#mother baked a cake with me today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aphroditesmoon · 4 months

Note

Okay but like…clarisse jealous?

I like a challenge when the prize is you

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

warnings: platonic luke x reader, kissing, title is from center by sir chloe.

wc: 2.0k

Today was your birthday, and though birthdays aren't exactly a big thing in camp half blood, considering there are probably more than 300 kids here, your cabin siblings decided to plan out a small party to celebrate it anyways.

You are easily one of the most highly respected demigod here. When you first arrived at camp, you held your ground and barely showed any fear nor awkwardness. You were friendly and charming but knew when to not take people's shit, that had earned you a favorable reputation and had gotten your godly parent to claim you after only being there for two weeks.

People liked you. And because of the way you're perceived, they were all pretty surprised to find you in a secured relationship with the commonly known camp boogeyman.

You and Clarisse hit it off rather quickly. What started as a playful banter bloomed into a strongly bonded friendship, and then soon enough, became a romantic relationship.

The two of you grounded eachother constantly, you compliment eachother personality wise, and you just have much more in common then people think.

Equally as excited as your cabin siblings, Clarisse arrived right on time for your party in your cabin. The event was a private one, only your siblings and close friends are invited.

They had worked together baking a lovely raspberry cheese cake for you along with some brownies and chips. Despite it being your party, you were warned of stealing a taste of any of the food before the party begun.

You were immensely grateful when the clock finally hit 8pm and everyone invited finally arrived. "Can I cut the cake now?" You asked for the 5th time.

"Yes." Your siblings answered together, laughing at your excitement. Clarisse sat by your left, passing you the cake cutter. "Can you do it?" She mumbles as she watches you struggle to push it all the way down.

You hummed positively and pressed on harder untik the knife finally reaches the bottom of the cake and everyone cheered. "There you go." You mutter to yourself.

Continuing to cut the rest of the cake, you soom began passing the pieces to everyone on paper plates before leaving the rest of it for yourself.

Clarisse was quick to scoop up a section of it with a spoon to wave it over your face. "Alright baby, you know how it goes, open up." Everyone else was laughing at the sentiment, but you weren't bothered by it at all, opening your mouth wide open for Clarisse to feed you like a mother does to her toddler.

The party hat you were wearing really tied it all together. Nothing says festive more than a coney party hat with pink and yellow polka dots over them.

"Oh this is amazing." You say with your mouth full, moaning at the taste. "Here, let me do it." You offered quickly, taking the spoon from Clarisse to feed her the same way.

If it was any other day, she'd rather die than get caught being babied like this, but it was your birthday, so automatically, you get a free pass.

"Someone should take a photo." One of the girls called out, Clarisse' glare immediately shut her up. You laughed at her reaction, squeezing her cheek. "Oh no, you're grumpy again." She rolled her eyes and relaxed her face from all the frowning.

"I'm not grumpy, I just naturally look like this." She defends herself as she eats her portion of the cake.

Music was playing on the back, a mix of Debussy and Tchaikovsky on shuffle as everyone knew how overwhelming loud party music made you feel.

It was all well and beautiful, everything went better than expected, and it's in these moments, surrounded by your loved ones and feeling your happiest, that you feel the luckiest in life.

It was present sharing time when you heard your cabin door knocked on. You ignored it ar first, letting your sibling check on the visitor as you continue to open your presents.

"Oh my god, it's a cat sweater!" You exclaimed at your sister's gift. She was only 10 with a passion for sewing and fashion, and she probably took days to make the sweater. You could see the slightly folded and unsymmetric edges, making it even more endearing.

"You said it's your favourite animal." You nodded your head and bear hugged her. "It is, thank you for this."

You were about to open your 4th present when your sibling that you had sent to check on the door came sprinting back. "Who is it?" You asked with a raised brow.

"It's, Luke." The name caused the noise around you to husb down. You could feel Clarisse stiffen next to you when you smiled. "Oh, is he joining us?" You doubt it, seeing as he wasn't exactly invited, and it was already so much people here.

"No, he said he wants to see you outside."

You and Luke are as close as he is with anyone else. His face is usually what new campers are met with, being the leader of Hermes cabin and all, he's always taken the role of the mentor very naturally, never having a problem helping the new kids find where they belong.

Clarisse unfortunately doesn't view your friendship with him as just that. You've seen the way she tries to size him up whenever he attempts to talk to you alone.

You stood up from your sitting position and ushered your friends and siblings to get back at the eating and dancing as you walk yourself out of the cabin to meet him.

Your hand slips away from Clarisse's. You give her a quick smile that meant 'don't worry about me', before you disappeared from her sight.

Just as you were informed, Luke is outside the door when you exit from it. He wears his easygoing grin when he sees you. You returned his smile and spoke his name.

"Hey." He greeted you. "Got the birthday girl a present." He shows you the small box he carried with him, wiggling his brows as he speaks.

"Oh, Luke, you shouldn't have." He shook his head at you nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, just wanted to get you something." His presses the box into your hand and folded your fingers over it before taking a step back.

