#but her love of butter remains

[biitchcakes]

@thesilverandjetsystem sent: 🍿 - Popcorn! Do they have butter on their popcorn? Extra salty? Do they get any of the coloured popcorn at movie theatres or just the usual stuff? // ( accepting )

EXTRA butter — this is the woman who ate sixteen sticks of butter in one sitting while she was pregnant, so she wants that popcorn so buttery she can see her reflection in the sheen on her fingers.

The salt is deffo covered by the butter at the rate she uses it, I'd say.

No colour, she gets just regular popcorn when she goes to the movies — except she goes over and loads it with all that butter just mentioned. Occasionally she'll flavour the popcorn with buffalo or nacho cheese from the shakers they've got in cinemas. But she's definitely most about the classic butter taste. She kind of likes caramel popcorn, but she's more into savoury flavours.

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[evilvillain123456789]

i woke up one afternoon to discover my body was transformed into that of a pig. though it was shocking, my family loved me despite this, and fed me lots of yummy slop. I lost pieces of my humanity with every day that passed, and I began to lose my sense of shame as well. This resulted in me often shitting where I stood, and blatantly going into erstrus when the time came. My parents, still believing me to be a real person, and not swine, were disgusted, and ashamed, and scolded me any time I "misbehaved". Until the day came along, one day, when my mother looked deep into my eyes and could not find a single trace of the human soul within them. I saw her turn around to the other room and heard her sobbing, though it elicited no response from me. Heartbroken, she had a conference with the rest of my family, and they decided to spare themselves the pain of having to look at me, and sell me to the Farmer as a meat pig. I went with him peacefully, aware of my fate, but not caring. The farmer did not know that I used to be human, so after I became fit to slaughter, maybe even substantially larger beyond that, he did so without ceremony. I was butchered as part of a special order, with my entire carcass shaved and washed, organs washed and placed back within, and sold to one man, who paid a hefty price. He brought me to his house after a long time spent in a, somewhat dingy ice chest in the back of his pickup truck, dragged inside, and cooked me in a large oven. My meat looked tender on the inside, yet was perfectly browned and crisp on the outside. Potatos and other starchy vegetables were cooked in the same pan, with a good amount of butter, as my body, the fat that was rendered and dripped off of me treating them well. When I was done cooking, instead of dressing me up, and putting me on a table, he put me and the cooking dish on the floor. This made me curious. I figured that he would be eating me, or a group of people, but thinking back on it, I heard no other humans than him this whole time, nor any footsteps. He whistled and called, and after some time an extremely large pig slowly slid itself along the floor into view. When it reached me, it didnt hesitate to begin eating as fast as it could. The man looked on. After about 15 minutes, the other pig had eaten all of me, even my bones, the vegetables, and drank all the remaining fluids from the pan, and my conscious had reawoken inside of its mind, all my memories intact, seeing things from its perspective, though I couldnt control its actions, and it's inner thoughts weren't aware of my presence. I felt my share of the pleasure that comes from eating ones own kind, and the pig sluggishly both in speed and manner made its way back to its pen, and fell asleep. I did too

[hiitsm]

Whispers of Desires

You and your girlfriend are navigating the tender stages of experiencing your first time together.

Whispers of Desires is for 18+ only.

This piece contains intimate conversations about sex, characterized by a mix of awkward, shy, and loving moments. It also includes a depiction of soft, slow, and tender sexual activity, with a focus on emotional connection and mutual care.

-

Note: I’ve spent a lot of time crafting this piece, and while it may be a bit longer than initially planned, I felt that each moment deserved the detail it received. I've adjusted it a little. I hope it meets everyone’s expectations. Thank you so much for the kind messages and support after the teaser. I appreciate it a lot.

-

The kitchen is warm with the scent of freshly baked pastries, the lingering aroma of sugar and butter mixing with the comforting familiarity of Alexia’s home. You stand at the counter, carefully folding a dishcloth, trying to keep your thoughts focused on the simple, repetitive tasks. The to-do list lies nearby, a silent reminder of the things you can control, and the one thing you can't seem to face.

You glance at the list, its contents scribbled in your neat handwriting:

To-Do List: 1. Clean up the kitchen 2. Fold laundry 3. Talk to Alexia about her sexual desires

Your eyes linger on the third item, the one you've been dreading. With a sigh, you quickly strike through it, the pen's ink cutting across the words as if that could erase the anxiety gnawing at you. You can’t bring yourself to talk to her about that, not yet. What if the rumors are true? What if her desires are something you can't fulfill? You don’t want to lose her, but you also don’t want to lose yourself in the process.

You’ve heard all the rumors about Alexia Putellas. That she loves to dominate, to pull her partners apart with a fierce intensity. That she revels in control, in the thrill of the chase. That her passion is raw and fast. Each whisper you caught only fueled your anxiety, a churning storm of nerves that seemed impossible to quiet. You tried to ignore them, to push the thoughts aside, but they lingered in the back of your mind, casting shadows over the love you share.

And now, with the possibility of taking the next step in your relationship looming before you, the fear has only grown. You’re scared to take that step, terrified that your desires aren’t the same as hers. What if you can’t match her intensity? What if what she wants is something you can’t give? The thought of not being enough for her, of failing her in some way, sends a cold shiver down your spine.

You start wiping down the counters, moving in a methodical rhythm, each swipe of the cloth offering a brief distraction from the storm brewing in your mind. The sponge glides over the cool surface, removing traces of flour and sugar, but the tension in your chest remains.

As you straighten up the scattered baking supplies, your eyes drift toward the small, framed photo on the windowsill. It's a candid shot taken on a sunny day, the two of you caught mid-laughter, arms wrapped around each other, the kind of joy that feels almost too good to be true. The memory makes you pause, your fingers brushing the frame lightly as you wonder if you’re letting your fears overshadow the truth of what you have.

The whispers, the rumors, they all seem so distant when you think about the woman you know. The Alexia who smiles softly at you over breakfast, who texts you in the middle of the day just to say she misses you, who holds your hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. But still, the doubts linger, making you question whether you truly know her as well as you think.

The front door clicks open, and you hear the familiar sound of her footsteps, steady and sure, as they approach the kitchen. You barely have time to turn before she’s there, her presence filling the room with an effortless grace.

“Hola, amor,” she greets you, her voice soft and filled with warmth that wraps around you like a blanket. She glances around the kitchen, taking in the clean counters and organized space. “Cómo va todo?”

You quickly grab the to-do list, folding it in half and slipping it into your pocket before she can see the items you’ve been obsessing over. “Everything’s good,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds more steady than you feel. But Alexia is already closer, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of affection and curiosity.

Before she can ask anything more, you close the distance between you, leaning in to kiss her softly. Her lips are warm, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, shared moment. She hums contentedly against your lips, a small, pleased sound that makes your heart flutter.

“Mmm, that was nice,” she murmurs when you pull back, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She switches to English, her accent making the words sound even sweeter. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer into the safety of her embrace. “What were you up to, amor?”

“Just trying to get things sorted around here,” you say, your voice quieter now, more intimate. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but good,” she replies, her voice a little softer now, as if the closeness between you demands a gentler tone. “I missed you, though.” The sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you admit, your hand resting on her arm, tracing small patterns on the sleeve of her shirt. You can feel the steady beat of her heart through the fabric, and it gives you a small sense of calm. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Alexia’s eyes soften as she leans in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more filled with the longing that has been building up in both of you throughout the day. Her lips move against yours with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more, a hunger that you feel echoing in your own chest.

Your heart races as you return her kiss, your fingers threading through her hair, holding onto her as if she’s the only solid thing in your world. For a moment, you lose yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the way she makes you feel safe and cherished.

But as the kiss grows more intense, a wave of anxiety crashes over you, pulling you back to the surface. You break the kiss abruptly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Alexia pulls back just enough to look at you, concern etched on her features.

“Qué pasa?” she asks softly, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture. Her eyes search yours, trying to understand what’s going on inside your head.

You struggle to find the words, torn between the love you feel for her and the fear that’s been gnawing at you for days. You want to be honest with her, to share what’s been weighing on your heart, but the words stick in your throat, refusing to come out. You’re scared, scared that your desires don’t match hers, scared that what she wants is something you’re not sure you can give. And more than anything, you’re scared of losing her, of the possibility that this might be something that could drive a wedge between you.

Alexia waits patiently, her gaze steady and filled with a quiet strength that both comforts and intimidates you. She deserves the truth, but you’re not sure you’re ready to face it yourself. Not yet.

Alexia's concerned gaze remains locked on you as you struggle to find the right words. Your chest tightens with the weight of your fears, and you can feel your face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. The warmth of her hand on your cheek feels comforting, yet it only amplifies your nervousness. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“I—” you start, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been... thinking a lot about us, and, um, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” You stumble over the words, each one feeling like a hurdle you’re barely able to jump. You clear your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I mean, I know we’ve been... close and everything, and I love you so much, but... but I’ve heard some things, and I—”

You stop abruptly, your hands gesturing awkwardly as if trying to physically grasp the right words. The shame of not being able to articulate your feelings is almost overwhelming. You glance around, desperately searching for something to focus on.

Alexia, sensing your distress, gently guides you towards the couch. “Come on, amor,” she says softly, her voice soothing. “Let’s sit down. You look like you could use a minute.” She leads you to the couch and gestures for you to sit, her touch light but reassuring.

You sink onto the couch, feeling a mixture of relief and dread. Alexia moves to the kitchen, her movements quick but purposeful. She returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you. “Here, drink this. It might help you feel a bit better.”

You take the glass, your hands still trembling slightly as you sip the cool water. Alexia sits beside you, her proximity comforting, yet her eyes are filled with an inquisitive tenderness. She reaches out and takes your free hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

“Whatever it is, we can talk about it,” she says softly. “I’m here for you.”

Feeling the pressure of your emotions building, you fumble for the to-do list you’d tucked away in your pocket. With a sheepish glance at Alexia, you pull it out and hand it to her. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks down at the list, and you see a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“I, um, I had this list,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It was supposed to help me keep track of things... but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about... that last item.” You gesture vaguely at the paper, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Alexia’s eyes dart to the list, and she blushes lightly as she reads the crossed-out line. The color in her cheeks deepens, and she bites her lip, clearly feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation. “Oh, um...” she stammers, her cheeks growing warm. “I see you’ve, uh, crossed out that part.”

You can’t help but feel a pang of guilt as you watch her reaction. The sight of her blushing and stumbling over her words makes your heart ache. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I’ve been hearing these things, and I didn’t know if we were on the same page.”

Alexia’s eyes soften with understanding, even though she’s clearly flustered. She reaches out, gently squeezing your hand in a gesture of reassurance. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression,” she says, her voice a little shaky but kind. “I really didn’t mean to cause any worry. I guess I didn’t realize how much those rumors were affecting you.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot,” you admit. “I’m just scared that my own desires might not match up with what you want. I’ve always preferred things to be a bit softer, you know?”

Alexia’s blush deepens, but she quickly shakes off her shyness, her eyes meeting yours with a sincere intensity. “I understand,” she says softly. “And I want to make sure you feel comfortable with us exploring this together.” She pauses, then adds, her voice growing more confident but still tinged with a hint of awkwardness, “I, um, like to be in control and, well, sometimes a bit rough. But that doesn’t mean we can’t adjust things to fit what we both want.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you at her honesty. “Thank you for sharing that,” you say, your voice tinged with gratitude. “I really appreciate you being open with me. Can I ask you something? What do you like, exactly?”

Alexia takes a deep breath, her shyness melting away as she becomes more animated. “I, um, really enjoy taking the lead, feeling like I’m in charge,” she says, her eyes brightening with a newfound confidence. “But I also love hearing what you like, what makes you feel good. I want to make sure we both have what we need.”

Her willingness to adapt and consider your feelings makes you feel incredibly valued. You squeeze her hand back, your heart swelling with appreciation. “I like it when things are gentle and tender,” you admit, feeling more at ease now that the conversation is flowing openly. “It’s important to me that we both feel good about what we’re doing.”

After the conversation, the dynamic between you and Alexia shifts subtly but significantly. There’s a new warmth in her gaze, an added layer of intimacy that wasn’t there before. The initial awkwardness has melted away, replaced by a deeper understanding and a tangible current of desire that flows between you.

In the days that follow, the air seems charged with a new energy. You notice the way Alexia's touches linger a little longer, the way her kisses are filled with a gentle urgency that wasn’t there before. Conversations take on a more flirtatious tone, filled with playful teasing and soft, suggestive glances. The connection between you feels more electric, more alive, as if the boundaries between affection and desire have become wonderfully blurred.

One evening, after a particularly busy day, you find yourselves curled up on the couch together. The soft light of the lamp casts a warm glow around the room, creating an intimate cocoon where it’s just the two of you. Alexia’s head rests on your shoulder, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on your arm as you talk about your day.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about,” Alexia murmurs, her voice low and warm. Her breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. “I’m really glad we had that conversation.”

“Me too,” you reply, your voice soft. “I feel like things are... different now, in a good way.”

Alexia lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours with a sparkle of playful mischief. “Different how?” she asks, her voice taking on a teasing edge.

You smile, feeling a flush of warmth at her proximity. “Well, for one, there’s this new... tension between us,” you say, your words coming out with a hint of nervousness and excitement. “I feel it every time we’re close.”

Alexia’s smile widens, her eyes darkening with a mix of affection and desire. “I’ve noticed that too,” she says softly. She leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that quickly deepens into something more passionate. Her hands find their way to your face, cupping it gently as her kisses grow more fervent.

As the days pass, the physical connection between you both becomes more intense. You find yourselves stealing kisses whenever you can, your touches lingering with a newfound intensity. Each caress, each look, becomes a promise of what’s to come, a gentle build-up to the moment when you’ll finally give in to the desire that’s been growing between you.

With your heart full of anticipation and a touch of nervousness, you decide to make tonight special. Something that reflects the tender connection you both cherish. You spend the afternoon preparing, wanting every detail to be perfect.

The apartment is filled with the warm, inviting scent of your cooking. You’ve prepared a simple yet elegant dinner, something that you know Alexia loves. The table is set with your best dishes, a bottle of wine breathing on the side, and soft, flickering candlelight casting a golden glow over everything. The lights are dimmed, the apartment bathed in a warm, romantic ambiance that feels almost magical.

You’ve added little touches around the room. Fresh flowers in a vase on the table, the soft strains of music playing in the background, the living room rearranged slightly to create a more intimate setting. It’s a space that feels safe and inviting, designed to make tonight memorable.

As the time draws near, you catch yourself fidgeting with the edges of your dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, adjusting the candles on the table one last time. There’s a nervous flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and anxiety as you wait for Alexia to arrive. You want everything to be perfect, but more than that, you want to show her just how much she means to you.

As the final touches are set, you hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. You quickly smooth down the fabric of your dress, a soft blush warming your cheeks. You’ve chosen something special for tonight. An elegant dress that flows gracefully, making you feel beautiful and confident, even if your heart is still racing with anticipation.

When Alexia steps into the apartment, she pauses in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the sight of you. Her reaction is immediate and genuine. A wide, happy smile spreads across her face, lighting up her features. For a moment, she just stands there, staring at you as if she’s seeing you for the first time. The look of admiration in her eyes makes your heart swell with warmth.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her voice tinged with awe. “You look... increíble, amor. So beautiful.” She takes a step closer, her gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of affection and admiration. “I—I’m so lucky,” she stammers, her usual confident demeanor giving way to a shy, almost bashful expression.

