#DATE BUNDT CAKE

[morethansalad]

Vegan 'Food For The Gods' Bundt Cake (Gluten-Free)

#vegan #gluten free #desserts #filipino cuisine #asian cuisine #cake #bundt cake #almond flour #potato starch #arrowroot starch #walnuts #dates #plant milk #applesauce #apple cider vinegar #frosting #coconut cream #vanilla #maple syrup #date sugar #sea salt

[rafesfavgirl]

gurl i neeed a part 2 of stop asking me to stay, that broke me😭😭😭

you ask, i deliver :) hope you like it!!

i don't regret a thing — r. cameron

part 1.

❝ we're not the only ones,  i don't regret a thing every word i've said, you know i'll always mean ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, knowing the situation with ward, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use, mainly fluff, a little angst, might still make you cry. rafe being an absolute simp for you, basically.

rafe wakes up the next morning, faced-down on topper's living room couch with almost no recollection of what happened the night before. except one thing—you'd finally walked away from him.

"not enough to choose me. you give in every time." your words echo in his head, as he opens his eyes.

fuck. what did he do?

"good morning sunshine," kelce comes down the stairs and greets rafe, who looked as if he couldn't move from the couch. "you sleep well?"

"i slept like shit," rafe groans, finally sitting himself up. "what the hell happened last night?"

"you mean other than you getting coked out and royally screwing things over with y/n?" kelce sasses him. "not much bro."

rafe shoots him a glare. "i did not royally screw things over with y/n."

"are you sure about that?" kelce raises a brow at him. "cause i had to drive her home last night crying, bro."

rafe's ear perk up at kelce's confession of you crying over him. you wouldn't have. you were the one who broke up with him.

"she was crying?" rafe asks.

"do you seriously even have to ask?" kelce replies. "i can't even count on two hands how many times you've made her cry the last few months."

no, that couldn't be true. surely he hadn't made you cry that often.

"shut the fuck up kelce," rafe gets up from the couch in complete denial of how shitty he's treated you the last few months and makes his way over to the kitchen.

rafe opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, while kelce joins him in the kitchen.

"you know it's true," kelce says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "you just never see it, because she won't let you."

was he right?

"you know how y/n is, bro," kelce adds, as i take a sip of water. "she'll never let you know you're hurting her, because you fear nothing more than being the cause of her pain and losing her. but she's also not going to beg and cry for you to stay and fight for her."

i did know that. that's what i loved about her. she didn't necessarily play hard to get when i tried asking her out on a date after months of texting, but she didn't give in too easily either. she wanted me to prove i was serious about her before giving me a real chance. she knew her worth.

i recap the bottle i'm drinking from and set it down on the counter beside me, my eyes focused on kelce. "so what should i do?"

kelce holds his hands up. "if you don't know by now, i can't help you."

—

rafe wasn't an idiot. he knew what he had to do.

so, after going home and taking a shower to freshen up and get a change of clothes, he drove to the flower shop in town to get you a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath, then nothing bundt cakes to get your favorite treat—a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake—and finally, your house.

once he parked his truck in front of your house and got out, he went through his usual routine of rounding around to your backyard, where he moved the ladder the gardeners used towards your bedroom window.

he climbed up and knocked, balancing the flowers and bundt cake in one hand.

you were sitting in bed watching after we fell on your laptop with a box of tissues beside you and puffy, red eyes when you hear the knock on your window.

without even thinking about it, you already knew who it was. this was just what he did. and against your better judgment, you got up from your bed, and walked over to pull the curtains open and find rafe outside with a regretful look on his face, a bouquet of flowers and a small box of your favorite treat.

slowly, but surely, you unlock the window and pull it up.

"i'm sorry," he speaks before you can, and you scoff.

"you know, i'm getting real sick of hearing you say that," you reply, turning around to walk away and reposition yourself back on your bed, while he slips in through your window.

"i got you flowers," he offers you a small smile and holds both items out to you. "and your favorite bundt cake. white chocolate raspberry."

your eyes shift from the gifts in his hand to his piercing blue eyes. they were no longer dark like they were last night, but there was a sense of uncertainty in them. like he wasn't sure he could win you back.

"so what? am i suppose to just forgive you? just like that?" you retort.

he lets out a sigh, and takes a seat at the edge of your bed, placing both items down on your bed next to your box of tissues. he finally gets a good look at you—from the messy bun on your head, to the bags under your eyes from barely getting any sleep last night, to your red, puffy eyes—and realizes just how badly he's messed up this time.

"i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun." he still couldn't believe he said those words to you last night.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness," he admits. "i know that. but i want it, y/n. and i'm willing to work for it."

while those words were music to your ears, you were apprehensive. he apologizes every time. and while things do change for a while, they're never permanent. and a week or two from now, you'd be back in this same situation again. was that really worth it?

"i know i don't deserve any more chances," he continues, his eyes only focused on yours. "but i promise… i promise just give me one more and you won't regret it."

your eyes shift between his. he looked a little… scared? was he really that afraid to lose you?

"i don't know, rafe," you say honestly, shifting a little. "you've hurt me so bad… i don't know if i can take you doing it one more time."

"i'm not going to," he immediately shakes his head and reaches out to take your hands in his, fiddling with your fingers and glancing down at them. "please, baby, please. just let me show you i'm the guy for you. that i can be the guy you need and want me to be."

"how?"

"you'll give me a chance?" he asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being given another chance to win you back. 

despite your brain screaming at you not to, your heart wins over and you nod. you couldn't help it. every part of you yearned for him. and if he was willing to show you that he really could be the guy you knew he was—the guy you fell in love with—then maybe it would be worth it.

"wear something nice," he says. "i'll come back to pick you up at seven."

—

at exactly seven on the dot, you hear rafe park his car in front of your house, and look out your bedroom window to see him dressed in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, white button down carrying a bouquet of red roses as he walked towards your driveway and front door.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you hurry to strap your heels on and look at yourself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing your purse off your vanity and heading down the stairs.

"where are you heading off to?" your mom asks when you pass by the living room, all dressed up.

"date with rafe," you reply, walking towards the front door.

your parents had never been rafe's biggest fan—they weren't exactly unaware of how often he's made you cry the last couple of months—but they also knew they couldn't stop you from dating whoever you wanted, so they never fought you on it, and you were grateful for that. it was comforting to know they'd support you no matter what happened.

taking a deep breath, you place your hand on the doorknob, and finally open the door when the bell rings.

rafe's eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, his eyes trailing down your body wrapped in a tight, short, satin red dress. "wow," he gasps. "you- you look…"

your cheeks redden at his loss of words. "you don't clean up too bad yourself, cameron."

he smiles at your use of his last name as a nickname, and holds the red roses in his hand out to you. "these are for you."

"you already got me flowers this morning, you know," you joke, taking the bouquet from him. your mom was gonna be pleased to know rafe was back to filling up all her flower vases.

"i know, but…" he trails off. "you deserve the best."

the blush on your cheeks deepen at his words. "give me a second," you turn to walk back towards the living room, and set the bouquet down on the coffee table in front of your parents. "don't wait up."

they don't even get a word in before you're walking away again to join rafe outside.

"shall we?" you ask, looking up at him through your lashes, as you closed the door behind you.

"just… one more thing," a sly smile comes across his lips, as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a black blindfold.

you stare at it, your mouth agape. "you're kidding, right?"

he shrugs, "i want it to be a surprise."

you groan, but give in anyway. "fine. but if i trip in these heels because i can't see where i'm going, consider us broken up for good."

he laughs at the threat, even though a part of him was afraid you still wouldn't forgive him after tonight. "you know i won't let that happen. turn around."

you do as he says, and he ties the blindfold around your eyes, before taking your hand in his and leading you down the driveway towards his car parked up on the curb. he opens the door for you, and carefully helps you into the passenger seat, before closing the door and rounding the car to get in the driver's seat.

the second the engine comes on, your romantic taylor swift playlist plays through the car's speakers.

"you didn't," you say. he would always complain when you had aux because she was all you'd ever play.

"i guess she's not too bad," rafe shrugs, chuckling as you began singing along to the lyrics of wildest dreams.

rafe continued driving through the island for another ten or fifteen minutes, before he finally pulled the car to a stop in front of his family's beach house on the edge of figure eight, completely secluded from everything else.

he gets out of the car first, and helps you out, taking your hand in his to lead you through the house and out to the back porch.

"are you ready?" he leans in towards your ear, and goosebumps rise along your skin at his proximity.

you nod, and he reaches his hands up to the back of your head to untie the blindfold.

it takes a little while for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, a feeling of warmness fills your heart at the sight in front of you.

red rose petals were scattered in the sand of the private beach, along with fairy lights, a candlelit table for two set up in the center of it all, as acoustic instrumentals of taylor's best love songs played through the speaker situated on the porch.

"you like it?" he asked.

you turn your head to look at him. "rafe, i… it's perfect."

"that's what i was going for," he shrugs smugly, and nods his head towards the set up. "come on."

you both remove your shoes, before he takes your hand in his again and leads you down the back porch to the table in the middle of the beach.

"i can't believe you did this for me," you say, as he pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

"i'd do anything for you," he smiles, taking the seat across from you once you're seated.

—

after a three course dinner and a bottle of wine, which was all served to the both of you by a waiter that rafe hired from the country club, the night slowly came to an end, an endless amount of stars filling the night sky above you.

but while you were focused on the stars, rafe was focused on you.

"god, you're beautiful," he says, causing you to look at him now.

you chuckle, "shut up."

"no, i'm fucking serious," he replied, standing up from his seat.

you watched him carefully as he walked over to you, and held a hand out.

you glance at his hand and tilt your head up at him, "what are you doing?"

"dance with me," he says.

"you're asking me to dance?" you raise a brow at him.

"mhm," he nods. "you gonna say yes?"

"well how can i say no?" you reply, a small smile forming on your lips as you put your hand in his.

he leads you a few feet away from the table, and rests a firm hand on your waist, as you trail a hand up to his shoulder.

he locks his eyes with yours as you both begin swaying to taylor's timeless, and scans your face.

"what?"

he shakes his head, "i don't deserve you..."

"rafe…"

"but i'm gonna do everything i can to make sure i become the kind of guy who does," he cuts me off. "i want to be better, y/n. not only for you, but for myself too."

you smile, and pull him closer, your hand snaking to the back of his head.

"i'm sorry for being such an ass the last few months," he says, and you close my eyes, taking the moment in as he continues. "i know i haven't deserved all the chances you've given me, but i'm not gonna disappoint you again. i want to be the guy you think i am."

you pull away, just enough to have your eyes lock with his.

"you are that guy, rafe," you tell him, and you mean it. "you just need to let him show more."

he smiles, "you're pretty damn amazing, you know that?"

"so i've been told," you shrug jokingly.

he chuckles. "i love you, y/n."

"i love you too."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[kcrossvine-art]

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin .  Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

#cross cooks lotr #dessert #baking recipes #the lord of the rings #digital art

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Hiya! I am so so excited for the release date! I have convinced my partner to do a little party (just us probably, I don’t know any other fans IRL). Do you or your followers have any ideas for fun GO themed snacks and drinks?

Hiya! :) Sounds wonderful! :)

Food:

angel cake or deviled eggs, book: Aziraphale popped another deviled egg into his mouth, and washed it down with coffee. … Aziraphale helped himself to Crowley’s slice of angel cake.

(illustration by Paul Kidby, the Illustrated Good Omens)

sushi

cakes Aziraphale bakes in Good Omens Lockdown (I’ve now baked bundt cake, sponge cake, angel’s food cake, four different kinds of sourdough loaf, schwarzwälder kirschtorte - although, I had to miracle in the cherries.)

crêpes

oysters

Drinks

cocoa - "Steady, steady," Aziraphale muttered to himself. He went into the little kitchenette and made himself some cocoa and took some deep breaths.

wine - "I think," said Aziraphale, sipping his wine (which had just ceased to be a slightly vinegary Beaujolais, and had become a quite acceptable, but rather surprised, Chateau Lafitte 1875), "I think I'll see you there."

coctails inspired by GO themes, like Appletini? :)

[prettyplumpkitty]

Making jam & kitty naps. Tea dates & bathroom revamps. Not much else to report! Baking a vanilla caramel Bundt cake but I didn’t take pics of that yet.

#me #ms. kitty #prettyplumpkitty #mr. kitty #kitty times #personal #kitty things #lately things

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Have Your Cake And Eat It Too

Chapter Nine of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Ten

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5K

Chapter Overview: Wednesday brings a date and Friday brings an unwelcome fate

TW: Oral (f&m receiving), Fingering

Notes: hey everyone !! sorry for the delay to my unofficial posting schedule ! i was battling writers block and life threw a bunch of bullshit at me this week. in better news...i got a kitten today ! my friends were fostering four kittens and I fell in love with one and now we are basically soulmates. ANYWAY... there has been a small resurgence for my One Condition (reader x Din Djarin) fic recently which has made me smile ((: i updated the tag list so let me know if i missed you/ you want to be added ! as usual...my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

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

Frankie’s house hasn’t been this clean since he first bought it. He isn’t a dirty man, he is probably one of the cleanest he knows if he's being honest, but suddenly everything looked dull compared to your sparkle. The chemical fumes from all of the products he is using have made him light headed. He just cracks open some of his kitchen windows and keeps on working. He has been deep in soap and suds since he got off work today at 7:30 P.M.. So far he has managed to vacuum off of the carpets and rugs, wipe down all the sinks and scrubbed the toilet (he even made sure to put the seat down), cloroxed the stove and the countertops, fluffed the couches pillows, and put fresh sheets on his bed.

