards the tip of his nose.

When he winces, she mouths a quick “sorry” and resets her hands, tugging down over and over, the sting nearly gone by the third round.

“It’s healed.”

She drags her hands till she’s cupping his jaw with both palms, inspecting his nose thoroughly.

“Oh shit, it’s actually straightened out,” she murmurs, her pretty, pretty face an inch away from his own. “Not bad for a rusty bio student, huh?”

“You did a great job, Sofía.”

At the mention of her name, she meets his eye.

He doesn’t use her name that often. When he does, it’s a reward for the both of them – she notices, and he gets to savor the taste of her gorgeous name on his lips.

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” she smiles, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Don’t need to,” he shrugs.

She snatches a tissue and delicately dabs away at his cupid’s bow. “Just a little bit of blood,” she murmurs. “You’re okay.”

When she says it, he actually believes her.

“Keep that away from me,” he gestures to the bag of ice balanced on top of the box of tissues.

“Fine,” she agrees, snatching the bag from his hand, before tearing it open and tossing a small ice cube in her mouth, crunching away.

“It’s just frozen water. I don’t get it.”

“It’s water that you can eat. What is there to get?” She laughs between chews, attempting to stand up.

He tosses the tissue box to the ground and flings the rag across the room with lightning speed, snaking his arms around her waist before she can react.

The bag of ice topples out of her hand and onto the wood floor, cubes littering the ground around them.

“Agh, really? You know I’m gonna have to clean that up, right?”

“Don’t care. I told you I’ve got things to do,” he smirks, turning up the charm as high as he can. She’s nearly immune to it at this point, but not completely.

“Okay, okay,” she laughs as he trails kisses up her collarbone and nips at her neck.

He stands with her still wrapped in his arms and flips them around. She’s sitting on the armrest of the couch and he’s on his knees in front of her, the thin blanket they’d been using abandoned on the floor with the ice.

“What… Mason…” she’s panting his name and he hasn’t even touched her yet.

“I wanna take care of you, now,” he mumbles against the skin of her inner thigh.

She hums as he kisses higher, each press of his lips to her skin eliciting a crescendo of soft whines.

When he makes it to the crease of her hip, she’s trembling in anticipation already. He wasn’t a fan of denial until her.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he’s whispering, more to himself than anyone else.

“Thank you,” she responds, peering down on him with gratitude before his tongue even touches her.

“You don’t have to thank me every time I compliment you. Stop being so damn polite all the time,” he says, running his palms up and down her thighs.

When he made it back to her knees, he pushed them open wider, wider, till she was spread for him, wanting and waiting.

“It’s a reflex, I think,” she huffs, her stomach stuttering as he suckles against the skin of her inner thigh, face close enough to devour her.

“There’s no one to impress here, sweetheart,” he smirks, kissing and nipping at her flesh again. “I’m the last person you have to be nice to.”

He’s so focused on lavishing every inch of her inner thighs with attention that he doesn’t realize she’s staring at him, only catching on once she reaches down to brush a stray hair away from his face.

“Well, you’ve earned it,” she says, no hint of humor in her tone, just raw sincerity. “I’m nice because you mean a lot to me.”

He’s not used to this level of candor in any relationship he’s ever had. It’s not that he hates it or anything he’s just… not sure how to respond. He’s still learning.

“I dunno, I kind of miss when you’d argue with me. It was kinda hot,” he laughs breathily. Just as she’s about to give a bratty retort, he drags the rough pad of his thumb as slowly as he can from bottom to top.

She sucks the words back in and exhales a soft whine instead, her head lolling to the side when he circles his thumb on her clit.

“You… liked it when I stood up for myself?” She snorts, her laugh devolving into another moan. “I thought it was pretty unbecoming.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about what’s appropriate. All that matters is if we’ll ‘be coming’ or not,” he chuckles to himself at his joke, and she’s even giggling.

“Oh my god, you’re so corny,” she sighs, trying to concentrate on the conversation while he’s graduating to a finger (knuckle deep) inside of her. “Maybe I miss yelling at you just a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you bossed me around a little bit,” he smiles against her skin, pumping his finger slowly, curling it the deeper he gets.

“Like what?” She pants, grabbing onto the back of the couch for support.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you and don’t be nice about it.”

He’s watching her face, waiting for her reaction, and he’s excited. She’s always known what she’s wanted, but she’s too considerate.

He’d already made up his mind that tonight’s about her and her only. He’d gotten his fill earlier, and he could care less if he did again.

Mason wants nothing more than to make her come until she’s putty in his hands.

He knows he’s not good with words, so this is the way he’ll show her just how much he cares.

She’s screwed her eyes shut, focusing on the movement of his finger, so he encourages her again.

“What do you want, baby?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Eat my pussy like you mean it.”

He grins, her no bullshit tone sending shockwaves down his spine straight to his cock. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

His lips are around her clit as soon as the words are out of her mouth. He licks slow, soft stripes until her hips are grinding faster than his tongue.

He’s testing her – teasing her.

“I said like you mean it,” she pants, and he feels her palm pressing against the back of his head, his mouth and nose nearly submerged.

His tongue’s moving faster now, focusing every flick against her clit. She’s huffing a few soft “don’t stop”s and “right there”s so he knows he’s doing it just like she likes.

Her thighs clench around his face when she finally comes, and she digs her fingers into the back of his head. It stings, but it eggs him on.

“Oh my god – Mason – I’m –” She’s sensitive and barely able to get a grip on the English language, so he takes advantage of that.

He hooks his arms around her thighs and rises – she falls back onto the couch and he’s dragging her hips back until her pussy’s in the air, her lower back balanced against the arm of the couch.

She’s fully at his mercy in this position, and they both know it.

She’s flushed and her chest is heaving, her half lidded gaze watching as he bends down and hooks her legs over his shoulders, delving back into eating her once again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her voice raises an octave and she’s already tightening her legs around him.

They both know there’s another orgasm on the horizon and she’s barreling towards it, and he’s guiding there albeit roughly (just like she likes it).

He’s added two fingers this time, pumping in and out while he’s alternating soft and rough flicks of his tongue.

“Don’t you – dare fucking stop –” she demands between pants, grinding her hips against his face and mouth.

She shakes this time, just a soft tremble of her thighs, but he notices the soft tremors, already grinning to himself. He loves how much practice he gets in perfecting his formula – he’d gotten real good at making her come over the years and he was damn proud of himself for it.

She was the prettiest woman on the planet when she came, and he’d do anything to witness it over and over and over.

“Goddamn,” she groans, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“What, you don’t want another round?” He asks, still bent between her thighs.

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she says through a breathy laugh.

“You can make it to three,” he murmurs, kissing her tender clit again, revelling in the way her hips bucked when he did so.

In a flash, he’s laid on the couch and she’s on her knees above his face, bracing her palms on the arm of the couch.

“Shit, Mason, why’d you move that fast –”

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. You up for another one?”

She sits back, ass on his chest, looking down at him. He can’t resist leaning up to grab the swell of her ass.

He thinks she’s going to say some sweet anecdote about the first time they fucked or something very Sofía, but instead, she’s not breaking character.

“I’m gonna ride your face till I’m spent,” she says, peering down at him, cheeks pink, bangs clinging to her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks, before giving her cheek a soft push upright, and then he’s nothing but a means to get off, and he’s savoring every second of it.

She’s grinding against his open mouth, her chest heaving, her expression slack jawed.

The mix of groans and heavy breathing are echoing off of the walls. They’re both slick with sweat, their skin sticking and sliding against each others’ with each buck of her hips.

When her movements get erratic, he hooks his arms around her thighs and takes lead.

With each firm stripe of his tongue, she’s struggling to stay upright. She doesn’t manage to stay up, instead falling forward, bracing her forearms against the soft leather couch.

“Shit, keep going – just like that –” her words are unintelligible at this point, just a chorus of whines.

Her hips arch and stutter against his mouth and she goes limp, lungs heaving with effort.

He slides out from underneath her, gathering her in his arms while she catches her breath.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, voice hoarse, curling into his chest.

“Taking you to bed, whaddaya think?”

Her half lidded eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I can’t handle another one right now – let me rest up first, please –”

“– I mean to sleep,” he chuckles, kicking her door in, shuffling in sideways. “You’ve got tomorrow off so we’ve got plenty of time.”

“Oh, thank god.”

He slides her onto the bed and she lays back, making no move to get under the covers. The apartment’s in a perfect spot – the moonlight always manages to sneak into her room and dimly light it.

It’s streaking through the window, across the bed, her torso, her cheek, hitting the sliver of gray hair in her bangs. She looks ethereal, practically glowing on top of her dark comforter.

He knows he’s staring, and she’ll catch on soon, so he cracks a joke to play it off.

“So much for the self control you speak of.”

“Hey!” She laughs, chunking a pillow at him.

He catches it with ease, tossing it right back, it smacking her on the leg. “What? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to say it.”

“You just hate when I’m right.”

“No, I just hate when I can’t resist you,” she rolls her eyes, patting the bed next to her.

He hops onto the bed, jiggling the both of them. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, smacking his chest with her palm, cuddling up to his side.

Before he can tilt her chin up to kiss her, she’s already pressing her lips to his, the taste of her lingering on his mouth.

“Thank you,” she whispers when he pulls away.

“What’d I say about being polite?” He says, voice low, holding himself back from leaning in to kiss her again.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she smiles against his mouth. “You would know.”

His eyes flicker up to the crumpled pack of cigarettes on her nightstand (the ones that hadn’t moved from that very spot for months).

Needs turned into wants and wants turned into waning cravings which turned into the most futile efforts to match whatever the fuck Sofía does for him.

He’s still figuring out how to navigate this existence of his with her in it, but he knows he wants it to be like this for as long as she’ll let him stay.

And yeah, Mason’s awful with words, but as long as he can show her, he knows it’ll be alright.

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Could you write a jealous timmy fic pls?

AHHH so this is pretty much pure fluff lol I feel like there’s a lot of angsty jealousy fics out there so I wanted to try and do something a little different. hope you guys like it!! ☺️💛

Jealous? (T.C.)

(cursing, smut, flufffff)

“Baby, I’m late! I gotta run,” you giggled, pressing the puckered lips of your doting boyfriend away as you pulled on your shoes.

“Ughhh fineeeee,” Timothée whined, following you to the door like a puppy. “Have a good day, baby doll.”

You grinned, pecking his lips. “You too, cutie.”

You’d been filming intermittently for the past few months on a local indie project. It was hard not to be daunted by Timothée’s big name films, but your heart was in dinky, little indie projects with weird motifs, and you were perfectly content to stay in your niche acting there in New York. It kept you close to him.

You’d only been together for about six months, but you could tell that this wasn’t a short term type thing. This was your first project since you and Timothée had gotten together, and he’d already been incredibly supportive every step of the way. It was almost like you had your own personal cheerleader every day.

Once you made it to the studio, you realized you had missed a text from Timmy.

T💕: “u forgot ur lunch :(“

You: “dang it :/ I’m sure I can find something around here tho”

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, heading into your dressing room to get your hair and makeup done for the day. About halfway through, your director knocked on the door and popped his head inside. He was all smiles, eager to get into the scenes for the day. “Hey, Y/N! Just wanted to let you know we are starting with 32 today!”

“Great, thank you, Derek!” you responded, grabbing up your script in between your makeup artist’s brush strokes. You flipped through the marked up pages, landing on the scene.

“Ooh, you’ll need some extra setting spray today!” sang Marrissa, giving you a playful wink as she finished up the avant-garde paint job on your face and began setting it with powder.

After getting dressed, you strode out to the set, feeling excited and confident for the day’s shoot. The schedule was packed, but you were ready for it.

•••

It was less than an hour after you had left that Timothée became bored. You’d left him a grocery list, but he couldn’t imagine how dreary the supermarket aisles would be without your puns and odd-ball fun facts about preservatives. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit silly for missing you so much.

He decided that he’d go pick up lunch from your favorite restaurant and bring it to you since you’d left your lunch at home; he knew how rough catered lunches could be at times.

It was about noon when he arrived at the studio, entering quietly as he knew they were likely filming somewhere nearby. He greeted the staff he passed, some looking at him with wide eyes and making him chuckle to himself a bit, but most had seen him with you before. He was instructed to the set and eventually found his way to you. What he was greeted with, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.

You were practically naked, your body only draped in a sheer, flowy gown that left little to the imagination. An actor circled you, his eyes hungry and predatory. In a snap of movement, he was on you. Timothée watched in shock as he gripped your throat, feverishly kissing you. You, completely immersed in character, reciprocated, releasing a soft whine audible to the crew.

And Timothée.

He, of course, logically knew you were simply acting in a role, but to see such a thing made his stomach twist and ache. Half of him was astounded by your talent and beauty, but it was nearly completely overshadowed by his jealousy.

An abrupt call of “CUT!” pulled him from the trance, both you and the actor stepping away from each other. It took you a few moments to notice him, but, the moment you did, your face lit up, and you hurried over to him.

“Oh my goodness! What are you doing here, mon amour,” you grinned, pulling him into a quick kiss. He smiled back, but you instantly could see it was a bit forced. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Timothée shook his head, presenting your lunch to you. “I just brought you food! I was worried you wouldn’t find anything around here, and I wanted to see you,” he confessed, blushing a bit.

You tilted your head. “Thank you, Timo. That’s very sweet, but what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong!”

“Mm, never play poker,” you teased, continuing to press his buttons.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s- honestly, it’s stupid. Can we go to your room?”

Suddenly, it clicked. “Oh my god, it was the scene, wasn’t it?” you gasped, leading him to your room and closing the door behind you.

“Y/N…” he warned.

“It totally was!! Babe, you kiss other actors all the time; you know how it is!”

“Okay, yeah, but- I just, ya know, haven’t seen you do it before!! It was just a little.. startling I guess,” he stuttered, clearly flustered and defensive, his arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, you don’t dress like this at home!”

You set your lunch down, letting out a snort. “Darling, I’m also not typically the damned ghost of a duke’s daughter at home either,” you deadpanned, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped instinctually around your waist, pulling you close. “Are you jealous, Timothée?” You wore a cocky grin, finding him incredibly endearing.

