#how to make golden syrup

[luckystorein22]

Are there gourmet cuisine dishes prepared with maple syrup?

Maple syrup is a delightful natural sweetener that adds a unique touch to various dishes. Its rich, complex flavor profile and versatility make it a popular choice for both sweet and savory creations. In this article, we'll dive into the world of gourmet cuisine and discover some delectable dishes that feature maple syrup as a star ingredient.

1. Maple-Glazed Salmon:

Indulge your taste buds with a succulent maple-glazed salmon dish. The combination of the delicate, flaky fish and the sweet yet slightly smoky glaze creates a harmonious blend of flavors. The maple syrup caramelizes beautifully, enhancing the salmon's natural richness. Serve it alongside roasted vegetables for a satisfying and healthy meal.

2. Maple-Balsamic Roasted Brussels Sprouts:

Elevate humble Brussels sprouts to gourmet status with a maple-balsamic glaze. The sweetness of maple syrup balances the slight bitterness of the sprouts, while the balsamic vinegar adds a tangy twist. Roast them to perfection for a side dish that will impress even the most discerning palates.

3. Maple-Glazed Pork Tenderloin:

For a hearty main course, try a maple-glazed pork tenderloin. The maple syrup forms a luscious caramelized coating on the succulent meat, creating a sweet and savory masterpiece. The flavors meld together beautifully, making this dish a true crowd-pleaser. Serve it alongside roasted potatoes or a crisp salad for a well-rounded meal.

4. Maple-Pecan French Toast:

Indulge in a decadent breakfast or brunch treat with maple-pecan French toast. Dip thick slices of bread in a mixture of beaten eggs, milk, and a generous drizzle of maple syrup, then pan-fry until golden brown. Top it off with toasted pecans and an extra drizzle of syrup for a delightful morning delight that will make your taste buds sing.

5. Maple-Glazed Carrots with Thyme:

Enhance the natural sweetness of carrots with a maple-thyme glaze. This elegant side dish features tender carrots roasted to perfection with a touch of maple syrup and aromatic thyme. The result is a medley of flavors that will add a vibrant touch to any meal.

Conclusion:

Maple syrup offers a world of culinary possibilities, taking gourmet cuisine to new heights. From savory main courses to sweet delights, its distinct flavor and natural sweetness add depth and character to dishes. So, the next time you're looking to impress your guests or simply treat yourself, consider incorporating maple syrup into your cooking. Explore the versatility of this delightful ingredient and let your taste buds embark on a sweet and savory journey like no other.

[bitegore]

i think i have to get groceries so im just going to eat a bit of credit card interest, i guess, and go get myself supplies to make toffee tomorrow

[chatsukimi]

ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist

you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.

sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.

the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.

ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.

but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.

'this is where you live?'

your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.

sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...

then again, he is no ordinary man.

'i asked you a question.'

you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.

he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.

yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.

you know exactly what it is.

he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.

'swallow.'

you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.

you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.

'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'

'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'

you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.

'i can't take this.'

he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.

with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.

you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.

he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.

no... no, why did he do that?

'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'

he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-

oh. you calm your breathing.

it's his heartbeat.

alive.

'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.

what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.

'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.

his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.

'it doesn't matter.'

he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.

'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'

you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.

'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'

exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.

yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.

[ennabear]

ENNABEARRR! DROP ANOTHER MEAN!ABBY DRABBLE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS! (pretty please i luv your writing 🤍)

ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง HEHEHEHE HAIII SWEET NONNIE!!!!! cmere lemme smooch you real sloppy MMWWWAAAHHH. love love love u, here’s mean!abby when you’re on your period…

it would start with her in the middle of her workout at the gym. she feels her phone buzz in her pocket so she pulls it out to glance at it, seeing a message notification from you but deciding she’s too busy read it. so she shoves it back into her pocket and ignores it.

you stare at your phone screen frustratedly, hormones running wild, the dull cramps in your stomach only adding to your dismay. every text you sent was met with a small gray delivered under it. why the hell is she ignoring you?

after a few minutes of groaning into your pillow and squeezing your teddy bear in agony, you decide to fuck it all and call her, something that was reserved only for the most extreme emergencies. as expected, she picks up on the fourth ring with an annoyed “is it an emergency?”

“YES, abby!! why haven’t you answered my texts?” you yell. your hips feel like they’re being viciously yanked apart, tits so sore you yelp at the feeling of your t-shirt brushing against them, and you’re almost certain there’s a giant bloodstain under you.

“what’s wrong?” she asks, panicking and throwing all of her gym equipment into her bag. “do you need me to come home?” and she doesn’t wait for a response to this, she’s already throwing her gym bag into her car and speeding off.

“everything hurts.” you moan, voice cracking as tears start to spill involuntarily from your eyes. “my back and my stomach and my hips and my tits and—” you get cut off by your own sobbing, feeling completely paralyzed as you lay alone and cold. abby is a fucking savior right now, assuring you she’s on her way and she’ll do anything in her power to make sure you’re comfortable once she gets home.

it takes a surprisingly short time for her to get back to your apartment, being greeted by two hungry kittens meowing up at her with their huge eyes. she almost steps right on them as they trail right in front of her feet, perking their tails up and nuzzling against her legs.

finally, she stumbles into the bedroom, finding you curled up under a few different blankets with your head stuffed in her pillow. “baby?” she asks, her voice soothing you momentarily but unfortunately not enough to stop the assault on your emotions right now.

you attempt to turn over and face her, but a sharp pain causes you squirm and roll back into your comfortable nest. two strong arms wrap themselves around you, scooping you up and hauling you to the bathroom. “the sheets, abby.” you moan. she ignores this, peeling off your clothes while she waits for the shower to heat up.

“i’ll be right back,” she whispers. “holler if you need anything.” and you’re left alone to shower by yourself, the hot, steaming water relaxing your muscles and providing the sweetest relief. abby gathers she sheets, scrubbing the small stain with cold water and throwing them into the wash with a douse of stain remover.

abby isn’t a great chef, but she’ll do anything for her baby while she’s in pain. after dumping a few scoops of kibble into each of the girls’ bowls, she grabs a box of pancake mix and gets to work. it takes a few tries for her to make one that’s actually presentable, hands shaking as she tries to maneuver the half cooked batter onto the spatula, but she eventually gets the hang of it. she slides the ugly, torn up pancakes onto her own plate, saving the pretty ones for you, of course.

you tug on one of abby’s torn up t-shirts and a pair of soft sweatpants, tiptoeing out of the bedroom and slumping down on the couch. abby approaches you with a plate full of golden pancakes drowning in syrup, and you notice for the first time how hungry you are. “here, you can pop some pills after you eat.”

“i didn’t know you were a chef.” you giggle, placing a weak kiss on her cheek as a thank you. she rolls her eyes, “yeah, yeah. don’t flatter me.” the two of you eat in almost silence. abby turned on some stupid docuseries she’s been watching. in your opinion, it’s boring as hell, but you’ll watch it as long as she’s happy.

both of the cats curl up on her lap once you’re done. of course she’s their favorite, you curse mentally. abby pulls you closer, wrapping a warm blanket around you and drooping her head on top of yours. “sorry i wasn’t there this morning.” she whispers. “you should’ve called me sooner, though.”

you laugh drowsily, ready to get some quality sleep now that you’re finally comfortable. “you’re a dick sometimes, i love you.”

[totalswag]

baby girls first birthday — RAFE CAMERON

authors note since my last dad!rafe fic did so well i thought why not make another one. you can find it fourth of july

join my taglist if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary celebrating layla's first birthday surrounded with friends and family.

warning(s) none just a whole lotta cuteness.

Today, one year ago, you brought your first daughter Layla into the world. Amazing how quickly a year can pass. It seems like you just gave birth and cradling her in your arms.

Can't count on your fingers how many times you cried the past two days over Layla turning one. No one can blame you for feeling these emotions. She's your first born.