Last night after his ‘work meeting’, he ran to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for your date this Wednesday. You both decided on a quiet night in since your weeks have been surprisingly busy. Neither one of y’all had the energy to battle the busy crowds of a restaurant. He left the store with chicken, potatoes, asparagus, and some extra spices he didn’t already have. As soon as he got home that evening, he began making a marinade for the chicken so it could soak overnight. He spent his entire lunch break today sifting through dozens of different recipes on how to best prepare asparagus and calculating how much time he would have to put all the food together before you arrived tonight. When you texted him to confirm that 9:30 was still a good time for you to come over, he answered quickly saying ‘yes, but take your time closing with Benny’. He was filled with a combination of happiness and stress when you told him that Benny graciously told you that you didn’t need to help close tonight because you had a date. Damn, there goes the extra padding of time he thought he might have. He wanted to see you so badly, but he also wanted to be finished before you arrived so he wouldn't be distracted by cooking. You were the only thing that he wanted to give his undivided attention to. 

***

You’re practically vibrating in the front seat as you pull up to Frankie’s house. Much to your dismay, he refused to tell you what he was preparing for dinner. If you didn’t know what the two of you were eating, the option of buying a wine to pair with it was obviously out of the question. Well, when in doubt, make a chocolate chip bundt cake. Your only worry now is that he had already made something sweet. You park in his driveway like he told you and you take the cake’s carrying case from the passenger seat out of the car with you. After setting the dessert on the roof of the car, you look down at the casual dress you decided to wear. It’s comfortable and flowy which fits the warm Florida weather perfectly and the color of the fabric compliments your skin effortlessly. You didn’t want to over dress since the date is only at his house, but you still wanted to look nice for him to show that you care. Figuring that there isn’t any point in dwelling on your clothing choice since there is no time to go home and change, you pop your trunk to grab the overnight bag that you packed. Frankie not so subtly mentioned that by the time dinner was over it would be ‘too late to drive home’ and that it would be ‘much safer’ for you to spend the night. Who were you to argue with his bulletproof logic? You swing the bag over your shoulder, collect the cake, and walk yourself up to his front door. The mouth watering smells coming from inside have managed to leak their way past the door and tease you and your empty stomach. You knock with your foot as your hands are a bit occupied by what you’re currently carrying.

When he opens the door the two of you are quiet for a split second as you take each other in. His hair is on full display now with the absence of his cap. You suspect that it might have something to do with the shower he took. The ends of his curls are still damp from the water. He’s wearing jeans that you don’t think you have seen him in before and a crisp looking white henley. 

“Wow.” Frankie feels exactly the way he did when he first saw your photo on Benny’s phone. “You’re beautiful.”

“You don’t clean up too badly yourself.” You blush.

He leans down and kisses you, but as he pulls away you notice that he slipped the cake carrier out of your hand.

“Hey! You don’t have to-”

“But I want to. Remember?” He gives you a playful wink before waving you inside.

If you thought it smelled good on his front stoop, there are hardly words to describe how it smells inside. The whole house is warm with the scent of cooking chicken. It’s the kind of smell that feels like it's wrapping your whole body in a hug. While restaurants are wonderful, nothing compares to homemade cooking. The two of you walk into the kitchen and you spot an electric grill on the counter with four thick chicken breasts cooking on it. As you walk further in, you see that he has two trays of food heating in the oven. 

“You did all of this yourself? It looks amazing!” You say walking over to set both your purse and your overnight bag down by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“Uhhh,” An alarm goes off on the oven as he starts to flip the meat on the grill. “Actually, help would be great. Would you mind taking the potatoes and asparagus out of the oven for me while I handle this? I have mitts that you can use to grab them in that drawer right there.”

You locate the drawer and take out a set of oven mitts and two pot holders. The pot holders you place on the counter beside the oven so the trays will have a place to be set so they can cool. You open the oven and take each tray out carefully and set them down in their respective spots.

“Okay, what next?” You ask.

“I printed out the recipe I’m using for the asparagus. It should be over there by you.”

“You printed out the recipe?” You laugh, turning to look at the man next to you.

“What? I like to have a physical copy of things. The text on my phone is just too small to read sometimes and it's annoying that it turns off when I’m in the middle of looking at it.”

“Those aren’t bad reasons.” You confess as you pick up the paper. “Have you thought about getting glasses? You know, so you can see your phone better?”

“I don’t want to get glasses.” You have to stifle another laugh because he sounds like a grumpy child right now.

“And why is that?” You walk around him to grab the lemon in his fruit basket that the recipe calls for.

“They are going to make me look…” He mumbles the last word in the sentence so you can't hear it clearly.

“They are going to make you look what?” You press while slicing the lemon in half so you can squeeze its juice over the vegetables.

“Old.”

“Frankie!” You stop what you’re doing and face him directly. “You are not going to look ‘old’ with glasses! You aren’t even old to begin with.”

“I’m almost 45.” He counters. “Hold that plate for me, please.”

You do as he asks, but you aren’t done with this discussion. “I’m a few years shy of 30. Do you think I’m old?”

“No! Of course I don’t think that!”

“Then what’s your point? You only have a couple years on me.”

“A couple?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Shut up and finish plating the chicken will you? The bottom line is that you won’t look old. If anything you’re going to look even more handsome. I like the way glasses look on men.” You smirk.

“I’ll think about it.” He blushes. “For you.”

“Do it because you want to see, Frankie! Now help me over here.”

The two of you talk back and forth while you finish the asparagus and he prepares the baked potatoes. This is a different kind of intimacy than you are used to. The intimacy that you had come to associate with partners was skin on skin contact and hands tangled in hair, but this is seemingly more personal. You could have sex with anyone you wanted at any time you wanted, but fucking someone doesn’t make you compatible with them. You don’t have to talk during sex, like really talk. Standing shoulder to shoulder with someone while you cook and casually talk about summer vacations you each went on as children or pets you had growing up was intimacy that you didn’t know you were lacking, that you were craving. This was the kind of intimacy that you only thought lived in between the pages of a book. 

“Oh my God! This is so good! I haven't eaten like this in forever!” 

Dinner finally found its way to each of your plates along with a cold beer to wash it down. 

“It’s just a hobby, but I’m glad you like it.” He smiles, cutting another bite of food for himself. “The guys and I sometimes take turns cooking dinner when we go over to each other's places when we watch the game or before beach trips.” 

“Benny was telling me about those a few weeks ago actually! He said that y’all haven’t had one in a while because life has gotten in the way. What would you say if we went during a weekend in March? My friend Robbie, the one I told you about last weekend, is coming down to visit me then and what better way is there to introduce her to Florida?”

“That sounds really nice. It will be great to go with you, Robbie, and the guys. God knows we could all use a break.”

Speaking of the guys,” Questions that have been plaguing you since you first looked at the contents of his room swim to the tip of your tongue. “What did all of y’all do when you were in the service? Like your jobs?”

“What a question.” He reclines back in his chair. “Let’s see…Pope was the man with the plan. He was always plotting the best entry and exit point for us on missions. He was usually the one that found us the job in the first place too. Will was the one who kept us all on task and on time. I've never met another person alive who keeps track of things the way he does. He has actually kept count of every single speech he has given at the VA.” He chuckles.

“Why am I not surprised?” You love how he looks when he is discussing his friends. He’s so full of love and pride.

“Benny was the guns. We can all shoot really well, I mean that's what we were trained to do, but Benny can shoot ridiculously well.” He stops to take a sip of his beer. “We had a captain as well. His name was Tom, but he was Redfly to us. He was the one who led all of the missions we went on.”

“Is that the man in the group photo that you have in your bedroom?”

“You saw that, huh? Yeah, that’s him. He,” Frankie clears his throat. “He moved away about a year ago and unfortunately we fell out of touch. But, that's what all our jobs were.”

“And you?” You’re resting your head in the palms of your hands with the look of curiosity painted across your face. ‘What did you do?”

“I was- I was the pilot. Whatever needed to be driven or flown on a mission, I was the man to do it. Vehicles are nice, don't get me wrong, but flying? God, there isn’t anything else like it in the world.”

“What does it feel like?” Your dinner grows colder, but your heart grows warmer as he talks. 

“I don’t think I can do it justice, but I’ll try. When I’m in the cockpit of a helicopter, I feel so at peace. It sounds weird to say that operating a machine that weighs tons of pounds can give me that feeling, but it's the truth. Nothing can take it away either. Not the guys yelling over the headsets that we have to wear inside, not the chaos of whatever mission we are currently on, not even the millions of beeping sounds coming from the controls. It's just me and the open sky.”

“What’s been your favorite view?” You could listen to him talk about this for hours.

“Apart from the one I currently have right now? That's going to be hard to pick.” You have to temporarily look away from him to hide how hard you’re blushing at his comment. “I would have to say it was when I was piloting a helicopter over some mountains. The mountains themselves were beautiful, but as soon as we got close enough, the sun peaked out from behind them. It made the mountains look like they had halos.”

“I would give anything to see something like that.” You say wistfully.

“I could, if you wanted, show you sometime.”

“Oh my God! Really? Frankie, are you serious? You would do that?”

“Of course I’m serious! I want you to experience it first hand.” His million dollar smile slips for a fraction of a second. “It might take me a while to get my hands on a helicopter though.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” You rest your hand over his on the table. “At the risk of sounding corny, the best things in life are always worth the wait.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He turns his hand over so that your palms are touching. “Do you want to cut some slices of cake and curl up on the couch to watch some TV?”

He takes your squeal of excitement as a ‘yes’. You work together to pack up all of the leftovers and load the dishwasher. He tries to cut the cake himself, but you shoo him away.

“You have done enough work for one day. Let me take care of the cake at least. Why don’t you go relax on the couch and find something for us to watch?”

You cut two hearty pieces and set them on plates for the both of you. It's shocking how natural it feels to exist with him like this. There isn’t a label on what y’all have, but you don’t mind right now. All that matters is that you’re enjoying yourself and you wouldn’t want to spend your Wednesday night any other way.

“Alrighty.” You set down the plates along with two forks on the coffee table. “What did you find?”

“How do you feel about Narcos Mexico?

“I’ve been meaning to start that one actually!” You plop yourself down on the couch next to him. “Robbie and I binged Narcos when it first came out. We finished it in a matter of days. It was probably a little unhealthy now that I think about it. She had the biggest crush on Murphy, but I was partial to Peña.”

“Should I be worried?” He hits play and adjusts his arm so that it drapes over the back of the couch. His fingers are able to brush over your collarbone rhythmically. 

“I wouldn’t say so.” You look up at him. “Lucky for you, I prefer the real thing over something fictional any day.”

“Lucky for me indeed.”

He takes the hand that is toying with your collarbone and uses it to gently tilt your chin up towards him. Your lips are captured by his in a kiss. Without warning a low moan comes from your throat. It had only been two days since he had touched you last, but why did it feel like a lifetime? His free hand slides up your thigh, taking the hem of your dress with it. He can feel your pulse quicken and your breath hitch when he moves your underwear to the side and starts to rub circles on you. His voice is strained and raspy when he speaks to you.

“I missed the way you felt around my fingers, mi estrella.” One of his fingers finds its way inside of you. “So tight I can barely move.”

His words have you clenching around him and gasping for air when you feel yourself stretching to allow another finger in. Your back arches off the couch as he makes contact with the spongy spot inside you. 

“Do you know what you’re doing to me? I could hardly get any work done these past few days because you’re all I can think about.”

Your head falls back against the plush pillows of the couch. He presses sloppy kisses along your jawline as your mouth parts to allow shallow breaths and quiet moans to escape. 

“Look at this beautiful neck.” His tongue charts a warm, slick path up it. “God, I wonder what it would look like with my hand wrapped around it?”

You stretch your neck out for him as if to silently say ‘come and find out for yourself’. 

The hand that he initially used to tilt your head up comes to snuggly wrap around your throat. With each squeeze, pump of his fingers, and rub of your clit you can feel yourself start to gradually lose control. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. I want you to soak my fingers.”

Even with his hand restricting your airway, your moans have gone from quiet to boisterously loud. You can hear him groaning in your ear as he watches his fingers disappear inside your wet pussy over and over again. 

“That feels so fucking good.” You gasp out.

You can feel your legs starting to shake and the fire in your lower belly aching to be put out.

“Let go for me.” He whispers.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through your body. He guides you through your bliss with honeyed words.

“So fucking pretty coming all over my fingers. Such a good girl for me.”

When he reluctantly takes his fingers out of you, you grab his wrist with your hand and bring his drenched fingers to your waiting lips. You can see him watching you with lust clouded eyes from your peripheral vision as you take them in your mouth. You allow your tongue to glide across and lick them clean of the mess that you just made. After you are content with your work, you pull them from your mouth with a satisfying pop and lazily roll your head so you can face Frankie. 

“It’s your turn.”

“Oh?” He’s breathing almost as hard as you are.

“I want you in my mouth next.”

“Oh.”

Without breaking eye contact, you lower yourself onto your knees and situate your body in between his legs. He scoots down deeper into the couch and opens his legs wider. His lids hang low on his eyes as he undoes his belt for you. When he’s done, you take over by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. Your mouth starts watering when you pull him free from his boxers. As you take him in your hand a guttural moan comes from the man in front of you. You tap the tip on your tongue a few times before wrapping your lips around it. Beads of pre come dissolve in your mouth as you begin to suck.