“I just don’t like seeing other guys all over my girl; is that a crime?” he whined, making pouty faces at you and making you giggle. He wasn’t one to be upset over much for very long.

“Mm, I love when you call me that,” you sighed, biting your lip at him.

He very promptly reacted to your shift in tone, raising a brow at you. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, doll.” His voice was quiet and low, making you grin.

“Oh, you’ll finish, alright.” His eyes went wide as you pushed him back onto the couch with a giggle, placing yourself in his lap and tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so baadddd,” he sang, giving your ass a playful squeeze. You rocked against his growing bulge, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Your costume pooled around you both as you continued to grind against him; the thrill of the possibility of getting caught spurred you on, much to Timothée’s delight. His lips latched onto your throat eagerly. He wished he could leave a little sign to remind your scene partner of his place but decided against it in fear of you getting scolded.

“Only for you, babe,” you hummed. In a flurry of fabrics, you slipped down the floor, kneeling between his spread legs.

Timmy was pleasantly surprised, chewing on his lip as you made quick work of his belt and fly. He was already incredibly turned on. You removed his length from his jeans, pumping him up and down while gazing up at him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, sliding down in his seat. You took him into your mouth, knowing you didn’t have as much time as you’d like. You circled your tongue around his sensitive head, relishing the soft groan he let out. You licked a wide stripe along the underside, feeling him twitch in your hand. The gratification of watching him feel so good was nearly enough to get you off all on its own.

He gently gathered your hair, holding it out of your face as you began to bob your head up and down his length. “Holy shit, baby. Ugh, your mouth..” he babbled mindlessly, hips twitching up toward you every so often. You weren’t able to fit all of him into your mouth, so your hands aided in the effort, one following your lips while the other squeezed his thigh or roamed over his stomach occasionally. Feeling warmed up, you pressed yourself further, taking him down your throat until you managed to reach his base. You held for as long as you could before pulling back, gasping for air; he was no easy fit. He cursed, his slick cock twitching against his stomach while you caught your breath. He bit the back of his hand to keep from getting too loud. You quickly went back to work, sensing he was getting closer.

You watched his pretty, hazel eyes roll back as you sped up. “Fu-fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” he whimpered, his free hand tugging at his own hair as he tumbled toward his climax. Suddenly, his whole body went tense, his head falling back in a silent shout as he spilled his lust into your waiting mouth. You did you best to swallow all he had to give, not wanting to make a mess. He trembled softly and let out sighs as he came down from his high. You pulled off of him with a little pop, biting your lip up at him while he tucked himself back into his jeans. You pulled yourself back up onto the couch next to him, grabbing his chin and pulling him into a lustful kiss.

“See? No reason to be jealous,” you purred, bumping his nose with your own.

“Jesus…” he panted, laughing and running his hands over his face as he soaked in what had just happened. “You’re something else.”

You giggled and hopped up, wiping away your watery eyes in the mirror, readjusting your costume, and drinking some water; you hoped your voice wouldn’t be too hoarse for your next scenes.

Timmy followed after you like a little puppy, wrapping himself around you from behind. He was always so cuddly after an orgasm. “Mmmm, I’d love to return the favor,” he hummed, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders.

You grinned, leaning back into him. “Ugh, I wish. But I have to get back to set now, my love.” He stuck out his bottom lip, pouting at you through the mirror. “You’ll have to make it up to me later.”

He walked you back to set, his fingers tangled with yours and a little smug smile on his face; anyone could have guessed he just got some.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he hummed, smiling like a fool. You stood on your toes to peck his lips, but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you right back again, locking lips with you heatedly for a few seconds more. You blushed hotly, hearing a few whistles coming from the cast and crew. It was only after he pulled away and headed for the door that you saw your scene mate standing a few feet away.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Your Necklace Hanging From My Neck

Paring: 13th Doctor x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,494

Summary: Whilst getting ready for an adventure, the Doctor comes to you, hairbrush in hand, with an odd request.

Request: hey, I really love how you write 13! can I request reader braiding 13s hair with the prompt “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.” Prompt: Stop moving and let me braid your hair.

A/N: So, I actually can't braid hair, but one of my best friends can, and when we were kids I was often the recipient of hair braids, so, I guess I kind of just reversed my experience. I hope it still works!!

You frowned at the necklaces in front of you, trying to work out which one would be more appropriate to wear. The five of you – Graham, Ryan, Yaz, you, and the Doctor, were representing the embassy for the Tree of Cheem in the New Earth Senate. You weren’t sure exactly why you were doing it, but you knew it had something to do with a forest that the Tree People wanted to protect, and that New Earth wanted to knock down to build a city.

You also knew that it was important to dress correctly, that you had to adequately represent the Tree People, or the New Earth Senate wouldn’t take you seriously as representatives.

Your hand hovered over a necklace with a wooden pendent in the shape of a leaf. There was a certain kind of life to it, like you could feel the soul of the tree it was from. But would it be tacky to wear it? Technically it was like wearing the Tree People’s skin, they were made out of wood, after all.

You then glanced towards the metal pendent, which was a small Tree of Life. It was such an important symbol to so many different mythologies and religions on Earth, that you were sure that even thousands of years in the future, the New Earth Senate would recognise it – but if they didn’t then you were just wearing a tree pendant.

There was a knock at the door and you straightened, leaning into your chair. You called out. “Come in!”

The door opened slowly, and you found that the Doctor was standing there. She was wearing dark blue trousers, paired with a matching dark blue blazer, and was wearing a white, button up shirt with a rainbow stripe running down one side. Even with her hair sticking out in different directions, reminding you of a birds nest, she still looked ridiculously nice.

You swallowed nervously, noticing that your mouth had gone dry.

Yeah. Ridiculously nice.

“Hi Doc,” you said, and were momentarily mortified when your voice cracked. “Is everything okay.”

“Do you know how to braid hair?” She asked.

For a moment you didn’t answer, too stunned by the request. It was such an odd thing for her to ask, you didn’t think she had ever done anything with her hair a day in her life – except cut it.

And now she wanted it braided?

The Doctor spoke on, rambling. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, I can go find Yaz. I know she knows how to braid hair, and her hair always looks good – I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have bothered you in the first place-“

You spun around in your chair, holding your hands up placatingly. “Woah Doc, it’s okay,” the Doctor clamped her mouth shut when you spoke, and you gave her a small smile. You waved a hand, gesturing to your bedroom. “Come in.”

She glanced into your bedroom, and her eyes widened slightly, which confused you. You weren’t sure what it was that she found daunting, but she almost looked like a deer caught in headlights.

You stood up  walking over to your bed and sitting on it cross-legged. Considering how short her hair was, it would be easier to braid her hair here, where you could reach it better. You patted the bed in front of her, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “C’mere.”

The Doctor gave you a single, solitary nod, and then scurried into your bedroom like she was a trespassing toddler. She arrived at the foot of your bed, and placed a hand on your bedspread experimentally, as if she was trying to determine the thread count.

Then, just as carefully, she climbed onto your bed, sitting in front of you.

She was quite close, her knees bumped against yours as she sat, and you swore there was only half an inch between your noses. You let out a shaky breath, suddenly hyper aware of your own body; where your arms were, the shape of your legs, and the way your toes stuck out from under you.

Your throat was dry. The Doctor was so close. You could see into her eyes, and you realised, quite suddenly, that you had never actually quite looked into her eyes before, not properly. You couldn’t work out what colour they were, in the light, currently, they looked hazel, almost brown, but then she tilted her head, and suddenly they were as green as the grass from your childhood school’s oval.

You cleared your throat. “How would you like your hair done?”

The Doctor blinked, and you watched her eyes refocus on you. “Oh, braids. Did I forget to say that?”

The absurdity of her response startled a laugh out of you. “Oh Doc, no, I know you want braids. I just mean, what kind?” You rattled off a couple of different versions you could do; a single braid, double braids. For her, you would even try a waterfall braid, even though her hair was quite short.

The Doctor chewed on her lip in thought. It was distracting, and you found your gaze lingering by her mouth.

“I dunno,” she said, and you snapped your head up. Her face was pulled slightly in a small frown, scrunched up in that adorably familiar way. “What would make me look most like a tree?”

“Probably tree bark,” you said, not really fully considering the question. They you realised what she meant. “Oh wait, is that a thing?”

“It’s a sign of respect,” she explained, and her eyes began to twinkle in that familiar way that they always did when she was about to explain something she thought was really cool. The topics normally ranged from anything including quantum physics or the history of jammie dodgers. “The Tree People see them as patterns, like the ones they have on their bark, and it’s always reflected in their hair. To emulate it is to show that you see the beauty in it.”

You patted your hair with your hand. “Should we all have braids then? We could even give Graham one! A little tuft on the top of his head,” you emulated a vase shape with your hands. “Like a pineapple.”

The Doctor let out a small laugh, and you saw tension ease from her shoulders. “Oh no, just me, since I’m the main one speaking.”

“Ah,” you said. “Right. So a single braid then.”

She nodded, and she seemed a lot more sure of herself now. She handed you a brush you hadn’t realised she had been holding, and twisted herself around so her back was to you. You began to run the brush through her hair, and noticed that there pretty much weren’t any knots, despite how unruly it looked. At most, you seemed to just be settling it, putting it back in its original place.

You wondered if she had tried braiding her hair herself first, before coming to you, which was why her hair was a mess in the first place. The brush went through so smoothly, as if you were brushing through silk.

Soon though, the Doctor began to fidget.

It was small at first, she fiddled with your sheets, rubbing them between her fingers, twisting them in her hands. You noticed it in the corner of your vision, but it didn’t concern you.

You set the brush to the side. Her hair had grown out a bit, and it curled slightly on the ends. You parted it by the top of her head, and paused for a moment. The Doctor’s hair was so incredibly soft, like beams of light had woven themselves into her hair.

You took a moment to just run your hands through it, under the guise of sectioning it off. The Doctor leaned into your touch, and you let yourself just stroke her hair, enjoying the feel, the texture of it. It smelled faintly of vanilla and engine grease.

Then the Doctor began to sway, drumming against your bed.

You raised an eyebrow. Every time you tried to section off a piece of hair, the Doctor would move slightly, and you would lose the strands. This was the flaw of her soft hair, it wouldn’t stay in one spot.

“Everything alright?” You asked, and you felt as if something broke, like an invisible line of tension had snapped between you. The Doctor jolted slightly, and you wondered if she had felt it too.

“Huh, oh yeah,” she said. “Just feeling a bit restless.”

“Oh,” you paused, trying to work out how you could fix that. You knew the Doctor had a lot of energy, she was constantly moving, constantly talking, it was live movement was her best friend, her total constant. “Would you tell me a story then?”

So she did. She told you of the time she had convinced Marcus Aurelius to join her band, because apparently she was band mates with a Roman Emperor, which, upon thinking about it, didn’t really surprise you.

Your plan to subdue her backfired. She made intense gestures, mimicking guitars, drums, and screaming crowds. She would rock herself one way, and you would rock with her, trying to keep your progress on her hair and not mess up.

You found her enthusiasm wonderful, as you always did. The Doctor was just so bright, and when she was excited, it just seemed to radiate everywhere, like it was something tangible, something you could hold.

Except, right now, it was making your braiding job just a little bit difficult.

“Hey Doc,” you said, amusement lacing your voice. “I really am liking this story, but you need to stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

The Doctor stilled, deflating slightly. “Oh, I hadn’t realised.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s not a bad thing,” you paused for a moment, because you really didn’t like this mood change, you didn’t want to upset her. “Here, let’s make a compromise. Keep your movements below your head, so I can make your hair look as nice as I can.”

The Doctor nodded, the verbally winced. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that.”

You laughed lightly, because it was just so like her to forget like that. “It’s alright.”

So you braided her hair and listened to her talk. She told you stories of distant, extravagant, far off places, and of grand people you had never hoped to meet. She told you about times you had never known existed, and of places you had never dreamed could be real. You marvelled in it, and couldn’t wait to see it all.

When you finished, you tied up her hair gently, not wanting to tug on it. It was a small rope of hair ending at the base of her neck, and it shone in the soft light of your bedroom.

The Doctor turned to you with a delighted grin, and she ran her hand up and down the braid. You had left some strands of hair out, and they wisped around her face, gently framing it.

She looked gorgeous, sitting there in her beautiful clothes and the hairstyle you had done. Her earring glinted in the light. It was different from her normal one, the base of it was a collection of leaves, wooden and metal interspersed, and the chain almost looked like a vine, connecting it to a claps with a wooden design. She stole your breath away.

“Oh,” you said softly. “You look lovely, Doctor.”

The Doctor blinked in surprise, as if she wasn’t expecting the compliment. “Thank you,” she said, her voice just as soft. She placed her hands over yours. They were warm, and made you feel just as warm inside. You were hoping you weren’t flushed, but the heat you felt in your face said otherwise. “I really appreciate it, and I’m really glad I got to spend some more time with you.”

You snorted, despite yourself. “You looked like you’d been caught with your hand stuck in the cookie jar earlier.”

The Doctor paled, and you wondered what was going through that brilliant mind of hers. “I’m just a bit awkward,” she said finally. “Bit weird comin’ in here, I know how you humans are with your bedrooms.”

You frowned slightly, the Doctor was always in people’s bedrooms. She hung out in Ryan’s room all the time. They played video games together. She’d also slept in Yaz’s room in her family’s house when you had all stayed there that one night, and had been fine with the idea then. She’d even camped out in Grahams room in the TARDIS once, and had turned it into a theme park for mice.

You wondered what made you different, why the Doctor felt awkward around you. Why she felt awkward in your bedroom.

Then you didn’t dare think about it, because you didn’t want to draw any sort of wrong conclusions.

There was a voice calling from outside – Graham. “Are we heading off to the senate now?”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze from the Doctor. You pushed that thought aside, you didn’t have the time to think about it now.

“You’re welcome any time,” you said, rather boldly all things considered. “I love having you around, Doc.”

You chanced a glance at her face, and she was giving you one of the most earnest smiles you had ever seen. “Oh well, that’s quite good then,” she said. “I love having you round too.”

She looked like she was about to say more but she stopped herself at the last moment, closing her mouth.