“Can you believe she’s one?” Rafe says while setting up the last string of balloons over the arch wall that leads into the kitchen.

You shake your head, “no I don’t” feeling your words crack with emotion as you prepare breakfast— this was gonna be a special morning breakfast.

As the scent of freshly cooked pancakes permeated the air, you gently plated them, adding a sprinkle of syrup and a small dollop of whipped cream—just enough to taste. You cut the pancakes into tiny, baby-sized pieces, just right for Layla's delicate hands. A few blueberries on the side rounded out the meal, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy as you placed the plate in her high chair.

Rafe and you walked upstairs together to see if Layla was up. The sounds of her little gibberish could be heard down the hall. Layla was looking around her room sitting up— insane smile forms on her when she sees you two get closer. She lifts her arms up to get out.

"Happy first birthday, baby girl," you both exclaim.

She giggles with glee as Rafe scoops her up and places her on his hip before giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She stares at him in complete aww for a moment.

Layla turns to face you, her smile widening, her body slanting in your direction as if she wanted you to give her a quick hug. "My precious girl is one?" You hold her close to you for a couple seconds.

When you walk at the end of the stairs, Layla's eyes gleam with curiosity seeing the lavender colors. She saw the decorations of butterflies hanging from the ceiling, all different colors. She squealed with excitement and opened her eyes wide, grabbing for the closest one.

Rafe set her in her highchair while you went around the kitchen counter with your phone for pictures. Layla exclaimed when she saw her breakfast waiting to be devoured. You snap a few photos while she eats breakfast, then Rafe and you get your plates.

The house is ready for friends and family to arrive. The party doesn't start until twelve thirty, giving everyone plenty of time to prepare.

In case guests wanted to take pictures, there was a picture curtain with the words "Happy Birthday Layla" above.

Friends and family began to arrive, each one bringing gifts for Layla. You greeted them at the door, hugging each person as they stepped inside. Their faces lighting up seeing Layla in her birthday outfit.

"Oh Layla you look so cute in your dress!" Your mom gasped in excitement seeing Layla in Rafe's arms waving at those who came in.

"Can you say thank you grandma?' You grin up at Layla who babbles.

Layla responds by babbling and hiding her face in Rafe's chest.

Layla wore a soft lavender tulle skirt with a bodice decorated with tiny pink butterflies. Her golden curls were gathered into two small pigtails, secured with matching butterfly clips. She looked like the cutest princess.

Half an hour into the party, pictures were taken, conversations, kids running around, etc. The Cameron household was busy to say the least.

You showed everyone where the food and beverages would be once they were ready to eat— fruits, desserts, sandwiches, barbecue, cupcakes, drinks, and more. 

Sarah was leaning against the counter with a plate in her hand, nodding her head to the song playing from the tv. You grab a cupcake before joining her.

"This party is so cute, it screams Layla" Sarah states, regarding the decorations in the house. "The flowers are my favorite,"

"Aw, thank you, Sarah, and initially, when I was looking for decorations and saw the flowers, I knew I needed to get them!"

"On a real note and I'm sure you'll agree but Layla already being one is insane because it feels like she was just born" Sarah frowns, facial expression showing she's feeling a lot of emotions.

"I couldn't agree more— I cried last night before bed, and Rafe comforted me the whole night," you respond quietly.

It was time to start singing happy birthday as time went on. You sat Layla down in front of everyone in her high chair. She looked around waving with both hands with a smile. Rafe came around the corner with a small cake in his hand— Layla's eyes went wide.

"On three, we sing Miss Layla, happy birthday," you say enthusiastically, raising your right palm in the air.

As you both bent in to help Layla in blowing out the flame, Rafe stood next to you, his arm around your waist. Layla clapped her hands with joy as friends and family erupted in cheers and her face broke into the largest smile you've ever seen.

Opening presents was last to go. Layla's tiny hands grasp on each gift she received— curious whatever was in the bag or wrapped in paper. She got toys, clothes, and a few small things.

As the day drew to a close, friends and family began to leave with their children. Layla fell asleep in Rafe's arms in the backyard, sitting around the bonfire with your father, Ward, and friends.

Your mom, Rose, and you were sitting on the front porch swing having a simple conversation about motherhood. They each told you what motherhood taught them and the emotions you feel when it's your first borns birthday.

The smell of the fresh planted flowers, summer breeze hitting your skin, and the sun getting ready to set beautifully.

"I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a mother," you admitted after a time, your voice subdued. "There is so much joy, but also an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I just want to do the right thing for her, you know?

"You're doing an amazing job," Rose encouraged you, placing her hand lightly on your arm. "Motherhood has many obstacles, yet it is apparent how much you adore her. That's what counts the most."

Your mom nodded in agreement. "There isn't a perfect way to accomplish it, no manual or roadmap. You just have to believe in yourself and know that you are enough. "Layla is fortunate to have you."

You felt tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. This conversation, on this particular day, exceeded your expectations. As you sat there, surrounded by women who had helped you through life and into motherhood, you felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

"Thank you for those kind words. I definitely needed to hear that, literally. Time just went by so fast in a blink of an eye" you sniffle while your mom and Rose rub your back.

It was officially the end of the night. The three of you were in your pajamas, ready for bed. The house had decorations up that will be up for another day or two. You held Layla in your arms—her head on your shoulder falling asleep.

You brought Layla upstairs, placing her in her crib and bringing the cover up to her chin. For a time, you simply stood there, watching her sleep, overcome with love for this tiny human who had altered your life in the most beautiful way.

Rafe threw his arm around you as you both stood there, and you knew that no matter how quickly time passed or how many birthdays came and went, the love you felt tonight would see you through it all. And when you turned off the light and closed the door, you couldn't help but grin, knowing that this was only the start of many more wonderful memories.

"Happy birthday, Layla."

my taglist!

@drewstarkeys-world @chenslucy @rosezza @rafeyslamb @starkeyvhs @diqldrunks @runningfrom2am

[nikkento-writes]

Nanami is slowly sipping on his coffee at the dining table when you return home with the coveted box in your hands. You offered to pick up breakfast earlier this morning, promising to grab something extra special today, which you did. With a satisfied grin on your face, you display the box in front of him, waiting for his response. He glances at it, narrowing his eyes as if he’s trying to figure out what exactly he’s looking at. When he realizes what it is, his shoulders slump, giving you a disapproving look. “You didn’t.” 

You continue to smile at him. “I did.”

It’s a simple design of crudely doodled croissants with the words Petite Céréale scrawled across it. You heard about this online. Each piece is handmade the morning of, baked and buttered to perfection. Then, they’re dipped in a simple syrup, coated with cinnamon sugar, and lastly dehydrated. Because of this arduous process, it’s understandably the most expensive cereal in the world. And when you heard your local bakery would be making their own version of it, you knew you had to be one of the first to get your hands on it.

“How much?” His tone wavers on serious and amused, disappointed you’d give in to these silly viral food trends but simultaneously impressed by your tenacity to actually go through with it. 

You ignore his question, pointing at the box like one of those game show hosts presenting the grand prize. “Mini croissant cereal,” you say, hoping he’ll drop it. 

“Honey.”

“Mini. Croissant. Cereal,” you repeat with emphasis, beaming at him. “Just try it, Kento. If you absolutely hate it, then you can scold me later. But I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I doubt it.” You can tell he’s remembering the last viral food you made him try, a ridiculously priced chocolate bar famous from Dubai. While it was good, he couldn’t justify the price you spent on them. For some reason, though, you’re confident in this one. 

You scoff at his pretend grumpy attitude as you rummage through your kitchen to retrieve a bowl, cold milk, and two spoons, one for you and one for him. Ready and excited, you sit next to him, opening the box carefully. His lips twitch, hiding a grin as he watches you, oohing and aahing over the outrageously expensive cereal. But even he can admit that the tiny golden croissants are impressive as you pull them out of the box. He lets out a soft, “Wow,” as your eyes sparkle, marveling at the miniature pastries. 