You take your time with him. Only taking him deeper into your hot mouth every once and a while. His hand comes up to pull your hair out of your way. His words go from slurred to unable to understand when you attach your lips to his balls. Your hand continues to pump him while you kiss and suck below the shaft. His thighs twitch and jerk with every touch you grant him. Licking a long stripe up his length, you connect your mouth to him again while your hands work in tandem. You dare to take a peek at the man coming undone above you. God, he’s breathtaking. Once perfect hair, now going every which way, sweat making his forehead shine, and plump lips being pushed out by his ragged breathing. You can feel yourself grow wet for him all over again. 

“Fuck, I love the way you look with my cock in your mouth.” He fumbles out. “It feels like your mouth was made for me.”

Even with your hollowed out cheeks beginning to burn, you keep pushing yourself. You want him to feel as good as he makes you feel. When his stomach starts to heave, you know he’s close. You take him all the way down your throat. The coarse hair at his base brushes against your nose and you can feel tears trickling their way down your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna come.” He speaks frantically.

You place your hands on his thighs and keep him deep inside your mouth. Immoral sounds erupt from him as he spills down your throat. You hum as you feel it going down. You pull off of him, but softly lick him clean as he lays disheveled against the cushions. He watches with intense infatuation as you use your finger to gather some of him that is left on your lower lip and push it to your tongue. You smile contently at him as he reaches down to pull you into his lap. He wastes no time tasting himself on you. In some possessive corner of his brain, he can’t help but feel like you are his now. He hasn’t said it out loud yet, but he hopes you can feel the genuine care he has for you in the way he kisses you. He hopes you can feel it in the way that he touches you. 

“Let’s go to bed.” You breathe into him.

“Something tells me we won’t be getting much sleep.” He says standing with you in his arms. “I don’t mind one bit.”

***

The majority of your Friday shift is spent selling tickets for the fights this evening. You were excited to attend this week's match on Frankie’s arm. Honestly, you were excited to see Will and Santi as well. Between juggling your dad and trying to see Frankie as much as possible, you hadn’t had any quality time with your other two friends. 

“I have a problem.” Benny pokes his head around the brick wall that separates you from the rest of the gym. “But I think you can solve it. If you don’t kill me first that is.”

“I feel like I’m going to regret asking this, but,” You spin your chair around to face him. “What can I do for you, Benny?”

“So you know my regular ring girl? The one that has those cool purple streaks in her hair?” You nod in confirmation. “Well, she just texted me sayin’ that she has the flu.” 

“You’re kidding.” You know exactly where he is going with this.

“I wish I was.” He’s now standing awkwardly in front of you. “However, like I said before, I think you can help me.” 

“Are you asking me to be your ring girl for the night?” 

“Please!” He has his hands clasped together as if he’s praying. “It would only be for one night! I know that you were plannin’ to hang out with the other guys, but I really need you!” 

“Benny, I- I don’t even have clothes to wear.” You gesture down to your current attire. “I don’t think this would suffice.” 

“That’s where I come in.” He says proudly. “My other ring girl is about the same size as you and the new outfit that I ordered for her just so happened to be delivered to my house last night.”

“You’re the one that orders the outfits?” 

“Well, she technically picked it out, but I just ordered it so I could put it on the company card. So, what do you say?”

“Let me see the outfit first.”

Much to your chagrin, he heads back into his office and comes back with the package and a pair of black thigh high boots. “Go change! I’ll be waitin’ right outside for you!” 

You snatch the items out of his hands and head back into the locker room. As much as you hated that so few women came to the gym, it was nice to have the whole room to yourself. You set the boots on the ground and tear open the package. The top is an extremely high cropped white collared shirt that ties in the front and the skirt is pleated with a red and black checkered pattern. You can’t do anything else but laugh when you finally pull the fishnets out. The things you do for friends.

“Okay! I’m coming out!”

Benny can hear you before he sees you. Your new heeled boots echo throughout the locker room as you exit.

“God damn.” He lets out a low whistle. “Fish is one lucky man.” 

“I feel like Britney Spears in her ‘...Baby One More Time’ music video.” You rest your hands on your hips.

The skirt's short length is accentuated by the fishnets and how tall the boots go up on your thighs. The shirt’s tie sits above your belly button. This whole look leaves very little to the imagination.

“Well, I think you look great!”

“It’s not too much?” You twirl to give him a 360 view. “It’s kinda fun to wear.”

“See?! I promise it’s just for tonight, unless you want to give it another go?” 

“Let’s just take it one week at a time, okay?”

“I can live with that.” 

He starts to head to the front desk when the doorbell chimes out, but you call after him.

“Benny?”

“What’s up?”

“Can you- I don’t really know how to ask this- can you watch me tonight? Like make sure no one tries to bother me?” 

His face softens at your request. You know that he understands who you’re talking about. “I promise that the guys and I won’t let anythin’ happen to you. You’re our girl and we’ll watch you like a hawk.”

“That means a lot to me.” 

You hurry yourself back into the sanctuary of the women's side of the locker room before you give the guest waiting at the front desk a preview. Before you take your new outfit off you take a picture of yourself and send it to Robbie. She responds by firing off multiple messages that should never be allowed to see the light of day. Robbie always had a unique way of making your ego flair up. Armed with your newly gassed up confidence, you send the picture to Frankie. He responds almost instantly.

Frankie: What are you wearing?

You: What? You don’t like it?

Frankie: I never said that.

You: Benny’s usual ring girl is sick. You’re looking at Brass Knuckles ring girl for the evening.

Frankie: I’m looking alright. I hope Benny knows that he’s not getting that outfit back after tonight. 

You: And why is that?

Frankie: Because I’m going to tear it off of you piece by piece. There won’t be an outfit to give back.

You rub your thighs together anxiously as you see another text bubble pop up.

Frankie: How am I supposed to focus for the next few hours with this photo of you living in my head?

You: You better figure it out because if you don’t, you will be to busy playing catch up to fuck me after the fights.

Frankie: You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?

You: I know (:

Giggling to yourself, you change quickly so you can resume desk duty. Hopefully you can stay focused for the rest of the day despite Frankie’s words swimming around in your mind. 

***

You and Benny see the guys pull into the parking lot in their respective cars 15 minutes after closing. 

“Would you look at that? They actually got here on time to help.” Benny hums as he throws the last of the dirty towels into the basket.

“I’m gonna go say ‘hi’!” You shout over your shoulder, already darting towards the front.

You bust out the door right as the group of three are walking across the middle of the parking lot. 

“Hey Will! Hey Pope!” You rush out as you make a beeline for the man in the center. 

You leap into his arms and wrap your legs around him while snuggling your face into the crook of his neck. His exuberant laugh reverberates through your whole body as he clutches onto you. If it were anyone else, you would feel foolish for greeting them like this. But it just feels so right to be held in his arms. It doesn’t matter where you are. You feel him let out a heavy sigh into your hair as he cups the back of your head with his hand.

“What the fuck are we? Chopped liver?” Pope jokes. 

“I totally greeted you, you whiny baby.” You laugh, face still hidden from the world.

“Who are you calling a ‘whiny baby’?” 

You turn to face him, already knowing that he has his hands on his hips. “You!”

“You hearing this shit?” He turns to Will who has been silently snickering.

“Every word of it, Pope.” Will comes up and pats you on the back. “Good to see you, hon.”

“You’re going to let her talk to your best friend like that, Catfish?” Pope pouts. 

Frankie carefully sets you down and readjusts his cap. “I couldn’t control her even if I tried.” He shrugs. 

“Come on, Pope.” You lightly push him in the shoulder. “You know I love ya’.” 

Before he gets a chance to respond, a car pulls into the lot extremely fast. Frankie quickly scoops you up and moves over to the side of the parking lot that is closest to Brass Knuckles. You didn’t even have time to process what had just happened, yet the rest of them reacted just as quickly as Frankie did. 

“What kind of idiot drives like that?” You say, trying to get your bearings as you feel your feet touch asphalt again. 

“The kind of idiot with a bone to pick.” Pope mutters. 

When you look around, all three of them are watching the car park in a spot that's a few spaces down from theirs. Nervousness starts to rear its ugly head when you see them all exchange quick glances, followed by nods of their heads. Will is the first to break the silence.

“Why don’t we go inside?” His eyes look like they are pleading with you. “You can show me what still needs to be set up before people start arrivin’ tonight, huh?”

“Wait, what?” 

“That sounds like a good idea.” Frankie confirms, his gaze still fixed on the now unmoving car. He doesn’t sound like himself. “Take her inside.”

“Frankie? What’s going on?” 

He must have heard the quiver in your voice because he turns his attention to you. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes. I just need to take care of something first, okay? Everything is fine.”

“Let's go, hermosa.” You feel Pope's hand come to rest softly on your shoulder. “Please.” He whispers in your ear. 

You have never seen any of them act like this. It’s causing your stomach to turn violently. Three of the toughest men you have ever met getting skittish doesn’t sit right with you. 

“Al-alright.” Pope pushes your body towards the door, but your eyes stay on Frankie. “I’ll be right inside if you need me.” 

“I know, estrella.” A car door slams hard somewhere in front of y’all and his face hardens. “Get her the fuck inside the gym.” 

For the third time in a matter of a few minutes you’re being carried. This time it is compliments of Will. Before you know it, you’re being ushered inside and taken back into the gym. Neither Will nor Pope stop until they approach Benny who is in the middle of cleaning the heavy bags. 

***

The only thing that matters to Frankie is that you’re away from the catastrophe that he knew was about to ensue. He steels his emotions as he watches her round her car from the driver's side. With how quickly she is marching there should have been flames kicking up behind her.

“Francisco fucking Morales!” She screeches. “We need to talk!”

He starts walking towards her. “Yes, Rochelle. We do.”

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

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

[vidavalor]

I know we're all keeping you from posting the major sexy metas by inundating you with questions but the stuff you post is just SO INTRIGUING lol. Sooo, you think they use toys too, then? ;-) Gosh, I think they are further ahead than most of us! We can probably learn a thing or two from them. Do you think they may have inspired the Kama Sutra? On that note, I wonder what your thoughts are on spirituality/divine love and sex, or sex magick, and what of that you see reflected in Good Omens perhaps?

hi @procrastiel how are you, my darling? Ask and ye shall eventually receive (sorry for the delay). Really fun questions-- thank you! :)

The sex toy reference in GO: Lockdown and some thoughts on Crowley and Aziraphale, mindfulness, and Tantric Eye Gazing under the cut.

<<further ahead than most of us>> They have a few thousand years head start so one would hope.

<<you think they use toys too, then? ;-)>>

Do with this excerpt from the forthcoming Cake meta on GO: Lockdown what you will:

The Bundt cake exploded in popularity in Buddy Holly's America of the 1950s when the Nordicware company developed the Bundt pan with its distinctive shape. To date, Bundt cake is really the only type of cake named after the pan-- one might even say, the device-- used to bake the cake, rather than after the kind of cake itself. While you can bake many kinds of cake in a Bundt cake pan, the traditional choice is... pound cake.

<<inspired The Kama Sutra?>>

I don't think they inspired it since they at least tried to be a secret for some time but there are some things tied to it that seem relevant a bit maybe? The most direct thing to tantra that I noticed is maybe an allusion to Tantric Eye Gazing (sometimes also called "Soul Gazing").

This one is fun because there's actually some science behind it as well. It's been proven that staring into a trusted partner's eyes for about 40 to 60 seconds causes your body to start to generate the hormone oxytocin, the bonding chemical that some people call "the love hormone." Look into someone's eyes a little longer-- a couple of minutes or more-- and your body starts to flood with oxytocin.

The effects include decreased cortisol (stress hormone) production-- so less anxiety-- and an increased sense of calm/peace, etc., but it also causes a deeper connection between partners. You can theoretically do it anywhere you both feel safe and comfortable enough to be a bit vulnerable and where you are probably not going to be interrupted-- so, the bookshop, for them. If you practice Tantric Eye Gazing in bed, the love hormone flood deepens intimacy between partners and contributes to a more pleasurable experience. The preoccupation with Crowley's eyes and his whole serpent gaze is potentially a nod to something like this as well.

Aziraphale is, as we know, obsessed with Crowley's eyes. He painted half the shop their color. He lives for kinky lunch and being gazed at... he even got The Bentley to take off its sunglasses lol. Meanwhile, Crowley's favorite song is that besotted pinefest "Pale Blue Eyes" so it's not like it's a one-sided thing. They could have kind of fallen into aspects of Eye Gazing without knowing it is a thing, honestly, but I'd wager since they've been around forever, they know what it is. Plus, well, there's also crepes, which winds up defined around it fundamentally being about eventually coming back to a position that makes it easier to kiss and emphasizes eye contact, which is a way of emphasizing a focus on intimacy.

You could also, if you want to, take Aziraphale's "you like waiting inside" comment below a bit in this direction as well, because the idea with Tantric Eye Gazing in bed is that it is meant to bring about a sense of a kind of hyper-awareness of the present and to feel grounding-- not at all things these two like or need lol-- but, just as you can try this outside of bed and it's a different experience, it is also different in bed, depending on when and how you and your partner try it. One way is just while inside your partner but before actively moving much. "You like waiting inside" is already "you like just hanging out inside me and taking your time and driving us both insane" so it's not really far off to throw the eye thing in there as well.

Aziraphale does mean on one level that Crowley just likes being in the actual bookshop, yeah, but Aziraphale also both used the bookshop as euphemistic for his body earlier in the season and says the comment in the Marguerite's scene with a suggestive tone, so it's not out there to go there with it, imo. There are other things it suggests as well, really, but none that I can see that directly conflict with the idea of it being also related to Eye Gazing.