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at her praise, and you can’t help but smile shyly. “Thank you,” you reply, feeling a rush of warmth from her words. The way she’s looking at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

Alexia’s gaze then shifts momentarily to her own outfit—casual training wear that she’s clearly worn just for comfort. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks as she nervously tugs at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Oh, I, um... I didn’t realize I’d be, uh, underdressed,” she stammers, her eyes flitting between you and her own attire. “I didn’t expect—”

You cut her off gently, stepping closer and taking her hand in yours. “You look great,” you say sincerely, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I love how soft and relaxed you look. I just wanted to make tonight special for you, for us. It’s not about the clothes. It’s about being together.”

Alexia’s blush deepens, but she seems to relax at your words. She looks into your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softening. “You really didn’t have to do all this, but it means so much that you did.”

Without another word, she leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. The kiss is warm and full of affection, a perfect encapsulation of the love and understanding that has blossomed between you. When she pulls back, her eyes are filled with a soft, loving glow. “I’m really lucky to have you,” she murmurs, her voice full of emotion.

Her words are reassuring, and you feel your nervousness begin to fade, replaced by a sense of calm. You lead her to the table, pulling out her chair before taking your seat across from her. The candles flicker between you, casting soft shadows on her face as she looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Dinner is a quiet, intimate affair. The conversation flows easily, filled with laughter and shared glances that say more than words ever could. The food is delicious, but it’s the company that truly makes the evening special. With each passing moment, the connection between you deepens, the unspoken promise of what’s to come lingering in the air.

After the last bite of dessert, Alexia leans back in her chair, her eyes never leaving yours. “This was amazing,” she says, her voice low and warm. “Thank you for doing all of this.”

You smile, feeling a flush of pride at her words. “I’m glad you liked it. I just wanted us to have a night that’s... just for you, for us.”

Alexia’s eyes soften even more, and she reaches across the table to take your hand, her thumb gently stroking the back of it. “You’ve made me feel so special tonight,” she murmurs, her voice filled with emotion. “And I want to make sure you feel the same.”

The intensity in her gaze sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s a different kind of shiver than the anxiety you’ve felt before. It’s one of anticipation, of knowing that you’re about to share something incredibly intimate and meaningful with the person you love. You nod, unable to find the right words to express what you’re feeling, but knowing that she understands.

She stands, pulling you up with her, and with a gentle smile, she leads you into the living room. The atmosphere here is even more intimate, the music playing softly in the background, the candles you’d placed around the room casting a soft, romantic glow. Alexia pauses in the middle of the room, turning to face you, her hands resting lightly on your waist.

She looks at you with such affection, such care, that it takes your breath away. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice filled with concern and love. “We can take things slow, amor. There’s no rush.”

You nod, your heart full of love for her. “I’m okay,” you reply, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I want this... with you.”

Alexia’s smile is soft and full of warmth. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, one that speaks of all the tenderness she feels for you. The kiss deepens slowly, her hands moving up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks in a gesture that is both protective and loving.

As the kiss lingers, your hands find their way to her back, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. The room seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of intimacy. The fears and doubts that had once clouded your mind now seem distant, replaced by the certainty that this moment, this connection, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

When she pulls back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, you can see the love and desire in her eyes, tempered by the same care she’s shown throughout the night. “I want you to feel safe with me,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “And I want you to tell me if there’s anything you need, anything you want.”

You nod, your heart swelling with emotion. “I feel safe with you,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your feelings. “And I want to be with you... just like this.”

Her smile is full of understanding, and she takes your hand, leading you to the couch where you’d spent so many nights talking, laughing, and just being together. But tonight, it feels different. There’s a sense of anticipation, of something new and beautiful blooming between you.

She sits down, pulling you gently onto her lap, her arms wrapping around you in a way that feels both protective and possessive. Her lips find yours again, the kiss slow and tender, her hands exploring your body with a softness that speaks of her care for you. You feel her breath hitch slightly as her hands move over the curves of your body, her desire evident but tempered by the gentle way she touches you.

You respond in kind, your hands moving through her hair, down her back, holding her close as you both sink deeper into the kiss. The world outside ceases to exist, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, each one sending a shiver of pleasure through you. Her hands continue their gentle exploration, never rushing, always mindful of the pace you’ve set together. You can feel the tension in her body, the restraint she’s holding onto, and it only makes you love her more.

You shift slightly, straddling her lap, your hands resting on her shoulders as you look into her eyes. “Alexia,” you whisper, your voice filled with all the love and desire you feel. “I want this... with you.”

Her eyes darken with desire, but there’s also a softness there, a tenderness that reassures you. “I want this too,” she murmurs, her hands settling on your hips, holding you close. “More than anything.”

The moment feels like it’s wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and mutual affection. Alexia’s fingers gently trace the curves of your waist, and you can feel the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second.

Suddenly, with a playful glint in her eye, Alexia shifts slightly beneath you and starts to rise. You yelp in surprise, your arms tightening instinctively around her shoulders as she lifts you effortlessly from her lap. Her strength is both reassuring and exhilarating, a reminder of her athletic prowess.

“Whoa, careful!” you laugh nervously, gripping her tightly as she stands up. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she chuckles softly at your reaction.

“Relax,” Alexia teases gently, her voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. I’m an athlete, remember?” She holds you securely against her, her muscles flexing as she adjusts her grip to make sure you’re comfortable.

With a tender smile, Alexia walks slowly towards the bed, her steps measured and deliberate. As she reaches the edge of the mattress, she carefully lowers you onto the soft surface. Despite her careful movements, you cling to her, your arms wrapped around her neck as if reluctant to let go.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes roaming over your body with a mixture of admiration and affection. Her gaze lingers on you, taking in the sight of you stretched out on the bed, your dress clinging to your form in a way that makes her eyes darken with desire.

A warm, affectionate smile spreads across her face as she looks up at you. The connection between you both feels electric, charged with an intensity that makes your heart race. Without breaking eye contact, Alexia leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. The kiss is soft and lingering, a promise of the intimacy to come.

As she deepens the kiss, she begins to lay her own weight down beside you, her body pressing against yours with a comforting warmth. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, syncing with your own in a rhythm that feels perfectly natural.

Her hands explore your dress, her fingers tracing along the fabric as she starts to unfasten it. You help her, your movements synchronized as you pull the dress up and over your head. The dress slides off with a soft rustle, leaving you in your underwear.

Alexia’s fingers trail along your exposed skin, her touch light and teasing. She smiles up at you, her gaze filled with adoration. “You look beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice low and sincere. The way she looks at you makes you feel cherished, every inch of you appreciated.

She then starts to peel off her tracksuit, her movements slightly awkward as she tries to juggle her clothing while maintaining her focus on you. You help her, your fingers brushing against her skin as you assist with removing the tracksuit. Her clothes fall to the floor in a soft heap, leaving her in a simple, form-fitting top and underwear.

With the room filled with a tender, expectant silence, you take a deep breath, your fingers hovering hesitantly above her skin. You let your hands drift toward her chest, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You want to trace your fingers over her beautiful breasts, but you hesitate, unsure if you’re crossing any boundaries.

Shyly, you lift your gaze to meet hers, seeking reassurance in her eyes. The vulnerability in your expression is met with a soft, reassuring smile from Alexia. Her eyes, full of warmth and encouragement, seem to invite you to continue.

“Está bien, amor,” she whispers in Spanish, her voice soothing and full of affection. She gently takes your hands in hers, guiding them with a loving touch to cup her breasts. The warmth of her skin beneath your palms is both exhilarating and comforting.

As you make contact, Alexia lets out a soft, breathy moan, a sound so beautiful and intimate that it sends a shiver of pleasure through you. The sound resonates deeply within you, amplifying the connection you share and making you feel incredibly close to her.

With a gentle yet assertive grace, Alexia begins to take more control of the moment. She shifts her weight slightly, pressing her body more firmly against yours, allowing her warmth and softness to envelop you. Her hands glide over your body with a tenderness that feels both exhilarating and reassuring.

“Just let me guide you,” she murmurs softly, her voice a mix of confidence and tenderness. “Tell me what you like, and we’ll explore this together.”

You nod, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as you let her lead. Her fingers trail down your sides, exploring your curves with a careful touch that sends waves of pleasure through you. She lifts her gaze to yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, and you respond with a soft, encouraging smile, giving her the silent permission she needs.

Alexia’s hands continue their journey, gently slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. She eases them down slowly, her movements deliberate and careful as she uncovers your skin. The cool air against your exposed core contrasts with the warmth of her touch, intensifying the sensations you're experiencing.

As she removes your underwear completely, she turns her attention to her own, her fingers deftly working to peel them away. The sight of her undressing, her body illuminated by the soft light, makes your heart race with anticipation. When she finally discards her last piece of clothing, she pauses, letting you take in the beauty of her fully exposed form.

Overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, you slowly shift into a sitting position on the bed, reaching out to wrap your arms around her. The softness of her skin against your body is electrifying, and you hold her close, your breath mingling with hers.

You lean in to plant gentle kisses on her exposed breasts, your lips brushing against her warm skin with a reverence that conveys just how much you adore her. Each kiss is tender, filled with love and a desire to show her how much she means to you.

You then trail your kisses down her left inner arm, admiring the beauty of her tattoo as your lips make contact with her skin, adding a layer of intimacy and appreciation to the tattoo. You slowly and softly set you teeth in her soft flesh.

The sensation of your kisses and bites elicits a soft, appreciative sigh from Alexia, her body responding to the gentle affection. “I like that,” she murmurs softly, her voice laced with warmth and pleasure. “It feels so good.”

She continues to revel in the intimacy you’re sharing, her hands tenderly caressing your back as you continue to kiss her. The closeness between you both becomes even more palpable, each touch and kiss a testament to your deep connection.

After a while, with a loving and considerate touch, Alexia gently guides you back onto the bed. “Let’s take our time,” she says softly, her voice filled with reassurance. As she helps you settle onto your back, her gaze remains tender and attentive, ensuring you feel both comfortable and cherished.

Once you’re comfortably situated, Alexia positions herself above you with a graceful and deliberate motion. Her core makes contact with yours, and she begins to move with a slow, rhythmic motion. She rocks back and forth with a gentle, deliberate pace, creating a sensation that blends pleasure with the perfect amount of pressure.

Her movements are tender yet purposeful, each shift and glide against you enhancing the intimate connection you’re experiencing together. The rhythm she sets is both soothing and stimulating, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the shared moment of closeness. The feeling of her body moving against yours is a harmonious dance of pleasure and tenderness, deepening the bond you share and making each moment feel incredibly special.

As the pleasure builds, you finally allow yourself to be vocal about how good she makes you feel. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips, each sound a testament to the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. You find yourself unable to keep quiet, your voice betraying the immense pleasure you’re experiencing. The sounds you make only seem to encourage Alexia, her own movements becoming more attuned to your responses, amplifying the mutual pleasure you both are sharing.

As the pleasure between you builds, Alexia’s focus remains unwaveringly on you. Her eyes, filled with a mix of adoration and passion, roam over your face and body. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her voice tender and filled with genuine appreciation. “And you make me feel so incredible.”

Her words are a soothing balm, adding to the warmth of the moment. The pleasure between you becomes almost overwhelming, and in the throes of it, her movements start to quicken. The rhythm of her grinding grows faster, her passion driving her actions as she becomes more lost in the sensation.

In her heightened state of desire, Alexia’s hand reaches out and firmly grabs your right breast, her fingers pinching your nipple roughly. The unexpected intensity makes you gasp in surprise, your body reacting sharply to the sensation. Her eyes widen in alarm as she notices your reaction, and she immediately halts her movements.

“Oh mierda, lo siento, lo siento mucho,” she breathes, her voice laced with concern. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Despite the sudden stop, the sensation had been unexpectedly pleasurable, and you find yourself blushing, feeling exposed but also intrigued. You look up at her, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. “It, um, actually felt good,” you admit shyly. “If you want to, you can continue.”

Alexia’s expression shifts from concern to a warm, relieved smile. Her eyes reflect a blend of affection and excitement as she takes your words to heart. “Are you sure?” she asks softly, her voice tender and filled with a gentle eagerness.

You nod, feeling a newfound confidence in sharing your desires. “Yes, I’m sure,” you affirm. “I trust you, and I want to experience this with you.”

With your reassurance, Alexia resumes her movements, her touch becoming more deliberate and attentive as she finds a rhythm that balances both pleasure and sensitivity. Her continued exploration of your body is filled with a renewed passion and care, ensuring that every moment is both thrilling and deeply intimate.

As the sensations between you intensify, Alexia’s movements become a rhythmic dance of passion and tenderness. Her body rocks gently but purposefully against yours, each motion sending waves of pleasure through you. She maintains a steady gaze, her eyes never leaving yours, communicating unspoken affection and desire.

“You feel so amazing,” she murmurs softly, her voice a tender caress against your ear. “I love the way you respond to me.”

Her words are a constant comfort, her sweet reassurances adding an extra layer of intimacy to the moment. She leans down to kiss you, her lips finding yours with a fervent yet gentle touch. The kiss is a melding of emotions, a silent conversation of love and longing that deepens with each passing second.

As the pleasure reaches its peak, her hands move with a delicate precision, enhancing the sensations and making sure you feel cherished and adored. She holds you close, her body pressed against yours, and the steady rhythm of her movements becomes a perfect symphony of shared ecstasy.

The culmination of your mutual pleasure comes as a breathtaking crescendo. You both feel the rush of release, a powerful and overwhelming wave that washes over you, leaving you breathless and blissful. Alexia’s soft, contented moans mix with your own vocal expressions of pleasure, creating a harmony that is both beautiful and deeply personal.

You kiss her tenderly, your lips moving in a gentle rhythm that matches the lingering waves of pleasure. The kiss is a promise of love and devotion, a sweet exchange that further cements the bond you share. Her hands cradle your face, her touch tender and reassuring as she pulls back slightly to look into your eyes.

“Thank you for being so amazing,” you whisper, your voice filled with genuine affection. “I’ve never felt this close to anyone before.”

Alexia’s eyes shine with a mix of love and satisfaction. “It’s because of you,” she replies softly. “You’ve made this so special. I love you so much.”

As the euphoria of the moment begins to settle, Alexia’s teasing smile makes a reappearance, her eyes twinkling with playful affection. She leans in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face before speaking, her tone light yet filled with meaning.

“I don’t stand a chance of having a normal life with you, do I?” she teases, her voice laced with warmth. “You’ve made me want to do this with you every single moment, exploring new things, finding out what we both like. We’re just getting started, and I’m so excited to explore even more with you.”

She punctuates her words with that little shy smile of hers, the one that always manages to melt your heart. It’s a perfect blend of her natural confidence and the sweet, awkward vulnerability that makes her so endearing.

You can’t help but laugh softly at her words, feeling both exhilarated and a little overwhelmed by the intensity of your connection. “Gosh, what have I gotten myself into?” you tease back, your tone playful but your heart swelling with affection.

Alexia chuckles, her smile widening as she leans down to kiss you again, this time more slowly, savoring the moment. “Whatever it is, I hope you’re ready for it,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice carrying both a promise and a challenge.

“I am,” you whisper back, feeling a surge of anticipation for the adventures yet to come.

With her by your side, you’re ready to explore everything. Every desire, every emotion, every new discovery. As you lie there in each other’s arms, the future feels wide open, full of possibility, and you know without a doubt that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

As you hold Alexia close, the warmth of her embrace and the depth of your connection make you realize how unfounded your doubts had been. In this moment of intimacy and understanding, you know with certainty that your fears were unnecessary, and that what you share is stronger and more beautiful than you ever imagined.