Graham called out again. “Y/N? Doc? You there?”

The Doctor shrugged, and she squeezed your hands. “Best hop to it then.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Let’s go end a political dispute.”

The Doctors eyes flickered towards your neck, which was still bare. “You’re not wearing one of those necklaces.”

Your hand brushed against the base of your neck. “Oh, no, I forgot.”

The Doctor hopped up, and fished for something in her pocket. “D’you mind?” she asked.

You shook your head and turned around, not quite sure what she was doing. Suddenly, her hands were on the back of your neck, and the shock of it made the hair there stand on end. She wrapped a small chain around you, and you pawed at the pendent. It felt like it was both wooden and metal, and when you eyed it in the mirror, you noticed it was a metal tree branch, with lines of wood wrapped around the silver metal.  

You also noticed that it matched her earring.

“There,” she breathed, her breath was warm against you neck. “Now we’re both ready.”

Graham called out again, and you knew it was time to leave.

“Alright,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You would question this later.

The Doctor wouldn’t be getting her necklace back, though.

But, as she looked at you, all delighted by the way it sat around your neck, you didn’t think she would mind if you kept it.

[artificialqueens]

Shining Just the Way I Like (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali works as a roller-skating waitress, and Rosé catches her eye.

A/N: So I saw Denali’s runway, and then gnesis0204 posted about a fic based on it, and somehow the inspiration hit me and this happened today. It’s very fluffy and I really hope you like it!! A million thank you’s to Writ for beta-ing and FaceTiming me to scream with their full reaction. Title from Levitating by Dua Lipa.

The West-Burner Best Burger diner has a sprawling parking lot big enough for dinosaurs to roam, and each of the carhop spots is full, beat-up cars and fancy show-off ones alike all waiting for the golden fries and juicy burgers and thick milkshakes made by the cooking staff inside the brilliant red—well, Denali just has to trust Kahmora that it’s red, due to her slight color-blindness—and white diner. Denali readjusts the red plastic tray, checks for any maniac drivers, and pushes off across the lot, her skates gliding.

The owners, Nina and Tina, are sisters who love a good vintage vibe, and it’s why Denali is roller-skating across the blacktop, her red-and-white striped dress fluttering around her. Being a waitress—let alone one on skates—isn’t always ideal, with the customers who complain that what they ordered is somehow not what they want, or take the dress as an excuse to hit on her, but it pays more than typical waitressing jobs because of the skating factor. Not to mention most customers give her good tips—usually out of pity for the goosebumps on her arms on cold days, or awe over her getting the food there smoothly—and it’s extra skating practice before she can hit the ice for her real skating practice. Not ideal, but not horrible either, and as the sun warms her skin and she skates away from a minivan full of screaming kids with a five-dollar bill tucked in her apron, today feels like a good day.

She rolls inside the back door, nodding a thanks at Symone for holding it open. The inside of the diner is full with the lunch rush, the mix of indoor seating and carhop spots–the only ones around since that Sonic closed–meaning that Nina and Tina have one of the most successful restaurants in the state, with the polished plaque of excellence by the door to prove it.

“Hey, Denali!” Kahmora waves from the kitchen door, quickly catching herself before the water in her hand spills. She’s part of the inside wait staff; Denali’s attempt to teach her skating had only resulted in both of them going down in a mess of skates and scrapes, Nina pouncing on them with her first aid kit.

“Hi, Kahmora.”

“There are so many good-looking people in here today!” she says, cheerfully walking over to Denali.

“Besides me!” Symone calls from the door.

Kahmora rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve flirted with two different tables so far. I’ll be getting that coin today.”

“And maybe a phone number,” Denali says.

“God, I hope.” Kahmora grins and crosses her fingers, and then she’s off, turning to a table with her wide smile shining.

Denali grins. Kahmora is excellent at charming customers, and it works to her advantage as she rakes in the tips. Denali doesn’t have much chance to do that part at the carhops. She just brings people their food and waits for them to give the tray back; there’s no twirling her hair around while she waits for them to order, no drawing hearts on the napkins. It’s straightforward, and it leaves room in her brain to run through her skating routine.

Nina hands her another tray, and Denali glides outside. The feel of roller-skates over blacktop is nowhere as smooth as sharp ice skates over fresh ice, and the loud chatting in cars she passes is a far cry from the quiet ice rink, but Denali can’t resist a little twirl here and there like she’s on the ice, relishing in their perfection even if she doesn’t have to be perfect out here.

She pulls to a stop by a black car, Lady Gaga trickling softly through the open window. There’s a woman in the passenger seat and one in the back, but Denali can’t look away from the beautiful driver. She has soft pink hair and bright eyes that look green one second and hazel the next. She smiles, and Denali almost drops the tray.

“Wh—what can I get you?” Denali asks, because that’s the first thing that pops into her brain.

“Um … I think we already ordered?” The pink-haired woman says, and Denali remembers that she’s quite literally holding a tray with their order on it.

“Right. My bad.” Denali stammers as she slips the tray through the window, cheeks as pink as the woman’s hair.

“No worries.” There’s that smile again, and Denali’s knees wobble like they’ve forgotten the steadiness years of skating gave them. “I get flustered around pretty girls too.”

“No kidding,” mutters the brunette in the backseat, reaching for her food.

“Eat your chicken tenders, Jan,” the pink-haired woman snaps.

“Well, if Lagoona didn’t steal my honey mustard like she stole my shirt last week—“

Denali holds in a laugh as a packet of sauce is launched into the backseat, with a snarled promise that the brunette will get her damn shirt back.

“Don’t mind them,” the driver says, a warm pink clinging to her cheeks too.

“Of course.” Denali pauses as her heart skips a beat, grasping on to any bit of courage she has. “What was that you were saying about me being pretty?”

“Actually, I was saying that I’m pretty and I don’t blame you for being flustered.” The woman in the passenger seat makes a gagging noise, and the driver elbows her before giving another smile, glint in her eyes making Denali flash her dimples. “But you’re pretty too.”

“I know.” Denali grins as she twirls brown hair around her finger, because why not? Those hazel-green eyes are locked on her, the driver leaning forward so far she’s almost out the window, hanging on every word Denali says.

She laughs, and Denali would do anything to hear it again.

“I’m Rosé.”

“Denali.”

“Denali,” she repeats softly, and it sounds nicer on her lips than on Denali’s own, like Rosé is treasuring getting to say it. “So, you—you really skate and stuff?”

“Yep.” Denali flexes her ankle, modeling her skates like she’s on the ice, even if Rosé can’t see. “I’m an ice skater, actually.”

“Wow.”

Denali snorts. “Yeah.”

“Are you—“

“Do you work here? I need more ketchup, and don’t think I won’t call a manager.” Denali spins around to find the source of the noise: an angry woman stalking over to Denali like a lion cornering its prey, her minivan door still open.

Denali winces, and Rosé’s face softens in sympathy. “I better let you go,” she says sadly, passing over the tray. “Good luck with her.”

“Thanks.” Denali sighs.

“Oh, and this is for you.” She hands Denali some folded bills with one last smile. “I’ll see you, okay?”

“See you.” The woman’s lion jaws are about to snap around Denali, and she quickly leaves the car and intercepts her. She doesn’t even look at the tip Rosé gave her until she’s on break, and is shocked to find fifteen dollars. A fifteen dollar tip on a twenty-five dollar order is–well, Denali can’t do math but she knows it’s a lot; it’s more than she’d get from four cars put together. Not to mention the brilliant smiles Rosé kept giving her, worthy of being a tip themselves. It’s definitely a good day, one clouded over with cotton candy pink hair.

—-

Days go by, and Denali is so busy scanning the parking lot for any hint of pink hair that she actually trips on a rock and falls one day. Luckily there’s no food in her hands, and she brushes off everyone’s concerns, commanding her brain to focus on work instead of women with pink hair.

Maybe Rosé thought about it and decided she doesn’t like Denali after all, will do anything she can to avoid the diner. Maybe it was all just a joke from the start. But Denali doesn’t think so. Rosé’s eyes never left her, even with the chaos in her car, like she didn’t want to miss a moment of Denali. So when is she coming back? When will Denali see that smile again?

It’s been a week, and Denali’s about to skate into the breakroom when Nina corners her, a strawberry milkshake in one hand and a chocolate in the other. “Denali, can you bring these out to number two quick?”

She doesn’t want to turn down Nina, so she just nods. Number two is the only carhop spot filled, so there’s no chance of other customers chasing her down. It’s 3:00, that calm period in between the lunch rush and dinner rush, with just stragglers now and then stopping for a snack or shake. The car’s window rolls down to reveal the pink hair that hasn’t left Denali’s mind in a week.

“You’re back!”

“I’m back.” Rosé’s smile outshines the sun, and Denali grins too.

Her warm palms might melt the milkshakes, and she hands them to Rosé. Denali notices finally that the car is empty, and confusion sparks in her. Why did Rosé order two milkshakes for herself, and why is she sitting there holding them both, opening and closing her mouth like she wants to say something?

“Two milkshakes for you?” Denali asks. “I’m not judging, just–”

Rosé bites her lip. “Actually, one is for you.”

Denali’s mouth hangs open, and as much as she wants to fly to the passenger side of the car, her legs are a bit too jelly-like to support her.

Rosé’s eyes widen with worry. “Shit, you like chocolate, right? I just guessed. I mean, who doesn’t like chocolate–”

“I love chocolate,” Denali says, heart melting at Rosé’s sigh of relief. She rolls to the passenger door and slips onto the seat, and she’s so close to Rosé. There’s no car door in between them anymore. Instead, they’re both in this car together, and Rosé smells like vanilla and her eyes are even brighter than Denali thought, and she never wants to leave this car.

They clink their plastic cups and sip their drinks, and Denali spends each second of her break taking in all she can of Rosé, from how she loves to sing and was born in Scotland, all the way to how she slurps up every last drop of her milkshake and always keeps her hand close to Denali’s.

When Denali’s alarm goes off, telling her to get back to work, she chugs the last of her shake and sighs. “This was really nice,” she says.

“Yeah,” Rosé agress. She raises an eyebrow. “I think it needed to be longer, don’t you?”

Denali’s heart flutters. “A lot longer.”

“Does this Saturday at seven work? It can be as long as we want.”

Denali doesn’t even hesitate. “It’s a date.”

[buttonso]

Happy Birthday, Harvey

WELL.... it’s Winter 14, gotta do something to acknowledge it! My drawing game is garbage today, so, I thought I would post a chapter from the fic I’ve been working on since summer.  This is actually the fourth chapter, but one could read it as a standalone.  The fic itself is rated Mature on AO3, but this chapter is pure fluff and should be appropriate for teens- there are a few swear words.

14th of Winter Ascending

Standing before the floor-length mirror on the back of his bathroom door, Harvey stood up as straight as he could, puffing his chest out. Unable to sit still or relax the last several hours, he’d taken exceptional care with his clothing this evening, putting on his best suit and tie, polishing his glasses and combing his hair carefully. ~Well... do I look handsome? Manly?~ He drooped and sighed. ~Or am I just a dork in a cheap suit?~ He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for tonight.  It had all the hallmarks of a romantic date, but neither of them had stated their feelings explicitly.

He hadn’t helped himself any with his own indecision. All that concern about ethics… he was starting to wonder if that had just been his fear talking, an excuse not to put himself out on a limb, not to take a chance. Or was he now, in turn, just rationalizing away his ethics in order to try to get what he wanted?  

~And what do I want?~ he asked himself as he adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time. ~I’m not just trying to… to get in her pants.~ He blushed to even think that vulgar term. He’d be lying if he claimed to not be interested in that, but…

But, but, BUT… “I’m going to give myself a stroke if I keep thinking about this,” he said aloud, frowning at his reflection. Aura was his friend. He trusted her, and thinking about not having her in his life was just too difficult to contemplate. No matter what happened tonight, it was bound to, at least, be a pleasant evening with a dear friend. He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself.  He’d have to get going soon if he was going to make it to the farm by 6…

Just as he turned to pick up his building keys, the buzzer linked to the after-hours doorbell began to ring. He froze, listening to the harsh sound, not really registering it for a moment, then dropped his keys on the table in exasperation. Of course. OF COURSE there would be an emergency, right now. ~It had better be something damn serious,~ He thought irritably as he stomped down the stairs into the clinic, through the lobby to the front door, throwing it open with some force…

Only to find Aura standing on his doorstep, holding a large basket and looking a bit sheepish.

“Um… hey Harvey.” She looked a little disheveled, her hair escaping from what had probably once been an elegant twist at the back of her neck. Her red scarf was drooping off her shoulder and trailing in the slush on the street at her feet.  “I’ve… had some difficulties,” She said slowly, giving him a weak smile.

“Are you all right??” He exclaimed, pushing the door open wider so she could come in.

“Yeah… I’m fine except for… everything I had planned… being… completely… fucked…” She answered through gritted teeth, her forced cheerfulness fading with every word until she sounded near tears. “My piece of shit oven crapped out on me… sorry for swearing so much, I just… just…” Her shoulders started to shake and he quickly took the basket from her hands, setting it on the clinic’s front counter.

“Don’t worry about that, just… come on, let’s get you warm,” He said quickly, picking up her scarf as it finally fell off her shoulder.  “Where’s Buttercup?” Surely she hadn’t walked all the way from the farm...

“I-I walked…”

DAMN IT. He opened his mouth to scold her, but she continued to speak in a rapid, somewhat strained tone.

“…Buttercup threw a shoe earlier today… I took her to Marnie’s but she said the farrier couldn’t come until Tuesday… didn’t want to risk laming her.. that wasn’t even the first thing to go wrong today. First thing this morning Murphy brought in a… I don’t even know what it was, I swear it was the size of a raccoon… but he dropped it on me in bed and the fucking thing was still alive…  Then I dropped a preserve jar in the kitchen and the goddamn thing EXPLODED, I had cranberry jelly all over my kitchen AND ME, it was even in my hair…I swear, I’m going to start taking that bullshit fortuneteller on TV seriously, you know, she said it was a bad luck day when I got my ass kicked in the mines, too…”

“Why didn’t you just call and cancel?!” Harvey interrupted, aghast, as he pulled the door closed behind them. He tried to take her coat, but she waved him off.