When you open the packaging, the overwhelming aroma of freshly baked bread and butter instantly fills your nostrils. As you pour a decent amount into the bowl, the crisp of the dough taps against the ceramic, making a delightful sound. You both look down at it, inspecting it thoroughly for any imperfections; there’s none. 

Nanami does the honors and splashes milk over it, making sure not to put too much to prevent it from getting soggy. Together, you dig in, doing a cute little cheers before taking a bite. 

It’s heavenly, like nothing you’ve ever had before, especially from a cardboard cereal box. It has the perfect texture; crispy on the outsides, but as soon as you bite in, it’s flaky and crumbly, like how a flawless croissant should be. Even with the sugar coating, it’s not too sweet. And paired with the milk, it’s the perfect combination. Absolutely divine.  

You’re enjoying the moment too much before you finally realize how unusually quiet Nanami is being. By this time, he’d click his tongue at you and tell you how he doesn’t like it or how it isn’t worth the money. But to your delight and surprise, there’s a very special expression on his face: bliss. 

You wait until he finishes chewing to nudge him softly, “Well?”

He breaks out of his reverie to clear a pretend scratch in his throat. Unconvincingly, he replies, “It’s okay.”

You smile, satisfied with his response, eating the rest of the croissant cereal together in peace. 

[persicipen]

sore throat ノ jiaoqiu

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.9k ノ gn reader — nothing explicit ノ oral fixation . examination . inspection (lol everything) ノ lots of spit . drooling . fingers in mouth ノ non-threatening drug usage with dubious consent — he gives you a much needed medicine the sneaky way ノ bickering . flirting . kissing ノ unspecified relationship ノ written before his official release!

You don’t often see Jiaoqiu’s eyes. The pearlescent golden shine makes you surprised when it meets your own gaze. Oh, startling you that it’s again a moment where he wants to look at you up close. precisely.

But there’s no sweetness in these honey irises of his — a burn and mischief visible, like a chili glaze sneakily mixed with sugary syrup that should be mellow on your tongue but is needles instead.

“Come on, open your mouth. We have to see what’s causing the infection, right?” He smiles, a devilish smirk because he smiled the same way the last time, too, when he fed you with the worst tasting medicine you’d known. His fingers are already reaching to cup your cheeks and gently press on your jaw, trying to get you to relax the muscles.

It’s barely the first day, but your throat already feels weird. He said it would happen and there was no reason for him to lie, but you’re sure that he’s the one that had cursed you to get sick. You could sense the itch with every swallow, akin to dryness or maybe something else. painful and incessant. It wasn’t constant, but it certainly left you unnerved, stressing if it’s a prelude to a worse illness.

Despite the unpleasantness, you’re hesitant to ask for help. But it’s too late already, sitting on the stool before the medicine maker you loathe so much (a lie), with his steady grip already on your face. With softened brows, you look up pleadingly, hoping that this time he will not give you anything as disgusting.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says in the sweetest tone, exactly like his honeyed squinted eyes, clearly tired from being open for the past minute or so, having to watch you ignoring his requests. “I won’t do anything weird, hehe, I promise!”

“Promise?”

“Do you see anything around me that I could give to you?” A fair observation, so you slowly give in to his convincing and nonchalant voice, ignoring the stupid remark that blooms in your mind that he might as well stick his own tongue out to kiss you and shut up.

He’s somehow forceful with his hands on your cheeks, making it impossible for you to even pull away without him holding your head in place. You huff and try to relax, still anxious about what kind of remedy you will be fed with again after his inspection. He promised, yes, but what if it’s just his foxian (scheming) nature?

You’re worrying about the taste, when in fact you should be more worried about the intensity of his gaze on your face. Because every little reaction is exposed to him like this, right now, with how close you are to each other. You can feel his breath fanning over your lips, slightly open to allow his fingers to poke around the inside of your mouth.

This wasn’t something that happened before, so why now? Was it necessary for him to touch around? You wonder, uncomfortable with the foreign experience and the whole situation, jaw tensing involuntarily and a quiet yelp leaving your throat.

“Whoops, careful there.” Jiaoqiu leaves only a thumb between your teeth while moving other fingers under your chin, holding you in a certain way, pressing on spots that almost immediately cause your muscles to go slack. “All good now, just don’t bite me until I’m done. Okay? I will be slow, so you shouldn’t get more uncomfortable than this.”

Uncomfortable — he’s not wrong. You still squirm under his deliberate examination, taking note of every little detail they find. Maybe the sudden spread of a warmth on your face has something to do with it, too. You watch him trying to say something, but no words come out.

You wonder if he notices the nervousness pulsing through your body — a dull eye contact because you are too focused on other things to care about, like him putting pressure on the flat of your tongue. It tastes bitter, his sanitised hand.

He must have cleaned them before he came to get you from the celebration. That’s good, at least, since you do not want to taste any other medicine on his skin. The moment he pushes slightly deeper into your mouth, you decide to look away — it feels too invasive to watch him from point-blank range when he keeps his attention focused on your palate.

But no, not even averting your gaze makes the situation any less awkward. Because you can feel him. You can feel each movement of his digits against the muscle, exploring and noting anything that may have seemed unusual, a little slippery from the saliva gathering at the bottom.

“Wow,” he giggles, “You’re producing a lot of spit.” Jiaoqiu teases, massaging the insides of your cheeks simply for the fun of it. He presses harder and deeper, and soon you can taste him again — more so, you can taste yourself.

It’s something foreign to you, but his thumb is gentle as it goes from sliding through your teeth to slowly going further. It should be something ticklish, but for some reason, your breath hitches and you moan shortly, accidentally.

“It’s okay, I’m only taking a closer look. There’s nothing to worry about, really.” He hums, fingers curving and creating small ripples on the slick surface of your tongue, a long curl digging right into the fleshy part in the middle, tickling your sensitive spots. “Oh? What was that just now? I think you should show me more…”

A wink follows the grin on his face, and then you feel his other hand creeping behind your head exactly as he calmly pushes forward with his thumb.

No amount of training could have prepared you for this. How to stay calm when he presses on a place he shouldn’t touch, the precise tap — bitter not because it was sanitised, but because this scoundrel put something on it to toy with you once more — causing you to drool like in a fever.

Your lips close around his knuckle and before you know it, there’s a moan — it vibrates around his skin, warm breath puffing out through your nose and your body trembling from the slight tingling on your soft tissue.

“So? You don’t want me to stop?” Jiaoqiu asks with a melodic chuckle and only now do you realise that you have unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve, instinctively pulling him closer so that he would not go away. “Ha, what do we have here? Sucking on my fingers? Come on, haha! I thought you’re not into me!”

How you would love to roll your eyes at him, this irritating voice of his laughing at you and making fun of you when it’s his — and only his — fault. However, instead of trying to let go, you grip his shirt tighter, your moans growing louder as he moves the pad of his thumb around your tongue and then pulls out to your relieved “ah…” just to push back in again, a shining bead of drool slipping down the corner of your lips.

He does it repeatedly, pressing down and dragging his digit across, drawing from you increasingly desperate sounds — he must know that it’s embarrassing, but the wide grin on his face says the opposite. He enjoys it, this control he has over you when you allow him to play with your mouth, your arousal slipping through the stubbornness you tried so hard to uphold in his company.

For how long does he plan to do this?

He knows now how good it feels to touch and rub, glide and stroke your sensitive muscle, causing you to mewl around his skin. That small drop of elixir being quite potent on you, excessively drenching his knuckles and spilling out your lips.

“My, my, we could have done this so much sooner if you said how much you wanted me to touch you there~ I mean, look at you, such a needy little pup — swallowing like you cannot get enough of it, haha! Or maybe it has nothing to do with the elixir at all, hmm?” He chuckles as you suck, hips rolling on the chair and a fog spreading across your mind that suddenly gets snapped in half.

“Elixir?!” You growl out, choking on your spit and immediately jolting away.

“Ah, oops!”

“So you did use something?! Again?! Jiaoqiu, I swear—!”