-

Note: I realize that some transitions might not be as smooth as l'd like, and plan to refine them later. I just wanted to share this now, even though I haven't done a thorough grammar check yet. Please be gentle with your feedback!

[ladybyakuya]

| ALL I WANTED + GOJO SATORU .

+cw. — female!wife!reader x clan-head!husband!(sub)!gojo satoru, arrange marriage, hurt, angst, canon typical elements, smut, f!masturbation + m!masturbation & orgasm interruption.

+wc. — 2.3k

+syn.— satoru comes home from a bunch of missions only to find his wife in their shared bedroom not wanting him, or waiting for him but busy seeking pleasure that was his share to pour into you.

+notes. — special thanks to @gojoest for hyping me up with this idea. & thanks to @sugurouge for beta reading otherwise this never get posted lol | redirect to blog navigation.

The current head of the clan you belong to, your father stands facing his back to you. He is now the housemaster, not your father. “You’re going to be married,” said he, as his palms remained tightly clasped at his back while he looked out through the window. What you once called home became a distant memory in an instant. “You’re going to be married—” as his face turned towards you, “to Gojo Satoru.” you could figure out why he was looking away. “That monster!” he screams tears streaming down his face as his lips tremble in rage and disbelief; how of all people did the marriage broker who has been his friend for a long time have even agreed with such a decision? The thought of him suggesting the idea to the council does not even cross your father’s mind. How utterly naive! a low grunt followed as your father swatted away his chair knocking it down to the ground before killing every bit of hope you had despite the rumors. “This marriage. . . it is nothing but a hopeless dream. ”

Yes! You knew that already. The housemaids and staff just love to gossip about the doom of their sole source of bread and butter. The moment your father summoned you into his study room and told you the news while staring at the greenery of the garden of this mansion you knew your life was going to turn upside down and it did, just like you expected yet you were still disappointed, frustrated even when you came back to your room. 

Satoru Gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history ever known since Sukuna Ryomen was sealed. No other name has ever made it to the pages of jujutsu history. He is at the top of the jujutsu society regarding status, power, fame, and money. So, what do you do with the strongest of all? worship them out of devotion? subdue them with offerings lest it might lash out? swearing loyalty out of fear? Those were the thoughts that stemmed at the back of your mind when you first came to know about the fact that you were going to be the wife of the Gojo Satoru from a maid whose life never even crossed the threshold of your home. Her world was limited to the mossy parts of the mansion you resided in. Still, she could tell what kind of marriage you would be walking into.

Nothing shocking happened even on the night of your wedding. It was just as you anticipated. Two different futons were kept side by side. There was no sharing of words, glances, or kakebuton . Just both of your backs faced each other. At dawn, you woke up with your wedding kimono intact, a stainless white futon, and an empty room without Gojo. 

The maids here knew better than to talk about it, even behind your back. They were aware of the power and status you held and that made everything a lot worse than you expected it to be. You had access to a lot of things, the family history archives, the financial sources, his previous missions— everything tied to him. Your husband, Gojo Satoru, was the clan head as well as the master of this mansion so there were no elderly people pushing responsibilities onto your shoulders like back at home. There was a sense of serenity in the air but how could you breathe it in for the rest of your life? 

Satoru Gojo was the kind of man whom one could easily desire. Despite being his wife and the future mother of his children, trying to love him felt like a cyanide for you. You wanted your husband, not some Satoru Gojo oozing with knowledge and power. You wanted to look him in the eye, not just his back which you barely get a glimpse of at the crack of dawn as he occupies the sad side of the bed under a separate duvet. In earlier stages of this marriage, there was no curtain separating you and your husband’s side of the bed but after a month of utter silence and stealing glances, the first thing he installed was a curtain in the shared canopy bed. If he needed some privacy he could easily ask you to shift into another room but he bothered to talk one of those clan servants to install a fucking curtain as if the silence was not enough of a gulf in between you two. 

Sometimes you thought that he was cheating on you but you always pushed it under the rug telling yourself, “You’re the wife of Satoru Gojo. No one can take that from you unless you walk out of this marriage. Not your father. Not that marriage broker —”

— Not even Gojo Satoru himself because he only married you to silence those nosy elders of his clan who pretend to be oh-so-worried for him. You were not foreign to that concept, after all, you are wrapped in the same shroud for all your life.

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .No one . . .” 

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .” 

“You’re the wife . . .”

“You’re . . .”

But the thought of getting his dick sucked by some other woman or man, or him putting his dick into someone — it filled you with too much anger to sleep in bed that night. For the first time, you miss home because there you are free to go anywhere even at night. 

Satoru came home early that night, which was odd for his schedule, and was greeted with an empty bed after a long while. The sky is yet to be cracked open by sunlight. It is still too dark to be wandering around. Where could his wife have been gone to at this hour? He takes a spoonful of strawberry ice cream from the giant tub he held in his other hand before starting to look for you. But where should he look first? He does not know anything except the fact that he had put veils in different places of his house just to keep this house free of low-energy cursed spirits. Those veils sure did their job well but sometimes they would keep out non-sorcerers, people like you. His heart rejoices at the thought that he has to look for you in places only he is aware of, which means this is going to take a little less time, and he will find you much faster. Come to think of it, he has not been in the library section for a while but it is still as spotless as the first day he came here. Have you been visiting? Man! That sure worries him.

The pink layer of the tub has come down to half along with its skin being wet while the spoon is still experiencing the fierce appetite that Satoru had for anything sweet. He stands at the entrance of a long hallway before checking, thinking that this is the last place he has to look for but could it be possible that you were embarrassed enough to go back to your home?

Ahh…ahhh!

The spoon hits the wooden floor with a dull clatter as a wretched realization comes crashing down through his veins. Have you been cheating on him all this time? In his house? With some lowly servant ? Well, that sure makes it easier to end this sham of a marriage. He opens the door of a certain archive room as swiftly as possible trying to minimize the sound of his presence, making sure he does not shock you awake from your rendezvous. He is determined to catch you red-handed but when he opens the door he witnesses something that could have knocked the lights off his brain if he were not one of the greatest sorcerers of his time. The sight was not something of a fair appetite for ordinary people yet you sat by the marble slab of the giant window, with one of your arms nuked under your sapphire jinbei in between your legs as your skin glowed under that pale moonlight as if diamonds and pearls were embedded on your skin. 

You were sweating, arching your body, moaning and all your husband could do was watch in awe. Your free hand travels from the bottom of your cleavage and up to the apex of your nape as you turn your head opening your eyes for a brief moment. You see the world so blurred that it spikes your approaching high, but as you open your eyes for the second time your high is gone like it never existed. Your husband, Gojo Satoru stood before you like an ivory statue of certain abandoned ruined cathedrals. The dress covers most of your body so a wave of relief washes over him despite realizing how dangerous the spot you chose . . .to . . .umh. . . pleasure yourself . 

How long? How long was he watching you ? You shift your body to face him, and your hand slowly emerges from the warmth between your thighs. Satoru tries to ignore but traces of your arousal and his yearning are flourishing like fluorescence on your fingers as it rests on your thigh. You watch him gulp. Suddenly, Gojo Satoru is out of words. Teacher to his students of Jujutsu High, the strongest sorcerer, Nanami’s certified yapper is suddenly out of words. The slight slice of your boobs visible through your robe does not help either in the coherency of his thoughts. He had plans. He had plans to walk out of this marriage without being tainted as a “cheater” because the jujutsu society is so fucked up that they will not stop until they found this particular person that had made this marriage impossible to work on so that you, the wife, had to walk out it and dear God, they certainly are not fond of obstructions.

“What a nice place you chose to—” he finally looks away to keep the tub of semi-molten room-temperature strawberry ice cream on some bookshelf but before he could shift back his gaze on you again you were gone like a storm. The sound of your footsteps echoed in his ear till it stopped before he heard the click of a door. He does not understand if you are just too dumb or too brave to act the way you are acting right now. He follows you as a grunt of dismissal escapes from his chest. As he stands in front of the bathroom door he drowns yet again in utmost disbelief. He can still hear your shrill gasp of pleasure and he is not liking how his cock is responsive to it. At first, he hesitates to touch himself but the faint sound of your moans, the wet squelching sounds of your fingers moving in and out of your damp folds despite the door of the bathroom being locked buzzes in his ears like bees out in the hunt of honey. 

Satoru gave up . You hear a thud as you continue to finger yourself knowing full well that your husband must have followed you all the way here after witnessing you in such a state. Indeed, you could have been accused of cheating on him without him checking the door and it would have been much worse. He sits against the bathroom door unfurling the black ribbon with a swish to take his cock out of his baggy white pants. The tip is already leaking. His cock is throbbing in his palm as he encapsulates his fingers around it, moving his fingers up and down slowly. On the other side of the door, as you could finally feel the pinnacle of your high you heard a soft groan; a pain, that seemed familiar, was palpable underneath that shrill cry of pleasure. Still when your fingers touched the part inside you that almost felt like unknotting something from inside you, at the basal of your navel Satoru’s hand moved faster to chase the similar high that had started to bubble in his body under the influence of your ripples of pleasure. You heard your husband moan as tears rolled down your cheeks when you closed your eyes feeling the knot finally unwinding.

Perhaps, both of you came simultaneously. Perhaps not, because you immediately opened the door after you had calmed from your high, only to be greeted with Satoru sitting right at the opposite wall of the bathroom door, legs folded in L-manner so that he could keep his hand over his knee. His cock is still visible through his white pants and it is still so hard. One of your eyebrows raises in silent reply . Satoru notices that. He looks at you and then looks away. You extend your hand towards his face, gaining his stern azure pair of eyes shining against whatever dim light the crack of the bathroom door could allow. There was no sign of resistance in him so as your palm touched his cheeks, you waited and gave him time to protest. yet none ever followed,  instead, he surrendered to your touch, and your fingers curled under his chin as you ran your thumb over his lips. Satoru coiled against your touch imbibing as much as he could like a tide being high enough to touch the moon . . .a familiar voice shocked both of you awake.

“Lady Gojo. . .” 

[quaintii]

Across the Street

Pt.3

Pt.1, Pt2.

synopsis: Miguel calls you in once more for babysitting. He has a day off from work and something inconvenient happens.

content: 18+ MDNI - babysitting, DILF miguel, fingering, m!receiving bj, praise and degrading, dirty talk, spiccyy overall.

A/N: thank you guys for the support!! Love u all 💞

extra: art is on Twitter by kimmy_arts0912

Miguel woke up to the sound of his phone burring on the bedstand, clicking the stop button.

9:04 a.m.

He slowly rose off the bed, rubbing his temples and heading to the bathroom. He took his time getting himself ready, it was never easy for him since he would regularly work for long hours but today was a day off.

He took a shower, shaving off his stubble beard with a mirror glued on the bathroom wall. He got out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a small one on his wet hair.

Soon as he finished changing, he went downstairs to drink some black coffee and eat some peppered eggs with bacon.

As he scrolled through his work emails on his laptop, he saw Gabriella at the corner of his eye. She stepped off the stairs, approaching Miguel and hugging his legs.

"Como dormiste, mi changa?" (How'd you sleep, my girl?) He let out a hearty laugh, ruffling her messy brown curls. His focus was now on Gabriella, carrying her with one arm while his other hand pinched her swollen cheeks.

"Bien, papi!" She said as she swinged on his arm. Miguel smiled and lifted her back on the floor, reaching for the chair for his daughter. He placed two plates, a small stack of pancakes with strawberries, butter and syrup while the other was a bowl of fruit.

"Make sure to eat all of it, mija. It's bad to let things go to waste." He spoke as he washed the prior dishes from last night, making him vividly relive the memory of his fingers in you. He couldn't shake the thought of you, he kept spacing out on your touch.

He snapped back to reality when he peered his eyes to his phone ringing, his wife. Well almost his ex-wife, the divorce was still in date for court but they went their separate ways months ago.

He wrapped a towel around his hands, drying them and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"I'm picking up Gabriella later today around 6."

Miguel's brows furrowed together. "What do you mean?!? This whole week is my time to spend with her. I have a day off today and tomorrow." He snapped back at her.

"What's the reason for the sudden change?! Im allowed to spend time with my daughter too." He was fired up but whispered into the phone so Gabriella wouldn't hear.

"She just got home a couple days ago, que te pasa en la mente?!" Miguel spoke. She scoffed into the phone. "You're more in love with your work than our own daughter."

"Well I planned a trip for the both of us and I already have everything packed for her. Relax, you'll get her back in a couple days, bye!" As Miguel was about to yell at her, she hung up on the phone.

"Pinche pendeja.." he muttered softly on his lips.

He was furious but had to remain calm to not raise Gabriella's suspicion of why her dad was breathing so heavily and palming his face with his hands.

After a couple minutes pass, he sat next to Gabi watching a cartoon show to ease himself down. He would then urge Gabi to go brush her teeth and change into something else rather than her unicorn pajamas.

Miguel decided to take Gabi to a new toy shop that just opened. He was still pissed about the call earlier but the thought ended up leaving his mind as his focus was now on his daughter's happiness.

5:04 p.m.

It'd been a day or two since what happened. Miguel hadn't sent you a message to babysit Gabi, until this afternoon.

"Hey, can you come over to babysit Gabriella? That is if you're not busy with anything."

"I'll be on my way in 5 minutes, Mr. O'Hara."

"Perfect..thank you. Again, Miguel is fine."

You felt so queasy about stepping in foot back to his house but so excited. You wore a summer dress due to the heat emitting from the sky. The afternoon would always be the hottest time of the day where you lived.

You face the mirror to fix the messy curls that sprung up due to the frizz. You apply some lip liner, finishing it off with a red tint gloss.

5:12 p.m.

You knock on the door, patiently waiting. You hear a click and the door finally opens, the sun shined on his caramelized skin. He look almost jaw dropping.. with a slicked back hair look. Loose black fit pants with a loose button up shirt. His eyes gave off a smile smile and invited you in.

You looked around to find Gabriella drawing at the table.

"Hi Gabi!" You squeal and wave at her as she rushes into a hug towards you. "Yay! You're back!" She was eager to see you. "What are you drawing? That looks great!" "I'm drawing a forest with fairies and unicorns!" Her high pitched voice rang in your ears.

You lean in closer to look at her drawing, acknowledging it. You give her a sweet smile, she returns it back.

You step back and walk to the cabinets to get a glass of juice. Your body jumped when you felt a hand rubbing in circles on your ass.

Miguel grazed his hands on your shoulder, whispering near your ear and dragging you further to the kitchen. Gabi's back facing the both of you two, you felt his hot breath fan you; shivers down your spine and to your core.

"How have you been, muñeca? Te ves muy...hermosa." He husked in a low tone. Your breathing slowed down, worried to even peep a sound. "I missed you..was worried you wouldn't come back." His rough hands rub the soft skin on your hips.

His tongue teased your neck, sucking and softly nibbling on it. "N-not here Miguel..your daughter.." You whispered, trying hard to restrain your small whimpers. He hummed in your ears, nibbling on it before detaching himself as soon as he heard a doorbell ring.

Luckily the kitchen had the blinds closed so whoever was outside, couldn't see.

He sighed and you quickly headed to open the door, facing a woman. She had on black sunglasses to block the sun in her eyes.

"You must be the new babysitter right?" She questioned as she placed her purse on the island countertop. "Yes! I was recently hired by Mr. O'Hara, Ms.." You waited for a response from her. "Mrs. O'Hara." She spoke, she reached to grab Gabriella by the waist; a suitcase near the table.

You had thought that he was divorced, you thought pretty quickly to it maybe they just haven't had gone to court yet to fix their situation.

