#this is the puppy moustache

[jessieren]

Happy Moustache Monday

I was going to post one/both of the pics included in this article but I loved the review so thought I'd add a bonus link with the photos embedded.

Wish I'd seen this - sounds like it was fab

[madrabit]

When you and @185northgower take your little crack fic too serious, and it spirals... we are not even done yet

When they walk towards the indicated section, Jan slings his arm around Bojan’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple before murmuring,”Baby, could you please not make us get thrown out of Ikea?”

✨️✨️✨️

The grin on his face makes Jan laugh out loud and he shakes his head, trying to keep the mental images Nace's words created at bay, lest he wants to become a reason for them to be kicked out.

The way these men spend way too much time in Ikea when it's not even the focus of the fic is ridiculous, but who wouldn't get distracted in that showcase room??

✨️ First chapter will be posted sometime today on ao3✨️

[braemjeorn]

hearing ouken beg for his brothers to help him just reminds you how young he actually is

[memyselfandtheemperor]

For the new comers  that are insterested in reading  the whole comic thingy from the beginning, you can do it here:

https://memyselfandtheemperor.tumblr.com/post/685417116140273664

Cheers!

[doomzday-zone]

you need to understand infinites teeny scraggly beard is sooooo real to meee<33

[brainwashboy]

anything fun going on today puppy? more edging?

~🥀

Edging has gotten really really hard. Every time I edge I worry I'm going to cum. Still I've been edging whenever I get a moment free. It's like I can't keep my paws off my cunt!

Otherwise I've been really busy. That's why I'm hoping you guys make Fridays overstimulation challenge fun. I need a break from all this non kinky life stuff 😮‍💨

[ectopuppy]

i hate four arms stupid little getup in ultimate so much :(

it makes me even sadder that they actually changed it just enough to look cool in heroes united but we never got this design in the actual series

[boop-le-snoot]

can the people sending me hate mail please provide the context because randomly dropping a word salad anonymously into my askbox makes you look like a di*ney cartoon villain character and thus renders me unable to take you seriously

[35gofbeansprouts]

as is tradition i made the first attempt bigger than intended and had to start again

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I needed guidance, so I went to my friend’s house. He was a Hawaiian elder, a chief or something, so I knew he’d be able to help me with my problems.

While I was there telling him what was bothering me, this little gray puppy ran up and hopped in my lap, started licking me all over. He told me the dog just showed up one day, so he’d been feeding it, but he can’t touch it since he’s allergic to dogs. It was so cute, this little gray thing with dark gray eyebrows and a dark gray moustache.

The elder had to get up to get his allergy medication, and on his way to the bathroom he told me I should take my boat and sail, go see the world. I was looking at the art on his walls and decided I’d take the dog with me, as a companion, so I named him Eyebrows ‘cause of his dark eyebrows.

[strawberry-peach]

Me, watching reactions to that series again because I apparently like suffering: these men are breaking my heart just like the first time, why am i going through this again? i need to let it go

Me, days later, after more reaction watching, going through his fucking tag on this hell site: i am in emotional pain again haha here's for another month of suffering!

[unorganisedalienrubbish]

Shoutout to the mad cool grasshopper I said sup to on the way home today. He chillin

[discopaddock]

WALKS - MAX VERSTAPPEN

PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: max has always been a cat dad. what happens when one of his cats leave him and a cute neighbour with an adorable dog finds it?

GENRE: fluff and nothing more

WORD COUNT: +/- 1.5k

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hii! wrote this and then i go write all requests i promise, byeee

Life was good.

It really was since Y/N moved to her new apartment in Monaco. It was big, spacious and bright – everything a girl needed in life.

Well maybe not everything because she still didn't have that dog she dreamed of since childhood. Well she didn't until she did.

The young judge a month after moving in decided to go to France and adopt a dog.

That one little cavalier spaniel cost more than the rent for two months but did she really care? No, she didn't.