Before you can finish the sentence, he has already invaded your space again — only this time it is not his fingers brushing against your lips, but his own as they gently nibble on your bottom lip. Just for a moment. You gasp in surprise, trying to back away from the sudden intrusion and yet finding yourself wanting to pull him closer for another kiss.

Jiaoqiu stares into your eyes, golden irises vibrant in the light coming through the windows and illuminating the room enough to see him grinning smugly before diving in once more. A quick peck — yet it causes you to be momentarily aware that he’s already working nimbly on the pretty ribbons keeping the sides of your shirt neatly tied.

This is unexpected. Does he not want to keep up with his teasing? But he has always been like this, making you believe in one thing and then changing his mind in an instant. What is his intention this time?

Your lips dance together for a while, savouring the taste and texture. Maybe this is why he always wears some sort of balm, because he doesn’t want his skin to dry out — that would explain the smoothness of it all.

But even then, your tongue pushes out, curious and wondering what it feels like to explore the depths of his mouth. That is, until he immediately withdraws.

“Ah, ah!” He wiggles his index before your nose. “Don’t want me to drool over you because you orally transferred the elixir on me!”

To think that it would happen, anyway! How infuriating this man can be, despite being so smart. To lie about something so obvious, about using the same elixir that is currently on his own lips, with his saliva. Too late for that…

He knows what he is doing, and you know what you are doing too. Pulling him by the collar of his vest to drag him close again and finally shut him up, causing him to fall onto your lap with a small huff of surprise.

“Does your throat still hurt?” he asks, stopping you a mere moment before attempting to steal another kiss from him.

“What?”

“Hmm, does it?”

Only then it settles that you feel alright. As if all that drool and heat dripping out dragged the soreness out of your body. Probably making an astounded face, you hear the foxian laugh proudly, relishing in his reliability in bringing the best out of his medicinal experiments. He revels in how you blink at him. This is so amusing.

He smirks and runs a finger across your lips, some of the spit still sticking to your chin as you stare into his eyes.

You lick it off of his skin before sinking back into his touch.

He coos, and hums, almost in a soft purr. His other hand reaches around you, tilting your head towards him.

“Mmm… Right, right, I won’t tease anymore,” he whispers into your mouth. “I got my fun, after all.”

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[chosok-amo]

HI, BABY : GOJO SATORU , GETO SUGURU

your kid loves you so much, maybe more than he loves his fathers. just like your husbands, he can't get enough of you and just like how his fathers often calls you baby, your son takes after them and one day when you want to take a shower, he comes to you and calls you ‘hi baby!’

content warning: poly! satosugu, just nothing but fluff

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cozy household. It was a typical day, filled with the sounds of satoru and suguru bustling in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and your three-year-old son, kazuki, running around with boundless energy.

the kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee. satoru was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a flourish, while suguru was setting the table with an assortment of toppings — syrup, berries, and whipped cream. kazuki sat in his high chair, eagerly awaiting his breakfast, his eyes wide with anticipation.

you took a seat next to kazuki, ruffling his hair. “good morning, sweetheart. are you excited for pancakes?” kazuki nodded vigorously, his small hands clapping in excitement. “yes, mommy! pancakes!” satoru turned from the stove, a mischievous grin on his face. “who wants the first pancake, the baby or the baby?” he winked at you and then at kazuki.

kazuki giggled, pointing at himself. “me, baby!”

suguru chuckled as he poured juice into glasses. “looks like kazuki wins this round. but don't worry, love,” he said to you, “there's plenty more where that came from.” you smiled, leaning over to kiss Kazuki’s cheek. “well, I guess our little baby gets the first pancake.” satoru served the first golden pancake to kazuki, who squealed in delight. he then placed another on your plate, giving you a wink. “and here’s one for the most beautiful baby in the house.” suguru laughed, sitting down beside you. “Smooth, satoru. Very smooth.”

as kazuki started smearing syrup all over his pancake (and a bit on his face), you took a bite and sighed contentedly. “these are delicious, satoru. perfect as always.” you hold your husband's hand for a moment. satoru feigned a bow, still seated. “why, thank you. It’s all in the wrist action.” he demonstrated with an exaggerated pancake flip that had kazuki laughing and clapping his sticky hands.

suguru reached over, wiping syrup from Kazuki’s cheek with a napkin. “you know, it’s a good thing we’re a team. I’m not sure how one person could handle this much morning chaos.” you chuckled, nodding in agreement. “definitely. It’s a team effort every morning.” kazuki, with syrup still on his face and a piece of pancake in his hand, looked up at you, beaming. “mommy, baby!” you laughed, gently wiping his face.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

kazuki pointed to you, then to himself, and finally to satoru and suguru. “baby, baby, baby, baby!” suguru grinned. “you’ve got it right, Kazuki. We’re all each other’s babies.” satoru leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “you know, I think kazuki’s onto something. we should all just call each other baby from now on.” you rolled your eyes playfully. “alright, baby. but only if you remember to make the pancakes every morning.” kazuki giggled, clearly enjoying the playful banter between his parents. “hi, baby!” he chimed in once more, causing all of you to burst into laughter.

after breakfast, you stood up, ruffling Kazuki’s hair once more. “alright, time for mommy to take a shower. I’ll see you all in a bit.” kazuki immediately perked up. “shower, baby?” you smiled, shaking your head. “not this time, sweetheart. let mommy have a quick shower, okay?”

kazuki pouted for a moment, but then satoru swooped in, distracting him with a playful tickle. “how about we build a fort while Mommy showers?”

kazuki’s eyes lit up again. “fort, baby!”

suguru stood up as he reached out his hand to touch your back lovingly , smiling at you. “go enjoy your shower. we’ve got this.” you nod your head as you kiss his cheeks before going to the bathroom.

as you left the kitchen, you could hear satoru and suguru already planning the grand fort construction with kazuki’s enthusiastic input. your heart swelled with love for your family, knowing that every moment with them, from breakfast banter to building forts, was a treasure.

kazuki had always been a mama's boy. his eyes lit up every time you entered the room, and he would cling to you, showering you with love and affection. while satoru and suguru were equally adored by their son, there was no denying that kazuki had a special place in his heart just for you.

you turn the water on and fill the bath up with water. you pour a bubble bath with a strawberry and cream scent. right before you take off your clothes a small knock sounded, followed by a tiny voice, “hi, baby!” a sliding door that connects your bathroom and bedroom slides open, showing your son smiling ear to ear standing there with a big grin on his face. his sparkling eyes were filled with love, and his tiny hands clutched his favorite stuffed animal.. you couldn't help but chuckle. It was endearing how kazuki had picked up on the term of endearment that satoru and suguru often used. “did you just call me baby?” you asked through the door, amusement evident in your voice.

“hi, baby!” kazuki repeated, his voice full of excitement and determination. “hi, baby," he said once more, giggling as he wiggled his way into the bathroom. before you could protest, kazuki had already started tugging at his clothes, eager to join you. his presence was like a ray of sunshine, and you couldn't resist the infectious joy he brought with him.

with a sigh of defeat mixed with affection, you allowed him to step into the shower with you. the warm water cascaded down, and Kazuki's laughter filled the room, echoing off the tiles. he reached up, tiny fingers trying to catch the water droplets, his giggles turning into a delightful symphony. your plan to relax disappears now, not that you're complaining anyway.

moments later, the bathroom door creaked open again, and satoru's head peeked in. “ey, I heard someone call for a shower party. mind if I join, baby?”

suguru's voice followed, “well if satoru's in, count me in too, baby.” you rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. “it seems like I can't get a moment alone, can I?” kazuki looked up at his fathers and then at you, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “i, baby!” he chimed in once more, making everyone burst into laughter.

and so, the shower turned into a family affair, with kazuki splashing around, satoru making exaggerated faces to elicit more giggles, and suguru playfully washing his son's hair. the small bathroom was filled with love, warmth, and laughter, a testament to the unbreakable bonds you all shared.

as chaotic as it was, these were the moments that made your family so special. the love between you, satoru, suguru, and Kazuki was a beautiful, living thing, nurtured in every “hi, baby” and every shared laugh. It was a reminder that even in the simplest of routines, there was magic and joy in being together.