"Thank you, Luke." You tell him, meaning those words. He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Your welcome. Now, I'm sure you'd like to go back to your party. See you tomorrow?" You nod your head.

"Alright then, have a good night, happy birthday." You waved at him as he walks off towards his own cabin, waiting until he's a few steps away before going back in.

You were glad that no one really noticed you until you were near to the group to sit down. Though Clarisse's eyes were on you as soon as you entered the cabin.

Some of them stopped eating as they moved to seat crisscrossed closer to you. "What did he want?" One of them asked.

You lifted the box up for them to see. They responded with an 'oooh' as they wait for you to open it. "It's so small." Your younger sibling noted, hovering above the box. "Maybe it's a ring." The other suggested. You snorted and shook your head.

"And where would he find a ring around here, less alone to make one." You knew it wasn't a ring. Besides the fact that he didn't have your ring size, he wouldn't give you such a bold gift that could cause a misunderstanding and piss of Clarisse at the same time.

You opened it gently and awed at it's inside. It was a brooch. One in the size of your thumb. A golden coloured hibiscus engraved brooch. "This is lovely." You noted, letting everyone else look at it.

"It's fine." Clarisse countered, her nose scrunching at the view.

As your younger sibling held it in her hand to properly look at it, you reach over to Clarisse, intertwining your fingers together again. "What about you? No gift for little ol' me?" You ask her jokingly.

"Of course I got you a gift," she scoffed, leaning in to your side. "But I'm not gonna give it here. These chatterboxes can't be trusted."

"These chatterboxes are my siblings." She shrugged at your words. "Never said you weren't a chatterbox either." You gasped loudly, faking offense and lightly slapping her arm. Her grouch falls away, her pursed lips curved into a small smile.

The rest of the party went well, you managed to get everyone to finish the food so there wouldn't be any leftovers. And despite the argument your cabin presented, you helped them cleanuo the mess and threw away the trash before ot was time to turn off the lights.

You made sure all your younger siblings have been tucked in and all your older ones are done with the chores before you and Clarisse leave the cabin past 11pm.

Some of the girls sent you teasing looks before you left, but they all swore to secrecy and made sure to cover for you just incase Chiron or Mr.D heard of your little past curfew late night walks.

Once the two of you made it further into the woods, Clarisse pulls you by the arm to sit down next to her on the less harsher part of the grass. You immediately moved to wrap your arm around her neck, resting your head underneath her chin, she wraps her own arms around you and placed a chaste kiss on your hair.

"Happy birthday." She whispers against your forehead.

You looked up at her from your position and eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you said you had a present for me?"

A short laugh escapes her as she ruffles your hair. "My presence is not a gift enough for you?" You blinked and answered; "No."

Clarisse laughs again and uses her right hand to pull something out of the inside pocket of her jacket. "Well, at least you're honest." She did not have a box or a wrapper like the others did. But your heart melted at the sight of the present still.

It was a string of pearls. A necklace. And you could tell from the shine and the ivory colour of it that they weren't fake pearls. They attracted you like a moth to a flame.

"Clarisse, this is beautiful." You told her, she passes it onto your hands and watch as you eye them closely. "I know. Better than the stupid pin." You brows raise at that, your gaze darts from the necklace to her face.

"Careful Clar, some might say you sound a bit jealous." She huffs and winces at that. "I'm not jealous- I- I just...don't like him."

"And why don't you like him?" You question her. "Because he keeps hitting on my girlfriend." She answers in a matter of factly tone. "Being nice doesn't equal flirting." You tell her.

"I know that. Does he know that?"

Clarisse has never liked the way Luke talked to you, and sometimes you genuinely wonder if she was right and if it was you who never noticed any of his romantic advances. But your principle has always been straight to the point, if he doesn't say it outright, then it's not real.

"Well, he hasn't crossed a line so far, so I'd say yes." It wasn't that you're trying to defend Luke, you just don't see what he's done so far that deserves defending at all.

Clarisse grunted in response and pulls you back into her arms. You refrain from holding her by placing your palms on her chest. "Wait, put it on me first."

Something clicks behind her eyes like she just remembered about her gift. "Oh, right." You turn around with your back facing her. Clarisse places the pearls over your neck and hooks the back together in one try.

Twisting your body to face her again, you fiddled with the necklace and looked at her for approval. "Well?" She smiled as her fingers came close to your face to brush away the strands of hair covering your cheek. "It fits you."

You let her pull you by the back of your head to kiss her, welcoming her lips with yours.

Not that you'd ever admit it aloud, but having her by your side would always be the real birthday gift to you.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #dior goodjohn

1K notes · View notes

jyoongim · 2 months

Text

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy, blood, murder, secrets

In this chapter: slow build up! Smut! Love-making, Creampie, slight breeding kink

this chapter is VERY long!!!

Chapter one Chapter three

Chapter two

The sound of voices filled your home as the ladies chatted in your parlor.

“Oh honey is that peach cobbler? Why you would think it was Sunday with the spread you made.” Agnise said as you came from the kitchen with the dish and placed it on the dessert table, causing all the ladies to turn to you.