“No way… I wasn’t going to leave you in the lurch on your birthday,” She said stubbornly. “So... I improvised.” She gestured impatiently at the basket on the counter while Harvey made a second attempt at taking her coat.  She evaded him, pacing the length of the counter and back.

“Aura, how do you think I’d feel if you… if you broke your ankle and fell into some snowbank and died of hypothermia or something?!” He asked crossly.

“I imagine you would resurrect me just so you could yell at me,” She sniffed and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it onto the counter.

She wore a simple long-sleeved red and black striped sweater-dress that hugged her body to just above her knees, with black leggings and little in the way of jewelry besides a silver chain that rested in the hollow of her throat.  On her feet she wore black boots, laced tightly to mid-calf. The outfit was so simple, but it looked amazing on her. He knew he was staring… and that he should stop… or at least say something…

“So…” Aura’s cheeks, already pink from the cold outside, flushed a bit brighter as she moved jerkily towards the basket on the counter. “I think… there’s something we should get out of the way, before this evening goes any further.”

“Oh…?” Harvey’s breath caught in his throat, and he had the curious sensation of standing on a precipice.

Aura’s hands trembled slightly as she opened the flaps at the top of the basket and reached inside, slowly drawing out… a bouquet? A sweet-smelling mass of purple, blue, silver and white. Purple and white crocus blooms were interwoven with bright blue crystal fruits and white snow yams, the whole thing secured with a wide dark-blue ribbon. She held it out towards him, her expression shy.

His heart skipped a beat.

Could it be…?

“I’ve been told that people around here declare… feelings… that is, romantic feelings… with a bouquet. I wasn’t sure at first… I mean, most places I’ve lived, people don’t really do flowers at all, let alone women giving them to men, but… I asked Marnie if it was true and she said it was.”

“You… talked to Marnie about this?” Harvey asked, his mouth going dry.

“Yeah. After I went home from the clinic,” She replied.  “Well… I knew if I bought a bouquet at Pierre’s, the whole town would know about it before… before the person I wanted to give it to. And it’s not like I didn’t have time to kill over the last week…”

“…I see…” The leaves shivered as his hands closed over hers. Her hands were trembling as much as his were.

“Harvey… I think it’s pretty obvious even without these flowers… how I feel about you. But, just in case it’s not, well… here they are.” Her silver eyes held his. “For awhile now I’ve felt like… like we’re holding ourselves back.  I don’t want to hold myself back anymore. But if you don’t want it, then... then we’ll say no more about it, ok?”

She tried to pull back, but Harvey’s hands reflexively tightened around hers.  He couldn’t speak, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let her go either.

“…Harvey?” She tilted her head slightly. “…Are you OK?” A thousand emotions and thoughts were clamoring in his mind, making it hard to focus.  This was everything he’d wanted for so long… he’d told himself, over and over, that it was wrong to wish, to hope, wrong to want her. The excuses varied from day to day, moment to moment. Either he wasn’t good enough for her because she deserved someone more handsome, or someone braver, or someone stronger… whatever way he felt inadequate that particular day. If it wasn’t that, then he told himself it would be ethically wrong, to hit on her while she was his patient… but it was all a way to keep a greater heartache at bay.

“Harvey, please… either reject me or…or don’t…” She whispered. Her silver eyes were shadowed with vulnerability.  He’d dreamed of her for so long… could he really hurt her now?

“Aura, I…” He cleared his throat. “…I’m not strong enough…”

“Oh, DAMN IT, Harvey…” She stomped her foot in frustration, but before she could say anything else, he pulled her to him, crushing the lovely bouquet between them. Purple petals scattered around them as he wrapped one arm around her, holding her against him, finally holding her like he’d wanted to for months, practically from the moment they met. They each still had one hand on the bouquet, now squished awkwardly between them, and Aura’s spare hand clutched at his shirt.

“I was going to say… I’m not strong enough… to pretend like this isn’t exactly what I wanted,” He said in a shaky voice. “I kept coming up with excuses as to why I couldn’t be with you… because I was so afraid…”

“Harvey…” She squeaked. “Ribs…”

“Oh…” another flurry of purple petals as he released her, his hands going to her side, anxiously probing her ribcage while she continued to awkwardly held the smashed bouquet at arm’s length.

“Harvey….Harvey.” Her free hand batted at his shoulder. “Trying to feel me up when you haven’t even kissed me yet?” A bit of her usual dry humor was back in her voice, though with a bit of a tremble to it. When he looked up, her silver gaze captured him again, and she smiled, brushing her fingers across his cheek, then trailing enticingly over his lips. “You have beautiful eyes, you know,” She told him softly. “Lovely hazel green…It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

Harvey wasn’t sure if he kissed her, or she him, but it seemed as if every nerve in his body came to life when her lips pressed to his, a deep thrill running up his spine and making him shiver all over. There was a soft rustle as she finally dropped the bouquet and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her chest into his. When they parted, they were both a little breathless, and he felt himself smiling so broadly it almost hurt.

“I guess… I’ll just have to take the bus to the city when I have the sniffles,” She said archly, resting her forehead against his. “Since you’re so hung up about having to be my doctor…”

“Aura….” There were so many things he wanted to say, that it was her eyes that had drawn him in at the beginning, that he’d dreamed of this moment for so long…

…That there were so many things he was still afraid of…

“Just… just don’t ever let yourself get hurt like that again… my heart can’t take it…” He finally answered, shaking his head and hugging her as tightly as he dared to. “Thinking I’d lost you… I’d never been so miserable…”

Aura let him hold her for another long moment, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’ll do my best… it’s not like I enjoyed having a brush with death,” she answered, voice muffled. Then she gave him another, lighter kiss, this time on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Harvey. I may not have been able to make the dinner I had planned, but I brought leftovers from yesterday and I just thought, well…. We could just be together for a little while?”

“I didn’t think this birthday could get any better…”  Harvey said as they stepped away from each other, hands tightly linked.  He looked down in regret at the pile of blue and purple petals scattered on the floor around them. “I’m so sorry about that though… it was so beautiful, it really was..”

“Maybe I’ll make you another next year…” She said as they both knelt to scoop up the fallen flora.  She fished out a crocus that had survived the tumble to the floor, still intact, turning it slowly in her fingers, then absently tucked it behind her ear. “Save these, though, the crystal fruit make for pretty decent wine. Waste not, want not.”

Harvey caught her hands again, turning them over to admire her long, strong fingers, tracing the callouses on her palms before tugging her to her feet. “Come on.. let’s just worry about the mess later. You’re probably starving.”

“But we can just…” She began, then shrugged. “OK, birthday boy… you’re the boss.”

In that moment, it seemed the light in her smile would keep him warm for the rest of the winter.

____

If you are interested in reading more, it can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158031/chapters/60962605

[lennonknowsmysins]

hii i have an idea, how about u and paul are on holiday with the others and u wake up one morning feeling randy wink wink everything seems about to get done but u hear julian running outside of the room telling john that he wants to visit uncle paul and john’s like iDk jUliaN cAn We gEt In????

Sunshine peaked through the window curtains and illuminated Paul’s sleepy face. Though his hazel eyes were having trouble staying open, he couldn’t take his gaze away from you. 

“Good morning, love. Sleep well?”

You nodded and snuggled closer to Paul, “Had the most wonderful dream.”

“Oh, about me?” Paul asked cockily, knowing damn well it must have been about him. 

“Of course,” you giggled, tracing shapes along his bare chest with your fingers. “You were recording a new song and you needed a sound but you couldn’t quite it right.”

Paul huffed, “Well, that doesn’t really sound like me.”

“Patience, dear.” You teased, enjoying his pout, “You needed this sound so you brought me into the recording booth and had me blow you.”

Oh, that got his attention.

“...and then you got in between my legs and used your mouth like that time after John’s birthday party.”

Now he was fully awake.

“Hmm, like this?” He said in a low voice, slithering down until he was between your legs, looking up at you with dark eyes. Your cheeks turned red as you nodded. He grinned and slid down your pajama shorts, “I can tell you must have liked that part, your little panties are already soaked.”

“It felt really good.” You explained, suddenly shy as Paul pulled your knickers to your ankles and propped your knees up for better access.

“Of course,” he mimicked your words from earlier, “I always give my baby what feels best. How could I not when she’s got a pussy this pretty?”

You whined as he kissed the very part of you he spoke of, still sensitive from the dream. “My, my, you make the sweetest sounds. No wonder I wanted to put them in a song.”

Paul licked a stripe up to your clit, making you gasp and then moan when he bit lightly on the swollen bud. Before he could delve any deeper, a familiar little voice sounded from the hall outside. 

“Daddy, I wanna see if Uncle Paul is awake!”

“Why don’t you knock and make sure he’s not still sleeping or busy?”

The stress on the ‘busy’ warned you and Paul that John probably heard you moan and that there would be not getting around Julian this morning. You looked at Paul, whose face was still pressed to your cunt, frozen in shock, with wide eyes. 

Julian wrapped on the door softly and Paul barely had time to pull your panties back up before the little boy was inviting himself in. Paul laid his head on your stomach, hiding as much of your naked legs as he could with his body and the blanket. 

“Morning Jules, what’s got you up this early?” Paul asked, trying to make his voice chipper in stark contrast from the sexy tone he’d used earlier. 

John snorted, “It’s 9:30, son.”

Both you and Paul shot John a look that made him put his hands up in surrender, though his face remained amused. 

“Why are you squishing (y/n) like that?” Julian asked and you had to smile at the concern in his voice. 

“We were just, uh, cuddling! Sometimes we like to cuddle like this, (y/n)’s got a comfy tummy.” Paul blurted quickly. Well, that wasn’t entirely untrue. 

“I used to live in my mummy’s tummy.” Julian commented as he clambered onto the bed. 

“I’m sure you did.” You agreed, stretching your arm around so Julian could snuggle into your side. “Are you excited to go swimming with Uncle Paul today?”

He nodded happily, “Yeah! Daddy said I’ve never been swimming before!”

“You’ve never been swimming in the ocean.” John corrected fondly, walking to the side of the bed, “Let’s let Paul and (y/n) get ready, hm? I think they’ve got a lot they need to...finish.”

If John wiggled his eyebrows like that one more time, you were going to clock him. 

“Okay,” Julian gave up in sadly, letting John pick him up. He turned his attention back to Paul, “Will you be ready soon?”

“Yeah bud, just give us a few minutes, yeah?” Paul offered. You gave him credit for maintaining his position with his head on your stomach, even though he had to twist his neck rather awkwardly. Julian nodded and waved bye as John carried him out of the room. 

Before they left, John turned, “Oh, Paul, you may want to wipe your chin. You’ve got drool or something all over it.”

Paul’s hand flew to his chin in record time and wiped away the ‘drool’, which you realized in horror was actually your arousal. You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed that you’d almost been caught by Julian. Paul, on the other hand, chuckled,

“I think we should make one of those.”

[sunstar-of-the-north]

Transformers Vita Nova: Chapter 1

        “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

         Mikaela sighed as she tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. The woman glanced at her pocket mirror. She had her hair up in formal bun, silver accessories pinned within it. The smoky grey eyeshadow and black eyeliner helped to accentuate her hazel eyes. Mikaela took a moment to fix her lipstick while she stalled for time.

           Once she was done fixing up, she took a moment to look around the restaurant from her table. It was a formal establishment and very popular by the looks of things. She saw a couple that were currently holding hands and giving each other bedroom eyes. Mikaela felt her stomach squirm. She brought her gaze back to the table. “RELAX! You have nothing to worry about! Sure it’s been a few years—but you’ve been on plenty of dates! Besides if it goes wrong it’s not like you have to see him again.” Despite what she thought, her stomach was still doing acrobatics.

           The woman’s mind soon drifted to earlier in the evening. Mikaela felt agitated as she remembered how Wheelie and Brains practically shoved her out of the house. This blind date was all their idea. She rubbed her temples, trying to calm herself. She knew that her friends were trying to help, but she had more important things to do! It takes time and energy to run a business. Mikaela knew that sacrifices had to be made.

           “What? Ya want to be a grease monkey all your life?! You spend way too much time in the shop! Go out and live a little Buzzkill!”

           Wheelie’s words echoed in Mikaela’s head. She turned her attention to the window with a huff. She’d admit, she did spend most of the time in the shop. What free time she did have was spent doing paperwork. Mikaela didn’t even spend that much time with Wheelie or Brains anymore, at least when it wasn’t work related. She was jolted out of her thoughts when there was a loud ruckus. Mikaela looked toward the entrance of the restaurant. A Transformer knocked over a planter and he was currently trying to clean up the spilt dirt. Mikaela couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his futile effort. “Poor guy. At least he’s trying.” The woman then gazed out the window, chin cupped in her hand. She soon was lost in her thoughts.

           “Uh—hi.”

           The greeting nearly made Mikaela jump out of her skin. She whipped her head in the direction of the voice. It was the same Transformer who knocked over the planter. “Oh no.” She swallowed her dread and gave the bot a polite smile. “Hi,” she replied. “So…you’re here for the blind date right?” She nodded. “Yeah.” The Transformer sighed in relief. “Ok good! It would’ve been really awkward to walk up to the wrong gal!” Mikaela just nodded in silent agreement. He then sat down. “The name’s Wheeljack,” he stated, offering her a hand. The woman tried to ignore the dirt as she shook it. “I’m Mikaela.” He gave her a playful wink. “Nice to meet ya Mikaela!” She continued to smile civilly.