Tantric Eye Gazing is basically a mindfulness exercise as well and they are both overtly into trying to combat the blahs of life with mindfulness in scenes we've already seen-- the way they both breathe in the magic shop in the present in S2 and Aziraphale with the sushi in 1.01, for a couple of examples. This isn't just a way of coping with anxiety and depression; they are examples of sensual living. They both are already highly sensitive but add in the openness to experiencing things like food and music on a deeper level and it's not hard to reach the conclusion that they treat sex the same way, if not even more so.

The sushi scene is also an example of tying that sense of mindfulness to sex directly. I mean, Aziraphale taking that peaceful, centering breath and breathing in the brine there and hearing the miracle chime and assuming it was Crowley apparating in beside him so he wasn't expecting to silently ADHLKDJEKJKFLE GABRIEL! when he opened his eyes and looked towards where he thought Crowley would be...

...and that look? Yeah, they've tried and like and frequently do the eye thing lol.

The actual Kama Sutra itself? When I read your question, the gif below was what I pictured-- just Crowley tossing the whole book up and them picking pages out of the air and the running commentary...

"Absolutely not." "Hm, maybe that one." "You're bendy enough for this one." "Was this one not legally torture in several kingdoms at one point?" "That can't be comfortable." "We're magical and I think that would kill us..." lol

They probably tried what of it looked fun, as they seem willing to give anything that interests them a whirl.

<<sex magick in GO>>

I've made a note to put together some more coherent thoughts and do a separate thing on this at some point. It's a very creative question & I'd like to devote some more thought to it first. Thanks for the ask. :)

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens 2 #aziracrow

[steddieasitgoes]

1.3K Words | Teen and Up | ao3 link

Eddie’s not much of a cook. 

It’s not that he can’t cook — he can whip up a mean grilled cheese and has some pretty epic pancake-flipping skills; it’s just that he thinks it’s a colossal waste of time. 

But between the prep time and the clean-up time, plus the fact that he ends up scarfing it down in less than five minutes alone because Wayne is at work, it’s just not worth the trouble. Besides, homemade dinners don’t even reheat as well as frozen dinners do!

Most days, Eddie would rather work on a new song or D&D campaign than spend the day stuck in the kitchen. But today isn’t like most days. Today is Steve and his six-month anniversary. 

And yeah, okay, maybe it’s lame and conformist to celebrate such an arbitrary anniversary, but after surviving the literal depths of hell only to end up dating the most attractive bachelor in all of Hawkins, well, it’s a reason to fucking celebrate!

So, yeah, he’s going to cook a romantic dinner for his boyfriend; sue him. 

Thankfully, Eddie knows the perfect dish: lasagna. 

If he’s being totally straight with himself, it’s the only “fancy” dish he knows how to make, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. He also doesn’t need to know that he only knows how to make it because of a certain cartoon orange cat. That’s a tidbit for their one-year anniversary, Eddie thinks, even if Steve’s keenly aware of Eddie’s mild Garfield obsession. 

While Steve’s stuck working a double shift on their anniversary, Eddie runs around town getting everything he needs to make tonight perfect. If he’s going to celebrate something so corny, he’s going to give it all he’s got.

Eddie picks up some candles from Melvald’s and spends way too long zigzagging across the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy, getting all the ingredients he needs. On his way home, he stops by the Sinclairs to pick up a heart-shaped bundt cake tin because Eddie never can say no to a good bit — especially one he’s willing to bet will pay off for him in big ways. 

He spends the rest of the day in the kitchen. Grating cheeses, chopping vegetables, cooking meats. Layering and layering and layering. When it comes time to finally pop the lasagna in the oven, Eddie’s exhausted, covered in sweat, and three seconds away from chucking his favorite mixtape out the window because he’s tired of having to rewind it. 

An hour later, Eddie is showered, the table is set with flickering candles, and the entire trailer smells like Enzos. In hindsight, going to Enzos might have been a better option, now that he thinks about it. Less work, for sure. But the thought passes when Steve steps through the door, exhausted but sporting the softest smile Eddie’s ever seen on him and a beautiful bouquet of deep red peonies.

“Smells good, baby,” Steve says, setting the bouquet down on top of the television . He closes the distance between them and threads his arms around Eddie’s waist, tugging once until they’re hugging. “Bet it tastes even better.” 

“It fucking better,” Eddie huffs. “Been stuck in the kitchen all day. M’starving.”

“Well, come on then, let’s eat.” 

Laying on the gentleman act thick, Eddie guides Steve with a hand on the small of his back, to his chair at the small kitchen table and pulls it out for him. He waits for Steve to situate himself before pushing the chair in, and then he reaches for the bottle of wine Hopper stopped by to drop off.  After filling Steve’s glass, he pours some out for himself and then heads over to the oven to grab his masterpiece. 

“And here we have my world-famous Munson Lasagna,” Eddie says, donning his version of a fancy accent. Carefully, he sets the heart-shaped tin down in the middle of the table and goes to take his seat. “Made with the finest ingredients Bradley’s Big Buy has to offer and a shit tone of love and maybe some sweat, but mostly love.” 

“S’that the secret ingredient?” Steve asks, pressing his elbows onto the table before leaning forward to get a better look at the ooey-gooey lasagna. 

“Psh, if I told you the real secret ingredient, I’d have to kill you, sweetheart.” 

Steve laughs, shaking his head, and Eddie soaks it all in. A happy, smiling Steve Harrington is a sight to behold; it’s even more mind-blowing when he’s the reason why Steve looks so good. 

But the spell is quickly broken when Steve reaches for the serving spoon he also borrowed from the Sinclairs and drives it into the center of the lasagna without a moment of hesitation.

Eddie gasps, clutches a hand over his heart, and tips his chair back. The theatrics are a bit over-the-top, even for him, as he loses his balance and topples out of the chair. Thankfully it’s his ass that breaks the fall instead of his head. Unfortunately, his ass is far too boney to provide any cushion. Maybe, he should do squats like Steve suggested. 

“You just cut a hole in my heart!” He wails from the cold linoleum floor. “How could you do this to me, Stevie? And on our anniversary!” 

Steve peers down at him from his seat. For a second, his hazel eyes are wide and full of concern, but he must catch the subtle twitch of Eddie’s lip. The tell-tale sign that Eddie’s being mischievous for the hell of it. Fucking narc, Eddie curses himself. 

“Eddie, it’s dinner,” Steve says, exasperated but oh so fond. “Was I not supposed to cut it? I thought you were hungry.” 

“You could have given me a moment to admire my work of art!” 

“Or,” Steve says, offering a hand out to Eddie. He begrudgingly takes it, and a second later, Eddie’s being hoisted to his feet by a still seated Steve. Stupid jock arms. “We could eat the dinner you worked hard on and go make a different kind of art later.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says, cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as Steve wags his brows at him. “Yeah, okay, that sounds like a better plan. Serve me up a slice, big boy.” 

Steve shakes his head but does as he’s told, digging the serving spoon back into the dish. The lasagna is so loaded and heavy Eddie has to come to Steve’s aid with his own fork to keep the slice from falling onto the floor. They repeat the lifesaving methods with Steve’s slice, and then they dive in. 

Later, when they’re full and satisfied, in more ways than one, Steve rolls over onto his side. Eddie watches as he props himself  on his elbow before reaching towards Eddie to tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Be honest with me,” Steve muses, trailing a featherlight touch up and down Eddie’s bicep. “Did you learn to make lasagna because of that damn cat?” 

Eddie jolts into a seated position, retching his arm away from Steve’s sincere touch. “How dare you insult the wondrous beast that is Garfield. You put some respect on his name right now.” 

Steve just laughs before scootching over until his head rests on Eddie’s bare chest. “You and your Garfield obsession.” He bites his lip to keep from smiling too wild. “I mean, it’s cute and all, but it hurts to know I’m always going to be second in your heart to a cartoon cat.” 

“If I can get over being second in your heart to Robin, you can get over this,” Eddie fires back, but there’s no heat in his voice. Just the playful banter they’ve come to call flirting. It’s weird, but it works for them. 

“Alright, fine,” Steve snorts. He stirs in Eddie’s arms and kisses the spot where Eddie’s nipple used to be. “Happy anniversary, Eds.” 

“Happy anniversary, Stevie.” 

#this is silly and dumb but the idea woke me up so i had to write it #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

[yakuzacanons]

hello once again prefacing with saying i love ur blog and ur headcanons :3 tbh amongst all the relationship hcs this one feels almost odd to ask but idk this is what i care about: what kind of cake flavours do u think the fellas like? if u were gonna treat em to something or get them a birthday cake, u gotta know what theyd like, right?

Last one for tonight, also anon how did you know I've literally been musing on this idea ever since I first started this blog? Same braincell fr fr. Your mind is huge and wrinkly and powerful. Long one since this now includes characters all through Yakuza 7. Enjoy!

Also, INBOX IS OPEN AGAIN. I finally have less than 10 asks so I feel comfortable taking more on. Hit me with em.

Kazuma Kiryu

Most people think he doesn't like sweets, but in reality he's just kind of neutral on them. Grew more accustomed to them when Haruka was younger as she really liked them. More than anything he's just baffled and really touched that you'd want to treat him to cake of any kind.

He likes simple cakes, preferably without frosting or a lot of decorations. Things like bundt cake or castella cake are great choices for Kiryu.

Majima Goro

Also kind of shocked that you'd want to treat him to cake but also at the same time is very excited at the prospect at being treated to cake. If you surprise him with some, he'll give you a big hug and a very enthusiastic thank you.

Tends to lean towards richer, darker flavors. Chocolate cake with a simple dark chocolate frosting is great for him. Also enjoys Black Forest cake, if you can find it.

Saejima Taiga

The poor gentle giant cannot remember the last time he had cake. It's not really something they serve in prison. Genuinely treasures the gesture and really savors it.

Honestly hasn't got a favorite. Likes cakes with some texture to them, like carrot cake. Does get easily wowed by fancy decorations or toppings.

Akiyama Shun

Out of all the boys, the most likely to return the favor of treating you to cake immediately the next time he sees you. The others would save it for an occassion but Akiyama would immediately pay you back by treating you to your favorite cake.

He's a sucker for Devil's Food cake or Red Velvet cake. Likes cream cheese frosting as it provides a nice tart contrast to the sweet intensity of the cake itself.

Tanimura Masayoshi

People rarely treat him to much of anything so he's giddy as all hell to be treated by you. Would totally love to treat you to your favorite meal on your next date as a thank you. He'd treat you to cake himself but he doesn't really know where to get good dessert. He's better with savory foods.

Likes fruity flavors, especially if they're leaning towards citrus. Pineapple upside down cake or a lemon cake would be good.

Ryuji Goda

His position means he's been treated to a fair share of desserts but it means a lot coming from someone that he personally and emotionally cares about deeply. If you make him a homemade cake, he would be speechless.

Likes cakes with some creaminess of some kind, like Boston Cream Pie (which is in fact a cake despite the name) or any kind of cheesecake.

Nishikiyama Akira

Says something like "Ah, for me? You shouldn't have!" but inside he's like "Oh wow, they got me cake? I don't know if anyone's ever done that!" and he's really happy.

Impressed by cakes with fancy layers inside, like opera cake or battenburg cake. Crepe cakes are also a good idea. Cakes with fillings are also nice. He's more about what's inside the cake than outside.

Daigo Dojima

Similar to Ryuji, his position has shown him a fair share of desserts or birthday celebrations. However, someone treating him personally is a little new. If you make him something homemade, he might actually cry a little.

Partial to coffee flavored things. Although it's not a cake in the most traditional sense, he does like tiramisu. However, a regular coffee cake is also greatly appreciated.

Mine Yoshitaka

Probably the only boy that is kind of opposed to cake. He appreciates the gesture but he just doesn't have a sweet tooth. However, as long it's milder in flavor and not intense in sweetness, he will eat it.

If he had to pick a favorite cake, he'd go with Baumkuchen as it's pretty popular in Japan and easy to get. The sweetness is pretty mild and he likes the vanilla taste as it's not super saturated.

Shinada Tatsuo

Has the strongest sweettooth out of all the boys, even more than Ichiban. Just happy to be having cake with you, honestly. You don't have to be fancy with him either. In fact, fancier cakes are kind of lost on him so don't go getting him something complex like you might do for Nishikiyama.

He's a little embarassed to say it as he thinks it sounds girlie for some reason but he likes strawberry shortcake. Victoria sponge cake is also good, as it's basically the same flavor profile but built slightly differently.

Kasuga Ichiban

Second most fond of sweets of all the boys. Type of guy to share cake with all of his friends. He's more about enjoying it all together than eating the whole cake by himself, if that makes sense.

Genuinely has no preference over what kind of cake you get. Ichiban's got a pretty open mind when it comes to food. He likes the texture of chiffon cake the most as it's super light and fluffy. When it comes to flavor, he likes the caramel taste of flan cakes a lot.

Joon-Gi Han

A sucker for a pretty and aesthetic dessert. Likes his cake almost too pretty to eat. Similar to Nishikiyama in that he will hide how excited he is to be having cake with you.

Likes chocolate cake the most in any form. As long as it's chocolate flavored in some aspect, whether it's the cake itself or just the frosting, he likes it. Dobos cake or Sachetorte are great if you really want to impress him.

Tianyou Zhao

Prefers Eastern style cakes to Western style cakes but will eat both. Actually likes more bite size desserts like cupcakes or moon cakes.