The little puppy was so beautiful and funny that Y/N couldn't regret taking her in. Hazelnut was one pretty dog who loved walks and her owner.

One day Hazelnut was sleeping in the sunlight at the balcony, while her owner was at work. Then someone jumped on the floor next to her, so she immediately woke up and saw a bengal cat. The puppy started to bark at the stranger who started hissing at the puppy as an answer.

And they would do that for the next few hours until Y/N showed up in her flat.

“Hazelnut! Where are you?” the girl yelled through the apartment, while she was taking off her heels. She quickly put them in the locker and walked to the balcony where she knew her little doggie was. “And who are you, little one?” she asked as she saw the cat, which was currently sitting on the window sill. Hazelnut was still angry at the cat and didn't stop barking until Y/N started to scratch her behind her left ear. “Don’t be so rude Hazelnut, you know you're my one and only” the girl told her dog and looked at the cat again.

It looked like it didn't care at all that it wasn't with their owner and it seemed to enjoy the fact that it was in someone's else's apartment.

“Come on, Hazelnut, I need to eat first, then I start to think what to do with our guest” the girl told the dog and took her to the kitchen.

Y/N opened the fridge and sighed only. She forgot to do the groceries, again. Work was taking her whole time and some days she even forgot to walk Hazelnut before going to sleep.

“Okay, we have to find the owner first” she sighed and walked to get the cat from the balcony. It easily found comfort in her arms and purred, while she was carrying it.

All Y/N knew was that anybody on her floor didn't have a cat, so it had to live on some upper floor. Thankfully there were only two upper floors and at one was only one penthouse.

She quickly knocked on someone's door. A woman opened it and only smiled when she saw the cat.

“Hello, is this your cat?” Y/N asked with a warm smile, thinking that she already found the owner with the first try.

“No, he's not” the woman laughed only. “His owner lives in the penthouse upstairs,” she added. “He was asking for him, so quickly go upstairs because Max's probably shaking right now” she laughed again and the girl only nodded.

“Thank you, have a nice day” she said and the woman wished her the same. The girl quickly grabbed Hazelnut’s lead and stepped on the stairs.

Y/N finally stepped in front of a wooden door that looked extremely expensive (her door didn't look so) and pressed the doorbell button. She waited for like half a minute when the door opened.

“Hello, I’ve heard that this is your cat,” the girl smiled a bit, when she saw a devilishly handsome guy, around her age with blonde hair, moustache and huge blue eyes. He only sighed with relief when he saw his cat in her arms and smiled back at her.

“Yes, hi, it's mine” the guy said and carefully took the cat from Y/N's arms and put it on the floor next. “I’m really sorry, Sassy doesn't usually run away like that, it's Jimmy's job tho. But also thank you very much, that cat is really dear to me” he laughed a bit and then Hazelnut started to jump on his legs and sniff him. “I’m Max by the way” he giggled and squatted to play with the puppy. “And you?”

“I’m Y/N,” she answered, smiling. Her little dog was wagging her tail and smiling. Hazelnut was smiling and it wasn't caused by Y/N.

“Such a beautiful dog,” Max said, while petting Hazelnut. “Do you want to come in? I can assure you that I have a lot of space inside” he asked and looked at her face but she just couldn't say yes. She was starving at that moment.

“It’s really nice of you but I have to do grocery shopping and go on a walk with Hazelnut” the girl answered, her expression sad.

Max was such a good looking man, she wanted to know him better.

“Oh, no, it's okay,” he said with a warm smile. She was such a pretty girl, he wanted to know her better. “Maybe I can go on that walk with you? We can grab some coffee after. I really want to thank you for finding Sassy” he said.

Y/N felt something moving in her stomach. How could she say no to him? Him an absolute Greek god.

“Okay” she said. “I’ll be here when I'm ready, okay?” she asked and he only nodded and patted the doggie's head for the last time. “Bye Max!”