           There was a moment of silence between the two. She was very surprised that her date was a Transformer of all people. She was expecting something completely different, more human so to speak. Wheeljack had mainly white paint with some red and green body work. He had a head covering that looked similarly to a pompadour. She had to bite back a giggle at the observation. The bot eyed Mikaela warily. “What?” The mechanic gave him a sheepish smile. “Nothing!” Wheeljack didn’t seem to buy her comment, but remained quiet. A few more moments of awkward silence passed. Mikaela decided to ease the tension. “You’re tie is—festive.” The Transformer brought his blue eyes to the red and white striped tie dangling from his neck. “O-Oh! Yeah it was a gift from my pal. It’s uh—the only one I have,” he said skittishly. “Oh…”

           Wheeljack cleared his throat. “So—that weather huh? It’s sure something! It can’t decide whether it wants to the snow to stay or go. Like make up your mind already!” The mechanic stared at him, baffled. “Uh—yeah.” He tugged nervously at his tie. Mikaela couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. He was a mess. Wheeljack then gave her a serious look, resting one arm on the table as he leaned over it. “Listen, I’m gonna level with ya. I’m not great at small talk. Never was.” He used his other hand to rub his neck. “I’m not exactly what you call a ‘social butterfly’.” Mikaela couldn’t help but be impressed with the Transformer’s honesty. She leaned back into her chair. “It’s ok…We don’t—have to talk.”

           “Isn’t that the whole point of a date though, talking?”

           “He has a point,” she admitted. Before she could answer him, a waiter came by their table. “Hello. My name is Joshua and I’ll be your server for this evening. Can I start you off with a drink,” he asked while passing out menus. Mikaela thanked her lucky stars and looked through the pamphlet. “I’ll have…a Bellini please.”

           “Excellent choice ma’m. And you sir?” Wheeljack stared at the pamphlet. Mikaela could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. “Gin and tonics are always good,” she stated. Wheeljack gazed at her and then back at the menu. “…You know…that does sound pretty good. I’ll have that!” The waiter dipped his head and jotted down their orders. With that he left the pair. Wheeljack gave Mikaela a grateful grin. “Thanks for the save.” She shrugged casually. “It’s no problem. I’m assuming you don’t go to these kinds of places much?” The Transformer scratched his head. "It’s that obvious huh?” She chuckled, feeling more at ease. “It’s ok. To be honest I haven’t been to a high class restaurant like this in ages.” Wheeljack gave the woman a lopped smile. “Really, a fancy gal like you? I imagined this would be a typical Friday night.” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I wish. My Fridays are spent underneath a rust bucket.”

           Her comment made him perk up. “Wait, you work with cars?” The woman nodded. “Yeah, I’m a mechanic. I run my own shop downtown.” The bot seemed impressed. “No kidding? How long have you had the shop?”

           “It’ll be the 5th year anniversary next June.”

           “Congrats! So I got to ask, what is the worst thing that ever happened to you on the job?”

           Pretty soon the duo was deep in conversation. Mikaela realized they both had a passion for everything and anything mechanical. She hadn’t chatted casually about cars for what seemed like years, especially with someone who didn’t act as if she knew nothing about them. “This guy is actually fun to talk to.” Before they knew it, their drinks came. Once the waiter asked the two for their food orders, they realized they didn’t even look passed the drinks section. They quickly picked their dishes. Mikaela was surprised to see that there was energon food on the menu. She shouldn’t be too surprised however. Things have changed, for the better in her opinion.

           The two continued their talk once the waiter left. “The hardest part is when people come into the shop and make a small problem even worse. Like I had this one guy who had a check engine light on for three weeks. The guy thought it was his fuel injector in the cylinder so he wanted that to be replaced. The code I ran for it didn’t match up with that kind of problem. But he was persistent. It turns out that it was bad spark plugs!” Wheeljack shook his head with a grin. “People always have to complicate things.”

           “I’ll drink to that!” Then the two started laughing as they tapped each other’s glasses. As she was sipping her drink, she noticed the badge on his chest. “So—you’re an Auto-Bot?” He paused before replying. “Yeah, I was. More or less,” the Transformer said as he swirled the liquid in his glass. “I was part of a separate team that didn’t necessarily follow the same rules as the Auto-Bots.” Mikaela was intrigued. She didn’t realize that there were different groups within the Auto-Bot ranks. “What was your team called?” He took a swig before answering her. “The Wreckers. We got the job done and we were fragging good at it!” Wheeljack grinned from ear to ear as he continued. “I’ll never forget the time me, Seabreeze, and Roadbuster took out a whole Decepticon armada with just three explosives and a small fuse.” Mikaela couldn’t help but smile at his reminiscing. His smile dropped a little. He had a far off look in his eyes; a look the woman couldn’t decipher. The mechanic thought it was a good time to change the subject. “So, what do you do now?”  

           “It’s nothing special really. I do contract work.”

           “Oh, so you do construction or something?”

           “Yeah, in a sense.” Before the woman could ask what he meant, their dinner arrived. The dishes were pooling with steam. Mikaela’s mouth was watering when the scent flooded her nose. Her stomach was practically calling out to her smoked salmon potato cakes. She looked at the food Wheeljack ordered. “What did you get again?” He picked up a pair of chop sticks as he answered her. “Dynamite sushi rolls. I haven’t tried them yet but Miko said they’re to die for.” Mikaela raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Miko?” Wheeljack was still struggling with his utensils. “She’s a spitfire with a punch to match! And a girl with good taste.” The woman chuckled as she watched him struggle. She scooted her chair closer to him. “Here. Let me help you.”

           At first he protested but one look from the mechanic put a stop to it. She guided his fingers to the correct position. “There. Now try.” The bot tried picking one of the pieces. He did struggle a little bit, however he did manage to pop the piece into his mouth. Mikaela watched him as she ate. He had a satisfied grin on his face as he chewed the food. The tension from before disappeared like morning dew as they enjoyed their meal.

           Their plates and glasses were soon empty. Mikaela let out a content sigh. “That was amazing!” The Auto-Bot nodded in agreement. “You said it! I’m definitely brining Bulkhead and Miko here!”

           “I bet they’ll love it. I would bring Wheelie and Brains, but it’s like bringing two bulls into a china shop.” Wheeljack laughed loudly, making her chuckle too. “I’m assuming their friends of yours?” She nodded. “Yeah, even though they can push it sometimes. Brains can behave himself but Wheelie—well he has little dog syndrome.” He gave her a sly smile. “It sounds like you have your hands full.” The woman agreed with him with laugh. Soon a quiet fell between the two. Unlike the one before, this quiet was peaceful. They just stared at each other, faces serene.

           They were jolted from their tranquil trance when their waiter came with their bills. Mikaela found herself not wanting the moment to end. “Wait…am I actually having fun?” She didn’t think that would be possible. But here she is, having a dinner with a complete stranger but somehow enjoying herself and his company. She then noticed Wheeljack was giving her a weird look. “What,” she asked a little defensively. “You look like someone lubricated in your energon.” Mikaela twisted her face in disgust. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts of that gross image. “Yeah, I’m fine…I just…” The mechanic chuckled softly and gave Wheeljack a lopsided smile. “I’m going to level with you. I wasn’t coming here expecting a good time. But—I actually am. This is the most socializing I’ve done in years.”

           Wheeljack grinned mischievously as he leaned closer to her. “You need to get out more. You can find better company than this old rust bucket.” She didn’t know why, but his comment sent her in a fit of giggles. He started to laugh too, causing the other patrons to stare at them in concern. The two were out the doors once they paid for their meals. Mikaela was about to head to her car when the bot asked her if she wanted a ride home. She was surprised by his offer but did explain to him that she had a car. “Well I can at least caravan with you. It wouldn’t be right of me to leave you alone in the night!” Mikaela gave him a playful look. “Hey, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” He winked at her. “Wouldn’t doubt it.” She did allow Wheeljack to escort her home though. She watched him from the rearview mirror. She started to contemplate to herself. “He’s such a strange guy.” The mechanic shook her head in bewilderment.

           Eventually the two made it to her house. It wasn’t a big building but it was big enough. She parked her car while Wheeljack transformed back into his primary form. He took a moment to observe her humble home. “Nice digs.” She thanked him causally. He then walked Mikaela to her door. They two faced each other. He was much taller than her, which was to be expected. She practically had to bend her neck at a ninety degree angle to meet him at eye level. Mikaela folded her hands over her red cocktail dress. “So—this is it,” she asked. “Yeah, it is,” he answered back. The two stared at each other in complete silence, the only noise being the commotion of the city.

           “Um—I had a fun time,” the human said. Her date crossed his arms and leaned against the house. “Yeah, me too.” They smiled at another. She then turned toward the door. “Good night, Wheeljack.” She was about to open it when he stopped her. “Wait!” She stopped, shocked by his sudden outburst. He cleared his throat, collecting his composure. “I uh—wanted to give you my number. I wouldn��t mind—hanging out again, if you want to that is.” Mikaela’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t know what to think. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest. The mechanic wasn’t expecting something like this. She did have a fun time, however she didn’t know if she wanted to pursue this. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. Mikaela looked at the door and then at him.

           “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

           She took out her phone. “Sure. What is it?” Pretty soon she had Wheeljack’s number saved on the device. The bot had a mile wide grin as he walked off. “Text me whenever you want to hang. Don’t keep me waiting too long though.” He gave her a wink and a salute. “Sweet dreams MK!” With that, he transformed into his alt mode and sped off. Mikaela watched him go, wondering what she got herself into.

           The woman quietly entered her home. She came to see her roommates asleep on the couch, TV on. Junk food was scattered across the floor. Mikaela sighed as she started to remove her shoes. She picked up the wrappers and tossed them in the nearby trash. She brought her attention to the sleeping Minicons. They were resting against each other, Wheelie snoring loudly while Brains was drooling. She shook her head with a small grin. She grabbed a blanket and put it on the resting pair. She then headed to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she went to straight to her bed. She laid down, resting her head on her arms. Mikaela thought back to her and Wheeljack’s talk. She couldn’t help but smile as she drifted off to sleep.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Not Yet

A/N: Up next in the “Play the Hand You’re Dealt” request lineup is this nerd. This takes place in the not so distant future for Benjamin and Reader in the TGTBT Timeline and features Benjamin thinking about something that hadn’t really crossed his mind until just now... 

Word Count: 1,807 

Requested by:  @malionnes​​ - Benjamin, General, That’s a first! & Memories or Photos

 “Is this your wife, Professor?” 

What? Benjamin’s head snapped up from the add/drop form the young woman had just handed him, unsure which part of her question was more jarring, which word was more responsible for the way that his pulse picked up. He’d only officially worn the mantle of Professor for- he glanced at the clock- forty five minutes, and Lee, Rebecca, a second year student whose name he recognized from one of Dr. Kesting’s previous classes, had just been the first one to address him by it. Guess I should get used to that before today’s lecture. 

It was still slightly surreal to him, the whirlwind of success and recognition he’d gained in the last few months. He’d become a shoe in for any consortium or conferences that the UCL History department was invited to, attending one in Edinburgh over the summer with another scheduled for Washington, D.C. in November. His previous role as Kesting’s research assistant had translated into a Reader position within the department, filling in to teach classes when needed, grading papers and proctoring exams. The completion of his Master’s level degree, a feat in itself that at times seemed impossible, had coincided with Professor Oberman’s  retirement, leaving an opening in the department. Kesting had offered it to Benjamin and Benjamin alone, and despite the fact that professorship had become a career goal, he was stunned that the opportunity had presented itself so quickly. 

“Will you do me a favor and pinch me?” He turned to you after getting off the line with Dr. Kesting, eyes the size of gold doubloons and a smile just as bright. He let out a laugh that was just an excited burst of air as he dropped his phone to the striped cushion of the corner patio seat, palms falling to your thighs. “This has to be a dream.” 

You bit your bottom lip as it curled upwards in a grin and shook your head before leaning in to kiss him. Throwing your arms around his neck, you gave a tug to pull him closer as you lay back against the pillows. Bracing himself with one hand on either side of your rib cage, he followed you down eagerly until his chest was pressed to yours, his arms slipping behind and underneath your body. You sighed and he deepened the kiss, wondering how life could possibly get better than this moment, when he felt a sudden sharp sting on his tricep. 

“Ow-” he pulled back to look at you, eyebrows drawn together and an amused smirk quirking one cheek to the side. “I didn’t mean literally, you know, I-” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the sunshine from them. “I know,” you rubbed your thumb over the skin you’d just squeezed and scooted back into a seated position. “But it’s not a dream.” Your hand slid down his arm until it found his, and he pushed his fingers between yours. “You worked so hard for everything you’ve earned, and you deserve every bit of it.” You licked your lips and narrowed your eyes, shifting closer to him. He raised your linked hands as you ducked under his arm to rest your head back on his shoulder, where it was before his phone had rung. “You need to realize that, Benjamin.” A warm rush washed through him as a breeze blew through the yard, ruffling the hydrangeas and lifting your hair to tickle his neck. “And I’ll pinch you a thousand times if that’s what it takes.” 

He shook his head, smiling to himself. She would. He blinked twice at Rebecca, the freckle faced girl adjusting her round lenses and leaning forward on the balls of her feet to inspect the framed photo on his desk. 

“She’s quite pretty.” Rebecca smiled. She is. Heart- stopping. Breathtaking. Captivating. All things that he knew for certain he hadn’t yet felt about another person at Rebecca’s age, that he hadn’t truly experienced until he’d felt them for you. 

But you weren’t his wife. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, already hating the way the next word would sound before he said it. “Girlfriend, actually.” He tapped his thumb against the stack of papers, the muffled crinkling sound joining the tick of the mechanical clock on top of the bookshelf that took up one wall of his small office. The face was a painted enamel with striking blue delft- style embellishments, a pair of carved wooden hands poking out of the middle to point at hand painted numerals. The entire gear box was open, full of ticking, whirring cogs and coiled springs working in a continuous loop. Each and every piece from the smallest screw to the commanding 12 and every tooth and groove of the innards had been painstakingly refurbished and cobbled together by your hands, the parts scavenged from here and there, from different time periods and of different materials. On the back you’d used a fine tip on your wood burning tool to carve the word Timeless. It was a secret, hidden message that only he knew was there. The clock had been your gift to him for completing his Master’s, and it had been the first thing that he’d hung in the small room. 

“Well, you look really happy together.” The young student gestured to the framed photo, your eyes bright over your wrinkled nose, mouth open in a laughing grin. He had one arm around you, holding you close to him as the other held the camera out in front to take the picture, but where you were looking directly at the camera, Benjamin had his forehead and nose pressed to your cheek. Even though his eyes were closed and only half of his face was visible it was clear that he was beaming. 