For flavors, he likes coconut or mango cake. A box of really nice moon cakes will also do but it must be at the appropriate time during the year or else he's going to wonder why on Earth you're giving those to him. Also fond of those pineapple cakes from Taiwan.

#majima megaphone moment #yakuza #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #goro majima #majima goro #akiyama shun #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama #shun akiyama #kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #tianyou zhao #tatsuo shinada #taiga saejima #saejima taiga #joon gi han #ichiban kasuga #daigo dojima #ryuji goda #mine yoshitaka #yoshitaka mine #masayoshi tanimura

[justasimp1]

Joseph Quinn x F! Reader

Suggestive! (Nsfw), Fluff, Comfort, Actress! AU☆

Drowning In S

He was doing great. You relaxed your posture, trying to lose the anxious expression on your face. The next fan came hurriedly to the mic, hand shakily gripping onto a piece of paper. "This question is for J-Joesph" The frantic girl was stammering.

Everyone shifted their eyes to Joesph. You bit the inside of your cheeks, eyes glazing over his posture. 'God if you weren't in front of several fans and your fellow cast mates you would straddle his lap, softly sucking on that one spot that makes him twitch'

You bit back a grin and internally scolded yourself for stretching the scenario. "So, how is America? Is there anything special you really like here compared to England?" Her voice projected from the microphone.

Joseph hummed, locking eyes with you. You ignored the burning on your cheeks and looked away. A frown tugged on his lips before he shifted on his podium seat. "No, not really. I grew up there so it's going to take something really special to be better than that" He laughed, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"What about the Bundt cake argument?" Jamie buried himself in his hands, trying to muffle his laughing. "Please don't bring that up" Joe groaned, pinching his temples. You smiled, knowing how adorning Joseph got about the small donut shape cakes. And how passionate he felt about the essential importance of the sweet.

"They are remarkable, they taste so good!" Joseph giggled, crossing his legs. "They're just regular cakes, shaped like a donut" Jamie snickered, motioning his hands to prove his point. Joseph gasped, dramatically clutching his chest.

"They are not just cakes. When you eat one is fluffy, moist, and made with love. Especially when Y/N makes them, they taste so much better, and like she looks so good while cooking it" Joseph kept rambling on, not realizing how the crowd erupted with mutters.

You tried to slightly nudge him with your elbow but he didn't seem to get the memo. You just smiled through the pain, trying not to lose your shit. Too many people were staring at you- It's like your fear was coming true, swallowing you whole, whispering flooding your ears

_____________________________

You couldn't look at him, frustration burning through your veins but primarily because you found yourself scrolling anxiously on random social media platforms. "I just don't get it" Joesph sighed, laying down on his side of the bed.

"We're not public, you practically outed us" You mumbled, scanning feeds about the Q&A. Luckily there was nothing about Joesph, just random cute gifs of him. Although, some anonymous profiles were questioning the slip-up.

"Why do we have to be a secret anyways" He pouted like a child, sitting up, wrapping his hands around your waist. He pulled you onto the bed, climbing on top of you, leaving neat kisses on your skin. You cupped his cheeks, brushing away the hair tickling his forehead.

"Because..." You trailed off, analyzing his face. You gave him a peck on the cheek before delicately pushing him off. You sat up, cris-crossing your legs, planting your head in your hands. You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat.

"If we went public, it would just be..everywhere. At every second I would get reminded of it" You glanced at Joesph's face. He rubbed his lips over your thigh and rubbed a soothing hand on the kiss. "You don't want to be reminded of me, eh?" He stifled a laugh.

"No of course not!" You bit your bottom lip, blinking back the burning hole in your eyes. "You're you and I'm me. Everyone would be gossiping about the wonderful talented pretty Joseph Quinn dating...Y/N L/N" You said your name blandly.

Joseph took a while humming, eyes bouncing down to your lips. "But you're missing a part" He sat up on the mattress, stroking your hair behind your ear. "What? The glorious flourishing actor Joseph Quinn-" Before you could continue mimicking the reporters' voice, your lips connected.

Joseph planted a hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you forward. You flinched at the enthusiasm leaking from the gesture, your heart pounded like it was the first time. He pulled you closer, his free hand roaming on your hips, teasingly dipping underneath the edge of your shirt.

"No, the part about the gorgeous--" His lips wrapped around the tight skin on your collar bone. "The successful" His voice got lost somewhere between small pants. "The brilliant and sometimes foolish Y/N L/N" He brought his lips back up to meet yours.

Pushing past your parted lips, tongue prodded at the back of your throat. You squealed, feeling overwhelmed by his weight and falling back on the bed. The plush covers dipped below you. Joseph wormed between your legs, pushing the ruffles of your dress up.

He kissed along your thighs, leaving small heightened hickies. You rolled your hips a little as his breath ghosted your inner thigh. Joseph made his way back up to your face, laying his head on your chest. "I'm just scared" You whispered, playing with his brown curls.

"No matter what, I'll always love you and only you" His voice muffled by your breast squished on his face. "Even if everyone sends you embarrassing pictures from my past?" "I'll love you even more," Joseph laughed.

"We can go on a date tomorrow," You spoke slowly, searching for regret in each syllable. "Like in public, without anyone else, just us?" He tested with a wide grin on his face. "Sure" You gleamed. Joseph went silent for a second but you caught a glimpse of hot red spreading on his cheeks.

"Cool. I can't wait" He spoke calmly, however he was hugging you tightly like a child who was just granted their favorite candy.

Masterlist

#self doubt #fanfic #x reader #fluff #angst #hurt comfort #hurt comfort x reader #hurt/comfort #joesph quinn #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fluff #smut #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things x reader #actress au #eddie munson x reader

[quotergirl19]

If you look closely to the table in episode 4 of Queen Charlotte just before Charlotte walks out on George’s attempt to share a meal with her, there are two noticeable decorations on the Queen’s side of the table which I believe are Easter eggs for season 3.

While Brimsley and Reynolds are talking, footmen enter separately, one with a bundt cake that has 3 feathers coming out of its center, the other brings a pumpkin which is decorated with a smaller feather.

The feathers adorning the bundt cake are in very specific colors: 2 in Bridgerton blue & 1 in Featherington yellow. These likely symbolize the main characters we will follow in season 3, Penelope, Colin, and Eloise.

I can’t imagine why there would be 3 random enormous feathers used to decorate a cake like that if it wasn’t intentionally done. And there’s only one pumpkin with no other fall decorations so that also feels like it was done purposely.

National pumpkin day falls on October 26th, which is a Thursday in 2023 and that’s when Netflix usually releases new content, Thursdays.

Fingers crossed we have season 3 by October or at the very least, that we get our first look/trailer and release date by then🤞🏼.

#Bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 speculation #quotergirl random thoughts #Polin #Penelope Featherington #Colin Bridgerton #Eloise Bridgerton #queen charlotte: a bridgerton story #penelope x colin #colin x penelope

[rjmartin11]

You Wanna Bet?

(One Shot)

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: Elvis is the love of your life, and you live happily at Graceland together. You and Elvis make a bet to see who can go without sex the longest. Who do you think will break first?

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Kissing, may have cussing, and all the above SMUT!!! Only for mature audiences. View discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I got this idea from an episode of the 90s hit sitcom Martin. I was just picturing Elvis in this situation with his girlfriend, and it turned into this. Enjoy.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ🎲✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ

Elvis and I have a whirlwind romance full of fun, laughs, passion, and amazing, mind-blowing sex. It was like we two couldn't keep your hands off one another.

We dated for a whole month before Elvis officially put the moves on me. Then, it was a never-ending game of sex. A new position even day. A make-out session in the morning. A blow job in the afternoon. Elvis made me a co-pilot of the mile high club. Thirty thousand feet in the sky at take off!

After nearly a year of nonstop love making, I started to question if this was all I was good for. I know you love Elvis as a person. His kindness and generosity were unmatched. He knew how to make me laugh, but I wondered what it was about me that kept Elvis interested. I don't think myself the prettiest girl, though Elvis always said otherwise.

"How's my pretty girl doing?" He'd say, kissing my neck. Whispering in my ear.

"Better. You're here." I'd reply. Elvis is the love of my life. I'd do anything he would ask of me. He didn't want much. Just my time, which he filled with dirty moments.

This morning, Elvis left Graceland early for a special recording session. Leaving me alone with my devices. I helped clean around the house a bit and helped cook in the kitchen. I was never one to be waited on. I've always liked to help.

I decided to make one of Elvis' favorite cakes. Ms. Mary was kind enough to help me bake it. I did all the mixing and stirring. Ms. Mary heated up the oven and floured up the bundt pan.

I heard a ruckus coming in through the front door, and I knew Elvis was home. My heart swoons, but I don't go running to him. Instead, I allow him to come to me. I know the cake is baked enough for the aroma to fill the house. Elvis will be here in three, two, one...

There he is coming around the corner into the kitchen. He smirks at meas he enters the room.

"Hey, baby girl." Elvis says, walking in the room. He rounds the counter and kisses your cheek. "It smells good."

"I'm glad you think so because it's a Coca-Cola Bundt Cake. Your favorite."

"Oh no. That's not my favorite cake." I look at him in shock and worry at my mistake. I could have sworn Coca-Cola Bundt Cake was his favorite. I glance at Ms. Mary, and she's just as confused as I am.

"I'm sorry, E." I say, rubbing the front of my apon.

"No worries, baby. Really. I have this book upstairs that will tell you my favorite cake." Elvis takes me by hand and walks me up the back stairs to the bedroom.

"So what's your favorite cake, Elvis?"

Elvis puts me up against the wall and lays a big kiss on my lips.

"You're my favorite cake, Y/N." Elvis kisses me passionately, and I reciprocate his action. Elvis slides his hand between my legs into my wet heat. I can't help but moan at the sensation of his touch.

"Baby, what did I say about wearing panties?" Elvis scorns me.

"To not to." I breathe.

Elvis shakes his head and rips my panties off. I moan loudly, gripping ahold of his shoulders. You know what's coming next? Elvis tosses my panties to the side, unzips his pants to display his hardened cock. He thrusts into me fast and furiously. He knows all my spots to make me moan, scream, and cum when he wants. I'm completely at his mercy.

Five minutes later, we're both back downstairs in the kitchen with the Mafia eating cake.

"This is some good cake." Lamar says.

"Best cake in Tennessee! I'll have another piece." Joe chimes in. "Ms. Mary bakes the best cakes."

"Actually, Joe. My best girl made it for me." Elvis throws his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him and kisses my forehead.

"Y/N, I didn't know you could like this." Lamar says.

"Thanks, Lamar." I answered him. "It's really nothing."

"Baby, this is something. If Ms. Nancy or Ms. Mary needs a break, I got you." Elvis says.

How did I get the sweetest guy in the world? Must be fate. Elvis is in a great mood, so maybe he'll be willing to hear me out later about our intimate life.

Two hours later, the guys leave for home. Elvis and I walk them out and see the parade of cars leave out the gate. We both head back inside, holding hands.

I look up at Elvis as he locks the door. He has the lusty look in his eyes.

"Alone at last." He says, cupping my face in his hands and kissing my lips.

My heart swoons, but I gently pull away from him.

"Hmm. Elvis, we need to talk." I interrupt.

"Okay, let's talk." Elvis says, walking us into the living room. We both sit on the sofa.

I take a deep breath and look in those beautiful oceanic hues that would bring me to my knees. I shake off the sensation of lust and clear my throat.

"Is everything okay, baby. You're scaring me." Elvis says.

"Fine, I just... need to talk to you about us."

"My favorite subject." Elvis says, leaning forward to kiss me.

I pull away. "E, is this all I'm good for? Sex?" I asked.

"What?" Elvis asks, confused at my reaction.

"Is sex all you want from me? Why am I here?"

"Are you kiddin'? I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you." *pause* "Almost everything." Elvis smiles at me, then brushes my cheek.

"Other than sex, what is everything you like about me?"

"Hmm, let's see." Elvis sits and ponders for a moment. "I love your laugh. I love the way you laugh at a joke, even if it's not that funny. You think about other's feelings because you care. I love the way you care. I appreciate it when you listen to me about the spiritual things of the world. You understand me in a way that most don't. Y/N, baby, you took the time to make my favorite cake. No girlfriend of mine has ever made me my favorite cake! That's why I love you. All these things just make you more attractive."

"I love you, too, Elvis. I love you because you choose to show me the things that are important to you. Things I know you wouldn't open up to others about. You have a beautiful soul that matches your beauty on the outside. You're so special." I say, sliding my hand up his jaw and into his hair.

We both place our foreheads together for a moment. Elvis leans down and kisses my lips. It goes for an innocent kiss to a passionate kiss. To that let's fuck kiss.

"E, wait." I pull away.

"What, baby?" He says.

"You say all those beautiful things, and yet you still want to sleep."

"Y/N, you like it just as much as I do. If not more. Especially the way you moan my name. Elvis, oh Elvis. Don't stop. Right there. Harder, please." He mimics me.

I widen my eyes, and I back hand his arm.

"Shut up, Elvis Presley! I do not!" I say, lying to myself if I'm being honest. "I can go without sex longer than you can."

"Like hell you can!"

"Wanna bet?"

"What's the bet, baby?"

"No sex for a week. No French kissing. No fingering. No licking. No blow jobs. No eating. No masturbating. No foreplay. No mounting. No. Sex." I list my demands and cross my arms, waiting for Elvis' response.

