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lalacliffthorne · 7 months

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modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

(if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault)

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto the very comfortable couch, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there´s still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished a tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously huge shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a few days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and roping you into helping him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

(from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time)

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced that the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet, cheek kisses as greetings and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice.

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you´re upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from your uterus and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time than just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper hissing facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady to you

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the guy has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swims

have game nights

and evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he laughs

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaned against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you.

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

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dabisbratz · 1 year

Text

PLAY DATE (CHERRY)— aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: ~6.5k

cw: dilf!aizawa, babysitter!reader, sexual tension, slow burn, spanking/impact play, finger-sucking, d/s undertones, daddy kink, praise, manhandling, age gap (21 yr old reader, 41 yr old aizawa), porn with plot, size difference/kink, spit/drool, degradation, rimming, hand holding, full nelson, creampie, breeding kink, light feminization

a/n: yes i was listenin to lana while writin this! howd u know?!

The click of a mouse. The sound of a scroll wheel grinding against plastic— rubbery and restricted. A family of five, four, three..family oriented individuals with more kids on their hands than time. It was late, even for you. Who scoured the internet until the sky’s inky black atmosphere was painted a pacific blue. From there, you’d tend to sleep into the late hours of the evening, beneath the comfort of a heavy weighted blanket, until your phone went off or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber.

Your dry, tired eyes trace the blurry words of your computer screen, the bright white light beaming through the depths of your continuously darkening bedroom. The room is almost radio silent— save for the occasional crunching of chips between your teeth and the fan of your laptop working overtime. The text is almost hard to read, shying away behind a hazy glare.

‘One kid—6 year old girl. One pet— black bombay cat.’

Sounds promising. The letters are arranged in a blunt manner, straight to the point and even somewhat intimidating, but the clear boundaries and requirements listed are fair enough.. Maybe even tilted in your favor. Your cursor wanders, ready to further inspect the profile presumed to belong to the parent who created the listing.

Shouta Aizawa, a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, long hair to match, and a distinctive scar below his eye— which looks milky and clear. The other, however, is a deep pool of brown, warm like melted chocolate. His irises melt into his long lashes, which remain straight and strict, much like the demeanor he emits in the headshot photo. It must be reminiscent of his ID, as his career is listed just below his picture.

Owner of Eraserhead Industries.

Huh.

Chewing the fleshy insides of your cheeks, your eyes dart across the screen, hesitantly inching the cursor over the bright, bolded ‘message’ button. Sparks ignite in your stomach, blooming in the expanse of your tummy as you type out,

‘When can I start?’

You hear yourself squeal, pushing away your mouse with your fingertips and hiding behind the warmth of your palms before your computer chimes in response. The message stares back at you, perforating into you as you read it over and over, trying to imagine how this—practicably— rich man would sound. You settle for a deep voice, giggling to yourself as you read out the message.

‘The sooner the better.’

The man is much scarier in person, and your imitation of his voice was nowhere near accurate.

His voice is much deeper than you thought, gravelly and not nearly as riddled with giggles like you’d tacked on. In fact, it only seems to deepen as he nurses a mug of black coffee, just one large hand completely shielding the cup in its entirety. He’d ordered it, busying himself with the sheets of paper he had placed upon the polished table as you explained just how much whipped cream you’d wanted in your milkshake to the waitress.

He takes up most of the space on his side of the booth in the homely café, his layers discarded and shed along the plush seating. The man with dark eyes, Shouta Aizawa, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, seemingly stronger than Zeus himself, he seems to have no faults.

But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, umber eyes. They look at you with nothing but impenetrable suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of frosty hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down on Musutafu, framing his locks in a makeshift halo. He looks like a fallen angel, of sorts.

“I don’t trust my kids with other kids,” He says, watching the dark amalgamation of caffeine swirl in his porcelain cup. Does he consider his cat to be his kid, too? “How old are you?”

You perk up, straightening your back as you push your straw in and out of your sickeningly sweet milkshake. Whipped cream clings to the plastic, sticky and bubbly with foam, “Twenty-one, sir.”

Aizawa makes a face at that, steely eyes drooping further with the pinch of his dark eyebrows. They slot perfectly, intricate wrinkles firming between them. Did you… fuck it up? You’d consider yourself an adult— comparable to law, anyway. And you can be mature, especially when it counts, so there shouldn’t really be a problem!

It’s evident he loves his kids, despite the hard exterior that he’s showing off there’s a fatherly glint to his eye. A protective overlay to his words. It’s admirable, if anything. You’d even call it charming, the way his eyes bore into you from the outside-in and pick you apart, if it wasn’t so damn scary being on the receiving end.

“Do you drink?”

“…No?”

“Do you plan to?”

More of an interrogation than anything, you take an awfully long time to reply as you use his suspension as an opportunity to savor your milkshake.

“No.”

You make sure to sound more confident this time.

His questions have been asked before, over text and in a manner not as… blunt as you hear it now. But it’s all down to perception, and you’d managed to wrongfully pin Shouta Aizawa as a care-free, laid back guy. Though, from the looks of it, he seems to live up to the ladder. And, upon closer inspection, it does nothing to tarnish his looks.

“Mm,” Is all he says, humming in acknowledgment as a check is placed his way. “You’re young.”

“Young enough to be your son?” You ask, mouth faster than your brain, and suddenly you can’t stop. Your lips curl upward, a smile gracing your lips as you giggle, “People probably think you’re my sugar daddy or somethin’.”

He doesn’t seem to completely respond to that, letting the comment fly into the air as he shifts. Heat somersaults into your face, heating your body up until you find yourself unable to hold eye contact. Nice going.

You wrap your lips around the plump cherry slowly sinking into your drink, twirling the stem between your teeth. It explodes in your mouth, sharp and sweet along the expanse of your tongue, a nice distraction.

Something alien flickers behind his eyes, “Tech savvy?”

“I— Yeah! I play video games,” You almost forget this is an interview, not a date. The thought makes your brain a little fuzzy, cotton forming in your mouth as you stumble over your answer. “Not— Y'know, never on the clock.”

Shouta looks much more vulnerable with his head turned, his veiny hand reaching into the pocket of his inky pants, pulling out an equally dark credit card. No way. His handwriting is illegible, but the swooning waitress deems it acceptable, thanking him for the tip with a high blush on her cheeks. There isn’t a single ring on his calloused fingers, so it’s almost shocking he doesn’t jump at the opportunity

“Good. Eri likes games.” It’s the most praise you’ve heard all night, and hearing it from the deep rumble of his throat makes it even better. Your gaze must linger, because his dark eyes are staring back into yours, almost looking right through you.

“Eri? Your daughter?”

“I don’t like sharing personal information online.”

You laugh nervously, filling your mouth with the melting drink before he can comment.

“I—Woah, sir… your home is… beautiful.” It’s not just flattery, you genuinely, sincerely mean it. You’ve seen it before, sure, through text and under much more professional scrutiny, but the camera doesn’t do it justice. His house aches with love, wrapped up in kisses and enveloped in a sweet, cinnamon-scented embrace.

There’s a heavy amount of childish memorabilia, like crayon drawings hung up on his stainless steel fridge, miscellaneous toys littering the floor, and a pair of tiny shoes resting next to your own. They look comically small, glittery and pink and utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a six year old girl. Especially in comparison to the sleek, black sneakers Shouta slips off next to them. Utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a forty-one year old man.

Aizawa makes his way through the living room while you marvel in astonishment, taking in the sights of his house. Surprisingly, despite his not-so-settle display of wealth, his home is the opposite. It’s the real thing, with lived-in floors and comfy furniture..lively and bright. Sure, his sofa is a muted gray, but the portraits and polaroids and children’s drawings make up for it.

You follow along, nearly tripping over some misplaced barbies and action figures as you quickly remove your shoes and stumble forward. Like a newborn fawn, unfamiliar to its own legs, you walk forward with a bashful smile.

It was almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some strong-willed work-machine designed to finish tasks and take care of children.

But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way sweat trickles down his forehead after a long day of working in a stuffy office, proves otherwise. It was then, you realize, that he is all flesh and bones. Not pen ink or an indestructible force.

“Eri’s… picky. Try exposing her to different foods every now and then, there’s a list of recipes she likes on the fridge.”

Shouta’s leaning against the marble of his open-island kitchen, socked feet melting into the cold tile. You half-expected his socks to be just as dark as his clothes, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see cartoonish cat faces littering the fabric.

Right—anyway. You nod, though it’s mainly reserved for yourself, as your eyes rake up the words stuck to his fridge. Freshly printed out, not an inch out of place, you wonder how many times he’s done this. The gears turn in your head, clicking and grinding until your lips part, a breathless expression keyed into your facial features. Wait.

“Does that mean—”

“I’ll text you the extra details. Eri’s bedroom is upstairs, but you should wait for her to show it to you when she’s ready.”

Your apartment is a flimsy excuse of a home, nowhere near as intricate and thoroughly loved as Shouta’s. Walking inside, you realize just that, there isn’t even a hint of glitter or gleam as you walk through the front door. Even though you have yet to meet her, Eri’s already brightened up your life. Your walls scream with loneliness, the sound bouncing off each corner until you’re tucking yourself into bed and curling up beneath the sheets.

And though you barely know him, you can’t help but want to follow the childish urge to open up the website you found Aizawa’s listing on to study his headshot.

Eri, you’ve come to learn, is a very smart kid. Perhaps too smart for her own good, too observant, and way too excited to express said observations. You sit taut on the gray sofa, leaning over a sheet of paper as you carefully color between the lines of the thick, inky, coloringbook outline. But Eri’s got her own leaflet, vigorously coloring something she has yet to allow you to look at.

You haven’t known her long enough for the leaves to brown, to fall off and make room for winter. You haven’t known her long enough to see the leaves return, the chilly air slowly descending into something softer, quieter. Warmer with summer’s welcome. But she grew to accept you rather quickly.

It started soon after your first meeting with Aizawa, and to your dismay, you hadn’t really seen much of him after that. Only small traces and fragments, like the religious filling of Present Meow’s food bowl or notes tacked onto the fridge.

Admittedly, you kinda miss him.

You’ve become quite engrossed in Eri’s choice in television, watching the cartoon with just as much excitement as the six your old. It even makes you laugh, hearty and dinkum.

“How do you feel about niku-dofu for dinner tonight, Er-bear?” She barely moves, her tongue held between the corner of her lips as she furrows her brows in concentration. Whatever she’s coloring is much more important than dinner, apparently.

With outstretched limbs, you stand, reaching for the sky as a yawn is pulled from your chest and your eyes grow heavy. Being dragged along by a six year old all day is exhausting. The hairstyling, the nail-painting, the hero-pretending…the dolls.

(Eri quite enjoyed acting out soap-opera levels of dramatic scenes with dolls. And, of course, you could only be the man in these scenarios.)