Benjamin nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks,” he gave her a kind smile that she returned. “We are.” Really happy. “So, Rebecca,” he brought the focus back to the reason that she was standing in front of him in the first place. “You want to transfer into my Untold Stories of the First World War class?” 

The girl’s eyes lit up with interest and she bobbed her head enthusiastically, stepping closer to Benjamin's desk. “As soon as I saw you’d been assigned to it I knew I wanted to take it. I mean,” her hazel eyes darted to the open office door, beyond which the rest of the history department faculty member’s offices lined the square-shaped hallway. Coast clear, she turned back to Benjamin and continued, a conspiratorial tone to her squeaky voice. “I learned way more from you than I did from Dr. Kesting last semester,” Oh! He felt his eyebrows jump in surprise. “And when you gave that lecture in Scotland?” He tilted his head. “I watched the livestream online.” She bit the inside of her cheek and chuckled, pointer finger coming up to scratch her forehead nervously. “I want to focus my thesis on the type of things that you study, Professor Greene,” Thesis? She’s thinking about that already? Her dedication and drive impressed him. Not a lot of people get this excited about dead guys and global catastrophes. “So when I heard that you were teaching this class I knew I wanted to transfer into it. I mean, if there’s still room obviously, I know it’s sort of last minute.” 

Last minute? It starts in two hours. He laughed and reached for a pen from the clay cup that sat next to the framed photo. “I think I can fit one more in.” He signed off on the form, giving his permission for the Registrar to add Lee, Rebecca, 2nd year over achiever and major History junkie to his class roster. “See you in class, then.” 

She thanked him and hurried off to get her class switch sorted and acquire the necessary materials from the bookstore, but the interaction stayed with him through the rest of the morning, even after Kesting and  another professor, Alba Hayes- Ancient Civilizations- poked their heads in to say good morning. 

“Is this your wife, professor?”   

The question had made his heart race and his adrenaline spike, at once catching him off guard and making complete sense. He had known that he’d wanted to become a professor of History after meeting Dr. Kesting, knew that he wanted to extend his time in Academia until he was old and gray and people took the wrinkles in his face as grumpiness before they got him talking about The Bolshevik Revolution, or what London looked like before WWII. His Master’s degree, the conferences, research papers- all of it kept fueling an ever building desire to consume knowledge and ignite it in others. 

But wife? It was a word that had been assigned to another woman, briefly. But Julia hadn’t filled out it’s meaning, not even after the papers were signed and the rings and vows exchanged. He thought about the life that the two of you were building together- the collection of coffee and tea pots that lined the shelf in the kitchen, glass and copper and clay and steel- the wall of books and records and knick knacks and clutter in the living room- the garden that you’d planted together, the jar of coins and buttons and scraps that rusted and oxidized and marked time in ways that clocks couldn’t on your dresser in the bedroom. He thought about the ups and downs and all the firsts that you’d encountered and gotten through together, another first brewing in his mind as he contemplated what making you his wife might mean for the first time.   

His chest swelled as he took a breath in through his nose, eyes flicking from your frozen laugh in the silver frame, to the clock that rhythmically ticked along with his thoughts.Timeless. That’s what he had with you. No deadlines, no expiration dates, no pressing matters or weighty decisions perched on razor sharp edges, just unassuming, accepting, supportive love. Just things he’d never known he could have. Just things you’d given him as freely as he’d given you. 

He looked down at the planner on his desk blotter, the whole calendar year displayed in the top corner with a circle around the week of Spring break, the word Istanbul?? Scrawled in blue ink. Professor Oberman had decided to retire in Turkey after his spur of the moment trip there last year proved to be something of a personal journey, and he’d invited Benjamin, and in turn, you, to come visit him for a few days. Just like masterfully crafted and lovingly restored gears in the clock, something started turning in his mind and he smiled. 

 “Is this your wife, professor?”

She isn’t. He took the pen he’d signed Rebecca’s form with and underscored the city’s name. Not yet. 

.

.

.

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[soranihimawari]

the truth is...

“Kindness is free. Love is free,” I said triumphantly raising the bottle of sake in the air.  Today was one I didn’t see coming at all. As fate would have it, running into my high school crush was not particularly high on my to-do list when I left the cafe I worked in earlier in the afternoon. I was hired on as one of the patisseries which specialized in parfaits and seasonal tarts during my last year in culinary school. Tonight, I was drunk on celebrating this latest turn of events.

“Of course,” my company teases me right as he raises my hand to his lips. he lets go of my hand with a cheshire cat like grin. “How could I ever forget that. C’mon, let’s get some food in you before you suffer the worse hangover in your life. I know a great place not too far from here.”

I took another swig of the sake bottle before I nodded.

“Lead the way Atsumu-san.”

I swore those hazel eyes never looked so inviting as they did at that point in my life. I recalled my coworkers’ conversation earlier in the middle of our shift:

“Say, y/n-san,“ the interning barista, Haruna, began.

“Hmm?” I hummed my response. “What’s up Haru-chan?”

“I was, well we were all wondering about something,” she said.

I picked up a towel to dry another cappuccino mug beside her. The other members of our cafe were within earshot when their senior intern asked her question.

“How come your boyfriend only comes in after we leave? When are you gonna introduce us?”

“Boyfriend? Haruna, I hate to break to you, but I don’t have one.”

“No, you do,” she begins to state her case. Haruna nervously twiddled her thumbs while our other coworker, Senna, approached us. “Tell her Senna-senpai.”

“We didn’t want to say anything, but there’s this hot blond guy who looks eerily similar to Miya Atsumu, y’know. From the MSBY Black Jackals? Anyways, he stops in here every once in a while right at closing time when it’s Erina’s turn to lock up the cafe. And apparently there was one day he asked me if you worked here,” Senna confesses. “You went to Inarizaki too, right?”

“Yeah, so?” I asked. My small smile was caught by both of them before I picked up the next mug to dry.

“You should of seen the relief on his face when Senna told him that you did and now he hasn’t stopped coming by on random mornings, but you’re never here when he comes by,” Haruna says with a dreamy sigh.

“Listen,” I said. I placed the second mug upside down on the drying rack and folded the drying towel before continuing. “The next time that blonde pretty boy walks in here is the day I will need to buy a bottle of really strong orange flavored sake to get through any sort of time with him.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” Haruna giggled.

“I do not.” Oh fuck, they’re both going to pick up on that slip, I thought.

“You’re blushing really hard now, Senpai,” Senna teased. “You still find him really hot don’t you?”

***

A couple of days go by without Miya stopping by the cafe. I had reminded my fellow cafe employees the MSBY team had a few away practice matches while promoting a newly signed member of their team. Even with this knowledge, their collective curiosity got the better of them inquiring about my relationship, or lack thereof, with the good looking setter. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later Miya Atsumu stopped in for his usual. Apparently there were perks of his frequent visits one of them being on his social media account pages tagging our cafe location with the quote “she always makes the best parfaits”. Business actually had been steady since then. After all, it helps when your three coworkers all had conversed with him once or twice before.

One Saturday around four forty-five in the afternoon, I was in the middle of setting my fudge in a star mold when Erina, Haruna, and Senna texted me to come out of the kitchen saying that there was a regular who had a question about the menu. Judging by the messages I received, I rolled my eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” I muttered before patting my hands on the apron; I had a coy smile on my face when I opened Haruna’s photo message. Damn Atsumu, you still are as handsome as ever. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door walking toward where my former classmate was standing on the opposite side of the display counter.

“Miya-kun?” my voice maintained its curious tone.

The blonde professional athlete stood in the middle of the cafe reading the menu wearing a casual sponsored street attire that included a hoodie with his team’s logo stitched on (along with a pair of cotton jersey shorts and running shoes). Compared to me being dressed in a humbling combination of tapered royal blue jeans and a sunflower yellow blouse paired with nonslip ebony ballet flats, the setter looked like he was in athleisure campaign.

“Hey there dollface. Long time no see.”

I folded my arms over my chest when he sat down in front of the short counter space near the espresso maker. I was skeptical of his presence here, but my brain kicked into fight or flight mode ever since I heard him poke fun at the odd shaped friendship chocolates I left for him on his desk when we were fifteen (to be fair, it was my second attempt at making sea salt chocolates at home, but apparently, the Miya twins were going through their high school jerk phase). I watched Atsumu from afar trash them without even tasting one in favor of his fangirls’ fancier box saying something about how he had to avoid excess sweets for a week because of some stupid bet he had going on with his twin.

Does he need to know he was the reason why I wanted to perfect my sweet making skills? No. Absolutely not. Because if he did, that ego of his would skyrocket and I’m actually ok with not letting that bit of info reach his ears. Damn it Miya, why are you still as good looking as I remembered you being? The fuck was I thinking when I was fifteen...Gods do I need a drink. I thought.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off training or at practice or something?”

“Nope. I got the day off and thought I should come by to see what’s the newest parfait my favorite old classmate made for me.”

“Bold of you to assume it’s for you, ‘Tsumu.”

Me saying his nickname caused him to raise an eyebrow at me before he closed his eyes and I watched his lips draw back into a wider smile.

“Erina, Haruno, mind staying behind to help Senna clean and lock up tonight? It seems the owner of this cafe and I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not their boss Miya, so you can’t tell them what to do.” I pushed my finger against his shoulder which caused a chortle to come from him. I turned around to face my coworkers with an amused stare.

“Erina, Haruno, mind helping Senna out tonight? I’m leaving early. Apparently I have plans with the starting setter for the MSBY volleyball team.”

That was at five-thirty that afternoon...

---THE NEXT DAY, 9:56a.m.---

The soft chirping of an alarm located on the nightstand next to the plush king sized bed where I found myself waking up in. I am by no means a rich lady and for the life of me, I couldn’t even afford a place like this with a killer view of the neighborhood. Suddenly, as I hoisted myself up from the sheets, my memory came back in little flashes. Memories ranged from me getting drunk with Atsumu at the local pub next to his brother’s restaurant to Atsumu’s declaration on which onigiri his brother makes was the absolute best in town and how not one of his ex-girlfriends could ever replicate it properly.

I don’t recall much of what we talked about at Onigiri Miya when Osamu left us to ourselves for a little bit, but I could of sworn Atsumu tell me how he was searching for the cafe I worked at trying to formally apologize about dumping out the chocolates I had made when we were in high school:

“I heard you made them at home, right?” he asked, watching my nose twitch before I rested my head in my palm on the table. When I nodded, I didn’t notice he was pouting when he muttered an, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, hah. I did. It was my second batch too. I made them look like stars because those were the only molds I had. If I had known they’d wind up in the trash, I wouldn’t have tried to make you feel better after the results of the spring tournament that year,” I said exhaling a sigh. I leaned my head against Atsumu’s shoulder gently reassuring him I had long since forgiven him. “But it’s in the past. Don’t worry about it so much, ‘tsumu. C’mon, the night is still young and I need at least one more bottle of sake before the convenience store stops selling them.”

---

“Oh my god,” I groaned when I flung the blanket off my top exposed body. My bra was still on, which was a good sign I guess, but instead of wearing my sapphire slacks, I noticed they were replaced with an older pair of white with black striped sweatpants (the color combination of the sweatpants reminded me of my high school’s volleyball team). I snatched the closest shirt I could find, yet I didn’t have enough time to throw that over my shoulders since I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Good, you’re awake,” a disembodied voice called out from behind me. Give me a damned minute, I thought. I know that voice; it belonged to one of my classmates whom I recalled walking into my cafe yesterday asking me to spend the evening with him. Inhaling a sharp breath when I felt the mattress dip behind me, I barely remember him telling me to confess about something when I was sober in the morning and for some reason I had agreed.

“You’re really pretty, y’know.” Miya stretched his arm around my shoulder before he stood up to help me to my feet. I was a bit skeptical at his compliment, yet he squeezed my shoulder twice allowing me to know that he said was true.

“You flatter me, Miya. Why don’t you try complimenting me when I’m sober, yeah?” I tapped the left side of his cheek when I hopped off the stool. 

“Fine,” he chuckled. “You’re drunk enough as it is. Let’s go. Later ‘Samu.”

I shook my head right as I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, I let out a shaky laugh when he pulled me to lean back into him. I was quick to notice the soft fabric of his shirt when my head came into contact with it. There’s no way in hell we’d ever sleep together because I might have let it slip we should try to avoid a publicity scandal...

“How’re ya feeling dollface?” his voice whispers into my ear. A shiver ran up my spine when he did this, allowing me to focus on anything else besides the sun peeping through the blinds of the window.

“Better now that I’m here, ‘tsumu,” I replied in a groggy tone, my voice was barely above a whisper. Honestly, I’m not as hungover as I thought either, so he must have coerced me into eating some left over onigiri he had when he offered his place to me to crash, I thought. Then, I made a mental note to add a few extra half dozen macaroons for his brother when I see him next time. What Atsumu said next threw me for a loop:

“That’s good because I want you sober to remember this,” his voice taunted me right before I felt his lips press into the sides of my neck, down my back, and onto my shoulders.

“Mmm,” my voice hummed. “’Tsumu, you’re~aah~gonna leave a mark.”

My lips curled in amusement at the map his kisses left behind. He mentioned something like he wasn’t going to stop until I properly forgave him, to which I replied with a resounding, “If I didn’t did you think I’d have accepted your offer of spending the night out on the town with you?” I held onto his hands when he paused for a moment to think.

I raised my head up when he stopped, a smug smile tugged his lips upward. I felt my eyes blink a few times processing what he was trying to ask me to do. Thankfully my partner was a patiently affectionate person this morning because he didn’t leave out much for me to figure out when I twisted around his hold to plant my lips over his own. Yet although I claimed I was sober, I was already drunk off this warmth radiating from him.

You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Atsumu last night - watching him talk, laugh, and frown (and the same with the way I noticed his stolen glances for a few seconds when he wandered into the cafe I worked in)- that I would know all there was to know about his lips, but I hadn't figured how kind they would feel pressed up against my own just yet.