I can see the blood leave Elvis' face. His jaw clutches, and he swallows away his pride. Physically. Elvis loves a good bet. He loves competition, but this is a bit much even for him. No sex of any kind for an entire seven day stretch.

"Okay, baby. I'll see your bet, and I'll raise it to two weeks."

Shock courses through me at the thought that he makes such a counter offer.

"Okay, Elvis Presley. Deal." I say.

"Should we seal it with a kiss, Y/N?" He whispers, looking me in the eyes.

"No kissing. Remember?"

"No. You said no French kissing."

I shake my head. He's right. I did say no French kissing because I would hate to miss those lushes' lips of his.

I look at him and lean over to peck him on the lips slowly. As I move away. I say,

"The deal starts now, E."

"Fine with me, baby."

"The first one who cracks or gives in loses."

"What does the winner get?"

"What do you want?"

Elvis pauses for a moment and thinks about a prize. Then he smirks at me. "I'll tell you when I win, baby."

"Ha ha! Do you really think you'll win against me?"

"Absolutely, Y/N. You can't resist my charm. These good looks. My blue eyes. This..."

Elvis takes my hand and places it over his hardened dick. My heart sinks, but I gently pull away.

"We shall see."

Day one: Elvis and I slept in the same bed but kept our distance. He left for work early and returned to find me sitting in the living room on the sofa, face deep in a magazine.

"Hey E." I smiled at him as he walked in.

"Hey, baby. How's your day going?"

He asked me.

"Oh, amazing." I explained. "I cleaned out the closet and got rid of some old clothes. Threw away some old shoes of mine. I helped Ms. Nancy with dinner. Made another cake."

"Coca-Cola Bundt Cake?" Eagerness layers through Elvis' voice.

"Yep. We needed another bundt after the Mafia devoured the first one. How was recording?"

"Good. Got through two songs without breaking a sweat." He said.

"I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of me too. I think I deserve a bath." Elvis says as he starts to go upstairs.

"Oh, Elvis..." I said, truly knowing his intentions. "No masturbating, remember?"

"The bet is still on. I'm really just going to take a quick bath and get ready for dinner. I swear."

"Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Five minutes tops, baby."

Day two: I love our bed. Other than being one of the most comfortable beds, it's king size. We don't have to invade each other's space. Any other day, we spoon each other, but with the bet going, we stay on our sides of the bed.

I actually volunteered to sleep in another room, so neither of us would be tempted, but Elvis loved having me close by. I loved being near him, but I feared one of us would crack too soon.

Elvis turned over and grabbed me up in his strong arms. It felt great being in his arms. It is one of the safest places in the world. Every girl deserves to have this feeling... well, if you're in the beginning of a bet, maybe not this feeling.

"Put Little Elvis away." I firmly said.

"He wants to play." Elvis said, his voice full of sleep.

"Are you caving so soon?"

"No, I'm not. You're caving."

"Only if I give in and I'm not giving in. But you're cheating. You came on my side of the bed."

"Technically, this is my whole bed."

I turned and looked at him like he lost his mind. I pulled the sheets and blankets off of me and hissed, "Technically, I can leave."

I stormed to the door, and Elvis rushed behind me. He grabs me from behind and buries his head in my neck.

"Baby, I just joshin' ya. I promise to stay on my side and behave."

I turned and looked at him. Elvis gave me those big, beautiful puppy eyes. I faulted under his gaze like a ton of bricks. He walked me back to bed and kissed me goodnight once again.

We stayed on our sides of the bed. I heard him get back to sleep, but I stayed up and contemplated the situation. If I caved to him getting me to lay back down, what was stopping me from having intercourse with him? Maybe this is a more difficult situation than I originally thought it to be.

Day Four: We both behaved ourselves on day three. Elvis kept his hands busy at work and did things with the Mafia before coming home completely spent.

I made myself busy around Graceland house. Dusting, swiping, and baking more cakes. I tried my hand at a double chocolate three layer cake. I impressed Ms. Nancy with my baking skills.

"Y/N, you better stop making these cakes, or I'll be out of a job." She joked.

"No, Elvis loves you. You're part of the family. I'm just trying to keep my hands busy and out of trouble." I told Ms. Nancy, as I icing the cake.

"Out of trouble? You've been cleaning this house from top to bottom for the last four days. Ms. Mary took me what you be doing on my off days. You got the maids talking and all. What's going on?" She asked, with true concern in her voice.

I stopped playing over the cake and looked at Ms. Nancy. Oh, how serious she appeared. She reminded me of my grandmother at times. The same down to earth care and attitude. This face meant that I better explain myself immediately. I sat down on the stool beside her and spoke.

"I had a really vivid dream last night, and I'm just trying to keep it at bay." I told her.

"You wanna talk on it, hun?"

I shook my head. "No, ma'am."

She nodded her head and left it at that. I couldn't tell her. My dream wasn't a nightmare but a fantasy. A fantasy I fear would come true. Me jumping on Elvis and riding his dick out to kingdom cum!

Of course, I enjoy the intimate pleasures of being with him. I love him, but this test wasn't just for him. This test was for me as well, and I feel myself failing. I will win.

Day Seven: I decided to give the house a break and go have a spa day with a couple of the girls. Joanie and Sandy are my two most trusted friends whom I love dearly.

We three sat by the hydration pool after our massages. Just decompressing from things and worries. I was mainly using massage therapy as a substitute for my sexual needs. They did everything but tap me where I needed it the most.

"So, Y/N, what's new? What's the word from Graceland?" Joanie asks.

"Yeah, Elvis still laying the pipe or what?" Sandy jokes.

We all laugh out loud at Sandy's comedic puns.

"Actually, we have a bet going, ladies."

"Oh? What's the bet?" Joanie asks, curiosity hanging off of her lips.

"No. Sex for two weeks."

"WHAT???" The ladies say together.

"Yeah."

"What day are you on?" Sandy asks.

"Day seven. Only seven more days to go." I confessed.

"What the hell have you been doing with yourself?" Joanie pondered.

"Cooking, cleaning, and reading."

"Oh, you just been working to keep yourself distracted?" Sandy said. "Who is this challenge hurting the most? Elvis or you?"

"I believe that it's harder for me, and originally, I thought it was Elvis. But... I'm struggling, too."

"What does the winner get?" Joanie asks.

"We haven't decided yet, but I believe it's bragging rights if we're being honest."

"Don't. Give. In. You gotta win this!" Sandy stated. "For wives everywhere!"

We all started giggling and laughing at the statement. It's sad we live in a time where we women can't be known for enjoying sex.

Before Elvis, I didn't really do anything. I had one boyfriend who took my virginity, and we did things, but nothing exciting. After Elvis, my world of sex changed drastically. Elvis opened my mind and broadened my horizons in the vertical incline. Oh, the pleasure is enough to make my pussy throb.

I came home to Graceland with Joanie and Sandy in tow. We were giggling on about nonsense we believed was funny. Our personal inside jokes from our talk earlier today. Our laughter ceased when we had yelling from the other side of the door.

Elvis was mad about something. What I couldn't say. He had tantrums every once in a while, but nothing like what we were seeing.

"Fuck! Can everyone get shit right in this house!" Elvis hollered.

Jerry, Lamar, and Sonny were seated in the living room opposite the dining room. As Elvis continued his rants in the kitchen, the ladies and I gathered in the living room.

"Hey baby, what's up with Elvis?" Sandy asked Jerry as she sat in his lap.

"E's been on edge for the last couple of days." Jerry explained. "Extra annoyed and a few temper tantrums. He threw a stool at Ronny during a recording session yesterday."

"Oh god. Is Ronny okay?" I asked.

"He's fine. He dodged it, but still, this is not like E.P." Sonny said. "Y/N, have you noticed anything weird going on with E. P.?"

I was speechless. I noticed something other than... oh no. Annoyed? Temper tantrums? Aggression? Is this because our lack of love making? Elvis may get mad at times, but he's a sweetheart. He's the type of guy that would give the shirt off his back. If there was laughter in the room, it would be coming from Elvis.

"I... I think it's over the bet we made a week ago." I said, speaking slowly.

"What bet?" Lamar asked curiously.

"Elvis and I made a bet last week. To see who could go without sex the longest."

Sandy and Joanie closed their eyes, knowing about the bet prior to my confession. The guys...

"You bet what?" Lamar says, dropping his hands in shock.

"Huh, Y/N, E.P. can't function without... sex." Sonny said.

We all hear a chair crash and jump at the noise in the dining room. Elvis storms up the stairs to our bedroom. Red slowly walks out to us in the living room. He has this stunned look on his face, and the next minute, we hear the upstairs door slams.

"Guys, Elvis ripped me a new one, and I don't think I can sit. What the hell is up with him?" Red said.

Sonny chimes in. "Elvis hasn't been laid in a week."

Red looks at me in shock. He gets down and kneels before me as if to say a heartfelt prayer.

"Y/N, listen to me. You must put whatever the hell it was between you and Elvis behind you and fuck him. Fuck him for all of us!" Red beseeches me.

"Honestly, Y/N, this bet is not worth all of the attitude E.P. is giving the guys." Sandy pitched in.

"This is over a bet?" Red said. "Lose. Lose for us all."

"Red, you need to calm down. Get a grip on yourself." I said, standing up.

"No, you need to fuck Elvis or he'll kill someone and think it maybe me." Red says.

"Red, you don't get it. None of you get it. It's not just a bet. It's... more than that." I tried to explain, but it's like the words weren't clear.

"Do you think he doesn't love you, Y/N?" Sandy asked.

"No, Sandy. That's not what's in question. I just..." I shake my head because the words just won't come out.

"Y/N, Elvis is crazy about you." Jerry says. "When he's at the studio, he talks about you nonstop. He asks us if we think you'd like the song he's doing."

"Y/N." Red says, standing up off the floor. "If it helps, all jokes aside, you're his favorite topic."

I'm at a loss for words. It's not that I didn't believe Elvis when he told me he loved me, but I guess I needed reassurance.

"Maybe we should go." Joanie said, grabbing Lamar's hand. She gestured to the door, and everyone followed behind.

"Y/N, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if you caved in." Jerry said before exiting out the door with Sandy following behind.

I shut the door and lock it. I plant my back against the door and look up the staircase. I stand here contemplating our situation. Our bet. My bet, really. I set out to prove that there was more than sex between us. That I was good for more than a roll in the hay. How could I ever believe that this beautiful man didn't love me?

"Ms. Y/N?"

I glanced over and see Ms. Mary looking at me. "Are you okay, sugar?"

I bite my lip and say, "I'm just fine, Ms. Mary. Why don't you take the rest of the night off? Elvis and I will be fine for the night."

"Okay, Ms. Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ms. Mary walks away from me, and I make my way upstairs. I knocked on the door listening for Elvis.

"Who is it?"

"E, it's me."

He opened the door to let me in. Elvis walked to the bed as I entered and shut the door behind me. I sat next to him on the bed, crossing my legs. I felt like he was closing himself off from me.

"E, is everything okay?" I asked him, grabbing his hand.

Elvis looked down at my hand and intertwined our fingers together. He nodded his head to me but said nothing. He was still stewing from earlier. Just trying to cool himself down from his random outburst.

I crawled closer to him to lean my head against his shoulder. He leaned his head against mine, and I could feel the tension easy off of him as he relaxed him shoulders.

After a little moment or so, I moved my head from his shoulder to face him. I cupped Elvis' angelic face, looked into those pools of deep cerulean depth, and kissed his sweet, pouty lips.

"I see your beautiful soul, E. You beautiful being." I said, my lips against his forehead. I kiss his head deeply.

You know," I started to say. "I haven't told you in the last seven days that I love you."

"Yeah, I noticed." He said with a bit of bitterness behind it.

"Well, I do. I love you, Elvis Aaron Presley. With all my heart, and I'm sorry I allowed this silly bet to get so serious. And you win. Everything. Not only this stupid bet, but you win my heart."

Elvis was searching my face to see if I was joking. We were only at day seven, of course.

"What?" He asked, confusion expressed on his face.

"Baby, you win. You win. I give up. I need you inside me like Wednesday." I whisper.

I kissed him once again with vigor, slipping my tongue inside his mouth and rubbing his crotch. He moaned in my mouth as I did so. My touch alone gave him the evening wood I needed to satisfy me.

I laid him back against the bed and crawled on top of him. I unbuttoned his shirt from top to bottom button. I playfully kissed his belly button, licking the perimeter. He has a thing about his belly button. He loves this so much that he moans.

I undo his pants and pull them down, revealing Little Elvis. Oh, I missed him and could tell he missed me too, by the way he twitched at me. Without warning, I placed my mouth on the head of Elvis' hardened cock. The skin is soft and dripping with the salty taste of precum. I moan as I make out with his dick.

"Oh, fuck, baby." Elvis moans, sliding his hand in my hair and roughly gripping the strands with his fingers.

After sucking him off for a few minutes, I popped him out of my mouth and climbed on top of him. Elvis pulls off my bra, revealing my breasts to him. He sits up a bit and takes one of my nipples in his mouth. His muffled moans vibrate through my chest. I swear he makes my heart speed. I cradle his head as he uses his tongue against my nipple.

"Oh god. I missed this." Elvis says, pulling me in closer with his arms.

Elvis kisses his way up my chest to my neck and feels his way down my skirt. He lifts up my skirt and squeezes my ass. He looks at me in surprise.

"No panties?" He questioned.

"No panties. Just as you told me." I responded.

He kisses me then raises me up onto his cock. Oh, the way he fills me up causes obscene cries to escape my mouth. I missed this. Elvis takes his time with me. Raising me up and down off his cock. He feels so amazing.