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve grown attached in the span of a few weeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes then!” You chirp, setting down your finished page with a sense of pride. Might even have to add a signature to it!

With Eri’s toys scattered along the floor, despite your constant advisory to clean them up, walking through the house has become quite the challenge. An obstacle course of sorts that Aizawa must’ve been a master at getting through.

Aizawa… With dark circles that cast shadows down his mature face. With stubble that’s cleanly shaved, not a single hair out of place.

Aizawa…With his long, dark hair that frames his face with thick bundles.

Aizawa… Who almost constantly looks disgruntled, faintly pink lips pulled into a tight line.

Him and his signature crisp, black button up that barely fights against his large chest and his matching pants that cling to his stupidly strong thighs.

It makes your brain a little fuzzy, the thought of his equally large biceps bulging in his shirt as he crosses his arms and stares down at you through the bridge of his nose. And his eyes— piercing and domineering staring straight into yours, lips curled as he berates you like some sort of misbehaving child.

(Which you’d spent a lot of time arguing with him about through sticky-notes…The fridge is powered evidence, covered in neon paper as you remind him you’re ‘not a kid!’ beneath his ‘not bad, kid’ post-it note.)

“Hey? Are you okay?” Eri’s small voice snaps you out of your haze, wide and virtuous red eyes blinking up at you. Clutching her drawing to her chest, she shifts her weight between each leg. Her small smile is gone, so you do your best to conjure up a frolicsome grin.

“Never felt better! Finally ready to show me what you’re working on?”

“Mhm,” She hums, reminiscent of her father.

Eri’s picture is nothing short of sweet. Advanced for her age, she’s drawn three figures that resemble the three of you— herself, Aizawa, you— sitting happily at the generously furnished dining table. On her lap sits Present Meow, a black ball of crayon-esque fur, who has small, wobbly hearts above his head. You all do, actually, some bigger than others (e.i: you quite literally have heart eyes that take up more than half your crayon face), but big nonetheless.

Is your crush on her father really that obvious?

“Oh, Eri, that’s—”

The front door trembles, the doorknob clicking and jingling as it welcomes silver keys. Before your eyes, Shouta’s welcoming himself in, strong right arm pushing the door open. His shoulders are draped in exhaustion, his gray scarf tangled around his neck as he shuts the door behind him.

Embarrassment wells up in your stomach, overflowing until you’re hiding Eri’s drawing behind your back. He doesn’t typically come home this early. Usually within the late hours of the night, into early morning, he can be seen rummaging through the fridge for a drink until he heads upstairs, straight to bed.

Instead, he’s stalking forward.

Did his steps always shake the house like this, or are you just imagining it? You must be, it must be your heart in your ears, because your face is flooding with warmth as he towers over you and peeks over your shoulder.

“What’s behind your back?” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, faintly smelling of cigarette smoke.

“What? Noth—”

“Look!” Eri snatches the drawing from your clammy hands and pushes it into Shouta’s abdomen. He hunches over, just slightly, before taking in the image.

“Jesus, kid,” He clicks his tongue with a tenderhearted sigh, looping his thumb around the waistband of his black slacks. “You’re somethin’ else...”

You’d have thought it was meant for Eri if his gaze didn’t flicker up to meet yours.

Dinner rolled around fast, and you’d found yourself nicking your finger on one of Shouta’s large, sharpened knives. Cutting up a small portion of potatoes shouldn’t have been so trivial, a pained gasp escaped your lips as you pinched the tiny wound. You wince, instinctively sucking on the skin of your mangled finger.

“I told you to be careful,” He took your hand in his, swallowing it whole with his palms, and went as far as to berate you, grumbling, “Watch yourself. Are you okay?”

Breathless as you watched him open a nearby drawer, he pulled out a kiddie bandaid, decorated with polka dots and even more cats. You held still, letting him wrap the bandage around your finger nice and tight. And then, only then, did he place a small kiss on top.

“There you go, all better.” It’s a passing comment, only pried from his lips because he was so used to saying it to Eri, and he didn’t seem to realize just how flustered it made you. So you coughed into your hand, secretly hoping the warmth permeating off his body would return to your skin.

Now, with dinner finished, Eri has no problem shoveling the food into her mouth. Must've been all the running around, gave her an appetite fit for a grown woman. It’s not like you have room to talk, you’ve almost choked on your side of miso soup a whopping three times. Shouta seems to be the only composed person at the table.

“You got a little,” Shouta points to the corner of his mouth, waving his willowy finger in a quick, circular motion. “Right…there.”

“Hm?” He watches your face contort, timid and self conscious. He can’t help but smile, just a small upward quirk to the corner of his lips, that slowly disappears as he leans in to wipe off a few grains of rice from the side of your mouth.

There he goes again, acting all domestic, as he raises the same finger to his own mouth. Your pupils blow wide, heat forming in your stomach as he sucks off the rice with disregard for how this might look to anyone besides a father.

Your eyes flicker to Eri, who’s too busy fighting off sleep with the handle of her silver spoon, her tiny head jerking and bobbing every so often, to notice the display.

“I guess—- guess it’s time for bed!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly loud as you stand, quick to stop in your tracks when Aizawa follows suit.

“I got it.”

Aizawa, you’ve learned, says that quite a lot. Despite his generous hourly pay and your obligation to take care of his child, he insists it’s best if he cleans after her. Too intimidated to argue, you simply nod, falling back onto his couch as he ventures back for forth— upstairs and back.

Each time he returns, he notices the droop in your eyes, the way they slowly fall with each step he takes. It’s late, he should be escorting you home, but he doesn’t want to disturb your well-earned sleep session.

As he sits to finally take a break, letting his joins snap and pop, you fall face-first into his shoulder, smashing your cheek against the firm skin.

Your lips pucker, pouty and almost fish-like. Your boyish face, soft and not yet worn down by the tiresome nature of time in itself, looks undeniably cute. Perfect for kissing and irrevocably inviting. Your eyes are shut, lashes resting against your cheeks. Time stops, minutes passing within hours, as Shouta takes in your essence and stares down at your innocent face. Stealing a kiss would just be… so…easy…

“Fix your face,” He says instead, clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the dimly lit, yellow-tinted lamp resting on the end table placed by his half of the sofa. “Or it’ll get stuck like that.”

“M’sorry.” You whisper, bashful as ever despite the slippery hands of sleep reaching back for you. Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?

It makes Aizawa want to retract his statement, press his thumb into the unobtrusive crease forming between your pretty eyebrows. But it leaves before it has time to arrive— to settle, as your body relaxes once more. He observes for a moment, the dip of the couch as you finally sink your weight into it, the debt collectors contracted with sleep finally having caught up with you.

Preserving himself through all these years, none being particularly good to him, he wonders if you’ve faced any similar endeavors. He’d hate to leave you alone, cold and barren as another side of his bed remains despicably untouched, only the ghost of what could have been keeping him company during this sleep-centric night. Your breaths are slow and steady, lips briefly parting to mumble something he can’t quite grasp. Shouta tries anyway, tucking his stubbly chin against his collarbone as he leans forward.

His face is dangerously close, a mere inch separating the gap between his lips and soft, supple skin. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder—broad and wide—your words dispel into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Alongside a fine layer of drool, something he's all too used to, that slowly spreads the deeper you fall into undisturbed sleep. A heavy sleeper then, he presumes.

Shouta keeps you close, pressing your body against his as he loops his other arm behind your legs and hoists you up. He’s careful to avoid any furniture, holding you with an iron grip as he steps up the creaky stairs. His hair bounces with each step, curly and dark, flowing down his back and streaked with gray.

“..Zawa…” Nearly dropping you, his mismatched gaze locks onto your face. Blissed out and camouflaged with slumber, you stir in his arms. “Kiss me ‘lready.”

Aizawa clears his throat, neck constricting as it tightens around the air. It’s fine, just a baseless comment, he decides, as he slowly opens his bedroom door, careful of the noise. You don’t seem to move after that, dozing in his arms until he’s setting you down into his bed. He really hopes you don’t mind it— he doesn’t have a guest bedroom, after all.

It’s dark in his room, blackout curtains covering any sliver of radiance from outside streetlights. So he flicks on the lamp on his bedside table, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as he lifts his arms overhead to remove his shirt. Something cold prods at his back, and before he can shed the clothing, Shouta redirects himself to look back at you.

Half asleep, your foot creeps under the comfortable fabric of his shirt. You must’ve discarded your socks in your sleep, because you’re rubbing your eyes with balled up fists as if you’d just woken up. Doesn’t stop you from speaking, vocal cords strained, “S’this the part where we cuddle?”

Aizawa watches you shimmy out of your pants, obviously groggy and irrational from having just opened your eyes, your warm skin slowly being exposed inch by inch. You must overheat in your sleep.

“No, it’s not,” He groans out, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he takes in the mural being painted in front of him. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble, much more awake as your eyes hone in on the skin of his back that he’s partially exposing. “And I’m not a kid.”

“Sound like one.” You hear him grovel under his breath, almost as if you were meant to hear it. Aizawa has quite the ability to be silent when he wants to, he can creep up on you without you ever noticing. So you suck your teeth, sitting up in his bed.

He expects you to respond with something witty, something he has to pretend he doesn’t find funny. But you don’t, instead staying uncharacteristically silent. Had it not been the dip in his mattress, he would have assumed you dissolved into thin air.

God, how you hope he won’t find you childish for this.

“Sir, I,” Shouta stiffens, his hair falling from behind his ear as he turns to fully face you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you..” He trails off, watching your bottom lip jut out. Plump and shiny, Aizawa resists the urge to sink his teeth into it. How soft would they feel? Would you cry into his mouth if he bit too hard? Anything in his hands becomes fragile, and he wants to know how far you can bend before you break. “Can you kiss me?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your ankle with his rough hands to drag you down into him. Your pretty eyes widen, large and unsuspecting as he crashes his lips against yours, feverish and desperate.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip and eagerly awaits yours, tasting faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon. Undeniably Shouta, you can’t help but whimper into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his disheveled hair. His mouth is warm and wet— almost searing hot, and you can’t help but choke on your own breaths. You sink into the kiss, floaty and dumbstruck by his urgency.

Like a starved man, he pushes you down on your back and tangles his big hands in the waistline of your boxers, tugging the elastic apart until it rips with a ‘snap!’. You’re exposed, legs instinctively closing to shield your half naked body.

“Aht-aht. Sit still,” Aizawa hand quickly latches around the base of your dick, sending shocks of electricity up your smaller (in comparison to his) body. You tug on his wrist, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stares down at you, predatory and famished. “When’s the last time you played with this pretty cock? Did you think of me?”