[adrienneleclerc]

Where Is It?

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N gets tired of Logan asking where things are

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Inspired by a scene from The King of Queens, this is my first Logan Sargeant Fanfic

Logan has been dating his girlfriend, Y/N, since his Formula 2 days, he has been living with Y/N since he started Formula 1, moved into her apartment, and yet Logan keeps asking where things are. At first it was fine but it started getting out of hand.

1st Week Living Together

Logan wanted to make Y/N breakfast but he didn't know where anything was. He didn't want to mess anything up so he went into the living room.

"Baby, where's the waffle iron?" Logan asked. Y/N looked at him

"Oh, it's in the pantry, here." Y/N got off the couch, walked into the kitchen, and opened the pantry. "So i keep the pancake mix on this shelf next to the syrup, the waffle iron is in this drawer along the base of the blenders if you wanted to make yourself a smoothie. The blenders should be on this shelf, okay." Y/N said, pointing to everything, showing Logan where everything was.

"Okay, thank you, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." Logan said.

"Aw, thank you, mi principe." Y/N said, kissing his cheek.

2nd Week

Logan was tryng to open a package but he couldn't find scissors.

"Honey, where are the scissors?" Logan shouted from the living room.

"Check the cupboard in the living room! should be in the drawer next to my sewing machine!" Y/N yelled from their bedroom.

"Thank you!" Logan shouted when he found them and opened his package.

6 Months

Logan came back from his morning run (I’m guessing) and he wanted to make a smoothie. He took a quick shower and entered the kitchen where he slaw Y/N making herself eggs. Logan kissed her and started pulling out the protein powder, frozen fruits, milk, but he was missing something.

“Babe, where’s the blender?” Logan asked, Y/N flipped her egg, and turned around to look at Logan.

“Where do you think it is, principe?” Y/N asked.

“I have no idea, that’s why I’m asking you.” Logan said, Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled it out for him. “Here you go.” Y/N said, going back to the stove to serve the egg on her plate.

Present Day

Y/N was in the dining room, using the table to make a custom corset that someone ordered from her. When she finished pinning the pattern to the fabric, she got out her fabric scissors to cut it when Logan came in.

“Honey, where are the…? Oh, can I use the scissors when you’re done?” Logan asked.

“No! These are my fabric scissors, use the other ones.” Y/N said.

“That’s what I came here for, to ask you where the scissors are.” Logan said and Y/N just stared at him incredulously.

“No puede ser, we have been living together for 1 and a half and you still don’t know where the scissors are?” Y/N asked. Logan shook his head. “The scissors are in the same place they have always been, I have never moved it once, and yet you keep asking me where they are. Not to mention the blender, the waffle iron, the pens, your keys. I’ll tell you what, cariño, I have been a tour guide in my own apartment long enough. Too many precious moments have been wasted showing you where things are, just learn! Learn! Or at least actually look for them before you ask me. I mean, what if I was on vacation? How would you make your protein smoothies? How would you make waffles? How you cut anything ever again? Would you just sit here weeping and soiling yourself until somebody came in to help you. No you wouldn’t, you would *gasp* remember where something is. Now, just this once, find where the scissors are, come on, I know you can do it, you’re a smart boy, Amor.”

“I’m not a golden retriever, Y/N.” Logan said.

“TikTok disagrees. Now again, where are the scissors?” Y/N said. Logan stopped for a second, trying to remember where Y/N said they were before. He walked into the living room and Y/N followed behind him observing. “Well, you’re on the right room” Logan nodded, he was off to a great start. He walked to the cupboard and opened a drawer.

“I got ‘em.” Logan said, showing Y/N the scissors.

“You got ‘em. That wasn’t so hard, right, mi vida?” Y/N asked him.

“Not really, no.” Logan responded.

“Good boy.” Y/N walked into the dining room to cut the fabric and Logan followed her. As Y/N was cutting the fabric, she felt Logan staring at her. “What do you need now, Logan?”

“Tape.” Logan responded,

“Oh que la…” Y/N said rubbing her temples. “Just look for them.” Y/N responded as calmly as she can. Logan left and she continues to cut the fabric. When he finished cutting out the pieces, Logan came back with tape in his hands. “Finally!”

“I’m sorry that I keep asking you where things are.” Logan said.

“I accept your apology. Now leave me alone for the next few hours, I gotta sew this together.” Y/N said,

“You got it.” Logan said, kissing Y/N before going to their bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, let me know if you want more! @r0nnsblog @charli123456789

[moonyinpisces]

hi! what are, in your opinion, must-read go fics?

OMG this is the worst thing to ask me, i love to yap about good omens fics like i'm teaching a literature class. i'm so thrilled to have this opportunity, here is my good omens required reading list:

Lie Back and Think of Dinner by jessthereckless (M, 11k) - THE looney tunes sex fic. every time they're intimate, natural disasters happen. it's part of a series, but but this first fic is REQUIRED!! love it, i'll never think of golden syrup the same way ;-) An Angelic Disposition by iamtheenemy (E, 3k) - established relationship, aziraphale uses every tool in his disposal to give crowley what he wants (despite crowley so dedicated to service topping), and it overwhelms him. MUST READ!! you’re not a religious person (but) by isozyme (M, 20k) - very true to the spirit of the show and their eternal refusal to communicate while desperately wanting more. this is THE BEST fic re: divine ecstasy being synonymous to sex for them, which is a killer combination!! roots by darcylindbergh (M, ~10k) - lovely established relationship/south downs fic. it's revealed that aziraphale has always dyed his hair blonde, and the thing that makes this fic VITAL is the acknowledgement that they deliberately choose their presentation and the way the world sees them. more parts of the fandom need to understand this somewhere, a place for us by aglaophonos (T, ~2k) - i'm biased because i love char and her work, but seriously. read this. if you're ever wondering why me and her are constantly talking about 1941 s3, this 1941 continuation fic she wrote encapsulates every reason WHY Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons (E, 15k) - i mean. i mean. it's The Cheesecake Fic. why is crowley content to watch aziraphale eat, and how does he cope with that same hunger when aziraphale ISN'T there? you simply have to read this if you haven't, and reread it if you have affection and other cravings by JustStandingHere (E, 30k) - this is THE post s2 fic you need to read. through its historical flashbacks and precarious re-introduction of aziraphale and crowley's relationship following their fight, all through the lens of food... honestly that's what it's all about!

these are what i would consider to be required reading, as in - you will come away from these fics with a better understanding of the canon, which (in my opinion) is what elevates a fic from the rest. but if you'd like to check out the other fics i adore, my bookmarks are where i save every fic i enjoy reading, and it's about 99% good omens so you can always visit that if you're looking for something to read that'll be true to the spirit of the show!!

[chiikasevennn]

Heyyy I saw you were writing for sung jinwoo and I was wondering if you'd be up to writing one where reader is his girlfriend and they are together somewhere and he is all soft and mushy with her without realizing there are other hunters around bc he is just so focused on her only

⁠✷—C is for Clingy

THIS IS BADLY WRITTENNNNNNNN, eng is not my first language. I hope nobody criticizes me like I write for a living 😭 also, not proofread. Kind of suggestive. I have no idea what I'm doing or writing. I hope I got this correctly!

Slow movements were made as another lazy Sunday morning was being spent in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with your boyfriend hugging your waist from behind.

You felt like drifting on the edge of consciousness, Jinwoo could say the same. Once the pancakes were finished and ready to be savored, you made every effort to plate them with him securely encircling your waist.

Jinwoo grumbled, half-asleep, eyelids heavy as he couldn't resist the mesmerizing aroma emitting from you. Should you permit, he would hold onto you forever.