After what feels like an hour of pure bliss, I cum all over Elvis, and he cums inside me. Oh, I needed this from him.

"Damn, baby." Elvis said, collapsing next to me.

We sat there trying to catch our breath. Sex with Elvis was amazing and fun, but this was better than the love we made a week ago. It could be because we went without it for too long.

I rolled over to lay on his chest and kissed his cheek.

"How does it feel to be a winner, Mr. Presley?" I asked him.

"Like winning another Grammy. Amazing. This is better than any award." Elvis said, wrapping his arms around me. We cuddled for a while until I broke the silence.

"So you won the bet. What do I owe you? We never said what we do if we lost."

Elvis gave me a look, and a smirk graced his ethereal features. He moves out of the bed, gets on his knees, and opens the nightstand drawer.

"Come here, Y/N, baby. Please?"

I scooted to the side of the bed, planting my feet on the soft carpet and covering my breast with Elvis' blouse. We looked into each other's eyes mesmerized by love.

"Y/N, you mean the world to me. You're the most important person in my life, and I love you so much." Elvis says all these things, and I smile. He continues. "I said this last week, but I love how you care about the deep feelings of others. I dream about things, and I wake up ready to talk to you about them. When I sing, it's all for you. I see you looking at me, and I pray for your approval. I want to run to you for everything."

Elvis brings his hand up; in it, there's a small black velvet box. I stop breathing. My heart is pounding, and my chest is heaving. Is this what I think it is?

"Y/N. My love." He takes my free hand and holds it. "This has been the best year of my life so far. With you, I can be myself. You enjoy life with me like nobody has. I want you to be with me for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"

Elvis opens up the small box and displays the most gorgeous diamond ring I've ever seen in my life. I feel the tears stream down my cheeks, but the words won't come from my lips.

"I...I don't know what to say." I confess.

"Baby, please say yes."

"Yes, Elvis, yes!!! I love you so much!"

I bend down, hug him, and then I kiss you precious lips. If I needed any more convincing and reassuring, this was it. I would never have given him an ultimatum about marriage. I was absolutely flabbergasted yet ecstaticed.

Elvis takes the ring out the box and places it on my left finger. As he does this, I feel a jolt of energy pass through my hand to my heart, and butterflies erupt in the pit of my tummy. This was more than I ever hoped for.

"E, how did this go from a bet to a proposal?" I asked him.

"I wanted to win the girl, not the bet, baby."

"You did win. You won my heart, E."

"That's all I ever wanted."

Elvis grabs me and kisses me, laying us back down in the bed to cradle one another. I glance at my ring, and my love, who gave it to me.

"I'm sure once we're married, our sex life will calm down." Elvis says.

"You wanna bet?"

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @plasticfantasticl0ver @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @thememphisflash1935-1977 @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @c-rosenn

#elvispresley #elvis fans #elvis x reader #romance #elvis x y/n #elvis #70s elvis #youwannabet #ElvisSmut #ElvisOneShot

[beckwritesfiction]

Can you do something with a virgin!reader x rhett abbott from outer range? Maybe they went to high school together and she's the preacher's daughter. He could assume she's not as innocent as she was back then, but he finds out that's not the case after they go on a date and he's ready to take her home? Bonus points if she's been saving herself for marriage but she can't stop herself once she's all worked up with him in his truck?

I hope this covered all the bases! Thanks for the request and I really hope you like it. My asks are open if anyone wants to request anything else.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: 18+ only! Minor, please do not interact with this post.

Warnings: mentions of religion, semi-public sex, drinking, protected PIV, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity,

a/n: This is the first in-detail smut I've written since like 2014 so please go easy on me.

There wasn’t much that surprised you in town anymore.  You’d been there your entire life.  Every day felt the same, and you liked the routine you fell into.  You didn’t expect that Sunday to be any different than the last.  The first unusual thing was Rhett Abbott showing up with his mother to church.  He looked a little roughed up.  His hair could’ve probably been combed, and he wasn’t wearing anything that resembled church shoes, but you greeted him like you greeted everyone else.  It had been so long since you went to church that he looked surprised when you were by the steps, a few paces away from your father.  He was deep in conversation with someone who had recently moved to town, so he wasn’t paying that much attention to you.  

“Rhett,” he greeted him.  “It’s nice to see you here.”

He wouldn’t ever say he forgot about you, but it wasn’t like you’d spoken much since graduation.  The biggest thing he remembered about you was that you never seemed to have time for anyone.  Any boy that tried anything would leave disappointed.  Some tried hard to be the one that got the preacher’s daughter to give it up for them, but every single one failed. Unlike then, your neckline was a little less modest.  Even though there was a jean jacket over your dress, it was a little low cut.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, unsure of what else to ask.  He wasn’t asking what he really wanted to, after all.  He wanted to know what you’d gotten up to, and why he never saw you in town.  Your hands were bare, except for the light yellow nail polish on her nails.  No ring.  He wanted so badly to know if that meant you were still a virgin.  There was no way, especially not since you were nearing your mid-twenties.  Everyone had sex by then.  

Your smile was ever-present, it seemed, but it brightened a little at his question.  “Pretty good.  Keepin’ busy here, especially with the market we’re settin’ up.”

“Market?” he asked.

“For the local farmers.  Since the old outpost buildin’ burned down we haven’t had a farmer’s market.  Daddy wanted me to take some initiative here, and I thought that sounded like somethin’ the town would love.  Who wouldn’t want some fresh watermelon on a hot day like this?”

“I’ll let my mom know when I find her.  She’d be the one lookin’ for somethin’ like that.”

“I made some pies to sell, if you’re interested.  Not everyone who comes’s gotta be there for the produce.  Think Missus Murry’s makin’ her famous bundt cakes, too.”

You were either just really friendly, or you wanted to keep talking to him.  Anyone who thought they’d get to greet you just moved on to your mother.  

“You said it’s right after this?” he asked.

“Oh, no.  It’s at three.”

At three, he was there with his mother, and he tried to talk himself down from saying something to you when they eventually worked their way through the mazes of tables, tents, and tailgates to get you.  You sat with your older brother and his wife, who were spreading God’s word to anyone that would listen, waiting for someone to come and talk to you.  

Your conversations about pie were short-lived.  Rhett even cut you off, lowering his voice so only you could hear.  “Are you doin’ anything later?”

You were taken aback, but you were honest.  “No, I’m not.”

“Would you wanna get dinner?  We could catch up?  Six years is a long time to go without talkin’.”

Your smile was different than it had been all day as he looked around, as if you didn’t want anybody to hear.  “You wanna go out with me?”

He wasn’t sure if he would go that far.  That’s why he clarified.  “Pretty girl like you?  Of course.  Don’t think one date would hurt you, would it?”

“Yeah.  I’d like that.”  You’d heard the comments your mother made; how confused she was about how a kid that used to be so sweet could stray so far from the Lord.  You didn’t understand what she meant, but your mother elaborated, disgusted as she explained the town gossip.  Anyone who went out with that many girls wasn’t looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with, or to serve God with.  Especially not with how much and how often he was hanging around at the bars in town.  You didn’t like to judge people, so you didn’t assume the date would be anything other than a date.  And it was.  At first.

You only had two drinks, stretching them out over the two hours that you sat at the booth in the corner of the bar.  Drinking wasn’t something you normally did because your family didn’t.  He noticed this, and slowed down on ordering more for himself.  The conversation was casual, and he let you talk as much as you wanted; which you did a lot, feeling like you needed to seem more interesting if you wanted the date to go well.  He didn’t have as detailed answers to your questions as you did to his, but you didn’t mind.  He had never been someone to say much.  

“You know that’s what my daddy did, before he found God?”

“Bull ridin’?” Rhett asked, knowing that had to be the only reason she’d pivot to that after coaxing out every detail of his so far underwhelming career.  

You nodded.  “He hit his head so hard on one of the railin’; knocked him right out.  Said he saw this light and, when he woke up, someone said ‘Jesus Christ,’ like they were relieved.  He took that as a sign.  Retired after that circuit, started goin’ to church.  That’s how he met my mama.  It all goes back to hittin’ his head  If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t’ve found God, met my mama, or had me and my brothers.”

“Then he would’ve just been stuck being a professional bull rider, and that’d just be sad, wouldn’t it?” Rhett asked, mostly as a joke.  But he knew that was how some people saw him.

You laughed, shaking your head gently.  “What’s sad about what you do?  I think you’re brave.  I’d never last long doin’ what you do.  Besides, it’s better when he tells it.  You should have dinner with us one night.  He’ll tell you all kinds of stories.”

There were so many other things he’d rather do than talk about God with your family, but he didn’t want to make you feel bad.  He deflected with a joke.  “Are you tellin’ me you wanna take me home to your family?”

Your face flushed, especially when he leaned across the table the way he did.  “I like talkin’ to you.  Why wouldn’t I?  Comin’ out with you without you meetin’ my daddy’s not a great start, but he’s forgvin’.”

When the topic of church and the Lord wasn’t on the table, he felt like the conversation flowed easily.  And the way you flirted with him, innocent as it was, made him want to leave sooner rather than later.  When he offered to take you home, you agreed, knowing you shouldn’t stay out too late.  It was already ten o’clock.

There were so many things he did that made you feel like you needed to go outside and get some fresh air.  If your head wasn’t spinning, your eyes felt heavy, or you felt a little hot. It wasn’t a heat you could put your finger on.  It was more internal, spreading through you evenly, flowing like your blood did.

He opened the door for you, taking your hand before you stepped up into his truck.  It was when he got in himself that he hesitated before starting the car.  He wanted to talk, and you thought it was time to tell him how much fun you had.

“Thanks for askin’ me out.  I haven’t been on a date in a while.  Especially not one like this, it was fun.  I like talkin’ to you a lot.”

He brushed his hand against your cheek before moving it to your hair, feeling you tense.  At first he thought you didn’t want to kiss him, but then you did, and quite eagerly.  The sleeve of your dress fell down as you leaned in, moving as close as you could get to him on the bench seat. He only kissed you harder, matching your energy until he reached for your arm, pushing you down against the seat until you felt the fabric on your exposed shoulders.  He kept kissing you, even jerking you down by your hips so your head wasn’t hitting the door.  The movement of your body made him gasp, and you liked it.  

Just like you liked the way he kissed your neck, moving down your body slowly until he got to your chest.  He pulled both your sleeve and your bra strap down, kissing the parts of you that weren’t exposed before that.  There was no denying that you liked it, even if you wanted to.  He could tell by the way you sighed.

His hand against your leg only made you feel even more like you could combust.  Every place he touched you where he hadn’t before felt like such a rush.  When he lifted the hem of your skirt, you tried hard to relax.  Just because he was doing that didn’t mean you were going to go all the way.  You were lying to yourself, and you knew it, but kissing him felt so good that you couldn’t stop.  You weren’t there for that reason, mostly because of a promise you made to save yourself for marriage when you were younger, but the idea of figuring out the appeal of Rhett Abbott.

Then his hand brushed against the fabric between your legs, and you panicked a little.  Even as this happened, you accepted that whatever he was going to do, you wanted it.  “Will it hurt?”  you asked suddenly, grabbing his wrist and stopping him.

“What?” he asked, frowning gently at your question.  Then he realized something.  You looked so dazed so often, so desperate for affection because you weren’t used to it.  “You’ve never…done anything before at all?”

You shook your head, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.  Your grip on his wrist tightened out of fear that he would move away from you and not consider going through with it after all.  

“It’s fine, I just don’t wanna do it here.”  That made you release his hand.  You fixed the top of your dress, not realizing how exposed you were until then.  

The wooded area he took you to was one you’d never been to before.  You thought maybe it was where someone would take you if they wanted to kill you without anyone hearing your screams.  But if he was going to kill you, he wouldn’t have put a blanket in the bed of his truck that he kept beneath his seat.

When he helped you in, getting in after you, he wasted no time kissing you again.  It went on for what felt like ever, but you liked every second of it; feeling him move his hands from one spot to another until eventually it was back between your legs again.  Before he could do what he planned, you decided you were too impatient.

“I want you to make love to me,” you sighed. The way he wrapped your legs around his waist when he started kissing you again made it harder for you to wait.  You wanted to know what it was like, and his hips pressing against yours made you feel weak.

“I’ll do somethin’, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?  Even if it’s just once.”

“Makin’ love and havin’ sex are very different things.”

You shifted a little beneath him.  You didn’t like that word.  “Makin’ love sounds sweeter, doesn’t it?  Sex sounds so…degrading, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t think there’s a worse word for that?”

“Like?” you asked.  He could see in your eyes you really had no idea what could be wrose than the term sex.  

“I wanted to say I’ll fuck you, not make love, but I didn’t.  Thought you’d like me sayin’ sex over that; you bein’ so proper and all.”  You would’ve felt insecure at this, but he brushed his hand against your cheek, and looked at you affectionately as he said it.  You thought about this for a second, finding the word jarring, but liking how it sounded when he said it.  “But whatever you call it, I’ll do it with you.  And I’ll be gentle until you don’t want me to be anymore.”

“I’d rather you be gentle,” you said, not sure what would prompt someone to want anything but that.  

After reaching into his pocket to get a condom, he noticed how closely you watched what he was doing.  The way your hair spread out beneath you, and how you stopped fixing your dress.  You let it ride up around your waist, and didn’t fix the sleeve or your bra strap that had either been pushed down by him, or fallen down.