He doesn’t give you time to speak, instead spitting down onto your cock with a thick, shiny glob of spit. You can’t help but moan, watching it slide down and heat up through his fingers. His hand envelops you entirely, big and warm and squelching as he accentuates his words with particularly sharp pumps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice sounds condescending and feignedly sweet, you swear you could cum just from hearing it. “S’been a while, huh? Yeah? S’why you’re leaking all over my hand?”

You feel yourself nod, quick and enthusiastic as you melt into his palm. Your legs turn into jello, numb against his warm sheets, as your toes curl and your back slowly inches off the mattress. Shouta’s eyes are lidded and heavy, drinking you in and burning you from the inside out. You keen, pulsating in his hand until the warmth is suddenly gone, and you’re blinking away frustrated tears.

“No—!”

“Greedy brat,” Shouta’s quick to shut you up, large hands sinking into the plush skin of your thighs as he spreads your legs open impossibly wide. “Fuck, got a greedy hole on you too.”

Your hole clenches in response, eager to have his attention. You can feel a trail of precum and spit soaking the area, warm and wet, not yet reminiscent of his cum. Soon enough, you hope, he’ll be filling you to the brim and then some. Your hands, somehow forgotten, scramble to unbutton his dress shirt.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you gasp in retaliation to his big hand clutching your jaw with indescribable force and pressure. Trying to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your lips part, tongue pushed free from your squished cheeks as you blink up at him, eyes dancing between one milky-white iris and another, only chocolate brown.

“Go on, say it. Tell Daddy you’re a greedy boy with a greedy little hole,” He’s spitting into your mouth, a thin trail of saliva indirectly connecting his tongue to yours. “You can do it, sugar.”

Oh. Oxygen disconnects from your lungs, dumbly blinking up at him with a garbled moan. You can’t speak if you wanted to, not with his hand around your jaw like this, so you settle for swallowing down his spit with a feeble smile. All you can push out is a mangled ‘Daddy!’ but Aizawa seems to take that for an answer, groaning as he hikes your knees up to your chest, sighing when you squeal in response.

His big, warm body is pressed up against yours, much bigger and stronger, and it’s apparent in every movement he makes. He’s able to push you around, flip you over and push you down with barely a finger, and you’re sure his hand can cover the entirety of your face. You moan, wanton and sweet in his ears as he maneuvers your arms to keep your legs up.

“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shouta— Daddy sighs, hunched over and breathing dangerously close to your entrance. Almost like he’s talking to your hole instead of you, and you’d protest if it weren’t for the hot, wet stripe he’d just licked down from your perineum to your hole. Your body feels warm and tingly, legs twitching as his tongue prods and pokes deeper and deeper, slowly slipping inside. “Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”

He’s sure to make it messy, adding generous amounts of drool and spit along your sensitive hole, eating you out like he gets paid to do it. He makes you lay there and take it, holding your legs open like some cheap whore, settling between your thighs with feverish and hungry kisses. Making out with your hole, you watch with heavy eyes and a gaped mouth.

“Yeah, yeah..” You moan subconsciously, a constant stream leaving your pretty, parted lips. He takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with his fingers, long and scarred as his fingertips run along your pink tongue. His fingers taste vaguely of salt, and you can’t help but suck on them, eyes fluttering in content.

You barely catch it, a small kiss being placed on the curve of your jaw until he’s freeing his fingers from your mouth. He resists the urge to shove them down your throat, watch your eyes get glassy and wet as you gag on his fingers like you would his cock.

“Gotta get this cunt nice n’ ready. Watch me eat you out, boy,” His voice has dropped several octaves—if that’s even possible—thick and heavy and reverberating straight into your hole. It’s like he knows you by heart, even if this is your first time together, because he’s slotting his thick, scarred fingers in along with his tongue. “Such a pretty hole. Matches your face.”

Through the haze you’re still able to mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” timid, small, and broken up between moans.

“Good boy, still remembering your manners,” He sounds just as breathless as you, pressing his fingertips against the special spot inside of you. Your body jolts, a shriek ripping from your throat as he puts pressure on it, bullies it with his fingers, and follows suit with his tongue. Too much. “Shh, I know. Try to stay quiet for me.”

For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold. For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold.

You want to be good, be the best boy you can be, but you just can’t help it. The complete opposite of what he’s told you to do, high off his fingers as your body clenches and your moans grow louder and louder, fingernails digging into the soft surface of the back of your knees. He just presses and presses and—

Stops. Abrupt and fleeting until his hand is back, but instead in the form of a harsh slap right across the back of your thighs. Your sit spots.

“Wh- mm-mm…! Waitwait..Daddy—!” You’re stunned, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you fail to recollect what just happened. You press your face into your knees, bunched up tight as tears spring in your eyes. “That hu—urts.”

The pout in your voice is evident, and Shouta can’t help but coo. Especially when your cock, lodged right between the thickness of your thighs, jumps and leaks more precum. His own throbs in his pants, leaking into his underwear and leaving him sticky. God, he can’t wait to feel your hole twitch around his dick.

“You’re a big boy. I know you can take it, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” And there it is again, the fog that casts over your brain as you can only think of being good. Good for Shouta. Good for your Daddy.

There’s a sharp smack right on top of your little hole, the entrance winking back in retaliation as you sob into your knees. The pain doesn’t last long, simmers down and is easily replaced by heat when his fingers rub soothing circles around your rim.

“Daddy,” Your voice comes out much sweeter and wet, letting out a small sniffle as you peek out to watch him place open-mouthed kisses against your hole. “Want you.”

“You have me, boy,” His heart melts, and a soft smile creeps up on his handsome face. His tie dangles as he shifts his weight, opening his bedside drawer to pull out a condom and cherry flavored lube. Ironic. “Now let me in, wanna make your pretty fuckhole cream around my cock.”

“Wait,” You rasp, watching him tear open the packaging with his teeth. You’re still breathless and shaky, but you’re trying your best. “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you inside me.”

Aizawa’s deep groans are music to your ears, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull when he frees himself of his shirt and sheds his pants. His dickprint is big and thick, throbbing in the fabric and sticky with fresh precum. You want to taste it. His cock springs free as his briefs drop to the floor, slapping against his abdomen and weeping.

You watch him fuck his fist, pouring the slick lube down his cock and warming it up with his palm.

“Yeah? You want it? Gonna listen to Daddy so he can put his thick cock in that sloppy little hole? C’mere before I shoot into my fist.”

You nod so hard it hurts, squeezing your shaft to stop yourself from cumming to his words alone. Your cock twitches in your hand, hard and wet as Shouta walks forward to meet you at the edge of the bed and scoops you up into his arms like you’re weightless. It must be easy for him, seeing as he’s so much bigger than you in every way.

“Won’t fit—”

“Shh,” Like he knows what you’re going to say before you can utter it, Shouta lifts you into the air with ease, and you can feel his cock pressing against your puckered hole. “We’ll make it fit.”

Your back presses against his chest, upright as he loops his arms around the backs of your knees. You’re spread wide, and with Shouta’s strong grip, all you can do is sit there and take it. You can feel him twitch and throb from the inside-out, his cock gushing pre as you sink down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, wanton moans and a chant of ‘DaddyDaddyDaddy’ filling the air as snaps his hips, barely letting you adjust.

His dick is stretching you open, thick and long, and pulsing and veiny as you feel it bulge in your tummy, pushing past your rim and filling you up.

“Thought about this for weeks,” Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you’re too far gone to answer. “I—yeah, should’ve fucked you in that café.”

From the… Start?

Heat pools on your stomach, his cock punching your insides and kissing each sensitive ridge with every movement he makes. Your moans are unintelligible, barely even coherent, as he fucks into you, lifting you off his cock again, and again, and again. Cock-drunk while his dick rearranges your guts, drool slips from your mouth and down your chest.

You look pathetic and ruined.

“So cute like this, pretty baby. You make the dumbest little faces when you’re fucked stupid on Daddy’s cock, but still so damn cute.”

His cock drags in and out of your plushy walls, precum and lube making a creamy concoction along his shaft with each thrust. Your face is stained with tears and drool, mouth open wide as you pant and whine.

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hole beating around his cock as Aizawa moans, and you feel your body go numb as you shudder and convulse. You’re cumming, and your smaller hands squeeze his big ones as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing off his lap with tiny, “Mm, mm, mm’s.” Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel warmth flooding your stomach, your balls tightening by the second.

“Da—addy please, m’cummin’, m’cummin’!”

“There you go, smart little boy,” Shouta groans loud in your ear, twitching in your tummy when you clamp down on his dick. He wants to fuck his cum into you, you deserve it. You deserve his cock, you deserve his load, you deserve to be stuffed full until you’ve milked his dick for all he’s got— all it’s worth. “Just keep bouncin’, so fuckin good at it, gush on my cock. What d’you say, baby? What d’you say to Daddy?”

You wish you could see him, the grit of his teeth as his thrusts turn sloppy and messy. But you know he can see you, staring down at the cum painting your chest as it squirts out your cock in thick, rapid ropes. Mixing with your tears and drool, you know you look like sex on legs, eyes void of everything but the need for cock.

“Thankyouthankyouthank—fu-huck,” His cock is jackhammering so deep you can barely breathe. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“Gonna make you just like Daddy, gonna make you one too,” It must send him over the edge, the sounds of your hole squelching as he scrambles your insides, because he’s quick to shoot a creamy, hot load of cum straight inside you. “Wanna be a big boy so bad? Then—fuuuck— take it like one.”

He gives a few last slow, deep thrusts inside so his cum really takes, carefully freeing your legs as you collapse onto him with a breathy moan.

“‘Zawa…”

“C’mere, brat,” You’re quick to whine, weakly pressing your face into the expanse of his large chest, all tears and snot and cum as he cradles your head between his large hand and his even larger chest. You feel protected in his arms, shrinking even smaller into his lap as your eyes slip closed and his cum leaks down your thighs. “You’re a good boy. My good boy.”

Shouta’s hand is ablaze when he brushes it along your forehead, soon after replacing it with a gentle kiss. He means it.

“Let Daddy take care of you.”