"Mom? Where are we going?" Gabriella prods her head at Miguel and you. "We're going to Disneyland!!" She squeals as she hears the exciting news.

Miguel sighed and rolled his eyes, knowing that she never really gave attention to Gabriella, just spoiling and bribing her.

Gabriella was brought down back to her feet, hugging you and her dad by the leg, waving goodbyes.

You helped her out with packing some of her toys upstairs. When you both finished packing up some extra stuff, you head downstairs, slightly peering your head to see Miguel and his wife whisper about stuff. Miguel's chest heaved as his hands ran through his hair, frustrated.

Gabriella prods her head at what you're looking at and you quickly distract her by asking her something.

"Did you grab all of your toys, Gabi?" "I think so," she said as she rubbed her head and headed towards the door.

The lady drank some champagne from the glass, eyeing you up and down, questionable about you. You were never this nervous, but you worried if she had known.

She averted her gaze back to Gabi, holding her hand and the suitcase near Miguel. "Bye papi!" Gabi squeaked as the door behind her closed. Miguel waved non-stop til he couldn't see her anymore.

He laid his elbows on the countertop, tilting his head sideways back and forth. "Everything okay?" You walked up to him.

"Yeah.. um..it's just.." He hesitated to tell you. "Oh, don't worry! It's fine you don't have to tell me, Mr.-.. Miguel." He sighed angrily, "No no, it's just that..this week I was supposed to have Gabriella. She comes unannounced, not even a heads up that she would take Gabi with her."

As he vented more of his frustration, he felt relief by letting it all out. You were open eares with him, softly patting his shoulder blades to ease him.

"Wow..that's really messed up. Do you have custody of Gabriella, if you don't mind me asking." You spoke softly.

"Yeah, I do. We haven't had the court fully decide yet, it's coming up in a couple weeks. I just hate how she's nowhere fit for her to be actually caring for Gabriella." He sighed and took a big sip from the champagne bottle.

You hummed in return, heading to the snack closet for something to ease him up. "Want some snacks?" You asked. Miguel gets up and walks towards you.

You tip-toed to reach a cardboard box full of gummies, until you felt your body shivering to the touch of his hands around your waist later reaching your bra.

He wraps his arms around you, his touch becoming a bit more daring this time.

"You're very tempting. It's difficult to resist you right now..."

Miguel smiles at you and whispers his words. He then places his lips on yours again, his kiss passionate and eager. He wraps you as tight as he can, his hands roaming your hips.

"Oh, I would love something sweet. Don't you?" He murmured on your neck. His hands pushed your dress up, caressing your plush skin. "Mr. O'Hara-.."

You felt a sharp slap to your ass. "What did I say? Llámame Miguel.." (Call me Miguel)

He placed a hand on your chin to face him, kissing you softly. The second kiss seemed more like hunger.

"Get on your knees for me, cariño." He husked in a low tone, you obediently listen and laid your knees on the cold marble floor. He caressed your face once more, "Good girl.." The praises that came out his mouth made your cheeks heat up, your blood pumping to your pooling cunt.

Miguel's face lights up with pleasure, his eyes staring at you seductively as you kneel down in front of him. He watches your movement as you kneel, breathing slightly heavier. The way you look at Miguel also makes him feel good.

"Mm..."

Miguel's hand then reaches down and he grabs your head, making you look up at him.

"Open your mouth..."

Miguel moves his hand down to one of your shoulders, moving his thumb along your collarbone and then along your cleavage.

"Open wider, muñeca..."

Miguel's smile grows more and more as he sees you opening your mouth. You see his hand moving around your lips, just touching your face sensually here and there. Miguel's eyes never leave yours, and you find his stare to be both attractive and also exciting.

"Mm... Good.."

Miguel's eyes move down to your tongue and then back up to your face. He starts to whisper in your ear, his voice going slightly deeper.

"¿Como se siente esa boca, chiquilla?"

Miguel's breath slows, clearly aroused. He stuck in two fingers into your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks softly as you sucked on them for a bit. He went deeper, making you gag continuously, he took his fingers out licking them clean.

Your eyes landed on his bulge, palming it with your hands, rubbing it harder each time, pulling groans out of Miguel.

You begin to remove his pants by unzipping it and pulling down his boxers, his hard cock slapping his abdomen. The red brownish head was practically fuming for your touch.

You part your lips, laying your tongue out and licking the pre-cum streaming down on his tip. You try fitting all of his cock in your throat but you can't so you stroke the rest of him.

His eyes drop down to your face, his eyebrows furrowed together, savouring the delicious feeling of your tongue around his cock. You bobbed your head faster when your throat relaxed, being able to take in more of him. You clench your inner thighs together to feel some relief on your swollen clit.

His breathing becomes shallow the more he becomes impatient. When you looked up at him with small teary eyed..

He loses it.

He needs and wants to feel more of you, he slammed his cock deeper down your throat. The squelching sounds and low groans of his voice made you whine but it was muttered by his cock in your mouth.

You dig your nails into his thighs to keep yourself steady, you feel like you've ran out of oxygen. But you couldn't care less.

"Puta madre..." He whispers.

The feeling of him driving you absolutely mad, his grip on your scalp tightening with every thrust he took. The aggression shocked you, but you couldn't move since he took complete control of your mouth.

His cock pressed harder into your throat, making you gag on and on while tears streamed down your face. Your flushed out face drew him to his final straw.

His hips snapping against your cheeks, the slapping sounds echoing. The feeling of your fingernails digging deep into his skin, your muffled moans clenching harder around his cock whenever you hollowed your cheeks, made him lose his control.

"F-fuck...you're so good...such a pretty little slut aren't you? So fucking good f'me baby..." He scowled.

You kept muffling mhm's as he would praise your touch on him. His hips began stuttering, his thrusts slowly becoming slower as his cock became more and more sensitive with every warm touch of your tongue around him.

He held both sides of your face in a firm but gentle grip, abusing your throat to catch his orgasm. "I'm c-coming..mhmmf..mierda..." He whined.

His massive body shook with his imploding orgasm, he shoved his cock to the back of your throat and shuddered as his cum was hot and sticky on your tongue.

The moment he pulled out, he angled my face to his, towering over my frame. "Swallow it f'me." He spoke bluntly.

Miguel removed your mouth off his cock, his erection still hard and pulsing. All he wanted right now was to be inside you but he had different plans for you. He was going to return the favor back to you now.

You let out a few coughs to catch your breath and swallowed just like he asked. Bittersweet taste left on your tongue.

"Eres tan buena y hermosa, ma." (You're so good and beautiful, ma)

"Llevantate, amor." He panted on your neck.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you up, resting your quivering ankles on his broad shoulders. His fingers stroking and prodding at the wet stain on your underwear, his cold touch setting you on fire.

"Let me touch your pretty pussy, amor. Déjame ver ese bello coño.." (Let me see that pretty pussy) He tore your underwear off, the cold air washing your cunt makes you shiver. He lightly slapped your folds to see your face contort and furrow.

Suddenly, his hot tongue flicked your wet folds, and heat swirled in your stomach, your clit throbbing. Your skin burned to his touch as he reached for your perked nipples, rubbing it with his hands and whenever he would pinch your nipples, you would jerk forward; making his nose hit your clit.

"M-more Miguel.." You begged, your cunt clenching around nothing left you feeling empty and so needy. Your fingers wrapping around his brown curls, gripping onto them dearly as his tongue lapped on your clit.

"You're doing such a good job f'me, mi amor. Keep moaning my name like that. Fuck.." He groaned into your cunt. He slid into another finger and the feeling was too much for you to handle.

"M-miguel.." Your pants filled with wanton and lust. Your body jerks forward as he slid a finger inside you, your eyes impossibly rolling back to the back of your head as you choked on your moans, mumbling his name as he continued to eat you out like a starved man.

"Mirame, corazon. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

You felt too much and too little all at once, it wasn't enough for you but you felt like you were about to get thrown off the edge as his fingers started pounding you deep inside your velvet walls. You kept twitching and trembling, your back arching off the wall as your body hopelessly writhed for him.

Your nerves began stuttering, going numb along with a knot starting to untie. Miguel wouldn't stop sucking on your folds, his nose nudging your clit. His eyes never left your face, he loved seeing how you responded to his touch.

You started feeling a fire pooling low in your abdomen, your heartbeat pulsing faster than before.

You started losing composure whatsoever, when he slid in another finger inside. He didn't stop lapping on your sopping cunt, your pussy clenching around his fingers made his cock ache for your walls to tighten around him.

"It's t-too much.. m-miguel please mhmgf..fuck!" You sobbed and wailed. Your tears wouldn't stop, his fingers plunging in deeper inside your swollen cunt.

"You can handle it, doll.. I know you can." His ears relished the wet squelching sounds and your sweet little moans. You tugged harder into his hair as you felt a wave crashing down, the dam broke which released a leg-shaking orgasm. Fire sprinted throughout your body, the feeling of it taking over your mind with nothing but his fingers and tongue on your cunt.

Your orgasm came in flooding in and electrified every nerve in your body. Your vision fading to black. Your throat welled with moans and mewls, as you kept blubbering incoherently.

Miguel devoured you without mercy, savoring your juices as it ran down his chin. He kept you steady by holding you tight on your hips as you wiggled non-stop, shaking and writhed under him.

You loved drowning in helplessness of the pleasure as it surrounded you by the waist, leaving you breathless, shaky, and light headed.

You became almost feverishly whimpering since Miguel would still suck on your clit, tenderly. He finally removed himself from your folds, smirking at you while caressing your flushed out face. "Te ves bella así, muñeca. Eres mia..que no?" (You look beautiful like that, doll. You're mine, right?) You nodded as your orgasm finally came to a stop. He rested your ankles back to the floor, holding you up by the waist so you wouldn't succumb to the floor.

Just when he was about to tease you with his cock slowly on your folds, you both hear a ding from the door. Keys ring through your ears and the door creaked open. Heels clacking on the hard floor echoing around the spacious house, heading upstairs. The both of you quickly start to dress up quickly, you knew exactly who this was.

"Miguel!! ¿¿Dónde estás?? Do you know where the monster high dolls are?!?" A woman voice yelled upstairs. Miguel gave you a quick peck on the lips and a wink.

"What is it this time?" Miguel's voice responded back to her. "Gabi forgot her stupid toys..anyways just tell me where they are. She won't stop crying and I need her to shut up."

Miguel refused to give into his emotions and snap back at her so he gave off a small response to her.

"They're in the hidden basket under her bed, the lock is in the bedstand drawer." He answered, looking back at you tip toeing to the door.

You sent yourself off by going back home quietly and hurriedly.

Miguel was once again incredibly frustrated for the intrusion.

A/N: it's 12:31 am rn, gonna have the best sleep ever. I finally finished it! Leave any feedback, always room for improvement, thank you guys!! (Sorry for the ending once more 😭😓, I promise to make part 4 hella dirty and long)

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer. 

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.” 

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night. 

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?” 

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses. 

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass. 

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck. 

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips. 

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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[theemporium]

hi cece!! can i get 2 violet fluffs please, 1 & 21

driver of your choice ;)

-💗

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

21. “What did I do to deserve such a sweet wife?”

.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You shot the boy a look.

“And did I mention you look so pretty today? And every other day? Always?” 

“You done trying to butter me up?” You deadpanned, your arms crossed over your chest and your face remaining blank. 

Max flashed you a sheepish smile, slowly reaching towards you. The sigh of relief when you didn’t smack his hands away was obvious before he locked his arms around you, tugging you closer until it was a proper hug with your head on his chest. 

“I am really sorry,” Max murmured, his cheek laid against the top of your head as you both swayed on the spot. “I didn’t know you had saved those slices of pizza. I’ll buy you ten more if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you snorted lightly, pulling back to look at the boy—who still looked so cautious and sheepish—and shake your head. “It’s not the same. Everyone knows pizza tastes better the next day.” 

“It was good,” Max nodded before realising what he had just said. “Uh, I mean, it was absolutely shit and—” 

“You suck,” you huffed as you laid your head back against his chest, trying to hide the small smile that was growing on your lips at his clear panic. “What did I do to deserve such a mean husband?” 

“What did I do to deserve such a sweet wife?” Max retorted, hugging you closer. “Who is hopefully sweet enough to accept my apology pizza and cheesecake from her favourite dessert place?”

You pulled back, something twisting in your chest at his words. “The one in Nice?” 

“It’s the least I could do after I ate your pizza,” Max murmured, lifting his hands to cup your face as his thumbs soothed over the apples of your cheeks. “Plus, the drive is more than worth it if I get to see my girl happy again.” 

You rolled your eyes but you were grinning. “You’re such a sap.” 

“I’ll take sappy husband over mean husband any day,” he retorted, grinning back as you leaned into his touch.

“You’re not a mean husband,” you murmured with a sigh. “Just a husband who is sometimes dumb.”

Max snorted. “Yeah, might need to get my eyes checked. I don’t know how I missed the huge pink sticky note on the pizza box saying not to eat it.” 

You shook your head. “Yeah, but I guess I still love you regardless.”

His face brightened as he leaned down to kiss you. “I guess I still love you too.” 

“Nuh uh,” you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him from moving closer. “You get kissing privileges when you get me my cheesecake, Mr Verstappen.” 

Max frowned a little as he glanced down at his watch. “But the place might be shut before I get there.” 

You smiled, fondly patting his cheek. “Guess it’s a good thing I married the fastest driver in the world then, huh?” 

And Max couldn’t even stop the snorting laugh that left his lips if he tried.

.

[lethargicluv]

Firefighter Simon Ghost Riley who realizes that the baked sweets and fresh bread aren’t coming from a bakery in town but actually from the girl who inherited her grandmother’s house across the street from the fire station. She stops by twice a week with everything she’s made in the last 2-3 days. Turns out she’s a recipe book editor and she likes to test every recipe in the books she’s asked to edit before she approves them for publishing. If she finds issues with the recipes she sends it back for revision. Imagine testing out a 300 page recipe book. Some weeks she stops by more than 2 times because she’s testing out meal recipes and ends up delivering large batches of lasagna and pasta and meatloaf to the station. Sometimes she messes up a bit and to make corrections to the recipes she has to remake it with some tweaking and so sometimes their meals are a little burnt, maybe a little bit too spicy, or not salty enough. Simon would appreciate it all the same, so do the rest of 141. Sometimes Soap helps her with her groceries when he sees her struggling with the large bags of flour and runs across the street to lend a hand. Gaz always offers to help her carry everything into the dining hall. Price always sees her off. It’s like everyone knows about her except Simon. He doesn’t until he nearly bowls her over running for the truck as the alarms go off and the team’s getting dispatched just as she’s dropping off a very large batch of mostly misshapen but very delicious sugar cookies. (The recipe was good just not good at holding their shape. Might be too much butter, she’ll have to send it back for revision.) They get back hours later to find these wobbly ghost shaped cookies and Soap literally wouldn’t stop laughing and tell him that the cookies looked like him. Even Price poked some fun at Simon. He catches her the next delivery struggling with several containers of roasted chicken and she nearly drops the remain chicken in her hands when she looks at the big man’s face and is met with a skull mask. They get to talking while the boys chow down on tonight’s chicken dinner and Simon thinks he’s been an idiot for holing up in his office all this time when such a lovely lady has been feeding them like this. She thinks Simon’s scary appearance doesn’t match his personality at all. He’s been so soft spoken despite his gruff voice. She makes him a bourbon cake the following week and laughs in amusement as Simon tries to fend off Soap trying to steal a bite.