When I pulled away first, I watched the way Atsumu looked down at me, his face a little flushed from my kiss. He smirked before pressing his lips on mine again and this time, the kiss was just as invigorating as before; his calloused hands roaming every inch of my body and with one of his hands becoming lost in my hair. Eventually I crawled into his lap, using his shoulders to steady my balance when he hoisted me up prompting me to straddle his upper body. My arms looped around behind his neck, running my fingers through his hair in a coquettish manner. I blew short streams of air onto the side of his neck causing his breath to hitch in his throat right before I burrowed my face in his neck kissing the space under his ear, causing me to feel his chest rumble when I heard him chortle. I seized the opportunity to guide Atsumu’s lips back onto mine. 

We were both lost in a sea of bliss after that because from what we both could tell, this was the starting point of a hard-earned love that took it’s sweet time to develop and gods be damned was his love worth it.

[bxcketbarnes]

Blind Date

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader

Words: 2400+

Author's Note: I've been wanting to pursue this idea for a while and I'm glad I finally did. It's so cute. Enjoy! xox

I’m sorry, but you’re just not my type.

To be honest I just really wanted to fuck, but you’re not putting out so…

I was just using you to make my ex-girlfriend jealous.

I sigh at the messages on my Tinder account, rubbing my forehead while setting my phone onto the table. “What the hell am I thinking? Trying to find a nice guy on a place like Tinder,” I scoff. I sit back against the couch in my apartment, getting caught up into my own thoughts.

Someone knocking on my door snaps me from my thoughts before they got too bad. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, standing up from the couch and heads towards the door. I open it to reveal my short-haired best friend who happens to be a famous singer. “Ashley, hey,” I greet with a small smile and invites her inside.

She steps into my apartment, slipping her shoes off at the door before trotting towards my couch, plopping herself onto it. “Hey, girl. How are things going?” Ashley, also known as Halsey, asks while I sit down next to her.

I shrug my shoulders, pouting slightly. “I’m alright I guess. One of my other friends told me to try out Tinder and it’s not going well.”

“Tinder? What is she, like nineteen?” She asks and I tilt my head to the side, shaking my head. “Sweetie, Tinder’s not gonna get you the kind of man you want. It’s gonna give you a bunch of dickheads who just wanna fuck.”

Explains some of the messages. “Oh,” I mumble quietly while glancing at the floor. “I wish I knew that before.”

Ashley looks to be in thought for a few seconds before her head snaps up, pointing her tattooed finger at me. “I know someone who’s perfect for you. Can I set you up with him?!” She excitedly asks me and I take my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“I don’t know is that a good idea?” I counter and she nods frantically. I decide to take trust in my friend, knowing she wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. “You know what? Sure. I trust you.”

She squeals and claps her hands together before taking her phone out. “This is great. He’s been looking for someone to be with for a while, even though he denies it,” Ash laughs and taps her screen quickly.

I chuckle at her, fiddling with my fingers as I keep glancing down at her phone. “Can I ask what he looks like? Or are you going to make me wait until the date? If he even accepts your offer.”

“Well, lucky for us he just did,” she grins and shows me the message. Red-haired Fool… Hm, damn it. “And, yeah. It’s going to be a classic blind date situation.”

I groan a bit and shifts in my seat, leaning my side against the back of the couch. “Damn it, Ash,” I chuckle as she sets her phone down on the table. “Can I know his name? I’m sure it’s not Red-headed Fool.”

Ashley gives me a playful dare, shaking her head. “Of course it’s not. His name is Ashton,” she informs me and I nod, trying to figure out she’s talking about. “Do you seriously not know who I’m talking about? Do you live under a rock?”

“Well, kinda, yeah,” I say with wide eyes. “What is he famous?”

“Yeah. He’s in a band,” she tells me and I let out a small oh. “But, he’s not a dick like a lot of band members can be. Like he’s a total sweetheart.”

“Cute,” I mutter with a small smile and her phone dings, signaling she got a message.

She picks it up, looking at it for a few moments before typing a reply. “Okay, so, he said he can do a dinner date Friday night at 8? Is that okay with you?” She asks and I nod my head, getting a bit nervous. “He asks if you want him to pick you up or just meet at a restaurant.”

“Uh,” I drag out and makes a weird face, not knowing which to pick. “I-I don’t know. I’m fine with either choice.”

Ashley nods her head while typing on her phone, her fingernails ticking against the screen. “Alright. He said that he’s down to pick you up. He’s like, “it’s a gentlemanly way to start a date,” she laughs.

I smile at the information, the nerves being replaced with excitement. “He sounds great,” I tell her and she nods her head.

“He really is. He’s been pretty unlucky with love and maybe you’ll break the curse,” she mentions while wiggling her eyebrows. I blush a bit, shrugging my shoulders a bit and chuckle quietly.

“Time will tell…”

-

I look at my outfit in the mirror for what felt like the thousandth time, glancing towards Ashley. “Are you sure I look alright?” I ask while smoothing the fabric of the off-the-shoulder top I’m wearing. I look back into the mirror, turning to the side to make sure I don’t look shitty as the white and pastel blue striped shirt are tucked into my jeans.

“Babe, you look breathtaking. Stop worrying. Ashton texted me and said he’d be here in about ten minutes,” she tells me. I pull the shirt out from my pants, smoothing out the wrinkles and inspects it.

“I like it better untucked,” I tell her and turn to face her. She lays on her bed, her eyes looking at the television that was on before they glance towards me.

She looks at me for a few seconds and nods her head. “I actually agree. I mean, you should never be ashamed of your body because it’s bangin’, but it does look better this way,” she informs me and I nod.

“Sweet. Thanks again for setting this up,” I grin and sit on the edge of her bed, putting on the sandals I brought with me.

“It’s no problem. Both of you are incredibly single, so I’m glad I get to set you two up,” she grins as her phone rings. Ashley looks down at it quickly. “He’s here, c’mon.”

The two of us leave her bedroom and I grab my wallet off of the island in the kitchen as she went to answer the door. “Hey, Ash,” her voice calls out and I begin to head towards the door, my heart beating quickly in my chest.

“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” He asks and I melt a little bit at the sound of his voice. God, he sounds cute. Fuck. Alright. I got this. “Is she here?”

“Yes! Come in,” Ashley tells him and invites Ashton into the house. My eyes widen at the sight of a tall red-headed man who’s dressed real sharp. “Ashton, this is my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my friend, Ashton.”

I give him a small wave, looking over the features on his face. Green eyes. Pink lips. Oh… he’s got dimples too? Fuck. “Hi, Ashton,” I shyly greet.

He smiles down at me. “Hi, Y/N. You look absolutely beautiful,” Ashton mentions and I grin, feeling my cheeks heat up a bit.

I glance down at the floor, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Oh, thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself,” I compliment him and he thanks me quietly.

“You ready?” He asks and I nod as he opens the door, allowing me to go out first.

“Be home before midnight please!” Ashley yells out the door as the two of us head towards his car. I look over my shoulder at her as she leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ll be sure to try,” Ashton chuckles.

“Have fun!”

Ashton opens the passenger door for me and I mumble thanks before getting in. I watch as he closes the door, jogging around the front of the vehicle before hopping into the driver’s seat.

-

I look around at the semi-fancy restaurant, licking my lips before my eyes move back towards his hazel ones, which were on me.

"Too fancy?" He asks while rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, no, no," I mutter quickly and shook my head. "I mean, maybe a little but it's fine." I give him a reassuring smile and reach over to grab the top of his hand, squeezing it a bit.

His gaze moves to our hands, adjusting it a bit to intertwine his fingers with mine. A blush comes to my cheeks, feeling my heart pounding against my chest. "Y/N…" he trails off, his eyes drifting up to look at me.

"Yeah?" I barely whisper, caught up in the moment as we seem to be in our own little world.

"I don't know what it is, but you… you make me nervous which isn't something that happens often with women. I don't wanna fuck this up, so if you want to go somewhere else by all means," Ashton confesses to me and I can't stop the smile coming to my lips.

"I appreciate you wanting to impress me, Ash. But, you don't have to bring me to some fancy place to do it. I'm a simple folk. I love old romantic type shit. It's what a lot of guys didn't like about me. If you trust me… I have the perfect place for us to go?" I mention to him and he nods his head, shuffling to get out of his seat.

The two of us leave the restaurant before a waitress stops by to serve us. "Do we need the car?" He asks and I shake my head.

I glance up at him for a quick second as we head in the direction of a diner my family used to go to all the time when we came here for vacation. Our hands brush together a bit and I can feel his fingers stroke the palm of my hand before intertwining our fingers again.

We walk up to Joe's Family Diner and Ash takes a giant step in front of me so he can open the front door. I smile at him thankfully, stepping into the place while he follows suit.

"Hi! Welcome to Joe's Family Diner. Is it just the two of you?" The waitress asks and I nod my head yes. "Alright if you could follow me."

Ashton and I follow the red-head to a table that sits near the windows, seeing the semi-busy street in front of us.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" She asks, prepping her notepad as she looks between the two of us.

Already knowing what I want, I took a quick glance at Ash before looking up at her. "I'll take a classic strawberry milkshake," I tell her and she nods her head, writing it down.

"You know what. That sounds amazing. I'll get the same thing," Ashton mentions and the red-head nods her head once again, writing down a number two.

"Alright! I'll get those for you right away," she smiles before heading towards the kitchen.

I can feel Ashton's eyes on me as I look towards the handsome man, crossing my arms on the table. "So," I start and lean forward a bit, smirking, "I heard you're in a band."

Ash lets out a laugh after I winked at him, giggles leaving my lips and he nods his head. "Yeah," he answers as our waitress sets our milkshakes in front of this.

"You guys know what you want?" She asks, interrupting Ashton.

"Yeah, can we both get the famous quesadilla's Joe makes," I tell her and she nods quickly, writing it on her notepad.

"Absolutely. I'll be back with your food!"

She walks off and I once again turn to face Ashton. "Anyway, you were saying," I mumble and press my knuckles to my cheeks.

"I was saying yeah, I am. I don't know if you've heard of us. We're pretty big," he smugly yet jokingly says while the both of us giggle.

"Oh, damn. I also heard you were the drummer," I flirt while twirling my hair, continuing the joke.

Ashton chuckles and leans back in the booth. "Yeah. You like drummers?" He smirks and I gently bite my lip.

"Hell yeah."

-

"I'm so glad you slightly dragged me out of the restaurant earlier," Ash starts as the two of us walk out of the diner, "because that was the best food I've ever had."

A smile forms on my lips as his hand brushes against mine. "I told you," I tell him and Ashton's fingers interlock with mine.

We got back to Ashton's car and he begins to drive back towards my place. His hand found mine as it rests on the center console, our fingers intertwined once more.

"You know," I begin and leaned my head against the seat, "I've had so many terrible blind dates that I hesitated when Ashley wanted to set me up, but I'm glad I went through with it."

Ashton takes a quick glance at me, smiling softly before looking back towards the road. "Honestly, same."

The car pulls into my driveway as I feel a bit sad, not exactly wanting this night to end yet. Ashton parks the car before we both get out, walking slowly towards my front door.

"I had a really good time tonight, Ash," I mumble as we come to a halt.

"I did too. Maybe we can do it again?" He asks and I nod my head.

"Of course," I smile and lean on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Ashton blushes after I pull away, feeling my cheeks heat up as well. He brings a hand up to my face, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Can I… Can I kiss you?"

My stomach erupts in butterflies as I nodded my head, feeling my heart pounds against my chest. The hazel-eyed man dips his head down, his lips connecting with mine. My hands grip his shirt, leaning on my toes as I deepen the kiss.

Both of us pull away around the same time, blushes on both our cheeks. "I'll call you tomorrow?" He asks.

"Absolutely. If you want. You can come over tomorrow and I can make brunch or something?" I ask Ashton and he nods his head.

"Sounds great. I'll see you," he mumbled and presses a kiss to my cheek.

"See you cutie," I grinned as I watch him walk back to his car. I bite my lip softly, turning towards my door to unlock it. I step into my house, closing the door behind me before leaning against it. "Best night ever…"

-

Taglist: @thebookamongmen @dukesnumber1 @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @maddz-world @gotta-try-something-new @twilightparker @ashs-cheergirl @therainydays4 @thatcheekychic @dashlilymark @shower-me-with-roses @aftermidnightclifford @lukeskisses @fayesfairylights @morningfears

[fics-not-tragedies]

One Day in December: Chapter 10 🎇

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - epilogue

That’s a wrap folks! I’m so happy when I can finally finish something I was writing. Also look out for epilogue tomorrow 👀

Words: 1480; Warnings: few mentions of previous sexual innuendos and some alcohol drinking; Summary: This year the pair hosts their own Christmas party.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​​;

December 2019 

“Festive” Andrew commented, a smirk on his lips as he rounded the kitchen island, moving closer to her, two glasses of champagne in his hands.

Bianca laughed, glancing down at her dress covered in sparkly red sequins,  “Listen, it’s the occasion, okay!” 

They made good on their vows to never go back to that holiday party again, and decided that this year, they were going to throw their own. At Andrew’s… and Bianca’s. It still took some time getting used to saying it, but… she’d moved in.

It was official.

After visiting him last December to celebrate the New Year; they both realized they wanted her to stay. It wasn’t easy. She had to leave her job in L.A. and the only place she’d known for almost a decade… but by the end of March; Dublin was her new home.

“All the guys are coming, yeah?” Andrew called to her from the hall, his lean body wrapped in a suit.

Bianca stood on tiptoes, struggling with the holiday lights she was stringing around the bar. They were excited to be hosting. Andrew loved it so much.

“Yes! Everyone’s coming!” Bianca called to him over her shoulder, balancing precariously on the bar stool. 

She nearly screamed when she felt his hand on her back, the both of them laughing. “Thought you could use some help.” 

“If you were a few inches smaller I could…” she teased, and he shouted at her, eyes twinkling before he playfully bit at her waist, “Just kidding.” 

*

“Gotta hurry up and do this quick…” Alex shifted his weight back and forth, holding the flask between the five of them. 

“Why’s that?” Rory looked at him, taking the flask, and bringing it to his mouth to knock it back.

Alex gave him a funny look, shoving the toy whistle he’d received in his cracker back between his lips, “Because this is our thing. No one else.”

“Not even your wives…” Bianca tsk-tsked him with a small smirk, as the flask was passed from Rory to Cormac to her, “Our little tradition.”