3K notes · View notes

wanderingsimsfinds · 4 months

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WanderingSims Fave CC - Traditional Asian Décor List

1 - simbalances - Ohara Koson Prints

2 - ziggy28 - Virtue Asian Character Paintings (TSR)

3 - WanderingSims - Japan Wall Art

4 - chuchuwitch - Asian Paintings

5 - baufive - Flock of Woodcuts

6 - BionicZombie - 4t3 Snowy Escape Paintings

7 - baufive - Japanese Woodcuts

8 - LCC - Chinese Scroll Claborate Style Painting

9 - Devirose - Japanese Ideograms 1 (TSR)

10 - Devirose - Japanese Ideograms 2 (TSR)

11 - Devirose - Japanese Prints Collection (TSR)

12 - Devirose - Japanese Print 1 (TSR)

13 - Devirose - Japanese Print 2 (TSR)

14 - Devirose - Japanese Print 3 (TSR)

15 - Devirose - Japanese Art Collection 2 (TSR)

16 - ziggy28 - Japanese Scenes (TSR)

17 - Devirose - Japanese Art Collection 3 (TSR)

18 - Devirose - Japanese Manuscript (TSR)

19 - ziggy28 - Large Asian Cats Scroll (TSR)

20 - linasometimes - Wisteria & Blossom Paintings (TSR)

21, 25, 33, 37 - you-lust - Vaguely Japanese Pt. 1 Set (Eastern Blossoms Scroll, Blades of Masamune Wall, Japanese Cantankerous Splatter Painting, Zen Bonsai)

22, 32 - Kilhian - Japanese Painting Birds & Sea

23 - ohymysims - Painting Katsushika Hokusai

24, 27, 39-40, 52, 61 - you-lust - Vaguely Chinese Pt. 2 Set (Huabanzhu Chinese Scroll, Yuxi Winter Blossoms Scroll, MTSims Chinese Burner, The Daruma Wishing Doll, Yuxi Bamboo Slip, Shoyou Shoji Screen)

26 - MurfeeL - Wall Scrolls w/Tassels

28, 41, 70 - MurfeeL - Birthday 2020 Dump (EA WA EP Vintage Chinese Ads Framed, AMR Fan Decor Redone, Lacquer Byobu Decor)

29 - Living Dead Girl - Benjamin Bedroom Artwork Asian (TSR)

30, 38, 51, 54, 63 - you-lust - Vaguely Chinese Pt. 1 Set (Yuxi Tokonoma Series Scroll, The Little Jug of Wishes, Yuxi Dragon Scroll, Yuxi Scroll Clutter, Yuxi Ixinqin Screen)

31 - RD - From The East Wall Art

34-35, 50 - you-lust - Vaguely Japanese Pt. 2 Set (Yuxi Haruyo Morita Painting, BBSL Hanging Kimono, WFS Teapot)

36, 65-67 - KerriganHouseDesigns - Hayashi Set (Wallpanel, Floor Lamp, Golden Branch, Screen)

42-43 - you-lust - Azaya Fortune Cat & Higanbana Kokeshi Doll

44 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Desierto Bedroom Buddha

45 - MurfeeL - Yokai E-Hon Books as Decor

46-47 - Ritsuka - Fortunate Cat & Japanese Lucky Cat

48 - Ziva-Sims - SimpleStudio404 Japanese Box Recs

49 - MurfeeL - MTCakestore Chinese Books Stackable

53 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Antique Set Chinese Table Lamp

55 - HydrangeaChainsaw - Sakura Bonsai

56 - you-lust - lisen-nymphy Buddha

57 - NoirandDarkSims - Mitarsi Kitsune

58 - SimpleStudio404 - Japanese Misc Set Emongake Deco

59 - you-lust - simaddict99 Oriental Paper Parasol

60, 68, 71-72, 76-77, 81-82 - TheNumbersWoman - Going Asian Outdoor Garden Set (Pagoda, Rock Path 2, Rock Path 1, Fountain, Ying Yang Garden, Water Feature, Deco Bridge Large, Apris Rocks Ponds) (TSR)

62 - Devirose - Japan Rug 1 (TSR)

64 - Angela - Kanto Garden Gong (TSR)

69, 73-75 - MurfeeL - C2077 Dashi no Matsuri Set (Parade Square Table Light, Parade Square Ceiling Light, Parade Round Ceiling Light, Parade Oval Ceiling Light)

78 - SIMCredible! - Asian Nook Fountain (TSR)

79 - DOT - Yard Wire Pole Lantern Mesh (TSR)

80 - SIMCredible! - Momentum Bamboo (TSR)

#cc list #ts3cc #s3cc #s3ccfinds #asian

221 notes · View notes

attapullman · 6 months

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That Abbott Boy | Rhett Abbott

GIF by delopsia

Summary: You and Rhett have stayed in each other's orbit since you were children. But what if there's something more than just friends?

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings & Notes: Rhett Abbott x f!reader, brief mentions of underage drinking and violence, fluffy and angsty (?), childhood friends, Rhett's the town whore and likes boobs, bad mouthin' Perry Abbott, destruction of pinatas, 18+ as always. Happy Halloween, witches! You can play your tricks, but here's your treat!

Children flooded the barn, your daddy’s ranch overtaken by sugar-hyped little hands and giggles as your classmates pet the horses and pretend to drink from the trough. Set up outside were balloons and presents, marking the momentous occasion of your birthday. The sun shines bright upon your cheeks as another year blesses you.

Your ma wrangles the hyperactive group and announces the piñata. A cheap, store-bought thing, meant to resemble a puppy dog but failing. Your classmates scramble to line up, eager to be the one who breaks open the winnings of more sugar. And as you turn to lead the battle, you see that Abbott boy.

Rhett. Cerulean eyes hidden under his baseball cap. That thin smile that says more than his mouth ever does. With only a decade of life under his belt, he comes across like there’s more layers to him than anyone could know. He’s affectionately stroking his hand along the nose of your mare, soothing her after too many grabby fingers. Too distracted by his care to notice everyone else has left the barn.

“You coming?” Your voice is small in the old building. His gaze snaps to you from his thoughts, running his hand along the horse’s flank before following you outside. You’re accurately aware of him trailing behind you. His heavy footfalls into the dusty ground. A dusty rose spreading along his cheeks when your eyes accidentally meet.

Joining the group and taking your rightful place at the front of the line, your ma wraps a bandana around your eyes and twists you twice. Orientation lost as hands straighten your shoulders toward the misshapen papier mâche. The burden of embarrassing yourself overwhelms your small frame, but you swing with purpose. You’re the birthday girl and you will knock it down!

Swing one. Miss. Swing two. Miss. Swing three. Miss.

Rules dictate your turn is over and you hand the blindfold and bat over to the next child in line. Swing. Miss. Swing. Hit. It’s a compilation of hits and misses as the line dwindles. Next to bat is Rhett. You give him a small smile as he steps up. He takes the wood between his hands, shoulders squaring to the challenge as he runs his fists over the woodgrain. His eyes are focused, a boy with only one goal.

Swing one. Miss. Swing two. Miss. Swing three. Hit! A bit of paper dislodges from multiple blows and a few treats fall to the ground. The next kid in line holds their hand out expectantly for the bat. But that Abbott boy has other plans.

Thwack. Thwack. Two more hits directly to the piñata, splitting it and upending every sweet in its arsenal. Children flock to the ground as they pick up as many as possible. Rhett’s face is proud - the winner of the arbitrary game - and he bends to pick up a chocolate.

The kid not picking up candy? You. A slow heat rises from your chest and the tips of your ears flood a rosy color. How dare he cheat! On your birthday! Squaring your shoulders, your ma catches you quickly. She knows your temper. Gives you a shake of her head and advises you to spend your energy on other ventures.

“That Abbott boy is gonna be trouble, just you wait and see.”

_____________________________________________________________

The church is stifling, holding the hot July air hostage. Sunday best sticks to sweaty skin. Programs are used as makeshift fans to create a breeze. The preacher drones into the still air that threatens to choke the life from this joyous union.

How Perry Abbott found someone to marry him is beyond you. Aloof one moment, violent the next. You saw what he did to Trevor Tillerson at the skating rink all those years ago. His brother may be a piñata cheater, but Perry was actual bad news. This poor blonde woman must be missing some grey matter to think this was a good idea.

The preacher finally starts saying words you recognize (“Do you take this man…”) and the church doors open as Perry kisses his bride. The wash of fresh air clears your head and allows you to be happy for the couple. Love is in the air!

At the reception you mingle with a few girls from class. Only a year until you escape this hellhole. Wabang is nothing but girls turning into their God-fearing mothers and boys becoming their drunken cowboy fathers. Before you’ve hit drinking age most of them will be married, taking over their families homesteads and pushing out children. You’re not even eighteen and yet this is the dream floating through every classmates mind. Your skin crawls at the idea of settling down with someone like a Tillerson.

Food and dancing is outside - thankfully - and various members of the community are congratulating the newlyweds. Your own parents are wrapped in conversation with the sheriff and your neighbors. Land disputes are as frequent as phone bills here. A classmate asks if you’re going to the ol’ back roads that evening. Wink wink. You barely begin to answer her when a laugh carries over from the church, a group of high school boys leaning against the cracked siding, swigging from smuggled beers over quiet conversation.

You catch Rhett Abbott’s eye. He smirks back over the lip of his bottle, a twinkle in his eye. Good money could be bet that he’s been drinking since this damn service began. He draws the bottle away and holds a finger to his lips, his smile quirked to the right as he asks you to keep his secret. As if you’d ever tell.

His eye slips into a wink. God, he is such a flirt.

Since that fateful piñata day, you and Rhett have stayed in the same orbit. Although, while you’ve remained studios with your head down to ensure an easy exit from the town, he seems to always be mixed in something. Too many nights at the ol’ back roads, scrapes from roughhousing with friends, more than one girl making insinuations the next morning in the girls restroom. But that Abbott boy has always been good to you. A tip of his cap when he walks by you in town, feed sack in hand. That slow smile when he returns the pencil you dropped in class. Last fall the two of you had spent the afternoon sprawled in the sunshine behind the school, skipping out on government because the government can go fuck itself. And it was too nice a day to be cooped up in a concrete building.

Your friendship was easy. Rhett soothed the tension in your brain, that drawl of his like music as he went on about ranch work and dreams of riding bulls one day like his dad. You were going to miss him when you left.

Your head shakes to indicate silly boy and you return his naughty grin so he knows he’s still in your good graces. He turns back to the group, and you miss him looking back at you when you join your parents.

______________________________________________________________

Staring out from behind the curtain, you see your parents and other relatives of your family sat near the front of the audience. Holy hell, this is real.

You’ve been dreaming of high school graduation since the day Wabang lost its appeal. That printed diploma claiming that you paid your dues in this town and the world is your oyster now.

The dinky auditorium they held graduation in each year was filled with the sound of chairs scraping and families clapping each other on the back for their children’s newest accomplishment. Behind you, your graduating class is alive with nervous titters.

A hand slides across your waist, high enough to not raise question, and Rhett peeps his head next to yours. His newly grown stubble is neater than usual, and his curls are actually combed. You lift a hand to smooth the collar of the shirt that’s crumpled under his graduation robe. You’re so proud of him for making it here.

You follow his eyes and catch where his family is sitting. Royal and Cecelia both deep in conversation with their neighbors, Perry and his little family occupied in their own bubble. What’s the daughter’s name again? Ashley? Anna? Amy? You don’t worry too much, she’ll come up soon enough in conversation with Rhett. Not even two and she’s the center of their household. He adores her.