Part 2

[thatsdemko]

with feeling - j.hughes

masterlist

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: fake dating trope + one bedroom trope + jack being an asshole + angst + fluff at the end

a/n: HOCKEY IS BACK EVERYONE!

so maybe it wasn’t so bad to be “tied” down to a man you never actually loved in the first place. that’s a lie, it’s actually far worse.

he’s not a bad person, he’s not a bad kisser, and he’s certainly not bad looking, but his personality is far worse than shit.

his bright smiles and adorable laughter only go so far in a picture to make him seem like he was perfect, except he was so far from it. with his jagged persona and his inability to remain in an actual relationship, jack hughes was a sore spot in your heart. meaning, you knew what you signed up for, he would never actually love you.

and while smiling for his family and holding his hand in the secrecy of his family’s private summer home, there was only so far you were willing to go to prove to Ellen hughes you actually loved her son.

“I’m not sharing a room with you.”

“it doesn’t look like you have much of an option.” he snaps, words cut like a fork scraping a plate, irritation grew in your body. you knew why she did this, she believes you two have far more in common than trying to make each other roll your eyes, but this was too much. you’d rather sleep in a ball in the sand than share a queen size bed with him.

“I wish I had another option.” you mumble for only yourself, however he catches your words and just rolls his eyes continuing to unpack his things.

“you had an option of not coming. now look at the mess we are in.” he gestures his hands to the bed and around the room like a disaster had fallen amongst the four walls. if this was the worst of all things to happen to him, he had a hell of a storm coming for him one day.

you turn your head in his direction, you watch him anxiously tug on the brim of his ball cap before tossing his duffel bag beside the dresser of his clothes. his body collapses against the mattress making the frame squeak under his weight, “can this week be over already?”

“it’s only beginning.” you whisper hearing the echoes of laughter and music begin to make their way up the stairs, the music grows louder and Trevor’s voice bounces off the walls. you can already feel the impending headache.

here goes nothing.

—

“jack tells me you met at the bars in jersey?” Quinn takes his first dig, the two of you sit in the lounge chairs watching the other boys swim around the lake and toss around a ball that you two had no interest in.

“yeah and he wouldn’t leave me alone.” you stifle out a chuckle because out of your whole story full of lies, that was the only bit of truth. he’d followed you around like a gnat always in your face and never leaving your sight, and that’s when things began to fly south.

“he has a tendency to be very clingy when he’s drunk.”

“you don’t say.” you tilt your sunglasses down to the edge of your nose looking over at the eldest hughes who barked out a laugh in response.

turning your head in the direction of the sun, your eyes automatically fall onto the three boys in the lake: Trevor, Alex, and jack. you can’t help but let your heart melt like butter at the sight of his tanned shoulders, and muscular arms, it makes your heart jump like a kid playing hopscotch with a smile on their face.

you watch him make his way across the sand, tossing the ball in his hands he tosses it over to Quinn before slipping his wet body against yours and taking a seat on your lap. show time starts now, pretending to be in love in 3,2,1…

“saw you watching me.”

“actually I was looking at Alex.” you point your index finger over to the brunette who quickly presses a kiss to your cheek, “I knew my dimples had an affect on you.”

you can’t help the laughter that rumbles out of your body, if it wasn’t for jack hughes tying you down, you’d be all over that dimpled smile and curly black hair. but alas, the long dirty brown hair and rosy sun kissed cheeks was yours.

“I have a very adorable smile too.” jack argues flashing you a cheeky grin before getting up off your lap and taking the lounge chair beside you. you can’t help rolling your eyes, despite how your heart certainly agrees when he flashes you another wide smile before turning back to his two friends.

“you have the worlds biggest ego that’s what you have.”

“she has a point.” Quinn nudges his way into the conversation earning his brother to glare at him. it’s no secret, jack grew up with people petting his ego and feeding into his greatness, and once you didn’t confined to the rest of the worlds views, that’s when he began to notice how different you were. it automatically drew him to you, and he loved that you didn’t care that he was the worlds best hockey player, you just hated him for him.

“don’t let her win she always does.”

“I’ve actually never won an argument with you, so please yeah I would love this win.” your additional comment earns jack to roll his eyes, and just like usual this is how the banter is. you edge each other on with lies and jokes to see who will crack first, this was truly the foundation of your fake relationship. it started out with a lie and a joke. now look at you two.

he licks his bottom lip, you can see the wheels in his brain are spinning faster than a hamster wheel. he’s trying to find anything to get even, but nothing comes. he just relaxes against the back of the chair and closes his eyes, “enjoy your win.”

“oh I will, this is just the beginning of your torture.”

like it wasn’t enough torture to see you in a skimpy bikini and have to use all of his self control to not inappropriately touch you, and like it wasn’t enough torture that he has to share a bed with you.

yeah, he’s definitely had enough torture on day one.

—

“you want to split an ice cream cone with me?” you turn to Luke, looking up at him, he’s nothing alike to the two of his brothers. he’s got soft curls and an absolute killer personality.

“only if we get sprinkles?”

“now you have taste.” you nudge your shoulder into his bicep. you stand along side luke at the counter while he orders for you both, jack stands a couple feet away with Trevor, the two still deciding, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“what’d you get?” jack swoops in, his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him. the man behind the counter gives you both a knowing look that he had taken the hint, but it wasn’t him that jack was trying to make a message to.

“I’m sharing a cone with Luke.”

a frown forms against his lips as he lets go of your waist, “I thought we would share?”

you offer him your best apologetic look, “Luke and I like the same ice cream, you can share with Trevor.”

“I’m not sharing with Trevor.” he pouts watching luke hand you the ice cream cone. you swipe your tongue around the sweet cream swallowing the sprinkled deliciousness, “you want a kiss instead?” you offer, licking the sweetness that’s left on your lips before jack takes his thumb and swipes the corner of your mouth.

“you know,” he leans closer to your ear just for you to hear, “I don’t like sharing. especially you.”

“it’s just ice cream.” you tell him giving him a rather pointed look that earns him to back off. you know his words had zero meaning behind them. and even if they did, you still would roll your eyes, but if they were true, you’d actually kiss him to prove him you love him. instead, you stick with just pinching his side to receive a grunt from his lips.

skipping out the store doors, you and luke find an empty table to dig your spoons into the cold soft serve ice cream, “do you think he’s really mad about this?” Luke asks, mouth full of the sweet flavor, you swear by the look in his eyes it’s like he’s never had a taste of sugar in his life.

you shake your head in response, digging your spoon into the sprinkled goodness and listen to the bell of the store door chime. Trevor and jack join you both, they sit opposite to you two and it’s pure uncomfortable silence.

“should we buy turcs something?” your offer is innocent, nothing but a pure suggestion for the boy who didn’t join you four in the adventure. but there’s a look in jacks eyes that wishes you would just stop. he wishes you didn’t show an interest in anyone else.

“he doesn’t really like ice cream.” Trevor pipes in with a shrug of his shoulders, you can tell he’s trying to ease the mood, “but I’ll leave him a bite of my ice cream.”

“you’re a good guy, Trev.” you smile up at him, his dirty blond hair curls over top his forehead just above his eyebrows. your dashing smile earns him a little blush that quickly pales away when jack shoots him a look.

“I’m full the rest is yours.” you say to Luke and drop your spoon onto the brown napkin. the glares and intense stares from the man across the table was enough to ruin your appetite. what was with him? not even a month ago jack was calling you buddy behind closed doors, now in front of his family and closest friends, he chose to be an asshole? he truly is one man that’s hard to fake date.

—

“good night.”

he softly closes the door on his mother. she’s whisper rambling on about protection, and other embarrassing things, that you can slightly make out, but jack just closes the door. he says it’s better to stop her before she changes her mind and makes you sleep on the couch.

“so what was with you tonight?” you bite the bullet. there wasn’t a question in your mind you didn’t want answered, and after the ice cream show down you stood your distance from him. even when he rested his hand on your thigh, you made it obvious you weren’t in the mood.

he’s taking his shirt off when you look up from your phone. the white shirt is thrown over his head and soon right on to the floor among many other items of clothing, “nothing was with me.”

“please,” you bark out a sarcastic laugh. you sit upright in the bed, he paces the floor unpacking his clothes and preparing for the next morning, “you don’t like sharing me? what’s that all about?”

“I see the way you flirt with my friends.” he says so in a matter of fact tone, like it’s not news to him how you interact with everyone, “I know you want to fuck Alex.”

rolling your eyes, you toss a pillow in his direction, it hits the side of his head making him turn in your direction, “you are ridiculous, jack! I’m with you—“

“not really! this isn’t even real. you don’t like me like you like Alex.”

his shoulders slump, he crawls into bed, he curls his body close to yours, “you don’t actually like me. you’re just with me because you have to be.”

an unconscious scoff leaves you lips, “jack, I wouldn’t be spending a week with your family if I actually hated you.”

his ears perk to that, head snapping upward to meet your eyes, “what do you mean?” he asks. the words so faint against his lips he’s sure you didn’t hear him.

“I mean I like you, but man you’re the worst date ever.”

he springs upward, mouth slightly agape, “I—I was only ever being rude because I thought you hated me?”

you’re shaking your head at him. he’s unbelievable, and to think that was all his true personality, his next move proved differently. especially when it landed soft against your lips, then stronger with each passing second.

“I actually like you too, with strong feeling by the way.” he whispers these words in between breaths and gasps that escape both of your lips.

“we should stop here before your mom hears us.” you push his face away gently, “but that’s good to know you’re not actually an asshole.”

he barks out a laugh collapsing beside you, “it was hard to be an asshole to you, but now that that’s out of the way can I take you on a proper date?”

“absolutely.”

[radiant-cowgirl]

thinking about freelancer and gavin and avior and starlight and sam and darlin because it’s so unfair that all of them fought so hard to find the love they have with each other and none of them are going to get the time they deserve.

one day freelancer is going to be in a hospital bed, cupping gavin’s face, calling him their darling boy, telling him that everything’s going to be okay, pretending that they aren’t crying themselves. the rest of their friends are spread across the globe. the only one they wanted to see before they left was gavin. they’re going to die and there’s not a thing gavin can do about it.

one day, avior is going to be sitting in a cemetery on a hot summer day, until the sun sets, casting long shadows across the grass. he’s going to talk to starlight’s grave like they can hear him. he’s going to complain about frivolous things, tell them about his life without them. then he’ll grow quiet just as the sun dips below the horizon and confess that none of it actually bothers him. the only thing he can’t stand is not hearing their responses, or being able to hold their hand while he talks.

one day, sam is going to have a very good day. he’s going to visit the pack, laugh and joke with his aging friends. he’s going to eat an entire tub of butter pecan ice cream and not feel guilty about it. he’s going to spend comfortable, long hours having introspective talks with vincent. he’ll call alexis and tell her everything he never had the guts to say. then, somewhere around four am he’ll put his favorite flannel on, make himself a pot of coffee and climb to the roof and talk to the remaining stars like they’re his mate. he’ll wait for the sunrise, hoping that for a few brief seconds he’ll feel the warmth and not the burn.

[eat-limes-bitches]

Sanctuary

PAIRING: Female Avenger! Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: We all need a safe place to rest, even when some of us don't believe it

WARNINGS: umm, major fluff, Bucky thinking badly of himself

Word Count: 1408

A/N: wow surprise surprise, I'm not dead. I just fell into the hole of no inspiration paired with real-world stuff (gross) but please enjoy this lovely little thing I wrote. First thing I've written in months so sorry if it is not the best.

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

It was nearing three am when Bucky finally walked through the compound doors. He crept silently through the halls, his final destination in mind: his bedroom. Not to sleep, he was still too on edge from the mission he was returning from even to consider sleeping. He just wanted out of his wet clothes from the rain. Upon reaching said destination, Bucky rid himself of the soggy garments and slipped into a pair of grey sweatpants and a random t-shirt he pulled out of his dresser before leaving his room to head to the gym to work off some of the remaining adrenaline. No matter how loud his body screamed at him to rest, he was more fearful of the monsters inside of his head than the aching pain radiating through his body. When he reached the kitchen, he wasn’t planning on stopping until he heard a soft humming which caught his attention. He paused just inside the door frame and looked around for the source of the sound when his eyes landed on Y/n.

Y/n was an enigma to Bucky. Everyone gravitated towards her, something about her presence was enough to soothe the battered souls of the team and it wasn’t uncommon to find her in the lounge with one or all of the Avengers piled up around her in some form or fashion, most nights one of them would be snuggled up in her bed after a rough mission just needing human contact to help ground them, even now, watching her put a bagel in the toaster, with the setting turned up much too high for her preferred toasty-ness, Bucky felt the tension in his shoulders give out just a little, his heart doing little flips as well, but he refused to give in. He didn’t want to taint the sweetness of her aura with the bitterness of his demons. He instead opted to watch as her soft Y/h/c curls swayed around as she rummaged through the refrigerator for a new stick of butter, still humming gently as she did so. 

“I don’t bite, you know. You can come sit down,” She called out to him, not bothering to turn around, causing Bucky to flinch slightly. He hated being caught observing her from afar. His teammates would see the longing looks he gave in her direction, longing to feel the soft safety she provided but refusing himself as some sort of twisted punishment. Bucky slowly crept over to the kitchen counter where the chairs were neatly tucked up under the ledge until he pulled one out to sit on. Only once situated did Y/n turn around and look at him. Her soft eyes traced over his form examining for any injuries.

 As if sensing the reason for her intense gaze, Bucky whispered, “‘M not hurt darlin’.”

She moved her eyes to meet his, checking the validity of his statement. Whatever she found there was enough to confirm his statement and she nodded, cocking her head to one side as she asked, 

“Then why are you not in bed resting? Your body is obviously trying to tell you to rest and you are ignoring it. Why?”

Bucky sighed, refusing to look at her. She had the uncanny ability to read everyone who lived in the compound, but somehow, she read him better than everyone else, knowing exactly what was going on with him without him saying a word. 

“Are you worried about the nightmares?” Y/n questioned, voice no more than a whisper as she ducked her head to catch his gaze with her own. Darting his eyes to catch her gaze before looking away, Bucky nodded. Y/n hummed before returning to the toaster to retrieve her bagel, slathering it with butter when Bucky finally spoke, 

“What are you doing up at this time?” Y/n flashed a smile over her shoulder before replying,

“I knew you were coming home, I had FRIDAY tell me when you arrived so that way I would be around if you needed anything. I know how you get after missions like these, I just wanted to be available.”

Now, Bucky was a sensitive guy, underneath all of the tall, dark, and brooding, was a man who was starved of any sort of affection for over 70 years, and hearing that simple statement from Y/n was enough to break down the little self-control he had to stay away from her. 

“Y-y/n?” He asked, a wobble evident in his voice as he spoke, catching Y/n’s attention immediately.

“Can-” Bucky started to ask before snapping his mouth closed, the thought of ruining her running through his mind before he could finish his question,

 “Actually, never mind.” He mumbled, pushing himself off of the chair and making a bee-line for the exit when Y/n called out after him,

“Wait, Bucky!” He stopped in his tracks, not being able to just ignore her when she said his name so sweetly. He listened as her quiet footsteps got closer until she was standing slightly in front of him, not wanting to stand directly in his way in case he still wanted to leave. 

“You know, you yourself, as much as anyone else in this universe deserve love and affection, even if you think don’t. I know that’s hard to accept right now, there’s a lot of turmoil going on in that noggin of yours,” she said softly, taking a few steps closer to him as she continued,

“but I need you to know that and to know that I am here. I am always here for you. Now, if you want to ask your question you can, and if you still want to leave you can as well. I just needed to make sure you knew that.”