He went to undo his belt, then looked down at you.  “Go ahead.”  You did, tentative at first.  When your hands were shaking too badly to undo his jeans, he took over.  “Lay back down.”  He kissed you once again while he put the condom on, kissing down to your neck before he aligned himself.  It was slow, like he promised, and uncomfortable at first.  But the way he went back to your neck relaxed you.

Not long after, you understood what he meant, why he offered to be gentle until you didn't want him to be anymore.  What he was doing felt good, but now you wanted more.  You didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted, or even what it would be like after you did.  Then, after feeling his fingers threaten to dig into your hips even harder, the word came back to you.  Fuck.  You just knew you liked how it sounded, and that felt like enough.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, not being able to say it fast enough.  The last thing you thought he would do was stop.  His breathing was heavy, his expression only hinting at him being pleased with your word choice.  

“What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” you repeated.  

“Don’t you have any manners?”

“Please fuck me,” you replied with ease, having no issue amending your initial request.  You were so desperate to know what it would entail, and for him to move once again, that you were sure you’d say anything it took.  When he pulled out of you, you nearly whined.  This was the opposite of what you wanted, and he could see it written on your face.

“Get up and turn over.”

There was a moment of hesitation before you managed to ask, “Why?”

“Trust me.  If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.  Get on your hands and knees.  I’ll walk you through it.”

You were tense when you listened to him, suddenly insecure about the width of your hips and the size of your ass.  When he put a hand on your hip, you winced a little.  It made him get closer to you again, but his other hand rested against your shoulder.  “Relax.  I’ll go slow again until you tell me you want more.”

“Until I want you to fuck me?” you repeated, wanting him to say the word again.

He smiled, moving his hand from your shoulder down to your lower back.  “‘Til you want me to fuck you, yes.” Then he pushed down on your back, urging you against the bed of his truck.  It was hard against your knees, even with the blanket there.  “Turn your face to the side, put your arms out in front of you, like you’re stretchin’”

You did, liking how your back felt when you did it.  You arched it a little, not realizing it was exactly what he wanted.  He had himself in his hand again, wanting to rush because of how hard he was, but resisting because of the promise he made you.  “You ready?”

“Go slow,” you reminded him.  He did, not being subtle about how good it felt to be inside you again.  You were even surprised at how different it was than the first time.  It just felt good, even right away.  Your sounds of satisfaction mixed with his, only made your heart race faster.  His promise was that it would feel good for you, but it sounded like he liked it just as much.

“Fuck,” he sighed as he repositoned his hands against your hips, moving again when you leaned back a little, clearly wanting more.  The very word made you weak, especially when he said it.  

“Fuck me.”  It was even more desperate.

“You forget your manners again?”

“Please.”

He didn’t stop like he did before, even though he usually would’ve.  You were so tight, and he couldn’t stop himself.  The fact that he was still only moving so slow was already killing him.  “Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”  It sounded more like a cry now, your back arching harder like that was going to do anything.  That made it even better for him when he finally picked up the pace.  His vision even felt blurred, feeling how your body reacted, and how hot you felt around him.  He only got more caught up in the feeling as the moments passed, with each thrust taking your breath away.  Your hand gripped the blanket beneath you, your knuckles white.  “Harder.”  A few moments passed, and you added.  “Harder, please.”  His hips finally moved faster, and your cries only made it harder for him to give you what you wanted.  If he continued the way he was, it would be over.  He slowed, not telling you why, and trying to catch his breath.

You looked back at him, propping yourself up on your forearm.  “What’s wrong?”

“Sit up,” he said, and you did.  He pulled your dress down, and unclasped your bra.  He didn’t have to tell you to take your arms out of the sleeves.  He was inside of you again the moment you laid down, feeling he had a better chance of lasting longer.  This wasn’t the case at all.  You were so vocal, he couldn’t stop himself like he did before.  His fingers dug into your hips, making you moan.  That was enough to make him come hard, his thrusts getting sloppier with every passing second.  He hadn’t been vocal until then, and you know that whatever he felt was all-consuming.  

When he was beside you, breathless, you rolled over onto your side, running your hand down his arm.  You didn’t want it to end.

“Is that why people are so tempted?” you asked, eyes fixed on him.  He’d completely forgotten about your inexperience, and he knew you wanted more from him, even if you didn’t fully know what that was.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never even touched yourself?”  You averted your eyes, embarrassed.  “Look at me.”  You did.  “I’m not makin’ fun of you, I just can’t believe it.  You’re so innocent, so…”

“Clueless.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to stay that way.”  He was moving between your legs again, running his hands against your legs until he was pushing them apart.  “Lay back.”

“We’re doing it again?”

He couldn't help but smile.  “Trust me.  If you liked me fucking you, you’ll like this.”  There it was again.  It made you weak enough, inadvertently relaxing you and overshadowing your doubt.  He began working his tongue between your legs, spreading them farther apart the less tense you got.  He thought you were so tense all the time not just because you were nervous, but because you weren't getting laid.  

The natural way your hand went to his head, and how your fingers were in his hair made him consider doing this with you again.  Among other reasons, but that sealed the deal.  That, and you were already so close and he’d spent so little time on you.  He helped you as he held your hips down, knowing you were about to experience something you never had before.

The moans and gasps, as hot as they were, he had already grown used to.  It was the sudden way you said his name that told him you were fighting it.  He reached one hand up, caressing your side.  You knew it meant he wanted you to relax and, when you did, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.  The tensions that had gathered inside you loosed, and a feeling like nothing you’d ever felt before washed over you.  You were gasping when you realized you’d forgotten to breathe.  Rhett was still between your legs, and stayed there until he thought you were finally done.  

When he was behind you again, fixing your dress from where it was gathered around your waist, holding it against your stomach as he wrapped his arm around you.  He moved your hair from where it fell in your face, tucking it behind your ear.  

“You forget how to speak?” he asked, his tone playful and quiet against your ear.

You nodded, pulling your dress up above your chest again, but not putting your arms through the sleeves.  It took a few more moments of catching your breath before you could find the right words to say.  Your entire body was buzzing, and alive in a way it had never been before.  “Thank you,” was all you could think to say.

“I’ve never had someone thank me before,” he mused.

The embarrassment was the only thing that gave you the strength to roll over so you were facing him again.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.  This kinda thing clouds your mind.  That’s why people have no self control, and they sin left and right.”

A hand found her face, and it was then that she realized how hot she was.  “Don’t remind me.  I can’t believe I just did that.”

“But you don’t regret it?”

“No.  I didn’t even know that’s what that would be like.  That’s probably why they don’t really tell you what it is.”  He offered a small smile, and you continued.  “I should really get home.”

“You really had no idea?” he asked.

“Daddy doesn’t even know how Jesus would feel about the internet.  We really only use it for things like recipes and directions, if we have to use it at all.”

Rhett pondered this, not because he was trying to guess how Jesus would feel about the internet, but because he was beginning to feel like he’d just corrupted your mind.  But he decided to wait and see if you came to him again, or if you thought you could go on living your life the way you did before you knew what sex was like.  He didn’t think you could.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #outer range fic #outer range fanfiction #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott #requests open

[agaypanic]

Hey I have a request for a Reese x reader where the reader finds out they can’t eat anything with wheat due to a health condition and is sad about it. So Reese puts in extra effort to make all the reader’s favorite foods that are made with wheat in a way so the reader can eat it. Best friends to lovers with comfort and fluff if you can! Thank you!

Reese Wilkerson With an S/O That Can't Eat Gluten Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: i’m making the reader allergic to gluten (no specific condition) bc that’s what my mom has so i kinda have experience with it 

***

I think Reese would also be sad to find out that you can’t have wheat

When you tell him, he’d probably be like, “but bread’s so good :( “

Immediately becomes hyper-aware of what you eat

After finding out about your new food restriction, Reese volunteered to accompany you on all of your grocery runs. Although he wasn’t professional, he knew way more about food than you did, so you happily accepted.

You’d fall into a routine the second you stepped into the store. You’d grab something that looked interesting to you and give it to Reese to inspect. He’d put it in the cart if it was good for you to eat. If it wasn’t a safe option, he’d look around for better alternatives, and if there were none, he’d make a note of what it was to see if he could make it for you without wheat.

“Reese, I bought this last time we were here. I think it’s good.” You said with a small smile as Reese took a box of snacks out of your hands, eyes scouring the ingredient list.

“You can’t be too careful, Y/n.” He said. “Sometimes companies change ingredients and don’t say anything about it.”

“Well, is it okay?” Giving it one last look over, he put it in your cart with a nod, smiling back at you.

“All good.”

If you have any favorite snacks or food that you can’t have anymore because they have gluten, don’t worry

Reese is finding a way to make it in a way that you can enjoy

If you’re over while he’s cooking, he has you help him so you can be part of the process

“Do you wanna stir or add the flour?” Reese asked, setting a bowl filled with mixed wet ingredients in front of you. You had come over with a movie rental, and before the movie, he wanted to teach you how to make one of your new favorite snacks.

“I’ll stir.” You said, grabbing the utensil from him. He poured in a bit of the gluten-free flour.

“Okay, now try to mix it into as much of the mixture as possible.” You did as instructed, folding it as you had seen Reese do many times. When it was well incorporated, Reese put some more flour in for you to mix. Soon, they were ready to put in the oven. He pulled out a pan for mini bundt cakes, because they seemed more fun to you than regular cupcake shapes. Together, you filled the tray and put it in the oven to cook.

“I like cooking with you, Reese.” You commented, smiling up at him. He smiled back, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“We should do this more often.”

“I’d love that.”

Always asks for your opinion on something he’s made for you

If you don’t like something, he messes with the recipe and substitutions until you do like it

Just because you have a food restriction doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy food

If you’re just friends when he finds out about the restriction, he definitely uses food to ask you out

He feels really good about the fact that you can turn to him for one of his favorite things to do

“Reese, this is absolutely amazing.” You moaned as you bit into a brownie he had made for you. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” Reese felt pride in the compliment. 

“I’m happy to do it, really.” He took a bite of his own brownie. “I love cooking, especially for you.” Your cheeks heated up. 

“I love you cooking for me.” You sealed the deal by kissing his cheek, and his cheeks turned red almost immediately.

“You know, I, um… Maybe I could teach you to cook some stuff. Like a date.” You grinned at his shyness.

“I’d love that.”

#reese wilkerson #reese wilkerson x reader #malcolm in the middle x reader #malcolm in the middle #agaypanic

[kineats]

Okay hi !! This might be a strange and very specific request, but i really don't have an idea of what to do ahah

So I am a Coastal Wolf therian, a werewolfkin and a demonkin (probably a fallen angel, tbh i also relate A LOT to crowley from good omens). I was born in fall, and my birthday is coming soon. Thing is, I have no idea what to choose for my menu, except that I know I would like it to kind of remind me of my kintypes.

So any comfort fall/winter meals for a wolf, a demon (that's actually very nice) or both. Since it's for my birthday party (with only my close friends), a drink and one or two sweet options (maybe a cake!!) would also be very nice!!

Just a little thing, please avoid cheese and anything too spicy :)

I would be so so grateful you would win the eternal respect of this creature - sincerely, H

Hey! I'm sorry for not seeing this sooner -- I'm going to do this one out of order since it's time sensitive.

Sorry for not announcing my hiatus, I got a new job unexpectedly that's been taking all my time and energy to adjust to! I'm just getting into the swing of things, so blog is officially open again!!

Hello fellow fallen angel friend!! Let me see what I can do for ya!

Savory Dishes:

Bone-Exposed BBQ Chicken Drumsticks -- Or, alternatively: Holiday Spiced and Ale Glazed version of them! (Or any frenched drumstick recipe using fall spices that you like!)

"Devils on Horseback" -- dates or prunes wrapped in bacon!

Beef Rib Roast (takes a day or two advanced prep!)

Red Potato Cottage Fries

Sage and Garlic Roasted Sweet Potatoes

Bacon-Caramelized Brussel Sprouts

One of my favorite molasses rye breads ever

Pasta with Bacon and Radicchio (personally I'd use this sauce on it!)

Butternut Squash Soup with Pancetta

and for the coastal wolf: Baked Trout with Roe!

Sweet Dishes and Cakes!:

Brooklyn Blackout Cake (best served with This Sauce using Cherries and Raspberries!)

Fall-Spiced Shoofly Pie

Apple Bundt Cake

Cranberry Crumble

Drinks -- ** Means Alcoholic!!:

Fall Mocktail

Cinnamon Tea

Autumn Sangria**

The Blizzard**

Slow Cooker Wassail -- or maybe even FANCY Wassail**!

I hope I'm not too late, friend! Maybe these will inspire you into a wonderful dinner plan!

#demonkin #fallen angelkin #wolfkin #therian #wolf therian #otherkin food #otherkin #recipes #kin stuff #caninekin #therianthropy #canine therian

[thedeafprophet]

What are some dishes you'd cook for rosh hashana?

Rosh Hashanah tends to focus on sweets things, as its for a 'sweet' new year. So dipping apples in honey is a common thing. It's also typical to eat round things, and people typically make a round challah for the holiday. Pomegranates are also a symbolic fruit, and dates are often as well. A fish head can also be symbolic for the 'head of the new year" too.

Typical dishes include apple and honey cake, brisket, round challah, honey and pomegrante chicken, kugel, and some pumpkins and leek dishes for some.

Tonight, I'm planning on baking an apple and honey bundt cake, honey glazed salmon, and honey glazed carrots. And I got myself a pomegranate!

#i like. honey glazed things lol #im not attempting to make challah thats too much for me having never done it before XD #asks