The two of you share a smile as you acknowledge the moment. So many of your shared dreams have centered around this day and what it means. Finally leaving this godforsaken town. His eyes twinkle with the promise of leaving his family behind. That Abbott boy is finally going to make his own path. You’re so fucking proud.

A microphone crackles. The ceremony is commencing. Rhett squeezes your hip excitedly before finding his spot at the front of the line. Let the beginning of your lives begin.

______________________________________________________________

The door squeaks open, letting a blast of icy air flood the bar. Patrons let out their individual noises of complaint. The Handsome Gambler fills with more bodies, huddling around booths as holiday greetings are exchanged. Yet another Christmas in Amelia County. You’ve avoided the town the last few years, but when your roommate’s parents took a last-minute cruise she begged you for a “traditional cowboy Christmas”. She had been disappointed that your parent’s ranch didn’t look out of a House Beautiful spread.

She’s delighted by The Handsome Gambler though. The “quaint” charm as sun-beaten men drink their Jameson and Rainier. You’ve already seen several people you know, raising your chin in hello.

But it’s the one face that hasn’t returned your greeting that plagues your mind. Sat beside a buckle bunny blonde who cannot keep her hands off his arms - Do you blame her? That ranch is doing everyone favors - and you can’t seem to catch his eye. You haven’t seen him since your final goodbye three years prior, your daddy’s truck full with your things.

You’ve heard about him though. One of your parents always has something to say about that Abbott boy.

Ridin’ bulls like his ol’ man. Pretty damn good too.

Seen him with half the girls in town. He’s gon’ get one of ‘em pregnant if he don’t watch out.

Always in a brawl, limpin’ around town. Never know if it’s a bull or person throwing the punches.

No one ever talks about how Rhett still lives at home, in his plaid bedroom at the end of the hall. Never making it out of Wabang like he so desperately wanted.

You glance over one last time. His head ducks down. What happened to him?

______________________________________________________________

That next summer you get stuck in Wabang when your car won’t start after visiting your parents. The mechanic in town gives you a week minimum for the part to come in. Theresa at the library offers you a few shifts of your high school job, something to pass the time until you can get to your real job a few hours away.

The last few days have been pleasant, mostly elders in the community and the odd teenager whose homestead doesn’t have dial-up. The monotony of checking in battered paperbacks feels good. When you had a moment you spruced up the children’s display with summer books you had enjoyed as a child.

“H’ya.” The distantly familiar voice startles you. Your heart thumps against your chest as your gaze raises to two wide blue eyes and a sheepish smile. “D’nt mean to startle ya.”

Next to him is Amy, nearly as tall as the stack of books she’s carrying. She’s participating in the daily summer program led by Theresa. Every day this week a member of her family has dropped by to pick her up, stopping by to inquire about your folks or your life away. Your mouth goes dry after so long away from the presence of that Abbott boy.

You go along scanning Amy’s books, listening to her prattle on about this and that. She’s an inventive kid, the stories are never dull. Rhett keeps rubbing the back of his neck, that strong bicep hidden underneath a shirt stained with pasture mud. You suppress the urge to tuck an unruly strand back into his cap. But that privilege died years ago.

The two leave with a polite goodbye and your head is reeling. Especially the next morning when Amy strides through the library doors chattering excitedly, her uncle on her heels balancing two coffees. Dropping her off with the other kids with a tap of his elbow. You make yourself busy arranging a shelf when he turns toward you.

He slides the styrofoam cup toward you. You can smell the cinnamon, exactly how you take it.

“S’for you.” A tension breaks between you two as you accept the coffee, tentatively raising it before enjoying that first sip. Your lips curl in a smile as that warm feeling envelopes your entire being.

“Thanks. How’d you know I’d want a coffee?” While you know the answer is because he’s thoughtful, he mumbles something about Amy and his mother and a barista. Your smile lets him know that you’re thankful regardless of the reason.

There’s so many things you want to ask him. What is his life like? Is bull riding everything he imagined it to be? Why didn’t he leave Wabang?

But before you can launch into that conversation, he’s excusing himself back to the ranch, Carhartt jacket out the door before you can ask if he wants to grab a drink later.

Every morning as Amy walks in for the summer program, Rhett trails behind her. A coffee in each hand. Drops it off without any explanation, just a smile so hard to read it plagues your mind.

This goes on until the part for your car finally comes and you can leave this town - and the people in it - behind you.

______________________________________________________________

You’re running late. Another Wabang wedding that has eaten up your weekend with the drive you loathe. There’s a pair of heels and a lipstick in your glovebox for “emergencies” after forgetting and wearing your dusty work boots and a slip dress at the last one. The “Entering Amelia County” sign whips by as you toe the speed limit.

Pulling into the church lot, you’re thankfully not too late. You slip into the back and hope your parents don’t notice, but you’re easy to miss amongst the ten gallon hats.

Vows exchanged. Preacher preaches. A kiss to top it off. And now you’re back where you were ten years previous, standing to the side of the dance floor catching up with classmates while Rhett Abbott drinks a beer leaning against the church.

The biggest difference is that he’s a man now. He’s no longer that Abbott boy. All sinful broad shoulders and muscle from hours of labor. Skin tanned and scarred from sun exposure and barbed fences. That damn brace on the hand not nursing a beer. And instead of cracking jokes with the other twentysomething cowboys, his focus is solely on you.

Neither of you makes a move to connect, letting your gazes linger as you stay with your respective parties. The afternoon fades into dusk. The string lights at the edge of the reception area come to life, offering an amber glow to the increasingly drunken crowd. Even you have enjoyed more than your fair share of whiskey. When the ol’ timers leave, the festivities really begin.

“Care t’dance?” He’s drunk, sliding up behind you smelling of leather, malt, and cinnamon. You know he has three left feet, but when those warm hands wrap around your waist, any worries about your toes promptly disappear.

He’s intoxicatingly close. You’ve never been this close, touched this much. Just quick hip squeezes and the occasional shoulder push, the odd side hug after high school afternoons sitting amongst the grass. At this distance you can see that his eyes have dark spots of indigo. That one eyebrow dips lower than the other. At this distance you fully realize how attracted to him you are.

Rhett’s always been a friend, nothing more. Someone who shared the dream to leave. Another animal lover. The piñata cheater who ruined your tenth birthday. So why did he smile always make you heart flutter?

His dancing is as bad as anticipated. He steps on your toes every few steps, muttering “S’ry” each time. Eventually succeeds to just swaying back and forth, letting you take the lead. His blush feels like a reward, your favorite bashful cowboy.

The music slows to a hauntingly sweet melody and you allow your head to fall to his chest, already missing watching his beautiful face. There’s a wall between you two, unspoken and heavy. It weighs on your chest. Where are the words to express what you’re thinking?

Before you can summon the words - the courage? - to say what you want, the song ends. Panic floods you. And you’ve always been one to choose flight over fight. An excuse tumbles from your lips and suddenly you’re fleeing the makeshift dance floor as quickly as those godforsaken heels will allow.

The blood is rushing in your ears, too loud to hear your name called out behind you. The church is too full of partygoers. Your feet turn toward your car and the solace it provides.

He catches up to you in the parking lot, his legs longer and faster. Takes the creamy white Stetson off his head while he catches his breath. He didn’t realize you were so fast.

The two of you are suddenly alone for the first time in years, no distractions to disrupt the brewing emotions. Your back to the driver’s seat door, eyes alight with confusion. Him towering over you with the kindest expression painted over his features.

“Why’d’you run?”

His breath washes over you, warm and comforting. Every instinct tells you to run, to get away from the rush of emotion consuming your soul that has been building for a decade. But then…fingers intertwine with your own, a soothing thumb over your palm. You’re reminded he’s still that Abbott boy, smelling like trouble but gentle as the prairie grass. You have no need to worry about being vulnerable with him.

A deep breath shudders through you. You break eye contact to answer his question. “Got a little too wrapped up in the moment and forgot I’m not one of your buckle bunnies.”

He lets out a hesitant laugh. Hands released as he cups your chin to look into your eyes. Such pretty eyes.

“I’d trade every one of ‘em for a moment with you.” It’s silent as both your breaths cease, his heartbeat vibrating between you. Your eyes plead for more reassurance, more proof that you’re more than another conquest for a man with too many trophies. He licks his lips. “You remember that piñata?”

You nod. Hard to forget being that mad.

“S’ry for cheatin’. I wanted t’be the one t’get the candy out. Impress ya, show I was the best.” He chuckles. “I’m s’stupid. You like rules. And probably wanted the candy yerself. Surprised ya didn’t kick my ass.”

“I wanted to.” Another low laugh escapes his lips.

“Figured you’d want nothin’ to do wit’me and was good with it for a while, but the summer you grew tits? Came back t’school and nearly passed out. So self-conscious and kept coverin‘em. Wanted to smack your arm, I couldn’t look away. Luke Tillerson brought ‘em up on the way home ’n I punched ‘im in the jaw. That’s when I knew I liked ya. Wanted you to be mine.”

That dirty cowboy. Naughty smiles exchange as you both glance down at your chest, much more developed and pushed up thanks to underwire. He blinks hard to clear his mind.

“When you left, figured t’was time to move on. Beat myself up for never gettin’ the courage to leave too.” Your hand slides up his forearm, sharing comfort for such a raw nerve. He smiles his thanks and runs his own hand up your arm, resting a thumb on your shoulder. “Thought maybe y’were back perm’nently when I saw ya a’the library.”

“It was just until my car was fixed.”

“Know that now. But a guy can dream, right?” The wall has completely crumbled now, your bodies close, breaths intermingling. Your mouth opens to speak, to fill the space.

The words are stopped by a warm cowboy mouth fitting over yours.

The stars align. Planets shift. The cars leaving the party around you fade into the distance. All that remains is Rhett and everything he offers.

Maybe Wabang is worth it after all.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhettt abbott fan fiction #rhettt abbott fic #outer range fan fiction #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott

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flickrrposts · 11 months

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Flug is Going to Lose an Arm - Theory

I'm not quite a theorizer, but with Villainous now in the US, I was rewatching season 1A when I noticed something I thought might be worth mentioning.

It's pretty common for cartoons to casually tell the audience major spoilers to the series in a discreet way that flies over the audiences' heads. (i.e. Ducktective in Gravity Falls, or the Cookie Cat song in the first episode of Steven Universe)

So when V.I.R.U.S. listed the spoilers for Código Guajolote at the end of episode 4, I wrote each of them down in case they became important later in the series.

@paper-gold-theories has a post going through each of the spoilers V.I.R.U.S. lists, where they draw a clear parallel between Flug and the character Macias from the show. (So go check out their observations!! Their theory on the "10-year-war" is great!)

One of the spoilers regarding Macias was that Macias "Has no arms."

So personally, I had the thought that Flug would lose an arm at some point, but didn't think about it much at the time, and just added it to a list of "cool fanart/edit ideas".