She smiled at him, a smile he had never seen before. It was soft, bright, and warm in ways that he had never seen before that made him realize this smile was just for him, and only for him. For some reason, that knowledge made him brave and with a deep breath, he asked to question he was afraid to,

“D-do you think that you can let me sleep with you tonight?” His voice was so soft that if Y/n’s complete attention wasn’t on him, she may not have heard him. She smiled that special smile at him as she extended her hand for him to take,

“Of course, c'mon then, let’s get you to bed. You need some solid sleep,” she murmured as she led him towards her room. 

Y/n pushed the door open and walked through, letting Bucky enter in his own time, not wanting to overwhelm him. Slowly, Bucky crept into the room, the smell of lavender, mint, and cedar invading his senses as he approached the bed. Y/n smiled at him before pushing the grey sheets back and climbing in, motioning for him to do the same. Once underneath the soft sheets, Y/n turned to face him.

 “How do you want to do this?” She asked, “Do you want me to touch you?” In the dim light, Bucky could see a soft flush on her cheeks, as she continued to explain herself, realizing that the word choice was a little provocative. “I-I mean like, some people like to cuddle others just like knowing someone else is there I don’t mind either way, I just didn’t want you to think-” 

Bucky chuckled softly and reached over and pulled Y/n closer to him so that he could lay his head on her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. Y/n froze slightly before completely melting and moving her hands to his hair, running through the soft chestnut strands. 

“So you’re a cuddler. Got it.” She murmured, smiling as Bucky snuggled deeper into her embrace, arms still wound around her frame to keep her close. Bucky began to grow drowsy, between Y/n’s gentle finger in his hair and the soft song she began humming again, sleep was not far from wrapping Bucky in its soft embrace.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of Y/n’s old university t-shirt.

Y/n smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head. “Of course, now get some rest, you need it.” With a final squeeze, Bucky began to drift off to sleep. Maybe, this was the exact sanctuary he needed.

[zweiginator]

OMG private school patrick i’m drooling

he’s so privileged it infuriates you — he walks around the school like he owns it, grabbing at girls asses in the corridors or play fighting with his friends in the courtyard. he flirts his way out of detentions, buttering up his teachers with his stupid smirk and charming demeanour.

your hatred for him makes him tick, as patrick’s always been used to all the girls falling at his feet. it fuels this need within him to change your mind, to make you want him, to make you flip up your little plaid skirt and let him bury himself inside of you.

you refuse to break, though. continuing to shoot him dirty looks, arguing with him at a dorm party, which led to you slapping him across the face after he made the comment: “why do you need to be such a bitch? if you need some dick that badly, all you have to do is ask.”

you’d been furious after that, shouted every obscenity under the sun. he was just so cocky, and so, so wrong. you didn’t need sex. certainly not from him. your hatred of patrick had nothing to do with the thing between his legs.

…. until one day you find yourself knocking on his door, and he opens it with a knowing smirk, because he’d been anticipating this since the beginning. and then when he’s pushing your head into the sheets, cock furiously thrusting into your wet pussy, he just can’t help but laugh. “yeah, this is what you needed, right baby? a nice hard dick to fuck that attitude out of you.”

( sorry babe this got long 😁😁 )

oh heavens!!!

it annoys you how everything in patrick’s life has been handed to him on a silver platter. full tuition with zero merit, scholarships to elite tennis academies. he has a brand new car and a giant mansion and a new girl on his arm every week. you can’t decipher a type, because he has none, and he doesn’t care about what her personality is like, how she dresses. the things that make her eyes twinkle. he cares about pussy. getting off. being wanted.

and you see right through it. you know about his scandals. how his grades are slipping so far that the board threatened to expel him. you also know that his father conveniently made a two million dollar donation and that patrick remains at the school, papers stuffed in his bags. he can barely stay awake during lectures, but his girlfriend of the day will do his homework for him. and he’ll kiss her on the cheek and say thank you. that she’s a good girl but he really doesn’t see them moving much further.

and they all fall for it. you don’t blame them—not because you’re attracted to patrick, but because you know how fucking manipulative the zweig family is. they throw tantrums like toddlers and pave their way through the town with the gifted gold wristwatches they bribe people with. the zweig men have never once heard the word no—which is why you piss him off so, so much.

he thinks you’re a bitch. he thinks you’re whiny and stuck up, even though you don’t have nearly as much money as his family and you’re here on about four different scholarships. he thinks you try too hard, that you should let loose a little and roll your plaid skirt up like the other girls too. show some fucking leg for once.

he also thinks you’re gorgeous. it would be dumb of him to act as if he weren’t attracted to how you don’t give him the time of day. how you’re feisty and don’t take his word at face value like every other girl at school does. he’s full of shit, and you know it. he knows it too. but he’s just having fun.

he loves how you do your hair. how you smell like vanilla and cherries and springtime. he loves your eyes. so soft—until it’s him you’re looking at. he loves how you need your glasses to see the lecture notes and how focused you are even though it’s so fucking lame and you could just cheat like everyone else does. he loves how you’re a prude. he’d love for you not to be.

and one night, drunk at a dorm party, patrick stumbled across you as you walked back from your shower. your robe was tied tightly around your body and your shower caddy was dripping water down on the wooden floors and patrick’s words were slurred.

“give us a little show.” he twirled his finger and said you should take that robe off and give him a peek and a crowd had formed outside because every one on campus knew that you and patrick hated each other. or at least you hated him.

so you set your caddy down, and maybe for a split second patrick thought you were finally eroding down for him. but then you stood in your tippy toes and slapped him across the face. patrick’s jaw ticked as your peers gasped and a gaggle of patrick’s former lovers came to his rescue, asking if he was okay and shooting you dirty looks as if that would change his mind about him.

“why do you need to be such a bitch?” patrick spat. “if you need some fucking dick then just ask for it, babe. you know where i’ll be.”

you flipped him off and went back to your room.

and for the next month, it seemed like your hatred of him, of each other, had festered into some sort of septic mess. you were having spats in classes, debating over trivial historical nuances that you swore patrick didn’t even know about. he stole your books and held them over his head so you couldn’t get them. made lewd comments about your body.

and you called him a scumbag. a worthless piece of shit. insecure, immature—everything you thought would cut deep.

but none of it did, you see. because this was patrick’s prerogative. and he craved the growing fog of tension between you two. knew that some day soon his smirks and pretty eyes would make you see through to the other side. it turned him on to know how far under your skin he was. that you probably seethe when he’s on your mind. when you’re about to sleep, when you wake up. when you’re in the shower, and inevitably when you’re in class.

patrick thought about you when he fucked other girls. he thought about making you shut up. telling you to fucking take it. he didn’t want you to be easy like some of the other girls he had been with. he wanted the fight.

and patrick felt like a colony of ants crawling all over you. you couldn’t get rid of him and even when you weren’t thinking of him or he wasn’t around—someone was talking about him. some girl was twirling her hair and wishing he would text her back.

so maybe it was the fact that he was driving you to insanity that you knocked on his door one tuesday night. or maybe it was because you walked by the tennis courts before sunset and saw him wiping the sweat off his face with his sweat-stained t-shirt. maybe it was because you were beginning to despise when girls talked about him because you kind of felt jealous of them. maybe it’s because when you walked back by the tennis courts after studying at the library, you heard the tennis boys playing fuck marry kill with your name as one of the options. and you didn’t care what any of the other boys said. but during patrick’s turn he dismissed the other girls’ names and said the choice was clear. he wanted to fuck, marry and kill you.

patrick opened the door in just a towel. you bit the inside of your cheek and you wouldn’t look up at him until patrick lifted your chin.

“look who it is.”

you pushed him inside and shut the door.

the backs of his knees hit the bed and you were on top of him. his towel fell to the ground and there he was, completely naked. patrick flipped you around.

“you finally cracked, huh?” his cock was hard and bigger than you had (admittedly) imagined it. he scared you, his cockiness. and the size of his ego was somehow comparable to his erection, which wasn’t at all a coincidence.

“what are you even talking about?” you were grasping at straws; you didn’t want him to think he won. he hadn’t.

he took your loafers off.

“i’m on top of you taking your fucking clothes off—“

you pulled him down to kiss you and god, those schoolgirl gossip talks at lunch were right because he was so fucking good at kissing. at grinding his cock right into that spot that made you gasp into his mouth. that made him mock you and flip you on your stomach as he yanked your underwear down.

you went to take your skirt off and patrick grabbed your wrist.

“keep it on.”

and so you did. and you came there to be in charge and stick it to the man but patrick was palming your ass and pressing open-mouthed kisses down your back. pulling your hips up and licking a stripe up and down your pussy. kissing and sucking on your clit. you held your moans back but it was making your jugular pop and it was only getting harder.

his sounds were lewd, pornographic as he licked you, fucking his fingers into your cunt which was wet even before he put his mouth on you.

“just fucking give it up. moan my name you fucking prude.” patrick smacked your ass and you looked back at him, expecting his brows to be furrowed and his jaw to be tense with anger. but he was smiling at you, while at the same time mocking you with this look of faux pity which pissed you off.

“maybe if you made me feel good, you wouldn’t have to ask me to fucking moan for you.”

patrick clicked his tongue. grabbed your hair. “oh i see.”

and he bullied his cock into you. long, thick and impossibly hard. he pushed in and in and in until he couldn’t anymore and the pressure made you grab his fingers which were gripping your ass. his hands were so big it felt like you were completely grasped by him as he fucked you. but you bit your lip hard and buried your face into the pillow. didn’t moan or make a sound. only tiny mewls left your lips but that wasn’t good enough for patrick.

he hooked his finger into your mouth, lifting your head from the pillow. he leaned forward and the droplets swinging from the ends of his hair fell into your neck.

“why are you holding back?” he pulled all the way out and your mouth fell open. he pushed back in quickly. a small gasp came from your mouth. “i know this dick feels good. maybe you need more?” so he reached around to rub your clit. he wasn’t harsh though. he rubbed you in soft, intimate circles while his cock slammed in and out of you. his balls sticky against your ass. “that feel good?”

you couldn’t hold back anymore and you figured he won. so you nodded your head. “fuck—patrick.”

“yeah?”

“yeah—god—feels so good.”

he grabbed your jaw. “oh honey i know. just keep on taking it.”

and you did, sucking patrick’s fingers into your mouth. now, it felt like you won, as his cock twitched inside you and he threw his head back, a strangled groan escaping him.

“you like that?” you mocked him.

patrick kissed the side of your mouth. “i like—“ he pushed you further into the mattress as his hips moved faster. “when pretty girls like you shut the fuck up and take it.”

in reality, patrick did like your fingers in his mouth, clearly. he liked how you moaned around them and how your eyes fluttered shut. he liked how you said his name in this tiny voice that you were stupid enough to think he couldn’t hear. he liked how your legs shook and your hips gave out when he made you cum, and how you thanked him afterwards with this sheepish little grin on your face like you had just said grace.

patrick liked a lot of things about you. but he hated how after you left, he wanted to see you again.

[cressidagrey]

Recipe for Love - Honey Cakes

Summary:

The Beehive Bakery is out of Peach Cobbler. This leads Azriel to make some very impulsive decisions. 

Warnings:

Definetely NSFW. Maybe don't make life-altering decisions about a lack of Peach Cobbler?

A/N:

thanks to @k-godling for listening to me rambling on about this and finding the perfect name for that Bakery! This will eventually be a series consisting out of One-Shots, so if you have an idea, shoot it my way! (Also, if anybody actually tries out that recipe, let me know lol)

Twice-Baked Honeycakes Ingredients:  1 ¾ cup flour 1 ½ tablespoon baking powder ½ tsp salt ½ cup unsalted butter, room temperature 3 tablespoon butter for greasing muffin pan zest 1 lemon ¼ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg ¾ cup milk 2 eggs

¾ cup honey 1/4 cup honey for drizzling on top 1 teaspoon vanilla Directions:  Grease the inside of muffin wells. Set Aside. Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg and lemon zest. Knead butter into flour mixture until crumbly. Set Aside. Whisk together milk, eggs, honey, and vanilla. Pour wet into dry ingredients and combine until just combined. Pour batter into Muffin wells. Bake in Hot Oven for 16 minutes or until mostly done but not quite golden enough. Remove from Muffin Wells and place on a baking sheet. Warm the remaining ¼ cup of honey. Brush the tops of the cakes with the honey. Allow to sit for 5 minutes. Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Habits were what got people killed. 

Azriel knew that. 

Getting slow, getting complacent…it was dangerous. 

He couldn’t help himself though. 

Or maybe it was that he thought that if this one thing would kill him…the one thing he did that sparked joy somewhere deep in his chest, that made everything feel not so bad…then it was worth it. 

If Azriel were actually smart, he would have gone straight to the House of Wind that particular day and not even bothered to visit that Bakery. 

Quite frankly, he would thank the mother on his knees for that bit of idiocy for the rest of his life. 

Azriel should have gone home. He was dead on his feet and hadn’t eaten properly in 3 days after the mission in Spring had dragged on and on and on…and now Azriel only wanted food and then his bed and then some sleep…

He had already forced himself to turn in a report to Rhys so that maybe he could actually sleep in the next day…he just hoped that Cassian and Nesta wouldn’t find the energy for one of their early morning trysts. 

But before bed…before sleep…he had promised himself another slice of that peach cobbler days ago. Just one. 

So when he sludged into the bakery…he realised with a grimace that it was late enough in the evening that it would already be closing soon. His hope that there still would be some peach cobbler was left diminished.  

Just one single slice…please. 

Just…

The moment the door closed behind him with a little jingle, there was a soft voice. 

“We’re out.” 

Azriel had grown used to it…to the near bell-like quality of it, all of it belonging to B, that blonde female he had seen the first time. He had gotten used to her , though he had always been served by one of the other people working there, by chance and circumstances. They had never even exchanged a single word. 

But he had liked to watch her…Watch her happiness as she flitted around her bakery. He had figured out that she was the owner quite quickly. 

She was always so…sweet. Sweet to her customers, sweet to her employees…She handed out these little smiles of hers generously and flirted up a storm with seemingly anybody who was willing to stand still long enough. 

She was sunshine personified. 

“What?” Azriel asked dumbly, staring at her, rooted in the spot as B continued counting money at the till, quickly putting coins into tidy little stacks. Seemed like the Bakery was running very well indeed.   

“We’re out of Peach Cobbler,“ she clarified, her voice lilting. “That’s what you always order, isn’t it? Sorry, Peaches.” 

Did she just call him Peaches ?

Did she just call the Spymaster of the Night Court, the horror of Prythian, an Illyrian warrior that was literally nearly twice her size Peaches ?!

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea what to say to that. 

B looked up, giving him a smile that lit up her whole face as their eyes met across the room. “So what can I get you in…?” The words stuck in her throat. 

Sparkling blue eyes stared up at him. And he could just stare right back because at that very moment… everythingchanged. 

He had never felt anything like this before. 

Had never felt the warmth that burrowed deep into his chest…that sudden unfurling of a golden ribbon…the feeling of being tied to another person so utterly, so thoroughly, so completely. 

It was…

Oh . 

She blinked. Full lips pulling into a smile, that button nose wrinkling. “At least that explains why you come here every week. My peach cobbler is magnificent but clearly not the only reason,” she told him with a saucy little wink and he wanted to laugh, half hysterical. 

Brazen. 

His mate was utterly brazen. 

Something inside him eased.

“It’s quite confident that you think I only came for you,” he said hoarsely and she grinned at him. 

“Well…” she trailed off… ”I think my confidence is inspired,” she teased him, still grinning, her happiness bleeding all over their bond, all over him, and he nearly staggered with it. 