“Damn right. Yous were there from the beginning Bianca.”

Alex chuckled and wiped his mouth, “She was even once the honorary crew member the year you couldn’t make it.”

Cormac winked at her, “And I bet she did me proud.” 

Bianca laughed, holding her chest, the holiday spirits burning on their way down as always. Andrew choked on his sip beside her when Alex made an inappropriate comment, “God, I missed you guys.”

“Me too” Andrew murmured, handing the flask back to Ryan and busying himself with his own paper crown. He slowly unfolded the thin purple piece of paper, remembering the very first party. 

“Remember how pissed you  were, Andy? That first year? Didn’t shut the fuck up about Bianca that whole tour.”

Andrew’s face flushed, and he looked down, nodding, “I do, yeah. Of course I do.”

“Now look at you two!” Rory teased them, reaching over to pinch Andrew’s cheek.

“Alright, alright!!” Andrew yelled, his arm sliding around Bianca’s waist, “Let’s have some fun then, yeah?”

*

“Have you been waiting here long?” she asked him, her voice soft, shy. Andrew glanced up, grinning at Bianca’s perfect smile and those eyes of hers he’d fallen in love with ten years ago.

“Em… not too long… a minute or so” he glanced up towards the front, seeing another person leave the room and three girls go in together, “Well… looks like it’s moving fast, eh?” Andrew assured her, feeling like he was experiencing a very strong sense of deja vu. 

She nodded, seemingly relieved, “Good.”

Andrew chuckled, suddenly remembering the woman standing across from him back when she was a girl he had a crush on in a cute little dress and blinking reindeer antlers. Now it was a striped red and white towel wrapped around her waist, a red sequin dress, and a sprig of mistletoe on a bouncy spring on her head. 

Still the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Too many ales, then?” He teased, his voice deep and slightly intoxicated as he looked her up and down.

She snorted, “Partying with you guys? Of course too many ales. You know that.” 

Andrew grinned, leaning in to her conspiratorially, “Could always skip the line and go upstairs to ours.”

“We could, couldn’t we?” she pressed her forehead to his and pecked at his lips. 

“Mmm…” he moaned, tasting the mintiness of her ice cold drink on her lip, “Putting that thing to good use for once, are you?”

Bianca scrunched her nose up, the facial hair Andrew was attempting to grow again tickling her lips, “Yeah… finally” she teased him, “You’re the only guy I’m kissing tonight, though… don’t worry” she assured him as the mistletoe sprung back and forth on her head. 

“Wasn’t worried” he told her softly, pecking at her lips a few more times, “Only took us… almost ten years now, didn’t it?”

“Mmm… almost whole decade of pining for you” Bianca hummed against his mouth, “Come on…” she held her hand out, gesturing towards the staircase. Andrew’s hand slipped into hers, squeezing tight.

*

“Oh, the weather outside is fright-ful…”

Bianca smiled, tightening her hold on his hand, fingers laced together, cheek pressed to his chest. With Andrew’s arm wound around her, they swayed back and forth to the very familiar opening notes of a song they both loved quite fondly.

The party was nearly completely fizzled out in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve; but still they danced on over the debris on the floor of their living room. Andrew had silver tinsel wrapped around his neck, and each time they turned it tickled Bianca’s nose. 

“What is your favorite memory? From the parties?” He asked, his lips brushing the top of her tawny-colored hair.

“I was quite fond of you in that maroon sweater, serenading me…” she murmured with a little smile, quickly swallowing back the lump in her throat that always followed shortly after she was reminded the events that followed directly after the karaoke serenade that particular year.

“You mean the year you broke my heart?” Andrew asked coolly, and when her head whipped up, mouth open ready to protest, he grabbed her chin and kissed her quiet, “Just kidding, love. The one time you broke my heart versus the countless years I broke yours…”

“I’m not taking this trip down memory lane if you’re just gonna keep a tally of who was more destructive each year…” Bianca warned, the colors from the Christmas lights reflecting in her bright hazel eyes. 

“Promise, I’m not” he assured her. His eyes swept over her, the same girl he’d fallen in love so long ago now a permanent part of his life. If someone had told him back when he was twenty… “Thought you were gonna say, em, that one year in the coat room.”

“Oh” she breathed, eyes widening, “Ohhh…” her pretty pink lips curved into a smirk, “Well… that year was… God, I couldn’t believe how fucking hot you were when I saw you that year.”

Andrew chuckled, remembering the exact look on her face when she entered the room, fur coat half-unbuttoned, “That skin tight dress you wore…”

She nodded slowly, in a trance remembering Every. Single. Detail. Especially the after-party in her flat directly after that.

“I think it was a good year for both of us, huh?”

“Yeah except for when you came the instant you were inside me.” 

“HEY!” Andrew shouted, drawing the attention of a few people still smoking on the patio. He laughed, his cheeks blazing a bright ruddy red as the embarrassment crept up his neck. Bianca couldn’t stop giggling, “In my defense… I’d waited an awfully long time for that to happen.”

“That’s very true. C’mere… ” she wound her hand around the tinsel, pulling him down for a kiss, “And if I recall properly… you more than made up for it-”

He’d crushed his lips against hers before she could even finish her thought, “Now that’s one of me favorite memories…” they smiled and laughed as they kissed, “Not my absolute favorite but… it’s up there.”

The tension that had built up between them over the years hadn’t disappeared; and the honeymoon phase was seemingly infinite. Bianca always wanted to adorn his perfectly sweet face with endless amounts of kisses, “My favorite memory has always been the look on your face the moment we spotted each other at the party each year.”

“Mine too” he confessed, his muddy green eyes dancing in the light from the fireplace. “Didn’t thought that, we, em, we’d ever make it here.”

“Me neither. But here we are.” 

Andrew took her hand and spun her away from him, the two of them laughing as he pulled her in real close again, “How are we gonna manage to top this next year?”

[rogerinathehystericalqueen]

Hey! I saw you’re taking requests so I’m jumping in. Can you write a Bri x reader where they meet at a party/night club of some sort and there’s like crazy tension and things get a bit steamy 😏😏😏

A/n: I know you said “a bit steamy” but I went full on filthy oops

Also I lost like half of this and had to rewrite it so that made me sad and this was delayed a bit so sorry.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You sighed before taking another sip of your drink. Well what a perfectly boring night.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?” The voice startled you a bit. When you turned around, you were met by a tall, skinny figure with perfectly angular features and what seemed like a halo of dark curls surrounding his face. You realized you were probably staring, so you quickly shook your head and answered his question.

“Wasn’t planning on being alone. I got stood up.”

His face fell slightly.

“What an arse, he probably doesn’t deserve you anyway.” His glistening hazel eyes bore into yours. “Mind if I sit here?”

You nodded. Normally you would feel a bit skeptical about some random guy at a bar, but something about him made you feel... at ease? And he intrigued you. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t gorgeous. Everything about him made you instantly enjoy being around him. Even his voice was so calm and soothing- you could listen to him talk for ages.

He sat in the seat next to you and held out his hand.

“I’m Brian, by the way.”

You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Brian. I’m y/n.”

“Y/n.” He paused, as if to think. “Beautiful.”

Once the two of you got started, you couldn’t stop talking. You talked about anything you could think of, and suddenly, it was like you’d known each other your whole lives. The only thing that stopped you is that you both lost track of time and the bartender had to ask you to leave because it was time for the bar to close. Once you both stepped outside, realization dawned on you that you would have to walk all the way home in your drunken state. You groaned at the thought.

“Something wring love” Brian asked.

“Just not looking forward to walking home like this is all.”

“Um, if you’d like, you could come to my place? It’s pretty close.”

“You sure that’s alright?”

“Of course, c’mon lets go.” He grabbed your hand and entangled your fingers and you began walking to Brian’s apartment.

Once you arrived at his house, he immediately went to put the kettle on for some tea.

“I can give you one of my shirts to sleep love. That outfit you have on doesn’t look the most comfortable.”

“That’d be great, thank you.” Just then he walked out of the kitchen and towards the sofa you were sitting on, two mugs of tea in hand.

You gratefully took a mug of tea, eager to have some and try to calm down. Once you had both finished, he showed you to the bathroom and gave you a toothbrush, along with the clothes he promised earlier.

“You can take my bed, it’s just the next room. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Are you sure Bri? I don’t need to.”

“Don’t be silly of course you do. Make yourself at home.” He smiles before walking back towards the couch.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You turned over for probably the hundredth time tonight. Judging by the rustling sounds coming from down the hall, you guessed Brian couldn’t sleep either, but you were too shy to get up and go to him.

Screw it.

You got up and padded down the hall towards the sofa and your suspicions were confirmed. Brian was there, sitting up, very much awake.

“Couldn’t sleep either love?”

“Yup.”

You stood their in awkward silence for a moment before speaking.

“I, uh, was wondering-if you don’t mind of course, do you um, wanna join me?”

Even in the dark you could make out the smirk that had formed on Brian’s face.

“‘Course love.”

Once you were back to Brian’s bedroom, you snuggled up close to him in the bed, already feeling calmer.

“Bri?”

“Yeah sweets?”

“Is it ok if I kiss-” you were cut off by Brian’s lips meeting yours. His lips were soft, but he was missing you with such intensity it made your heart race and your breath leave you. He flipped you so he was on top of you, practically devouring you. Soft moans were slipping past your lips more and more frequently. You brought your hand up to his face, softly dragging it down the rest of his body, eventually resting on the very prominent bulge between his legs, only covered by his boxers, eliciting a deep groan out of him.

“Need you Bri.” He began to trail his lips down to your neck, finding a sweet spot in no time and biting down hard enough that you knew there would be a mark there. One of his hands crept under the hem of your- well, his shirt, trailing over the skin underneath.

“Get this off love.”

You rushed to pull off the shirt, getting quite impatient. You were left completely naked underneath him, save for your sinfully thin panties which you could hardly call an item of clothing.

Brian’s looked you up and down, jaw hanging open slightly.

“Fuck, look so perfect baby.”

You hooked your fingers around the waistband and pulled them down your legs, throwing them somewhere in the room- you didn’t really care.

Your breathing quickened when Brian brought a finger down between your legs, dragging it up your slit collecting your wetness on his finger.

“Mm so wet for me.” He brought the finger up to his mouth, sucking your juices off it

“I think your wearing too many clothes Bri.”

“Eager aren’t we hm?” He chuckled.

“Just want you so bad Bri, please.”

“C’mon now don’t be impatient.” He pulled his shirt over his head and quickly slipping out of his boxers.

You brought your hand up to his hard cock, stroking it slowly.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “Don’t tease.”

He began kissing you again, trailing his lips down to one of your breasts, teeth lightly tugging on your nipple before moving to give the other one the same attention. While he was doing this, he brought a finger up to your dripping pussy, dragging it up your slit, collecting your wetness on his finger, causing you to whine.

“So wet for me.”

“Please Bri.”

He ignored your please and went back to kissing down every inch of your body, slowly creeping closer and closer to where you needed him. He got Lowe and lower until his mouth was hovering in front of your pussy.

Without warning, he suddenly liskfee a flat stripe up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking in a way that caused you to scream out a string of curses intermingled with his name.

The moment he brought his fingers up to your hole and pushed into you, well that was when you knew you were done for.

“SHIT. Oh fuck, Bri, right there, don’t stop oh my god. You’re so fucking good at that. ‘M gonna cum, please Bri, fuck.”

“Cum.” He said against you- no it was more like an order. Just as he said that, he curled his fingers directly up into your g-spot and you saw white. Your orgasm washed through you, screams falling from your parted lips. His fingers slowed and his mouth collected everything you gave him as you came down. You were breathing heavily when he brought his face back up to look at you.

“Shit.” You mumbled seeing his lower face covered in your juices. Brian, once again, had that god damn smirk on his face. Before you could contemplate what was happening, he flipped you over so your face was in the pillows and your ass was stuck up in the air. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered in quite possibly the sexiest voice you have ever heard.

“Think you’ve got one more in you hm?”

“Oh my god yes please fuck me Bri. Need you so bad, please.”

“Condom?”

“No, ‘m on the pill. Want you to cum in me please Bri.”

“Jesus Christ woman. You’ll be the death of me.” He playfully slapped your ass. You moaned at that.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You like that baby?”

Your cheeks heated up and you were thankful you were face down so Brian couldn’t see the blush that was undoubtedly on your face.

“Yeah.” You said quietly. “Please fuck me Bri.” You raised your ass higher in the air, proving to him even more how desperate you were. He delivered another light slap to your ass as he lined himself up, running his cock through your folds before gently pushing the tip into you, slowly inching his way into your cunt. When he was about halfway down, you began to feel a familiar burning stretch, coaxing a whimper from you.

“You alright sweets?”

“Yeah, just fuck, you’re so big Bri.”

He instantly felt bad, as much as he was enjoying this, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“‘M sorry love, want me to pull out?”

“Pull our and I’ll slap you. Keep going please.”

“As you wish.” He chuckled. He let out a guttural groan when he bottomed out.

“Fuck baby, so tight and wet around me, ‘m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither oh god please move Bri.”

He slowly pulled back until he had almost completely slipped out of you, then suddenly rammed himself back inside you, repeating this motion and building a strong pace that left endless moans falling from both of your mouths.

“Fuck Bri you’re so deep, god.”

Brian had settled on lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, causing him to hit that spot deep inside you that literally made you see stars. The only sound in the room, other than both of your moans, was the obscene wet noises of your skin slapping together.

“Shit, y/n, feel so good, ‘m gonna cum.” He brought a hand down to rub frantic circles on your clit, providing the last bit you needed to send you tumbling over the edge.

“Br- Brian, fuck fuck fuck ‘m coming, fuck right there.” A last strangled cry of his name left your lips before you fell limp. Brian was now desperately thrusting into you, chasing his own release.

“Y/n, shit, I’m, oh god, fuck yes.” He pushed so deep into you and then stilled, his hot load shooting into you and dripping down your thighs as he pulled out of you, just barely moving from on top of you before collapsing on the bed right next to you.

“Well I definitely don’t think I’ll have any trouble sleeping now.”