But later I was going through old saved photos, when I found this livestream sketch of animatronic-versions of the main cast (featuring Demencia ripping off animatronic-Flug's arm):

(Source: This post from @nightfurmoon)

Later, I was rewatching the orientation videos, and Black Hat jokes about ripping off Flug's arm at 6:06 (although, keep in mind that this is in response to what was occurring in the clip he's reacting to).

(link + english fan-sub)

And then, this one's a long shot, but in episode 6, Flug winds up finding an extra detached arm of his as a bit of dark humor (at about 2:11).

This one's definitely reaching, but it's another example of a dismembered Flug-arm, and thought it was worth bringing up.

These could all be coincidences, but I thought it was a cool concept to share none-the-less.

#villainous #villanos #villainous theory #dr flug #villainous theories

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rockcollector3000 · 7 months

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Simon “Ghost” Riley HCs

(Not my art! I saw it on Pinterest)

Ghost sleeps with a nightlight if it’s available to him.

Weighted blanket LOVER

Love language is parallel play (sitting in the same area as someone but not interacting with them)

Sleep talking but only when he’s on base

Speaking of him sleeping, if it wasn’t for him talking, you’d think his ass is dead because of how STILL he is.

Not a fan of eye contact during casual conversation, but in a professional setting he’s doin just fine with it.

Secretly really likes when people ask him for things. But he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting to it.

Amazing cook, but cannot bake to save his fucking life.

He is ALWAYS cold. If you touch his hand, you’d think you’re touchin a damn corpse.

Vocal stimming. (If he hears something funny, he’s repeating it to himself quietly over and over for a few days)

Keeps every gift he has ever received from teammates.

Always carrying paper and pens on him (for Soap who always forgets)

Wears gloves all the time because it’s the only way he won’t pick at the skin on his hands

Fucking LOVES museums. I know because he told me so.

Relationship HCs

He pretends that he doesn’t like always getting matching stuff with you, but he fucking LOVES it. Especially those matching holiday pajamas

Brings you a trinket from every place he’s deployed if it’s possible to do so

It takes him a bit to get comfortable with physical touch, but once he’s comfy, expect to have your ass smacked at least twice a day

Happily lives his life around your routines (if you’re routine oriented like me)

Runs you a bath before you get home from work and brings you a warm towel before you get out. (Like every man should)

Shows pictures of you to his coworkers with a big grin (that no one can see because of his mask)

Protective as FUCK. if you’re home alone, he’s checking up on you frequently to make sure you’re ok

Calling you nightly while deployed when he can

Has a little notebook of stuff to tell you when he gets back

Happily listens to you talking about your work gossip, and is 100% invested in it too.

If you’re a little treat girly (like me) he has a list of your favorites and will bring you something every chance he gets

#ghost mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #headcanon

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tapeskingdom · 1 year

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oriental paper fan ancient accessories washi tape

#paper fan art #oriental paper fan #oriental art decor #green stone decor #oriental art craft #antique chinese art #ancient chinese art #oriental washi tape #asian antique #antique fan

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deathbyathousandroses · 1 year

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We can't keep meeting like this.

ellie x fem!reader

content warnings ☆ cursing, alcohol and weed, vomit (brief and not described), smut (oral, overstimulation, fingering). Lemme know if there's any I missed.

College AU. ☆

Brief Summary ☆ To new beginnings! You were finally moving out of your home town to a bigger city. When you meet the hottest girl you've ever seen on your first day. You can't help but keep meeting in embarrassing situations. ☆

WC ☆ 6.3k

a/n ☆ Howdy Ellie fans, hope y'all enjoy this. I'm not the most magnificent write. But I had an idea so might as well. Feedback is appreciated!

The sound of your tapping foot muffled by the rattling of the car made it all more consuming to get to your destination. Whoever told you being in a small confined space with your chatty dad for five hours was a good idea. Needs to be told off. Anticipation surged through your body as you realized you would almost be there. This was instantly followed by apprehension…'What if my roommates a dick? No, what if they think I'm the dick?'

Scratch that, keep happy thoughts. And so you did - kinda. Soon enough you had arrived at the campus. Although you had done endless amounts of research on this school. No immense amount of websites or pictures could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling of seeing the massive campus in person. Fuck, I mean do you get any financial compensation for the amount of walking you're gonna be doing?

"Hey kiddo, c'mon!" Your dad put his hand on your shoulder with a look between loss and rejoicement. Soon enough. you're struggling to balance bags and boxes onto a small rolling cart. Making your way into the lobby.

The environment immediately made you anxious. With a mix of student orientation leaders and staff member, that all didn't wear any identification. You're struggling to be assisted, until your lord and savior of a father found someone.

A tall lanky raven haired boy trotted his way over to your dad with a clipboard. As your dad mumbled his concerns to him, you squinted your eyes to read the minuscule font on the back of his clipboard. 'Resident Assistant(s)' Oh, well it looks like your old man did a good job at finding exactly what you needed.

Next thing, you were being led to your residence hall room and passed around to different people along the way to aid your confusion. Making your way through the crowd was terrifying. Though, it all worked out as you got to a door that room number matched your paper.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth, followed by a loud groan from your father. You unlocked the dorm, taking in the foreign area. It was a decent size, you didn't hate it. Thankfully, considering this was gonna be your living situation for god knows how long.

"Hey, looks like your roommate beat us to it." Your fathers voice filled the room. "Ok, Mr. Captain Obvious." You snorted admiring the decorated half of the dorm. Posters and other items scattered the wall, and you noticed a theme of purple. Purple comforter, purple stationary, purple bags.

"I wonder if purples their favorite color, what do you think?" You quipped.

"I reckon it's yellow, no?" Earning a small chuckle out of you.

The two of you began getting to work unloading the boxes upon boxes. God, you should have never allowed him to organize these. Somehow, you were finding toiletries in your clothes box, and stationary in your technology box. Yes, it was a pain in the ass to keep guessing where everything was. But, it did give you more time with the old fucker. Admittedly, you were gonna miss him. Of course, you'd never tell him that to save your pride.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The day was nearing an end, you'd gotten most everything heavy unpacked. The rest you were able to handle by yourself. A palpable sense of realization fell over you. You'd be having to say goodbye. By the looks of your fathers face, he was thinking the same thing.

"Why don't we have waffles for dinner, on me kiddo." He faintly smiled, ruffling up your hair. You did the smallest nod, but he understood. Then causing the sappiest scene to known to man kind to happen. He took you into a tight embrace kissing the top of your hair. You weren't listening to too much of what he was whispering. But you heard the quiet 'I'm so proud of you's.'

"Okay, okay. Enough of this dad. I'm starving!" You groaned. He reluctantly agreed. Not wanting this moment to end, and you both made your way out of the campus back to his car.

The ride to the restaurant was sat in a comfortable silence. Only the small hums of your dad listening to music. And the gusts of wind knocking on the windows. You loved these car rides, although sometimes it's a pain to hear him rant about cars and sports. Having to live with a new person you didn't know. Was ultimately gonna be worst. Especially not having these little moments everyday.

Once you both arrived, and were seated and ordered. You and your father talked about lists of things to do prior before classes. He was urging you to make some sort of itinerary to help you stayed organized. You, of course, had to reassure him multiple times that it was unneeded. You had everything you needed that your professors required. He still was worried.

The two of you carried on your conversation, just rambling about everything and anything. Until your food came. It was always a little tradition to get waffles with him after something big happened in your guys life. You always enjoyed this, and was glad he was carry on this tradition into adulthood.

The first bite was amazing, as always. Although, not as good as your the waffle place you both frequent back home. You watched your dad inhale his food. Only to realize how hungry you were, you both hadn't eaten all day. Besides the roadtrip snacks, you were starving.

It was here, the dreadful goodbye. You'd never think watching your dad pay for a check would make you tear up. But here you are trying to hide your emotions in a 24 hour diner.

"You gotta get back." He held his hand up pulling you out of the sunken in booth. You put your jacket on and followed him back to the car. He flipped in your favorite CD, and you both sang along to it. Relishing in this fleeting moment. Unfortunately, the car ride didn't feel long enough.

There you were, reluctantly pulling the car door open. While your dad raced to your side of the car.

A smile painted his lips, and he grabbed your hand. "Here, why don't you let your old man walk you to your room?" The silence gave him the answer he needed. And he put his arm around you walking into the lobby. Memories from this morning flooded back, but the lobby looked drastically different without the crowds.

The walk was nice, besides the rambling about being a good student and kid. Not getting into drugs, blah blah blah. The universal run down every parent feels like they have a duty to say.

Stopping at your dorm door. The same expression was plastered on his face from when you finished unpacking that afternoon.

"Bring it in kiddo." The embrace was tight again, you didn't want to let him go. If you did you'd have to face the reality of him leaving. It isn't like you weren't ready for this new start. You were just scared of being alone. You felt the top of your head getting smothered in kisses. If anyone walked by, you'd sure think they'd start tearing up.

He was the first to let go. You hadn't realized his face was also wet from tears. Until you finally tilted your head back up to him. This earned a chuckle from both of you.

"You know I'm gonna miss you." You mumbled, dragging on the first few letters.

"I know." His voice was only but a whisper. The next thing he did was kiss your forehead one last time "Don't do anything stupid, you understand?" Nodding your head in agreement, you went in for a last hug. This one was shorter, but still had the same impact as the rest.

You both said your goodbyes, and the sound of his footsteps grew fainter every second. When you couldn't hear him anymore, you finally began unlocking your door. Only to be greeted with a girl on the bed.

She lay there with earbuds in, a book. Her hair was braided in the back, and an earthy floral scent filled your nose. With the sudden sound of the door shutting. She took her earbuds out smiling wide.

"Oh! You're here!" She came up and hugged you. This was different you thought. You didn't say anything verbal in response, still too shocked by the big embrace she took you in prior. "Oh shit, right, my bad. I'm Dina."

"Y/N, nice decorations by the way." You responded.

The rest of the night was filled mostly by Dina talking and you listening. You didn't mind though, you thought she was interesting. Besides, it was better than having an asshole of a roommate.

"Okay, before we go to bed...What's your schedule for tomorrow?" Dina questioned.

"Oh, well I have my art class at 9am. Journalism at 11, then Calc in the afternoon."

"Journalism with Bardot?"

"Yup, that's the one." Earning a hum out of Dina.

"Okay, how about we meet up here before Journalism and we can walk to class together," Dina mentioned. You agreed. "Also! I'm going to a party tomorrow night, you're coming."

You were ready to argue but Dina didn't budge on the statement. I guess tomorrow would be filled with trying new things...

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Loud beeps awoke you. It was already morning? The clock read 7am, you had two options. Sleep in until 8:30 and have only 30 minutes to get ready and to your class. Or start getting ready now to look presentable, while also not having to rush across campus.