For some odd reason, his sense of smell became more acute especially in the morning when you were around, or maybe it was simply your sweet, sugary scent that was so appealing and irresistible. He just had to approach you.

So, as the clingy man he openly acknowledged himself to be whenever he was with you, he just trailed closely along behind you, his head buried in your hair and breathing in its faint sweetish scent.

"—inwoo, Jinwoo," you began to tap his head; slowly, he woke up from daydreaming.

He hummed in response, holding you tighter which made you grumble.

"Pancakes are ready. Do you want syrup?"

He nodded his head against your hair. You did your best to remove his hold around you, to which you succeeded barely.

"Woo, we're going to eat." The dark haired man's face etched with lines of discontent at how he had to let go of you.

The sight of pancakes you made on the table brought a little smile to his face though, a tower of golden goodness waiting to be devoured. Each pancake was a work of art, perfectly round and fluffy, begging to be drenched in syrup.

He seized the chair adjacent to your seat and brought it close to you with such intimacy, eager to be near you as he prepared to enjoy his first meal of the day.

The two of you took a bite, it was a silent breakfast.

"Say, Jagiya," he said. "KHA's hosting a party in three days, may I ask you to come with me?"

You stopped eating after swallowing the last piece of pancake in your mouth. "Like, a hunter gathering? Am I needed?"

"For me, yes." He responded like a form of desperation. "I also want to show my girlfriend to the world. Will that be okay?"

Trying to negotiate with him was pointless. How could you possibly refuse when he asked so kindly? You were somewhat bashful around strangers, often preferring to take shelter behind someone taller. Jinwoo conveniently became that reliable barrier after his sudden growth spurt.

"Sure, does it have a theme or something? I don't want to look off."

"You'd look gorgeous in anything."

"I'm serious!"

Jinwoo chuckled. "A dress, maybe? I'll wear a suit. Should we go look for fits later? It's a day off, after all."

I hummed along with him, eating the rest of the pancake happily.

The dark haired man looked at the necklace around your neck. You were still donning that budget-friendly heart necklace, huh? Back then, it was the only thing he could offer as he didn't have much. It had been his initial present to you upon making things official, and ever since then, you hadn't removed it.

Jinwoo smiled. The littlest things do make him happy randomly. Maybe it was the [Name] effect.

By four o'clock, you and him stepped out to shop together. Although your intention was to sleep through the day, how could you possibly debate with your boyfriend who was eager to be with you at a luxurious event?

✯

"Is this really okay?"

As she descended the staircase, the V-line neckline of her dress accentuated the slender curve of her neck. It was commanding Jinwoo's attention and he couldn't look away although he'd already seen you in that dress.

He was determined to hold onto you once more, and he did, though his breath hesitated as he realized how easily he could grab your waist.

Jinwoo buried his face into your styled hair, reddening like a teenager. Oh, Jinwoo, your charming Jinwoo who kept showing this cute side of him just and only for you.

"Woo, this is the seventh time you've grabbed my waist. I might be giving you too much privilege."

"Mm," he was silent, before suggesting something. "You're so grabbable, so small… You know, we still have thirty minutes lef—"

You ended up smacking the back of his head with a wide smile, a tick mark appearing. "Nope, the last time we did that, I couldn't walk properly!"

You bestowed a kiss upon his hair, being cautious not to disrupt the expertly groomed locks that adorned his handsome face. Of course, this man was not only your significant other, but also your partner in each craziness you start, and you, too, were keen to flaunt him proudly like the committed partner you were.

✯

The formal party was a gathering of elite individuals, a sea of tailored suits and elegant dresses filling the large room. Every detail of the formal party was meticulously planned, from the ornate decorations to the impeccable service as it would have distinguished guests.

For those in attendance, the formal party was more than just a social event—it was an opportunity to network, to solidify alliances, and to climb the ladder of success.

The air was thick with anticipation as guests awaited the arrival of the most awaited guest, a figure of utmost importance in the world of hunters.

When you and Jinwoo arrived, it was obvious that every set of eyes was fixed on the both of you, holding you in their gaze, clearly observing your every move.

They didn't know an inkling of fact about you, but they knew you were his secret other, thanks to the rumors and candid photos fans took of the two of you, dubbing you as Hunter Sung Jinwoo and his hidden girlfriend.

Indeed, you were gorgeous, but some of their corrupted minds thrived for more than that. They wanted connection, power, influence—

I got nervous for no reason… You sighed.

You had envisioned the gathering to be calm before the storm, but surprisingly, it was actually like a walk in the park! Initially, you had anticipated being swarmed or judged by random people nearby, but they were actually quite polite.

The discussions you engaged in with people were polite, formal, and brief, to say the least. You also noticed how tense some of them appeared moments after approaching you… Or maybe you were kidding and it was just your imagination? You had initially thought of hiding behind Jinwoo and using him as a shield, but surprisingly, they were composed and respectful.

You were unaware of the fear gripping their souls, as each time you greeted them with a gentle, tiny smile, a certain dark-haired hunter would send them glaring looks from a distance behind you; Jinwoo knew their intentions, and they weren't dumb to not realize that he was pointing right exactly at them.

"Jagiya," He spoke softly by your ear before planting a kiss on the tip of your ear. Wait. "Did you use another perfume when we arrived?"

The sudden weight of pressure hugged your hands, leaving you undeniably certain that he gripped it tightly as if awaiting something eagerly.

"No…? Wait, do I smell—"

He knew what you were going to assume. "No, not bad. Just different. Like candy or something similar."

You kissed his lips. "Good." Jinwoo couldn't resist smiling, a sight that, unbeknownst to both of you, resulted in many spectators widening their eyes at the sight of the two of you.

His concentration was solely on you, those gray eyes looking down at you with so much adoration. He never objected to public displays of affection, perhaps the two of you simply preferred to keep your intimacy private, until now—at least, for Jinwoo.

It made him feel giddy.

"Kiss me again?"

"What? We're in public…"

"So? No harm in doing it again. You already kissed me. Plus, we literally had a quickie weeks ago at a restau—"

"Shut!" You whisper-yelled, a flush of embarrassment spreading across your face up to your ears. Jinwoo chuckled. "That is not necessary!"

….? Did he just… Laugh?

That was the thought of the woman afar, Hunter Cha Hae-In. Plagued by an unsettling and cumbersome sensation, she observed something she didn't think she'd see.

So those pictures of them taken at a beach were true? The blonde hunter tried to swallow down her drink.

The hunters scattered throughout the room, especially those who had witnessed Jinwoo's prowess in battle, look mostly in disbelief as they witnessed something that surpassed their wildest dreams. They had never considered that such a brutal man on the battlefield could be so tender... And it seemed like he had no problem showing it, too!

.

"Wait, what do you mean you kind of drove them away?" You whispered closely to your boyfriend's face, brows furrowing. "So that guy Mr. Kim was actually gonna piss his pants because you continuously looked at him like a mosquito???"

"Your hair smells great." He deliberately changed the subject with a kiss. "Let's go to dinner after this."

"Hey!" You whisper-yelled.

ples comment something D:

[ervotica]

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing; azriel x fem!reader

summary; and so i cry the light is white and i see you

when your wings are taken from you in a brutal act of torture, you see no way to ease your grief. your mate is there to guide you back when you need him most.

warnings; hurt/comfort, ANGST, suicidal ideation, sorta suicide attempt, in depth descriptions of injury

The wind stings at your flushed cheeks where you stand at the edge of the rooftop. It's dark, iridescent balls of light expanding at every edge of your vision as you take a step towards the lip of the roof that overhangs from the house. Wetness clings to your eyes, threatening to spill over your itching waterline when you gaze down to the sea of lights below.

You long to feel the whip of the breeze against your face as you rise and dive into the night sky, to scream and yell at the top of your lungs as your wings flap behind you in tandem with your family.

You'll never feel that again.

You've been a shell of yourself since the day your wings were taken. Had them brutally cut from your body, hacksawed until all that remained were jagged stumps in place of gorgeous, thick corded planes of muscle. Naked. Half the person you once were. Your back is a myriad of scars, still healing and bruised, ripples of broken flesh marring your once untouched skin.