Worry registered on her face. “Sit down before you fall over,” she said pointedly, as she came from behind the counter. He couldn’t help but drink her in even as he managed to sit down on one of her wrought iron chairs, wrestling his wings behind himself.

His stomach growled. 

The sound was so loud in the quiet cafe that he blushed beet red. 

She only laughed, snagging a plate and piled it high with four little cakes that she brought over, putting it in front of him. 

He swallowed.

“If I eat that…” he said hoarsely as she sat down across from him. 

If he ate that, he would accept the mating bond. He would bind himself to her, forever, irrevocably.

“Oh, I know,” she told him with a grin. Not worried in the slightest. It didn’t even seem to cross her mind. She mustered him, blue eyes so gentle. “I am very much aware,” she promised him. “And you are looking at me like you expect me to turn you down, Peaches.”

He was expecting her to turn him down. He was expecting her to take one look at him and the shadows that slithered behind him, currently happily hissing to themselves, Finally, Master! …and to turn around and run . 

“I won’t,” she said with a shrug like it was the easiest promise she had ever given.  “You are my mate. I will never turn you down.” There was fierceness bleeding into her voice at that. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me on your side.”

A surprising amount of loyalty, right there for his taking. 

His mate was insane. And quite frankly…he loved it. 

“You don’t even know my name,” he gave back hoarsely. 

“It’s not Peaches?” She faux gasped and he couldn’t help but snort. 

“Azriel. My name is Azriel,” he said quietly.

“Azriel,” she repeated, pushing that plate towards him.“Eat. Unless you don’t want to?” She asked him teasingly.

Azriel did want to. He wanted nothing more than that. 

There had been so much in his life that he had wanted and hadn’t been able to get…but she offered herself to him on a silver platter.

And so he picked up one of these little cakes. 

****

It had taken 150 years for him to show up. 

Bee wasn’t quite sure if she should just be grateful about that, or if she should be pissed off that it took that long. She had been waiting for him. 

Of course, she had. 

For somebody that had her whole life made herself a family out of choice… she had waited for fate to at least bring her a mate. 

And for once…for once she had been right. 

He was right there. Right there in the Beehive. Right there in her home. 

Granted, he stood out like a sore thumb with these beautiful, ferocious wings that stretched over his back…and the violent black leather armour he wore, blue stones gleaming. 

But all of that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his demeanour, which looked like he was fully expecting her to turn him down. 

Jokes on him, she had no plans to do that. 

He was hers . She would never turn him down. 

Also, he was far too pretty for her to ever even consider it…She had really hit the jackpot with that. 

(And maybe the fact that she had been harbouring a secret crush on peaches for weeks and he was the only reason why the peach cobbler had been a daily staple in the Beehive also had something to do with that…)

“Better?” she asked him curiously as he scarfed down the second cake, stealing one of them for herself. “Honey cakes,” Bee told him brightly. “My sister brought me some lavender honey yesterday so I made them.” Roisin had gotten it from a friend herself, and Bee thought that it was quite a successful pairing. 

Her Honey Cakes had never tasted better. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, and he looked into his eyes to find the pupils blown wide, his want and need sharply grating against that new, golden bond tying them together. 

“Do you proposition every male that walks into your bakery and orders Peach Cobbler?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she couldn’t help but grin, as she offered him her hand, as she stood. 

He took it, dwarfing hers with his own, violently scarred…but oh so gently. So gently. 

The first touch was like a spark…like a wildfire roared to life in her blood. She couldn’t help the goosebumps that rose over her skin. 

“Only the ones that are as handsome as you,” she quipped back, her voice shaky, as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Upstairs,” he agreed and followed behind her as she quickly grabbed the till…remembering that at least. 

Though it was thrown carelessly on the table in her hallway as she turned as soon as she could close the door and lock it behind her. 

He still stood there, staring at her…and she half expected him to pounce…because he looked like a cat like that, watching her every move. 

But he didn’t move. Didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but watch her, his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and flaking with every sharp breath he took. 

Oh well… she could take the lead…She would gladly do that. 

So she stepped closer to him…breathing in his scent…cedars and something she couldn’t quite place…wintry…like a forest in the morning…He smelled so good . 

She wanted to roll around his scent. Bee wanted…

Instead, she reached out with the hand he wasn’t holding, carefully, slowly…lifting it up to his face. 

She touched Azriel’s cheek and he turned into her touch, leaning into it, the tightness in his body relaxing as she cupped his cheek…

And then she stood up on her tiptoes and failed horribly to even reach higher than the middle of his chest, making him laugh, his body shaking with mirth. She growled as she yanked him down and he went willingly, finally letting her crush her lips to his. 

And then…oh. 

It was like coming home. It was like falling asleep and waking up at the same moment…it was like…like everything inside her calmed and burst into flames…

And…by the cauldron, she needed him.

That must be that damn mating frenzy everybody always talked about. 

His tongue hungrily licked into her mouth and she gave as good as she got from him, her hands curling tightly into the leather armour he wore. 

 “I don’t even know your name,” he growled against her mouth and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Beatrice. Everybody calls me Bee. Like the animal, not like the letter,” she answered with a moan, even as she walked backwards, until he had enough and just scooped her up like she weighed nothing…she couldn’t help but squeak, because she may wasn’t particularly tall, but she was rather… substantial and he didn’t even seem to notice her weight. 

Oh well. she wasn’t going to start complaining. 

Not when he managed to find her bedroom on the first try and Bee hit the bed as he followed her down. 

She caught his mouth with hers again, hungrily licking into his mouth, grounding up against him…the bulk of him pressed her down into the bed…muscular and massive. 

There seemed to be nothing soft about his body at all, was there? 

She managed to get a hand on the buckles that kept Azriel’s jacket closed and then pulled back with a regretful because she was quite sure that that was never going to work. 

“Get it off,” she managed to bring out. “Before I try and rip it off.” His eyes darkened at that but he lifted off her and she leaned up on her elbows to watch him…watch him unbutton the jackets and open the buckles so that he could slide it off his body…these beautiful dark wings, unfurling behind him…the swirling tattoos that covered his chest and arms…

Bee had been right. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere, the muscles standing out sharply, speaking of…years of hard work and training. Azriel was gorgeous. 

She was a lucky, lucky girl. 

With maybe just a teeny, tiny bit of self-consciousness because he looked like that and she…didn’t. 

Though the way he was watching her…hazel green eyes dark…desire so plainly on his face…his tongue slipping over his lips…

It made her sit up and open the bow that kept her apron closed…let her shrug it off and throw it to the floor…Something to deal with tomorrow. 

Somehow that pulled him into action…made him lean down so that he could kiss her again, and Bee smiled into that kiss, moaning softly as his tongue plundered her mouth. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but somehow she had thought he would be…rougher. 

He wasn’t. If anything, he was endlessly gentle…

Azriel caught her ankle without a word, obligingly unbuckling her shoe and dropping it to the floor. He slid one hand up her leg briefly, all the way to the knee, Bee unable to stop the goosebumps that broke out all over her body, the soft shiver that rocked her. 

“Cold?” he asked her, his voice quiet but she shook her head, even as she offered her other foot, letting him take off the other shoes and toss it over his shoulder,

“You could keep me warm?” she offered breathlessly, making him laugh, the sound warm and rich like molasses, before he crawled to join her on the bed. 

 Her breath hitched as he crawled over her and settled between the spread of her thighs…Kissing her again…She was so busy with curling a hand in his hair that she didn’t even notice him starting to unbutton her dress until he reached her waist and then growled in annoyance. 

This time it was her laughing, struggling to sit up underneath him so that she could shrug out of the rest of her clothing…could pull the dress over her head and slip out of the lacy little unmentionable she wore, because she was quite sure she would rip them apart in her hurry to lose them later anyway…and the way he stared at her body as she bared more and more skin to him…as she shook out her hair so that the blonde curls fell over her shoulders…

One look over her shoulders and he bore down onto her again, catching her mouth with his with a growl and she hitched her leg higher against his thigh. 

“You’re warm,” she whispered quietly. Azriel was all lean muscles and warm skin…and she arched a little underneath him and shivered. 

He shifted just slightly and her breath caught in her throat…even like this she could feel the rock-hard bulge of him pressing against her through his trousers…making her shiver once again. 

She took the weight of him and moaned against his mouth as he dipped his tongue between her lips.

She whimpered and Azriel lifted his head and slipped off of her to lie on his side. Bee turned with him, seeking his mouth and shivering under his hand as he slid it up her side to cup her breast. 

A long drawn-out moan was the result of that, as rough fingers skilfully brushed over one rosy nipple…

His touch was careful and hesitant…and she met his gaze, pressing against these hands… trying to make it so clear to him that she wanted him…she grasped the golden bond flexing inside her and poured all her want and happiness into it.

He had expected that, his body freezing for just a moment as he dropped his head to her shoulder, holding her like she was made out of spun glass, hands desperately clinging onto her skin. 

Another puzzle piece of him…him, that male that had always been silently brooding in that corner and had expected her to turn him down.

She kissed him, softly, coaxing… and he returned that kiss. It was intoxicating, his patience nothing short of shocking. 

 They got a little lost in those kisses. 

Bee was a little overwhelmed when he wrenched his mouth from hers and slid down enough to take one rigid, aching nipple into his mouth. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, the shudder that wrecked her body…

She shuddered when Azriel pushed one big hand between her legs, fingers trailing over her lower lips before dipping between them. 

She was already embarrassingly wet, the scent of her own arousal in the air hard to ignore. 

Bee gasped into his mouth as he dipped one thick finger into her hole, her body shivering with the stretch of it. Everything was big about him, even his hands. His teeth clenched on her nipple briefly and she arched up against his mouth, her back arching.

Azriel lifted his head and their eyes met as he pressed his finger deeper into her, Green meeting blue. Bee’s breath caught in the back of her throat and she lifted her hips upwards against the pleasure with a happy little shiver. 

“Good?” he asked her, his voice hoarse and she just about managed a shaky nod. 

“Perfect, Peaches,” she promised him with a grin and without fanfare he pushed a second finger inside her, making her gasp. 

His thumb found her clit at that moment, drawing a tight little circle about that attention-seeking nub and she couldn’t help the long-drawn-out moan that escaped her. 

“More,” she requested in a whine and he chuckled as he shifted them around, placing her on his lap, Bee the one on top, rising above him, his hands on his hips. 

She growled when she still felt the trousers he wore, managing to shove them out of her way and then…then swallowed when his cock sprung free. Long and thick and…Gods, everything about him was unreasonably pretty, wasn’t it? 

She wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him in one fell swoop. 

It would probably be a bad idea, just because of the sheer size of him. 

But that didn’t stop her from reaching out for him… wrapping one small hand around the hot length of his cock…she watched his face, watched how Azriel hissed in a breath but didn’t try to stop her and flexed his hips as she rubbed the hear of his cock against her entrances. 

Azriel kept a hold of her hips, a thumb still circling her clit, making her half out of her mind with wanting him. 

He makes her take him slowly instead…tiny gentle thrusts that nonetheless make Bee shudder with pleasure, ragged breath escaping her, a whine leaving her throat, her head thrown back…

When she’s finally fully seated, Azriel’s eyes fall shut for a moment in ecstasy, and Bee braced her hands on his chest and shifts a little, just to see how it feels. Cauldron, she was so fucking full.

He let her take her time, not even trying to control her movements…his hands stayed on her hips, still rubbing her clit…He let her rise up on her knees and sink down again in little restless motions, her breasts bouncing…he caught one of them in his mouth again as he sat up, his abdominal muscles flexing in a truly ridiculous display of strength that maybe made her moan wantonly…

Not that she wasn’t already doing it…they were both panting with it, Bee keening with her moans at how fucking good it is, how big he feels inside her, how perfect…until almost by accident she finds exactly the perfect angle to hit that spot inside her, that one spot that makes her see stars…

And she watched as it registered on Azriel’s face and he grinned, slowly lowering his back onto the mattress… tightened his hold on her hips to hold her in place and started to thrust. 

That was the last straw. 

She could feel the bond rushing between them - a little wild and rich with their feelings. The most beautiful thing…

Each drag of his cock inside her pulled her further and further away from herself and into a place, she’d never been. It was more than sex, more than even love. More than anything she had ever felt…

She couldn’t help but wail as it settled inside her…deeper and more pleasurable than anything she’d ever known.

Bee scrabbled against Azriel’s chest, against the swirling dark marks with uncoordinated hands because she had to do something with them…if she didn’t, she wasn’t sure what would happen, as her whole body shook with the strength of the waves of pleasure that crashed over her at that moment. 

Azriel made a positively feral noise and yanked her down, pressing his face into the crook of her neck…breathing in her scent as he clung to her and spilt inside her, hot and filthy and glorious.

She couldn’t help herself as she collapsed, utterly uncoordinated, across Azriel’s chest. For just a moment, he lay still beneath her, shuddering through the aftershocks, his hands still on her hips…his nose pressed against her neck, breathing her in…

He loosened the hands around her hips…she was pretty sure that he had bruised her but she didn’t care one bit. 

Not one bit as he helped shift her until she laid draped over him…and then he wrapped one arm around her waist and combed the fingers of his other hand through her blonde tresses…again and again…so utterly sweet that she melted into his chest, tucking her face again. 

“Thank the cauldron, I didn’t have any peaches anymore,” she mumbled against his chest. For a moment he was quiet. Then he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing. 

“I think I prefer honey now," he answered and she reached out to poke his chest weakly. 

"If you think that's funny, I'll let you know that any bee-related jokes have ceased to be that around 6 decades ago," she told him drily, getting another chuckle from him. 

[sporesgalaxy]

LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

[janeyseymour]

Scrubs- pt 2

part 1

for @sweetpinkstrawberriez with the prompt: the reader getting to meet the rest of Melissa’s family

*entirely unedited*

WC: 3.75k

Since that first seventeen minute, quite the unconventional first date, you and Melissa have been on a multitude of other dates. Some are in between little lulls and breaks that you have during your shifts, some are dinner dates when you’re able to make it work, and others are overnight when all you can do is collapse onto the couch with her and curl into her figure to fall asleep after a particularly hard shift. It’s not conventional by any means, but the two of you make it work. And you find yourself falling for her more and more. But nothing is official between the two of you, not yet at least. Nobody has brought up the words ‘girlfriend’ or ‘partner’ or ‘significant other’. So you remain in a little bubble of limbo land. You’re oddly okay with that if it means that you continue to get to see her.

“I have off tomorrow and the next day if you wanted to do anything,” you tell the woman you’re seeing softly over the phone.

“I unfortunately am not available tomorrow,” Melissa tells you. “Nonna is having everybody over for a luncheon to prove that her stroke was ‘bullshit’. But Sunday, I would love to see you.”

“Yeah,” you smile into the device. “I’ll see you Sunday. Tell Bea I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

So, Melissa shows up to her nonna’s on Saturday alone. And immediately upon being spotted, Bea is pestering the redhead.

“Where is that pretty girlfriend of yours?”

“What do you mean?” Green eyes are rolled. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Nonna.”

“Y/N, the nurse?” Bea says as though it’s obvious. “Your ma says you’re still seeing her relatively frequently, and everyone else’s significant others are here, so she should be here too.”

“Nonna,” the redhead sighs. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s not my significant other, she’s not my-”

“You’ve been on dates?” A nod of the head. “You’ve kissed her?” Another nod. “You have feelings for her and still see her?” One final nod. “So, you’re dating. She’s your girlfriend whether you want her to be or not.”

“Unofficially,” Melissa tells her grandmother.

“So invite her over,” Nonna instructs. “And before you try to lie to me and tell me that she’s working, I already know that she isn’t.”