With a little more deciding, you once in your life picked the responsible decision...Slowly parting ways with the warmth of you bed was hell, but getting into a warm shower was great compensation.

Once you finished getting ready, it was almost time to leave. Checking you school bag, and tying your shoelaces. Thats when Dina woke up.

"Good morning Y/n." Her groggy voice rang. She sat up wrapping her body in her comforter and rubbed her eyes. "You headed to class?" She questioned.

"Yup, I actually need to leave," pulling out your phone to read 8:50, "right now-" Ur voice now laced with panic. You couldn't be late for your first class of the school year. How would your professor feel about this?

The adrenaline coursing through you, carried your legs faster than you could have ever. Checking quickly for the room number you needed you finally had. 8:58am. Took only eight minutes, nice job.

Lecture hall was abnormally quiet, even your feet taking steps felt too loud. A lot of seats were taken, so you chose a seat near the center. Wouldn't have been your first choice, but I guess that's what we get.

The class began shortly after, going over the basics of the art course. Just in detail of course expectations, professor policy etc. It was all dandy until a finger taps on your shoulder. You look back to be met with the most piercing green eyes. Your eyes wondered the mystery girls face. She had freckles scattered on her face like constellations, and short auburn hair that framed her face perfectly. Perfection is all you could describe her as.

"Can I sit here?" Her raspy voice broke your trance.

"Uh, yeah of course!" Mentally face palming yourself for saying that so energetically. She didn't speak much after that, carefully opening her notebook with doodles and following along to the professor talking. It wasn't like she was saying anything important right now, it was all just first day rundown. But you couldn't help but admire her tattooed wrist.

That short-lived admiration ended when the bell interrupted. Groaning, you gathered your things and began to head out when the freckled girl spoke.

"I'm Ellie by the way." Her voice rang through your head like a broken record. You did a slight smile to acknowledge her, but she still stood there waiting expectantly.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Y/n." A deep red blush painted your face after speaking.

"Well, I hope to see you around. Y/n." She began walking away after. Did her voice get hotter every time she spoke? Oh how you'd pay to hear her say your name again, and again, and again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first school day came to a close. Dina and you walked together to your dorm as she rambled on about her day and the upcoming party tonight. This was when you realized your first obstacle; finding the right outfit to wear to a college party.

Dina started getting ready right away, leaving you stranded and clueless on how to look presentable. Do I wear something nice? Something casual? The first you focused on was hair and makeup. It wasn't anything extravagant. But definitely something that was bolder than your everyday.

Once that was over with, you watched Dina slip on a cute sweater with a skirt. It was simple, but so cute.

"Dina?" You spoke, making her look up at you. Humming waiting for you to talk, "Can you help me pick an outfit?"

"I was waiting for this moment all day." She frantically got up wasting no time to rummage through your closet. You couldn't decipher what she was thinking. She took a long time to pick pieces of clothing, so you wondered if she thought your wardrobe was ugly.

"Ah-ha!" She triumphantly said, waving a tight white long sleeve in your face, paired with some simple dark-washed jeans. The outfit was basic and simple, but there was a reason that shirt was in the back of your closest. You never wear it.

It clung too much for comfort, and the backless detail didn't go unnoticed either. It wasn't an ugly top, it was gorgeous. You just didn't think you could pull it off.

"Go try it on dummy!" She practically pushed you into the bathroom.

When you came out, you studied Dina's expressions. Her once blank face, turned into one of aw. "You look hot, what the fuck?"

Her words made you feel so confident. If it wasn't for her you'd probably be wearing a random hoodie. This was it, this was your look. The last thing you both did before heading out was checking yourselves in the mirror, and you were out.

As you walked through the halls, Dina abruptly stopped. "Shit, I forgot something." Without any explanation she quickly ran the other way. Leaving you stranded by the vending machine room. Welp, might as well buy some water as you realized how dehydrated you were.

After receiving the water, you began chugging it with no hesitation. The water began dripping from your mouth onto your white shirt. Realizing the mishap, you cursed under your breath looking for paper towels to clean yourself up. With your luck, no paper towels, and the water was right on the tops of your chest. Exposing your lack of bra.

Mumbling more curses under your breath, you started to choke on it when you saw Ellie standing in the entrance way staring at you amused.

"You scared the shit out of me, how long were you standing there?" You questioned.

"Only the part where I watched you drown, but don't mind me. I like the view." Her eye adverting to your shirt.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing." You groaned putting your hands to cover yourself.

She chuckled, passing by you to get to the vending machine. Just in time for Dina to come back with whatever she needed.

Saying your rushed goodbyes to Ellie, the two of you went back on your path to the party. Mentally cheering at Dina not asking who Ellie was.

You realized shortly into your walk, that you hit the jackpot with Dina as your roommate. She was such a polar opposite from you, but a part of that made you two gravitate to each other. Within the day and a half you'd known her. It felt like you'd been friends for years. I mean, there was a dull moment with her. Something, you never had with anyone except your father.

The party wasn't a far walk. but you still regretted not bring a jacket due to the coldness. And still somewhat damp shirt, luckily the it wasn't sheer anymore.

"We have arrived m'lady." Dina used her fingers to play air trumpet. You both went hand by hand up the stairs knocking on the door. To be greeted by a towering man.

"Jesse, this is Y/n, Y/n this is Jesse." Dina introduced you both to each other. He open the door more to signal you both in, and greeted you. "I'm her boyfriend by the way." You nodded, as you watched them become affectionate. Giving you a cue to walk away.

The party started off tame, not too many people were there at first. But as the night went on, the music became louder. Lights became dimmer, and it reeked of booze and weed everywhere. Dina had introduced you to a couple of other people. With the help of alcohol in your system you were able to strike up conversations easily.

You tried your best to stick with Dina for the most part. When she wasn't present, you stuck with a couple of people she introduced you to.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The scene somehow migrated into a random bedroom. You were now at limit of alcohol, cutting yourself off from anything else.

"Alright, form a circle guys." Jesse instructed the room. Everyone got into position, when a knock at the door made every turn. The last person you expected to enter, entered. It was fucking Ellie. She immediately had her eyes on you. Giving you a slight nod to acknowledge your presence.

"Well if it isn't Ellie fucking Williams!" A girl yelled over the music. Other people began greeting her, making it very apparent she had mutual friends her. You watched as she sat in-between two girls, you felt jealously rise in you. But you pushed it down.

"Ok simmer down everyone," Jesse interrupted everyones conversations, "Were gonna play seven minutes in heaven." He dramatically slammed down an empty beer bottle in the middle. He stood up and sat on a nearby beanbag. To show he wasn't going to participate.

As the game went on, you became more and more anxious as your turn was coming up. Seven minutes went by fast in each turn, but you couldn't help but realize how long that really was. You needed to do it, you couldn't pussy out now.

"Your turn Y/n." Dina tugged on your arm. You slowly reached for the bottle locking eyes with Ellie. As the bottle spun, you watched it intently. Picking at you fingernails from the anticipation. It felt like it was in slow-motion near the end. As it came to a stop, your eyes geared towards the torn up converse that the bottle tip pointed at.

The bottle landed on Ellie. Whatever you were feeling before was ramped up double, she was the first to stand up. Smirking the whole time. She led you to the closet, and opened it to let you walk through.

"So art class girl, how's it going?" She playfully whispered. You were about to speak when you felt an overwhelming response to barf. Your hand flew to your mouth and you ran out of the closet and the room. Straight to the bathroom, only to release the worth sickness you've felt in years. I guess mixing boxed wine and vodka wasn't your brightest idea.

The lack of material covering your back relieving the heat you were feeling. As it hit the cold wall. You sat in the bathroom for awhile recollecting yourself, you didn't know how to get back from that. How did that make Ellie feel? I mean it seemed like you were barfing at the idea of kissing her.

The rambling of your thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

"I'll be out soon, sorry!" You screamed over the blasting music.

"Uh, it's me. Ellie, can I come in?"

Fuck me, just my luck. You slowly got up from the floor and opened the door inviting her in. She stood there for a second looking at the scene in front of her. You were a mess. Makeup probably smudged and hair now wild.

"I'm taking you to your dorm, you're clearly too drunk." Her voice was demanding. It made a familiar sensation pool between your thighs at her assertiveness. "Yes m'am." You squeaked, burping from the alcohol.

She took your hand, and guided you out of the bathroom and the party. She didn't have any transportation like you, so you both walked back in silence. The cold night making you shiver under the breeze.

"Here take my jacket, you're shivering." Ellie pulled the thick clothing off of her body, and guiding it onto you. Leaving her in a thermal underneath.

"But aren't you cold?" You mentioned. Ellie shook her head 'no' and you kept walking until you reached the campus. The walk helped you sober up a little, but not enough to chase away the dizziness you felt. You couldn't decipher if it was the alcohol or Ellie's close proximity making you dizzy though.

"Ok, you're gonna have to give me directions to your dorm," She spoke closely to your ear sending shivers down your spine, "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" The new nickname made you almost buckle at the knees.

You told her the room number, and she nodded understanding where it was. Then, she took your hand helping you up the stairs. The hand-to-hand contact made your stomach jump in circles. She fortunately kept holding your hands as she navigated the hallways searching for your room.

When you arrived, she let go of your hand. Leaving you feeling empty.

"You know, we gotta stop meeting like this." Ellie breathy chuckled. Her hands went into her pockets. You nodded not knowing what to say, but agree. Feeling her eyes on you as you struggling with the lock of your dorm.

You began to enter, before stopping to look at her. "Thanks for walking me, this means a lot you know. Considering I almost barfed on you." This made you pull your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

"You can make it up to me sooner or later." Ellie responded, "Before I forget, give me your arm."

You reluctantly did, as you watched her pull a sharpie from her pocket. She began writing something you couldn't make out. When she finished you looked to see her number.

"Just so you can thank me again when you're sober." She remarked. This was the last thing she said before you both said your goodnights to each other. Parting ways for the night.

Getting inside, you checked your reflection in the bathroom of your dorm. Realizing how fucking red your cheeks were. After much review of the night, you cleaned yourself up and went to bed. For your first college party, it wasn't too bad. Despite one mishap.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Like expect, you woke up with a raging headache. Never again you scolded yourself, before taking some aspirin. Dina was still fast asleep under a pile of blankets. Luckily, your earliest class was at 12 today, meaning you had an ample amount of time to pull yourself together.

Still, your thoughts lingered on last night. Of what could have happened in that closet. You didn't necessarily want your first kiss with Ellie to be in a closet. But apart of you didn't thin you'd get a chance else where. Of course, you blew it.