You are broken and ugly and miserable.

It took weeks to even walk again, weeks of rehabilitation, physical therapy with Madja. Weeks of sobbing in your mate's arms as he held you upright, of wanting to claw your way out of your own skin and scream and rage until something snaps you out of this living nightmare. Weeks of Azriel having to force you to eat and drink, to get outside in favour of withering away in your bed.

You're teetering on the edge of the building now, swaying in time with the gusts of air that threaten to send you toppling onto the street below.

"My love, what are you doing?" Azriel's voice breaks you out of your haze, but you don't move; you don't make any effort to step away from the edge. One wrong move from either of you and you're dead.

"I miss flying," you croak.

"I know you do." His voice oozes with pity and it sends rage hurting through your veins like the white-hot lick of a flame. You stumble, swatting Azriel's hands away when he surges forward to wrench you back. Your pulse roars in your ears and you lose focus of his speech, each pleading word blending into one another until you don't bother to decipher the words at all.

"Come back to me," he shouts over the ringing in your ears. "Come back to me, mate."

The name seizes your muscles, pours into your soul like molten lava and solidifies, heavy and unforgiving.

"Why?" you whirl around, heels hanging over thin air, nothing to break your impact were you to fall - or throw yourself - from this great height. Azriel's unnaturally still, not moving, not breathing- calculating how long it would take him to dive after you if you were to slip. "Why do you call me that? Why don't you run from me, leave me here now I'm not of use anymore."

He takes one step, and then another. Sweat beads on your brow despite the frigid chill of the night- his scarred fingers outstretched, waiting for you to take them. The golden thread inside your chest pulls taut like a bowstring. He's calling you home.

"You are my mate." he says. "I need you. Come back to me, my love."

"I'm ruined, Az." The words stick in your throat like syrup. "I'm no good to anyone, anymore. All I'll do is burden you." A sob rips through you. "You won't be happy with what I am now. I just want you to be happy."

The confession almost brings him to his knees.

Something snaps inside of him; eery calm replaces terror as he surveys you with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head.

This is not your Azriel.

This is the feared shadowsinger- who wears a mask of cool wrath, who bows to no one. A calculated facade of composure.

"You are not ruined," he growls. The glacial fury in his voice has your breath catching in your throat, your insides freezing as if his words have wrapped icy fingers around your throat. "You are my mate, and you will step down and come to me. Now."

You find yourself complying without question, moving away on wobbling legs until your limbs give out and you're tripping over your own feet, hurtling towards the ground. As fast as the mask appears, it slips away, pure, unrelenting relief cascading down the bond.

Azriel's already there, hooking his arms beneath your own to shoulder your weight, a hand atop your head to anchor your body to his own even as you shudder and scream and soak his leathers with angry tears.

"I know, my love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, the words a whisper into your hair as you claw at him, legs buckled and utterly useless. You're settled against thick muscle, tucked under Azriel's chin where he's lowered you both to the ground.

"I'm nothing," you gasp against his chest. "I have no place here anymore. I'm useless."

His hand is an anchor against the back of your neck, grounding when he squeezes the malleable flesh to draw your gaze to his own.

"You are everything."

The welcome pressure on your neck lulls you into drawing a long breath. Azriel deflates, hazel eyes trained on the rise and fall of your heaving chest.

"I am nothing without you," he continues on. "You are my life and my heart. Were you to die, I'd go by your side with a smile. I can't bear the thought of living in a world where you do not exist."

His wings twitch where they're tucked behind him. Your trembling fingers splay against the sharp angle of his jaw.

"I'm sorry," you croak. "I never want to leave you." His knuckles drag across your cheekbones, brushing away the tears that stain your balmy face. "I don't know how to live like this."

His lips press to your temple, brow nestled against the wisps of windswept hair at the crown of your head. He smears a kiss there and ventures lower. One against your jaw, your chin, in the crease of your brows.

And then he slants his lips over your own. Your muscles go soft, ragged breaths evening as he parts your lips with a swipe of his tongue, a hand splayed against the base of your spine as you sag. He brushes your nose with the tip of a scarred finger.

"Come on," he murmurs, urging you to stand. When you do, he tucks you into his chest, arms slung over your shoulders in a crushing embrace. "I will do anything to make this easier for you, my heart. I know it will be difficult, and I know it's scary. But stay with me."

Your arms tighten around his middle.

"Always."

[yanderemommabean]

for the red rooms in devildom, imagine lucifer finally deciding to give red rooms a shot when he realizes mc will soon leave devildom and/or keeps rejecting his affection

Lucifer being the avatar of pride means he can’t exactly handle rejection. Maybe a few times at first, seeing it as a way to chase and have fun and to prove himself to you and sweep you off of your feet, but after a while it really gets under his skin. 

Why? Why are you denying him? Sure he can understand being scared of him, he’s one of the most powerful demons after all, and sadly you were more than once on the wrong end of that ire and anger when you first arrived. He won’t deny that your emotions with those incidents are possibly why you wouldn’t want to be with him, but surely now you see hes trying to make amends? That he’d kiss the ground you walk on and make sure to keep you safe? 

It seems you were serious about denying and rejecting his affections. You tell everyone at dinner what a wonderful time you’ve had, and how in three days time you’re expected to leave, back to the human world, leaving them to wallow in your absence. 

Well, you won’t get away with that. He won’t let you make this mistake. He just gives a soft smile, a gentle hug, and tells you that he’ll miss you, but as you head up to bed and listen to Mammon and Levi’s blabbering and sobbing, Lucifer decides to make a rather last resort call. 

The Red Rooms. The last place he ever wanted to bring you. While they care for the darling's experience, he doesn’t want to have to force this, but you’re really leaving him no choice! 

He’ll make sure the rooms are to your tastes. Stuffed animals to cry into when overwhelmed, softer gags to be easier on your jaw, padded cuffs to make sure your delicate human skin isn’t bruised unless he decides to bruise it himself. 

The demon chuckles on the other end of the line but once they hear who’s making the call, they shut up and show respect. 

“Nothing rough. This is to prove my devotion and how I’m better than my brothers. I want only the best, the softest, the cleanest and the safest. I won’t hesitate to kill you and wring your blood into my food to devour. Do we have an understanding?” 

He goes through the list, his mind getting even more perverted than Asmo as he pictures how he’ll make you moan and whimper for him. “Oh? Well I must admit that golden hellfire newt syrup would be a nice touch but I'm as ready as ill need to be. Yes, I'm aware it's a potent aphrodisiac but I assure you, my love and lust know no bounds when it comes to my sweet little minx” 

The call goes on a little longer, Lucifer giving some final details on safety measures, only giving Diavolo's emergency number in case he completely loses himself, and so on. Who woulda thought the demons in the seediest parts of the underworld would be so caring? Then again it’s rumored Barbatos and Diavolo run the palace in disguise so…

When asked how they are to bring you in, Lucifer just smiles and tries not to break the phone in an angered crush. To think they’d touch you, it just sent a pang of anger through his core. But he knows they’re simply doing their job, so he can’t exactly kill them just yet.

“I’ll use the spells you have on hand, or ill bring them in myself under a guise of a last dinner together. You’ll know it's me by what I'm wearing. None of this better go wrong, or I assure you, you wont live to warn the others of my wrath”.

-Mommabean (HI! I hope you likes this bean!!)