“Bye! See you later!”

Y/N quickly left Hazelnut in her apartment and grabbed her car keys. She quickly drove to the supermarket and bought everything she needed. This shopping was huge.

When she was standing in the elevator she was with a woman who was going on the highest floor, so to Max’s penthouse. Something shifted in Y/N. What if this was his girlfriend? Or wife? What if he was married and she just liked a married man just because he was good with her dog?

She went to her flat quickly and took some deep breaths while putting everything in its place. She almost broke the jar of tomato sauce but fortunately it didn't happen and she still had her dinner.

Then she quickly made herself pasta and tea and watched some news on TV in Italian to practice some language. She spoke French fluently but unfortunately didn't do the same with Italian and it was kinda difficult in her work as a judge because she couldn't understand everything.

When she was done, she brushed her teeth and took Hazelnut to Max's penthouse, praying he remembered about the walk. She pushed the doorbell again and waited. Waited for like two minutes until a small girl, probably five years old, opened the door. Then Max showed up and took the girl in his arms.

“Hi!” he said only with a smile. The little girl only waved at Y/N, also smiling.

“Hey” she replied, while Hazelnut ran at the man and started jumping at him.

“Can you give me one second? I just need to put on shoes” Max said and she only nodded. “Go to mum, uncle will be back soon” he told the little girl, who only hugged him and ran to her mother.

Max quickly grabbed his phone and keys and left the penthouse.

“Sorry, my friends visited” he said only, smiling at her.

“You can go back to them! They're your guests!” the girl said and Max only giggled.

“No! It's okay, they showed up without information before and I knew about this walk with you and this lady before, so they understand” he assured her as they were in the lift. “So what are you doing for a living? Because I don't think that you're Monégasque” he asked, giggling.

“I’m a judge, I work in court” she answered. “And yeah, I'm not from Monaco. I've been living here for three months now” she added. “And you?”

“I drive in Formula 1” he said and tried not to laugh at her reaction.

“I know that, I just didn't want to be some crazy fan. Do you know how hard that is?” she laughed and he only shook his head. She was such an adorable girl.

The walk went smoothly. And then the first date. And the next date.

“I’ll be watching you on Sunday” Y/N announced, watching Max as he was packing his clothes to the suitcase.

“You should really take some sleep. You don't need to watch every race” he said, looking at her, while zipping the suitcase. “Go to sleep on Sunday” he said, standing in front of her, his face extremely close to her.

“Make me” she answered, so he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. “Okay, I'll go to sleep on Sunday” she said and he only laughed, hugging her in his arms.

masterlist

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating:��None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[vivwritesfics]

Jake adopting a dog and telling the whole squad about how excited he is to pick him up, it’s called brisket and they all expect it to be some big ass dog but it’s actually brisket

It wasn't that Bob was scared of dogs. No, he loved dogs, had always wanted a dog. But he had a lack of experience around dogs, and that reacted a sense of anxiety around them.

So when Jake told the squad that he and the wife were getting a dog, he acted nonchalant about it. He was excited for his friend, his colleague. He knew how excited Jake was and he wasn't going to burst his bubble.

"So, what?" Bradley started as he put his beer on the coaster. "Are you having a dog... shower?"

"Dog shower?" Jake repeated, looking at Bradley like he was insane.

Bradley shrugged his shoulders and wiped the moisture away from his moustache. "You know, a baby shower. But for your dog."

"Bradley, what the actual fuck," Jake said, but then they were all laughing. Jake pulled the phone from his pocket. "I'll ask the wife," he said and pressed it to his ear.

That was how they had a dog shower (dog shower, the phrase was ridiculous, but the Seresin's loved it. Thank you Bradley Bradshaw). The squad did what they would do if they were throwing a baby shower. They brought gifts that the expecting couple would need.