You began turning on a hot shower when you noticed the small black marker written on your arm. Remembering Ellie wrote it outside your dorm before she left. Before getting into the shower you quickly saved the number to your contact.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The day went on as normal, just the same lectures about course expectations you got on the second. You couldn't help but think back to Ellie, and how you practically had her at ur fingertips in your phone. No prevail, maybe it was too soon to text her? Or maybe you waited too long?

After getting out of your last class, you made it back to your dorm and bit the bullet. Sending a short, 'Heyy, it's Y/n from art. Just wanted to thank you again. :)'

It wasn't anything special. but it did take you ten minutes to come up with. Your mind was running at all the possible replies she could give. And you became more anxious by the minute at the lack of them. Until you heard a ding.

'Hey Y/n, no worries. Although, I do think you owe me a lunch.'

You had to have read that tezt a million times by now. Lunch was practically the only word you could think of. Now for the hard part replying back. Don't sound too desperate Y/n, you got this.

'That I do.' That was the best you could come up with. But was it too short?

'Perfect, meet me at the campus cafe in ten. It's a date.'

Fuck fuck fuck. Did she really just fucking say that? After all, you thought you blew it after last night. You only changed out of your sweatpants into jeans. And fixed your hair before heading out. The walk to the cafe wasn't far, but you didn't wanna risk being late.

When you arrived at the cafe, your eyes scanned the busy area looking for the familiar face. You sat at an empty table of two. She was probably running late, it was only five minutes after the fact.

While you kept overthinking, the girl in question stalked over sitting down in the chair in front of you.

"Sorry I'm late." Her voice was quieter than usual. Was she just a nervous as you? You quickly dismissed it, reassuring it wasn't a big deal. The two of your got situated.

"So, I wanna know more about you." Ellie's voice was so low you almost has to lean forward to hear her. You watched her eyes study her fingers as they fidgeted. Only for them to come back to meet yours waiting for an answer.

"Well, what do you wanna know?" You replied, still studying her face. You couldn't exactly read her. Which was killing you. Before she could reply, a server came over asking what you both would like.

This prompted you both to skimp through the menu. After a minute, you order just a coffee. While you listened too Ellie ordering a tea with a pastry.

After the server left, you continued your conversation where it left off.

"So, what do you like? Is maybe what I should start off with." She laughed, it was such a contagious one. That you mimicked it unintentionally.

"Well, I don't know I like art I guess. My dad was always a huge painter, so I guess thats where the love came from. I also like space, specifically astronomy. You know, like constellations and what not." You promptly cut yourself off when you realized you were rambling.

"I love space too, I've loved it from a young age." She was smiling so much, you couldn't help but replicate it. The conversation was starting to get more comfortable after that new found shared interest.

It seemed like you two talked about everything, from what you were like back home. How you applied to this university. Ellie was not what you thought she be. Not that you had any bad impression of her. You just didn't expect her to be a huge nerd. But you were too.

"Yea, well my dad loves embarrassing me. " Ellie spoke through laughs. You were somewhat surprised that she was also raised primarily by her dad. You don't thin you've met anyone with that experience. It made you feel all more safe talking to Ellie.

"Uh, fuck. It's late. How long have we been here?" She questioned now acknowledging the lack of people in the cafe, from when you both were first here. You were about the speak when she spoke again, "Maybe you'd like to come back to my dorm?"

The question made your eyes widen in disbelief. The silence wasn't intentional, but you obviously weren't gonna turn down this offer.

"Or not, shit sorry did I make this awkward?" Ellie nervously watched you.

"What? No-YES! I mean sure- I would love to come." Your stuttering made you wanna crawl into a hole.

You both got up gathering your things and stretching from the lack of movement you both done in the past couple hours. You couldn't believe it had been that long, it felt like was only thirty minutes.

The walk to her dorm was different than last nights. Instead of silence, it wad filled with you and Ellie laughing and chatting the whole time. As you walked up flights of stairs, you couldn't help but gradually move closer to her. Now having your hands briefly rub past each other whilst you walk. You took this opportunity to be bold and tangle your hands together.

She looked at you for a brief second stopping mid sentence. You both held hands the rest of the way. You couldn't help but wanna scream.

"This is it." She stopped at a door that looked identical to yours. "I have a single, so no roommates." She reassured you.

Upon opening, a faint smell of weed hit your face. You studied her room noticing space posters and other things on her walls that she previously told you she liked. Your eyes went to the bong on her windowsill. You think she noticed, because she immediately went to put it away.

"Sorry about that, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything."

"No don't worry, I don't mind." You reassured her.

She sighed in relief, "Wanna try?"

"Why not." You responded. She grabbed the bong, previous water already occupying it. "Come, sit." She patted the spot next to her on her bed. As you did, she began packing the bowl. You intently watched her fingers as they worked away. Fuck- they were so long.

"Ok, you know how to do this?" Ellie questioned. You told her you've never used a bong to smoke weed. She nodded.

"Ok." She then took your hands placing the bong in them. "Put your mouth over the here. And start to inhale, okay? But don't do it til I finish lighting" She instructed. You did as she told you, and she brought the light up to the bowl and lit it. When she finished you inhaled watching the smoke rise up into your mouth. You brought the bong away and inhaled as much as you could before you started coughing.

Ellie patted your back to subside the coughing fit. When you collected yourself, you watched as Ellie expertly did everything with ease. She inhaled with no problems, passing it back to you. You both went back and forth until you were comfortably high.

The two of you lay there talking about stupid things, the high amplifying the amount of laughs you both let out.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

It seemed by now the two of you ran out of things to talk about. Now just enjoying each others company in silence. It was getting late and you knew this, but you didn't wanna leave. Still, feeling you overstayed you shift upwards looking at Ellie. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion by the sudden movement.

"I think it's time I head out, Dina might be worried." You finally spoke. She nodded biting her lip like she wanted to say something but couldn't. As you finally planted your feet on the ground she put her hand on your shoulder.

"Before you leave, can I ask you something?" Her voice now quieter than before.

"Go for it." You pressed on not knowing what she'd say.

"Did you want to kiss me last night in the closet?" She didn't make eye contact with you the whole time. Your heartbeat began fluttering faster than ever. Of course you wanted to kiss her. You've wanted to jump her bones since art class.

"Ellie..." You began. But she interrupted, "No don't answer that. I'm sorry shit-"

"I wanted to kiss you before that Ellie." It was not your turn to interrupt. You waited for an answer, but watched as her jaw unclenched and turned into a smile. She then finally looked at you for the first time since the question.

You watched as she leaned closer to you, "What's stopping you now?" Her voice now more raspy than ever. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned forward pressing your lips to Ellie's. They were so warm and soft, it felt like a dream really.

She deepened the kiss by grabbing your face, using her left hand to tug at your hair causing a moan to slip out of your mouth. She used this opportunity to slip her tongue in. Making you react once again. This went on for awhile, her teasing you to see what reaction she can get out of you.

When you both pulled away, you stared at her lustful eyes and now redden lips.

"Fuck you're so beautiful Y/N." Ellie put her hands on your hips guiding you to straddle her lap. She kissed you once again, bringing her knee in contact of you heat. You moaned louder, this time causing a chuckle to come out of Ellie.

"Ellie stop teasing!" You whined. She kissed down your neck earning another small whimper out of you. "Someones needy..." She finally answered. Her fingers worked at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you to take off your shirt. You nodded frantically helping her life it over your arms and neck.

She stopped her movements to admire your shirtless figure. Reaching out the touch your breast, her cold thumbs ran over your nipples. Making you shudder against her, and involuntarily grind your hips on her thigh. That didn't go unnoticed by her, "Keep fucking yourself on my thigh baby." Her voice was addictive now, laced with nothing but lust.

You obliged, becoming a moaning mess from the stimulation. Ellie leaned down putting you breast into her mouth swirling her tongue over your nipple. A yelped escaped, as she nipped at your skin before pulling away.

She got up off the bed, leaving you in a huff. She mocked your neediness, and quickly pulled her hoodie off leaving her in a white tank top. The buckle of her belt took you out of your trance as she was in nothing but her underwear and tank top. She was now urging you to take your pants off.

Climbing on top of you and pulling you into another heated kiss. "I can't believe I get to do this." She whispered. Her hands traveled further down your body stopping at your clothed heat. She used her finger tips to rub up and down your underwear. Laughing at the wet spot that leaked through. "Who got you this wet?" She looked at you for an answer, "Hm? Answer me." Her voice got louder, pinching your thigh.

"You Els, s'only you." You practically moaned it. She hummed in contentment, snapping your underwear waistband against your skin. You lift your hips to easily slide them off, her fingers traced down your slit causing you to buck your hips up.

"Lemme take care of you." She kissed your neck and trailed kisses down your body stopped at you lower abdomen, looking up at you for reassurance. "You want this?" Her voice now filled with real concern. You nodded frantically. "I need a verbal respond sweetheart."

"I want this-I want you. Please Ellie fuck me!" You whined, getting impatient at the lack of friction down there. Ellie obliged licking a long strip on your wetness. Making a moan erupt from you. She continued to do this, latching her lips around your clit; sucking.

The feeling was unlike anything else. And you didn't know if you could go back to using a vibrator after her. She was practically a god right now. Her name fell from your lips like a chant. You couldn't stop, it felt too good.

As she kept kitten licking your clit, she slowly inserted one finger watching your face contort. As she fucked you with one, she inserted another. They curled up hitting your g-spot. The double stimulation was getting all too overwhelming. She could feel you were close.

She sped up her fingers, and harshly sucked your clit more getting more moans out of you. When you breath started to catching, and you legs starts clenching around her head. She knew what was to come. "Fucking cum Y/n." Her demands rang through your head as you moans. Tears spilled out of your eyes from the amount of pleasure you felt.

She did one last suck, and you were done for. Your legs started shaking as the coil in your stomach snapped. You came screaming her name like it was a mission. She continued to fuck you through your orgasm, but didn't stop when you finished.

"E-els! I can't take it anymore, please-" You croaked out, trying to push her head from your heat. She still didn't listen and kept sucking on your clit.

"C'mon one more princess, you can do it." She mumbled into you. Your moans became louder again, feeling another orgasm rise. The intensity building up due to your sensitivity.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You moaned cumming again, this time squirming your legs and crying out from the overstimulation. She finally parted from between your legs. Chin covered in your juices.

"You taste so good, couldn't let you go." She explained herself, coming up to kiss you again. You tasted yourself on her lips, and she deepened the kiss again playing with strands of your hair.

"Ellie, what about you?" You questioned. She softened her gaze looking at you. "Another time, don't worry about me." Her voice now softer than when she was eating you like her last dinner.

You both laid there for awhile taking in each others presence. As you dozed off you couldn't help but feel so happy. You didn't know you were capable of even becoming friends with Ellie. Let alone do this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/n: ANYWAYYY, I got a little carried away. I hope you guys enjoyed that! Feel free to leave requests for me to write. And leave feedback x

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