“And how would you know that?” the second grade teacher asks, eyes narrowing.

Bea just smirks. “I know a guy. Now go call her and invite her over. If you don’t, I will.”

You’re sitting out on your front porch reading a book on this exceptionally nice day when your phone starts to buzz to life next to you. Melissa’s smiling face is on the screen, and you can’t help but furrow a brow as you place your book down and answer your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” you hear her deep voice, and it sounds somewhat agitated.

“Hey,” you turn your voice to butter. “Is everything okay? I know you said you were supposed to be at Bea’s house right now.”

“I am,” Melissa sighs. You don’t know it, but she’s rubbing her temple as she prepares to ask you this question. “Are you doing anything right now?”

“Besides sitting on my front porch reading my book? No. Why? What’s up?”

“How would you feel about coming over to Nonna’s? She’s practically begging for you.”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead. “Uh, yeah, sure. Send me the address?”

“I’ll just come pick you up,” Melissa tells you. “I’m not far from your place anyhow… only about ten minutes.”

When she pulls up to your house, you’re sitting there looking effortlessly beautiful in a sundress and a light bit of makeup. She makes her way out of the car and up your steps.

“You didn’t have to get out of your-”

She shushes you with a soft kiss as she pulls you in gently by the waist. You’re left somewhat breathless as you pull apart, although you aren’t sure why. It wasn’t an intense kiss by any means- maybe it’s because you’re swooning at the softness of her touch this time.

“You look beautiful,” she compliments you quietly.

“Thank you,” you smile softly as you tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear. “You look… wow, Mel.”

“I look like I always do,” the redhead laughs softly. “Probably worse considering we’re all just hanging out at Nonna’s house. We should probably get going too, before I hear anymore from Nonna. She’s already texted me eight times since I left her house… ten minutes ago.”

You allow her to lead you to her car and climb in. When you pull into a spot, your eyes go just the slightest bit wider at the amount of cars in the driveway as well as running up and down the street.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she tells you softly. “It looks like a lot of people, and it is; but everyone is spread out and doing their own things.”

You hum softly in response before undoing your seatbelt. You climb out of the car. By the time you’re closing the door and spinning around to face the house again, Melissa’s hand is in your own and squeezing gently- as if silently telling you that it’s all going to be alright. 

The two of you make the trek up to the house, and as soon as she’s opening the door, all eyes land on you. Well, those who are in the front room- including Bea Schemmenti herself.

“There she is!” the matriarch of the family claps her hands in delight. “Oh, Y/N! Get over here!”

You chuckle as you drop Melissa’s hand gently and make your way over to your former patient. She’s hugging you tightly, kissing both cheeks of yours, and telling you that she’s absolutely thrilled you’re here.

“Glad to be here,” you smile softly, a deep shade of red creeping into your cheeks. Nonna only continues to hold herself close to you until you feel Melissa’s presence.

“Nonna, let her go,” the redhead rolls her eyes as she takes your hand back into her own. When Kristen Marie coughs and looks at her expectantly, the woman sighs. “Guys, this is Y/N. She was one of Nonna’s nurses at the hospital-”

“That I did not have to be in!” Bea interjects.

“And we’ve been hanging out for the past month or so,” Melissa finishes.

The family just eyes you warily before turning back to their conversations. The teacher just pulls you along into the kitchen, offering you a drink. You smile and gratefully take a glass of wine as she pulls herself out a beer.

She gives you a tour of the house, holding your hand the entire time as she does so. She introduces you to everyone in the family with a smile on her face, but she never once uses the word ‘girlfriend’. You don’t much mind- the two of you haven’t spoken of it. That is, until she’s showing you the last room- the den where all of the kids hang out.

With such a big family, there are about ten kids playing in the den. It’s loud, it’s exciting, it’s everything that you would expect from a bunch of rowdy kids. But upon ‘Aunt Lissa’s’ entrance, they go silent and wide eyed. They’re only that way for a second though before they’re all cheering and tackling her in hugs to the point that she has to drop your hand to hold onto a few of the little ones as she tumbles to the floor. 

“Good grief,” the redhead groans playfully as she pulls herself up from the floor. “I told youse, Aunt Lissa is getting too old to tackle, and youse are getting too big.”

They all just give her cheeky and not at all apologetic smiles as they continue to cling to her in any way they can. And then their eyes land on you.

The youngest, who you would later learn is her cousin’s daughter, cocks her head to the side as she inspects your looks. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you, hun,” you smile warmly, keeping your voice soft.

“Who are you?” another asks- and it isn’t rude or ill-intentioned. It’s a simple question full of curiosity.

“That’s actually why Aunt Lissa came down,” the redhead cuts in gently as she scoops the smallest one into her arms and settles her on her hip. “This is Y/N, and she came to join us for today. I wanted to introduce you all to her.”

The oldest of the group, maybe about nine, looks between the two of you with a knowing look. “Aunt Lissa?”

“Yeah?”

“She your girlfriend?” the kid asks bluntly.

Green eyes meet your panicked ones, and you can see the same look in hers. You give her a small little shrug and a smile- one that you hope conveys she can saw whatever she feels is right to explain your situation to a bunch of young children.

“Something like that,” Melissa chooses to say. “Something like that.”

“But Aunt Lissa,” the littlest one lays a gentle hand on the woman’s cheek.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Nonna only lets family over,” Elizabeth states finitely. “So… she gotta be your girlfriend.”

Melissa looks to you again with a sparkle in her eye. “I would say she’s definitely something like a girlfriend to me… we just haven’t gotten that far to talk about if she wants to be a girlfriend to Aunt Lissa or not.”

The little girl shrugs as she starts to twirl the red curls around her little finger with a yawn. “She should be. She’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you think so, Lizzie,” Melissa chuckles as she strokes the little wisps down. “Is someone getting sleepy? Is it time for nap time?”

The young girl shakes her head adamantly, but she does lay her head down on her aunt’s shoulder. “Just like Aunt Lissa cuddles.”

“And Aunt Lissa never says no to that,” the redhead says gently as she drops a kiss to Elizabeth’s temple. “But I am going to head back upstairs with Y/N.”

Lizzie shrugs and tightens her hold around Melissa’s neck. The three of you head back up the steps, you now holding both your wine glass and her beer bottle as your… something like a girlfriend… carries the little girl.

You end up settling on one of the couches in the family room, just taking everything in. What Elizabeth had said about Nonna only letting family over for gatherings like this sticks with you. Does she think that you and Melissa are girlfriends? Does she not know that you’re really not together yet- at least not officially?

You shake those thoughts from your mind though as you feel a hand interlace with yours with a gentle squeeze. Melissa is looking at you with that soft look that you’ve grown quite fond of as she keeps another hand gently on Lizzie’s back, the little girl now dozing softly.

“I think we may be stuck here for a while,” the redhead jokes with you. “Liz loves her sleep, and if she wakes up too soon, she’s a cranky little bugger.”

“You’re really good with her,” you compliment softly, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

She smiles back. “I try. She makes it easy for the most part. They’re all really great kids down there.”

You hum softly before leaning into her figure a bit more. The two of you take in the chaos around you for a bit until you hear Nonna’s voice calling that lunch is ready and to start filling up plates. But Melissa still has the little girl on her.

“I can grab our plates,” you offer quietly.

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek before nodding. “That’d be great.”

“What should I put on your plate?”

“A lil scoop of everythin’,” she tells you. “The Schemmenti’s can cook.”

You chuckle softly before heading into the room where all the food is, and your eyes widen just slightly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this much food in one room before. 

You oblige her requests, filling two plates with a little bit of everything laid out before heading back to her. You hand her the plate and utensils intended for her before taking Lizzie out of her hold.

Once you have the little girl settled on your own chest, you glance over to see Melissa looking at you curiously.

“So you can eat,” you shrug softly and continue to hold your… girlfriend’s (?) niece close to your chest.

Others start to fill in the room, and they look at you with a sense of warmth as they see you holding onto the smallest member of the Schemmenti family while Melissa eats.

Lizzie wakes up in your hold a bit later.

“Y/N?” she asks quietly.

You just nod with the softest of eyes, ones you know show warmth and kindness and that you use with patients consistently. “Yeah, hun. Are you hungry? Should we go fill up a plate for you?”

The little one climbs off your lap before holding out her hand and looking at you expectantly. You take it, of course you do, and allow her to lead you to the spread of food once more. You fill up a plate for her before taking her back to where you were sitting previously.

Voices had filled the living room as everyone questioned Melissa and the fact that you were sitting in on a family gathering, but as you entered, they all hushed.

You just smile at them all as you sit back down next to Melissa, holding Lizzie’s plate. The little girl climbs back into your lap before beginning to feed herself. The entire time, you just watch with such a fondness in your eyes. You ignore the fact that almost the entire Schemmenti family is staring at you.

Eventually, she’s finished, and she’s holding out the napkin that you had brought for her. You clean up her face, wipe down her hands, and let her decide what to do next.

“I go play,” she tells you with gusto. Before she runs back off for the den though, she squeezes you in a tight hug, her cheeks squishing into yours. And then she’s off. 

Only then do you reach for your own plate, now cold. It doesn’t matter though- Melissa was right: the Schemmenti’s sure do know their way around the kitchen. You lean into Melissa’s side a bit with a smile as you start to make your way through your own lunch. 

A throat clears, and only then do you look up. All eyes are on you.

“Hm?” you hum through a mouthful of food.

“How did you do that?” One of Melissa’s cousins looks at you wildly.

“Do what?” you ask, once you’ve swallowed.

“Get Lizzie to sit with you like that? She literally only goes to Nonna, Mel, and her parents.”

You shrug and look to the woman sitting next to you, silently asking if that was true. She nods. Then you shrug again. 

Once you’re finished your meal, you insist on helping clean up as a thank you for allowing you to join their apparently sacred family meal.

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” Bea tells you.

You wave her off. “I insist, Bea.” You take everyone’s plates and stack them high before carrying them off into the kitchen like a waitress.

Melissa goes to follow, but her mother coughs, stopping her.

“What, Ma?”

“When are you gonna just ask her to be your girlfriend?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“You ain’t dating her?” A cousin pipes up.

“I-”

“They’s datin’,” Nonna cuts in. “Whether Melly wants to admit it or not. Why you think Y/N’s here with us for family lunch?”

“We aren’t dating,” Melissa huffs. “At least not yet.”

“Well, you should be,” Kristen Marie tells her sister. “I see them puppy dog eyes she gives you, and you have a lovesick look in your face- disgustin’.”

“Shut it,” the redhead glares at her sister.

“Is all I’m sayin,” the blonde sister shoots back with a smirk.

The two of you do the dishes in a peaceful manner, much like how you usually do them in the comfort of either of your homes, before she wraps a hand around your waist.

“So,” she sighs softly as she kisses you.

You kiss her back gently. “Yeah?”

“How you like the family?”

“Love ‘em,” you reply with a cheeky smile. “Especially the little ones. Lizzie is adorable.”

“She is, but what Gia said is true,” Melissa tells you. “Liz won’t go to anyone but 

Nonna, me, or her parents.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re something special, you know that?” the redhead tells you as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Just bein’ able to waltz into my life, into my family… An’ so, I was thinkin’-”

Whatever she’s about to ask you, and you have an inkling of what was to come, is interrupted by Lizzie running up the steps and flying into both yours and Melissa’s legs, using them as a shield.

“Liz!” Melissa gasps out in shock.

“Sophia’s trying to catch me!” the little girl squeaks out. 

Somehow, this ends up with the two of you roped into their little game. It’s a little bite of domesticity with Melissa, and something in your head tells you that you’re going to be a part of this family for a long time- even if just as a friend. The Schemmenti’s have already welcomed you in, specifically the oldest and the youngest, and of course Melissa.

Eventually, you’re able to get out of the game, the redhead telling them that Aunt Lissa is too tired and needs to go be a boring adult upstairs. They protest, but she stands her ground. She goes to take you with her, only to be met with a chorus of protests.

“I’m a little tired too,” you chuckle softly as you crouch down to meet their eyes. “But I promise I’ll come play again before your Aunt Lissa and I leave, okay?”

“Pinky swears?” Lizzie holds out her pinky.

“Pinky swears,” you interlock your finger with hers before kissing your thumb and pressing it to hers. You stand up straight, smooth out your dress, and take Melissa’s hand in your own before heading back up the steps.

You can’t help but smile at the little voice giggling to her cousin’s, “Y/N even knew about sealin’ it with a kiss!”

It’s a long while before you and Melissa go to head out. Her family had fully invited you into the conversation, wanting to get to know you more, catch up on life, and spill the little secrets of Melissa as a child to you. It’s… it’s something special that you’ve found yourself in. And then of course, you couldn’t break your promise to the kids, so you head downstairs and promise them ten minutes of playing before you were to really head out. Melissa stays up with her family, who all look at her with a sense of urgency.

“J’ask her out yet?” Nonna looks at her granddaughter expectantly.

“Well, I was gonna,” the redhead sighs dramatically. “But then Liz came up and roped us into their game.”

“She’s real good with them,” a family member notes. “My Alex said that she adores Y/N and thinks you two should be together.”

“‘Course she said that,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m gonna ask her, okay?”

“You better, ‘fore she realizes what a shit show you are and runs,” Kristen Marie teases her sister. 

Melissa goes to smack her sister, but you walk back up the steps, Lizzie on your hip. The little girl has her one hand twirling your hair around her finger while the other hand plays with the necklace that hangs from your neck.

“Hey,” you smile and make your presence known. “Lizzie wanted to know if Aunt Lissa would come down for the last five minutes to play?”

Lizzie nods excitedly.

“What are they playin’?”

“The big kids playin’ fort, but I wanna play dolls,” the little girl mumbles. Then she looks at her aunt. “Please, Aunt Lissa.”

The three of you head back down the steps, and five minutes turns into fifteen before you really do try to head out.

“No!” Lizzie protests. “Keep playin’, Y/N.”

“Y/N will be back,” Melissa tries to placate the little girl.

The three year old looks at her aunt with big green eyes, ones that nearly mirror Melissa’s. “You pinky swears?”

“Pinky swears,” the redhead smiles as she promises her niece.

By the time the two of you leave, you’ve had a million more hugs from the little ones of the family, Bea has kissed your cheeks multiple times, and Annette has handed you multiple Tupperware containers full of food to take with you.

You and the redhead end up in her car with warm hearts, fully stomachs, and a slight blush tinting your cheeks now that you’re finally alone.

“Your family is precious,” you tell her with a smile, taking her hand in your own.

“No they ain’t,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But they sure as hell love you.”

You smile at her.

“I- I know it’s probably a bit too soon to say this,” she fiddles with the ring that sits on your middle finger. “But… they love you, and I love you.”

Your eyes go almost comically wide at her words. She was right, this was very early to be saying that word. “I-”

“I don’t expect you to say it back,” she tells you quickly. “But I wanted you to know… and I’ve wanted to ask you this the entire day, but any time I went to, we were interrupted.”

“Yeah?” you ask, a smile dancing across your face. You know exactly what she’s going to ask you.

“Do you wanna… you know, actually date? Be my girlfriend?”

You laugh. “Wow, Mel. How romantic. Really, such a charmer.”

“Hey… I’m not great at the hard questions,” she rolls her eyes. “But, what d’ya say?”

“I’d be honored,” you chuckle as you lean over the center console to kiss her. “And so you know, I love you too.”

Neither of you know it, but Nonna is standing at the window watching the two of you. She smiles and claps her hands as she turns back around to face the rest of the family. “Melly’s got a girlfriend.”

“About damn time,” Bea’s daughter chuckles.

Tags

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