A big dog bed, a sturdy lead and a big, spiked collar. They didn't notice the couple's face when they handed over these gifts for a big dog breed. A Doberman or a Rottweiler, a big breed was what they expected from Jake.

They didn't expect little baby Brisket. The tiny little puppy that wouldn't get very big. Jake walked into The Hard Deck with the tiny, little, puppy in his hands.

"Is that it?"

Natasha hadn't meant to ask it like that. She just wasn't expecting the Seresin's to rescue (because, yes, Brisket was rescued) such a tiny dog.

"Hi, baby Brisket," Javy said as he walked over and took the dog from Bradley's hand. "Come sit with your uncle Javy."

Jake grinned as he sat down. "What?" He asked as his entire squad stared at him.

"Where's the rest of him?" Mickey couldn't stop himself from asking (Nat smacked his shoulder and called him rude for that).

Jake stared at him. "Don't insult my son like that," he said and grabbed Brisket from Javy's hands. "The wife saw him, fell in love, and I couldn't say no."

But, by the look of it, Jake was just as in love with Brisket. He sat back in his seat and let Brisket rest on his chest, the puppy promptly falling asleep.

[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Two.·˚✧

#2|Cunnilingus|#2

Harvey x Reader - Word Count - 2.1k

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Harvey was the face of professionalism. Honestly. His portrait would be plastered right next to the word in the dictionary if such a thing were possible. Always greeting his patients with a caring smile, a sympathetic tilt of his head and a soft hum from his throat as he listened to their queries.

He was nothing but reliable - He thought so at least - Performing his duties with the utmost patience. Slowly, purposely, with care and attention, dexterous in his movements performing the things he needed to do swiftly, oozing with easy confidence.

A pen click and a scribbled prescription here, a routine check-up there, a steady hand applying sticky butterfly stitches to poor Sam after another minor skateboarding mishap.

The clinic was a special thing, a space for him to rule over. A place where he was fully in control, in charge with the unique knowledge only he had access to thanks to his years of dedication - It had him overseeing his little pocket of town. The man had a sense of responsibility, with a multitude of things to stress and worry about, day in the moment he opened up those doors and day out when he finally said goodnight. From the early hours of the morning to when the sun finally sets itself over the horizon, Harvey was relied on, depended upon, really, by the townsfolk.

When the clinic finally closes up for General Practices, when those fluorescent lights flicker off and plunge the corridors into darkness, his duty for the day is over.

And so is Harvey’s strong, confident mark of control.

“Hi..” It's a simple word, soft and breathed through a sheepish laugh, the air from the sound brushing over the tender inner of your thighs and the decadent sweetness between them. Saliva pools under Harvey’s tongue, coating over his molars when he makes an effort to swallow it down. He looks at you, from down there, sitting neatly on the floor in between your legs while you half-sit before him, legs spread and body laid back, a hand cupping at his warm, flushed face.

”Hi,” You murmur back, a little quip of the corner of your lip twitching up in a soft smile, your gaze nothing but love-filled looking down back at him. Words were unnecessary. You both knew more than well what Harvey needed in these kinds of moments.

You can’t help but thread your fingers through the soft, grey-stricken brown curls of his hair, pulling away the locks that framed those darling, richly chocolate eyes. Harvey was looking up at you, from behind his neat brows, crinkled upward in a loving gaze. Yoba, that expression, he looked as if he were an eager little puppy, with a dazzly sparkle glinting in his pupils. His glasses teeter on an angle, pressed up with the scrunch of his nose, looking deliciously dishevelled and unkempt - By his own standards anyway - Tie loose, buttons undone on his dress shirt, hairs on his chest sweat stuck and exposed to the warm, dim light of the room.