[softmangoes]

how the LIs eat you out

18+

pure!sydney is reverent. his tongue is warm as he draws slow circles around your clit. he's the type who takes his time to worship you. makes your core warm as he takes his communion, his golden eyes half-lidded in ecstasy. "you taste so sweet, beloved," he says, lips glistening with your syrup. you feel his breath against the slickness of your skin. "i don't think i could ever stop."

corrupt!sydney can't get enough of you. he's got one arm wrapped tightly around your thigh and his other hand stroking his cock as he laps at you hungrily. oh beloved, he can't help but touch himself when you're like this. the way you pull at his hair drives him insane, makes him draw even closer to the edge. but he won't fall, oh no. you'll fall together, won't you? as you should. as you are meant to.

kylar can't breathe. he doesn't need to. not when you're squirming for him like this, the sound of his name so sweet as it falls from your lips. he's dreamed of this, you know. he's spent so many nights wanting to know what it would be like to taste you and here you are, shuddering against his mouth. "so beautiful," he murmurs. "so perfect." he slips his fingers into your warmth, makes you arch your back once again. "and all mine."

the desk is hard against your back as whitney slides his tongue along your slit. your thighs hurt - courtesy of his teeth sinking into your skin just moments earlier. outside the classroom, you can hear students start to filter into the hall. "did i say you could be quiet?" whitney growls. "let them fucking hear how much of a slut you are." he plunges his tongue inside you, earning a gasp that pierces the air.

robin smiles the entire time. you taste so good, so sweet. how is it possible for your thighs to be this soft? if he could die at any time, it would be this moment, engulfed in you as you ride his face. he is so sweet, so gentle. you catch sight of his eyes between your legs, glazed in the ecstasy of being yours.

"keep reading," eden growls. he takes pleasure in the way your breath hitches with every lick and the way your thighs tremble against his face. you had been gone too long from the cabin. you didn't think he was going to let you off easy, did you? all you have to do is get to the end of this chapter. as long as you keep your eyes on the page, he'll keep his mouth on you.

the wraith leaves you wanting. he's waited years, decades, lifetimes - what are a few more moments in the face of eternity? but you want more, need more. you want to cry out as those eyes like gems behold your pleasure. you want to writhe and shake and let the tide take you. the cold swipe of his tongue between your legs makes you shudder, but it is his fingers that make you plead. droplet, have you missed him just as much as he has missed you? sing for him the song of your return. he has all night to listen.

[fallinallincurls]

pancakes for two, i will always love you

this is my (late) entry for demi's lowkey lovefest 2k24! thank you so much for hosting this fun little challenge @wyattjohnston!

this fic is also a belated birthday gift to the amazing @desiredposion!! inspiration struck and i had to make the most of it so i hope you love this! this was also my first time writing for nico which was so much fun.

prompt used: "don't ever stop looking at me like that."

heavily inspired by the lyrics "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash brown, egg yolk, i will always love you" from keep driving by harry styles

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 1.3k+

~~~~~

Dating a professional hockey player means that slow mornings are a rarity. Usually, Nico is up and out the door for morning skate before your eyes even open. But today, you’re lucky enough to get the extra time in bed with the man you love for the first time in what feels like forever.

As sunlights bathes the room in a subtle, but beautiful golden glow, you snuggle in closer to Nico in an effort to absorb the heat radiating from his body. His strong arms tighten around you instinctively and even though his eyes remain closed, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Morning, Neeks.”

“Mm,” He hums contently, making you giggle and you relish in the rough feeling of his scruff against your skin. You card a hand through his tousled hair, earning a soft moan in response.

“Come on, schatzi.” He murmurs, dragging out the syllables of each word as a slight smirk appears on his lips. “You know how much I like it when you play with my hair.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” You chuckle, moving your hand to his cheek just as Nico lifts his head and his gorgeous brown eyes meet yours. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the playfulness that was evident just seconds ago fading even though the identical tender smiles on your faces continue to grow.

“We don’t get to do this enough.” Nico whispers, gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You rest a hand on his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and try to commit every detail about this moment to memory. Nothing but pure adoration rushes through your veins as you admire the beautiful man next to you.

“That’s okay. It makes these rare mornings that much more special.”

“I’m going to tell the team we can’t ever have practice until after 10 at the earliest.” Nico grins, his dimples appearing as he laughs at his own little joke.

“You have that power as captain?” You tease, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheek, and finally his lips. Nico smiles into the kiss before deepening it for a few seconds, bringing out that familiar need for him.

“I don’t really know, but I deserve some more time with my girl so I’ll make it a rule. I don’t care what anyone says.” He mumbles against your lips, voice low and still full of sleep.

Your heart swells as you drink in the sight of your boyfriend. Nico’s eyes are sparkling with love and his sweet smile is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a mess but somehow still looks perfect and you absentmindedly trace shapes on his shoulder, feeling the well toned muscles there. 

He is a dream. And despite all odds, you’re the lucky one who gets to love him every single day. That’s something you’ll never take for granted because you never thought you’d find someone as kind, caring and amazing as Nico.

Yet, here you are. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Nico presses another tender kiss to your cheek before pulling away like he’s going to get up.

“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You tease him, grabbing onto his forearm in an effort to keep him in bed.

“To make breakfast?” Nico replies, more as a question than a statement. His brows knit together in confusion and the cutest look crosses over his facial features.

“Right now? We can’t stay and cuddle for five more minutes?” Nico can’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout you’re putting on display, but doesn’t give into your antics. Instead, he leans down to give you one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom door.

“Yes, right now. By the time you’re done with your morning routine, everything will be ready. I promise. We have all day to be cozy and do absolutely nothing.” He reassures you, that cheeky smile of his blossoming across his lips and bringing out his dimples again.

“Not fair, Neeks!” You call after him, that giddy feeling of happiness rushing through you when you hear his laughter floating down the hallway. After soaking in the warmth for a few more seconds, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to shower and get your morning routine done. 

And true to his word, when you enter the kitchen dressed in sweats and one of Nico’s shirts ready for a lazy day in with your boyfriend, you find the counter covered in a full breakfast spread. A mug of coffee made just the way you like it, pancakes for two, maple syrup, hash browns and eggs are all plated and ready to be enjoyed.

“Nico,” You breathe out, shock and awe evident in your voice. Nico is always doing something sweet for you, no matter how big or small, but you weren’t expecting this at all. “What is this for?”

“Just because.” Nico shrugs, a bashful look on his face. His cheeks are pink with blush and those gorgeous brown eyes are twinkling with excitement. “We don’t get many mornings together like this. I wanted to spoil you. Made all your favorites.” He admits before stealing a kiss from you and passing you a full plate he somehow put together without you noticing. 

“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can say. After all the time together, these little gestures still warm your heart and are the kindest reminders of Nico’s love for you.

“I love you too, schatzi. Now come on, let’s eat. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today.” Nico teases, sitting down next to you at the table. 

As you enjoy breakfast together, the two of you talk about everything and anything. Nico tells you some funny stories from practice yesterday and catches you up on all the drama about how Jack likes a girl, but won’t make a move. You fill him in on your latest project at work and how you scheduled a girls day with your best friend for later that week. 

“We’re going to check out that new bookstore in Hoboken! The one right by the restaurant we really like on the waterfront. I’m looking for the next book in the series I’m reading so hopefully they have it.”

Noticing Nico has been quiet the whole time you’ve been talking, your rambling trails off. But before you can ask what’s wrong, your breath is stolen away. Because when you take in the sight of your boyfriend, you see the fondest look on his face. One that you recognize of pure love and adoration. It’s the look of someone who has found exactly where they should be. The look of someone who has found happiness in the simplicity of spending their life with another person. 

“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that.” You murmur, the words slipping past your lips before you even realize what you’re saying. Nico’s gentle smile just grows, his hand reaching for yours. 

“Like what?” He teases, that familiar playfulness evident through his question. 

“Like nothing else in the world matters but the love that we have. Like you’re the happiest right here with me.”

“I am the happiest with you. Always will be.” Nico whispers before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He says everything with that kiss, words aren’t necessary and wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about you. You melt into his gentle touch, smiling against his lips as everything else falls away for just a moment.

“And you’re right,” He starts when the kiss breaks, his big brown eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing else even compares to the way I love you.” 

And right then, over pancakes and coffee that Nico made you, you know he’s going to be the man you marry. The one you spend the rest of your days with. Because this kind of love is once-in-a-lifetime and you don’t want to go through life without him by your side.