He can’t help the soft, creaky whine of a groan that bubbled its way up his throat, the noise cut down into a muffle as his lips latch to the puffy bud of your clit with a wet kiss. His lips purse with the action, his wettening moustache tickling against his nose, prickly in the best kind of way, a brilliant roughness on your supple, sensitive spot. The man lets himself sigh into your wetness, lips parting just enough for his breath to billow a warmth against you. Harvey is quick to suck the air right back in through his nose, giving your cunt a shameless huff, inhaling the sticky-sweet essence dribbling for him. He can’t help himself, taking his helping of the drooly little thing he had the privilege of indulging in. 

This was perfect.

Absolutely perfect. The number one thing that Harvey needed right now; no paperwork, no blinding hospital lights, no attitude from his patients, no bumps or scrapes or bruises- Just you and him. 

Just Harvey face deep into the sweetness of your supple cunt, worshipping his tongue through your slicked-up folds, slathered in cream and spit. This was the dream, brain flickered off for the evening, lights dimmed and thoughts swept away from the forefront of his mind - His only focus being the sweet little bud of your clit, tangy on his tongue with each licking flick, so pretty and perfect for him to kiss and love on. 

He feels your hands move, fingers coming away from twisting through his hair, opting to carefully drag your finger pads down the curved bridge of his nose. Harvey’s fluttered eyes blink open, feeling the weighty frame of his glasses being lifted off of his face, pinched between your fingers. The reveal of his bare face has the man smiling a grin into your cunt, crows feet creasing by his eyes, thick brows finally on show as they pitch up with his loving gaze. His dark lashes accentuate those milky chocolate pools, the lack of a frame over the bridge of his broad nose now giving him extra special access.

“Mmmph.. So lovely…” Harvey lets himself breathe, warm against the heat of your core, a soft praise with a double meaning, so lovely for looking after him like that, so lovely for letting him devour your pretty, supple little cunt. So lovely for allowing the stringent man to wind down and indulge. He’s patient for the moment, letting you set the delicate frames of his glasses aside before those lovely fingers brush their way through his curls once more, twirling his hair so careful and gentle. Something he probably wasn't going to be by the end of the evening. 

It's like a switch is flicked, passionate and needy, diving into the folds of your cunt when that nose nuzzles into your clit, Harvey completely uncaring that his face was going to be all wet and sticky. The man was unminded at the wet stick of his moustache glossed and glued against his upper lip, all in favour of licking and lapping, sinking into the delicious depths of your cunt, daring to smush his face right into your folds. Any and all groans and breathless, crackled praises are lost in your core, lips squished into you as Harvey’s tongue flutters against your weepy hole. Those eyes close again, brow twitching with a needy expression, creased up and looking so sweet.

“H-Harvey~” Your voice only spurs on his mouth, guiding him along, that tone on the tip of your tongue making the man nearly beg to get lost in you.

His hand comes up, darling light olive skin looking beautifully warm in the evening lamplight, fingers long and dexterous as they splay lovingly over your lower tummy. He rubs a soft caress, fingers flattening to pet and soothe, the length of his thumb easily stretching out to circle slow, precise massages against your clit. You feel him smile into your folds, breaking the suckling licks for just a moment to appreciate the noises he pulls out of you. It's barely seconds before he dives back in, lips pursed and squished as his tongue fucks in and out of your sweetness, the tip of his nose crinkled with the passionate press of his lips. That thumb of his keeps up a steady pace, practised and all-knowing, rub, rub, rub, bumping your twitchy little bead into his nose while his tongue laps up all the gushy sweetness you had for him.

Harvey didn’t have to think hard about pleasuring you. The man follows his heart and the hard swell of his arousal, his body moving on autopilot as his brain switches off and turns to mush. Ohh.. You were so kind to him, carding those fingers through his hair, twisting the strands until they stung with the pull on his scalp, urging those brown, puppy-dog eyes to flick up- Oh so bleary and pretty, washed over with a soft dribble of tears bubbling at the corners.

His Adam's apple bobs with a thick swallow of cream and saliva, soft sounds muffled and breathless, choked on your taste, tongue drooly and eager to sink into the weepy depths of your pussy. Despite the aches, the kink in his neck, the sting of his wet, velvety muscle used to tongue fuck into you, the poor creaking spike in his knees- Harvey is uncaring of it all.

He's uncaring of the harsh, Yoba, it feels near bruising he’s sure, that strain of his cock pressing flush into the seam of his pants, the smooth velvet of his dick surely oozing a mess into his underwear. Pulsing, weeping, flexing with his pulse, all the blood that was supposed to be swirling in his head all gushing down into the pudge of his tip. He could hump, crane his poor hips and let his cock head graze that thin seam, get off on gravity alone- But God how could he? The stingy squish of his tip in his trousers was nothing in comparison to the decadent mess on his face, he’d rather drown in your wetness, and ignore the world. All in favour of fucking his tongue into your supple, clenchy hole.

“Harv’.. H-Honey~…” Your voice strains in his ears, past the dull ringing, the thick fog that had clouded up his mind. The Doctor muffles the sweetest little sound of acknowledgement, a wetly slurred “Mmhmphh..?” desperate to stay pressed into your core, just wanting to give.

So wet and absolutely messy- Juicy sounds of your slick and his tongue, mingling together to create the most obtusely vulgar noises. And married with those constant whines? The supple tension squeezing around your throat with each soft call of his name, every breathless mewl and soft-spoken swear? How could he pull away?

“Right there… that's it- don't stop, please don't stop-” Yoba, as if he could.

Right there. He’s right there just for you. Thumb turning into a quick and flicking rub, back and forth, back and forth, back n’ forth, backnforth! Wearing out his hand, feeling the cramp in his palm, determined to see through to the promising rush of your cumming cunt, squeezing and fluttering on his tongue. He doesn’t stop the moans, each breath of his he dares to take coming out with a tinge of his voice, appreciative and lulling, the noise cut with the pattern of his tongue appreciating your core. 

“Ohhh Yoba-!” Your hips crane and hump into his face, practically riding his nose, fucking back on his tongue- He takes it. Takes the rub of your cunt, chasing you with his tongue every pull back of your hips followed by a loud, suckling purse of his lips. His own name tumbles off your lips, “Harvey, H-Harvey~” Strung together and babbled out, hiccuped and jutting up higher and higher in tone until your throat lets you cry.

Your lovely voice announces your release, a choked-up “Cumming-!” squeaked from your throat while your fingers twisted into his hair. You sob, you keen, pulling him impossibly further into your folds while his eager tongue works you through.

He moans out with you when the first dribble of your arousal dares to squirt all over his chin, throat groaning a guttural sound, eager to drink everything you had for him right up. You don’t stop chanting his name, strung together in an eager babble, both hot with embarrassment as the gush on his tongue and twisted in sweet, erotic agony. Harvey wears the plush inner of your thighs on his ears, cheeks squished with the desperate snap of your legs attempting to press together in the heat of your orgasm- Yoba how it only makes him fall harder.

He was indulging in the decadent fruit of his labour. So syrupy and wet, tongue slurping against the juicy clench of your cunt while you squirt in his mouth, down his chin, making a hot and sticky-sweet mess just for him.

The man whimpers, a loving little pathetic noise, breathing in your essence, swallowing it down on his tongue, blindly kissing, nuzzling, mouthing around your folds and clit, doing his very best to milk your pleasure for as long as he can. So giving and polite, not a single hump of his hips or even a knuckle grazed to the swelling in his pants.

Just pure, unadulterated indulgence. Messy, greedy, giving up the majority of control to you. Letting the calculative part of his brain switch off in favour of slurping and suckling to his heart's content- Disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, blurred eyes blinked closed with bubbles of tears leaking down his cheeks, messy moustache glossed to his upper lip, the collar of his shirt drooping down one of his shoulders.

He left that face of professionalism back at the front door. 

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Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 Your lovely words give me strength~

Property of : SashiAvi

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