You had finger sandwiches filled with ham, beignets, one too many cakes, banana pudding, sweet tea and lemonade.

You were in a baking mood and since it was just high noon, you kept it lite for today’s meeting.

You let out a laugh “oh it was nothin’. Thought we deserved a treat since the last time we saw each other. We housewives deserve a little sugar sometimes.” The ladies giggled at your comment.

Grabbing a sandwich, you took a seat by Rosie, “Now what were y’all talking about while i was in the kitchen?”

”Abi was telling us the Smiths youngest was found in bed with that scrappy gent that worked down at the mill” Rosie said, sipping her tea. You gasped, hand over your heart “Ain’t that girl engaged to um oh what that boy’s name?” You snapped your fingers trying to think

”David Johnson” Abigail snickered “Just know Old smith threw a fit. I heard her mother went crying to the church shouting. Ooooh must have been real bad”

Agnise chimed in “Also Harriet told me that Elaine is expecting…and it ain’t her husband’s” shocked gasps filled the room. “Elaine? As in love the church, has three youngins Elaine? Oh that poor woman I don’t know how she do it” Rosie shuddered. Abigail smirked “Yeah poor Elaine, so who’s the father?”

Agnise chuckled “Take a guess”

Literally you, Rosie, and Abigail looked to each other puzzled.

”Pastor Brown from the next town over” Agnise said.

squeals and laughs erupted from all of you.

You shook with laughter as you took a deep breathe. “Ok ok enough of that. How have y’all been?”

Rosie was running a boutique, New Orleans finest clothes and it was really taking off. She talked about how some cheap fabrics came in and she ain’t have a clue what to do with them.

Agnise happily chirped about how her two oldest had got accepted in some fancy school on the other of town.

Abigail complained that she thought the maid was stealing her clothes, claiming too many of her fine dresses were missing out of her closet.

”Oh dear how is that handsome husband of yours? I was hoping to the man when I was coming in.” Rosie said smiling.

Rosie and Alastor were the closest besides Mimzy. He often dropped by to have her make your clothes and tailor some of his suits.

”Oh you know how Alastor is” you waved your hand, “he set out early this morning to the radio station. We’re suppose to down to Mimzy’s club tonight”

Agnise and Abigail looked at you shocked “That ol rigity joint? Oh darling no. That man makes good money, why y’all going down there?”

You had met Agnise and Abigail when you were in school. They were a bit more Polish than Rosie who didn’t mind a good time.

”I think that lounge is rather charming. The music is good.” You defended.

”Well enjoy it now, I had a dream bout fishes and you know what that mean” Agnise said, giving you a knowing look.

You blinked, then blushed, taking a sip of tea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you feigned dumb.

She smirked, red lips curling “You’ve been hiding news from us haven’t you?”

Abigail looked at you, “Are you?”her honey eyes roamed over your figure.

”Ladies no! I’ve told y’all me and Alastor haven’t discussed children. We don’t have time for that” you said pouting at their accusations.

”What man don’t want his own running around? The two of you been married for a few years now, i had half expected at least something.” Agnise said.

”Alastor has just settled in good as radio host. What kind of wife would I be if I just randomly suggested having a little one running around? No I couldn’t.” You gripped your cup, looking down.

You and Alastor hadn’t really discussed children. You figured you would wait a few years to get settled into your marriage before thinking of children.

With alastor’s career taking off, you didn’t have it in you to just spring the notion on him.

You didn’t mind. It was quite nice not having to clean and look after a baby.

BUT

You did want to potentially have children with Alastor.

The house would be a lot livier and you thought Alastor would make a great father.

”Y’all ain’t getting any younger dear!” Agnise said “i mean unless there’s a another woman invovled”

Rosie let out a hiss, glaring at the woman “Oh shush that! Alastor wouldn’t do that! He loves his wife too much to even look at another woman”

Agnise shrugged.

Abigail patted your hand “Honey don’t listen to her. I am sure you’ll have a whole litter running around afterwhile. Not having children ain’t all that grand.”

You pouted. That did not make you feel better.

Rosie seeemd to pick on up your down mood and interjected

”We came to discuss books! Enough of this husband and children talk! So we left off at Charles securing the mistress!”

The little gathering went on without a problem, but the comments and conversation still bounced in your head.

Alastor wouldn’t seek out another woman just because I haven’t…right?

You and Alastor’s intimate life was fine to your knowledge.

The man wasn’t the most affectionate, but he did try.

He was loving and gave you anything you wanted.

THATS what any wife wanted right?

Not having children didn’t seem to make him any less doting with you.

But you still felt that nagging doubt as you tried to reassure yourself.

”Bye now! Tell Nathaniel I said hello and Abi please just see if the maid took your dress!”you hollered from your porch, waving the ladies as they smiled and walked down the street.

You sighed. Rosie had stayed behind and was cleaning up.

”oh Rosie you’re a guest please let me” you said grabbing the dirty dishes.

”I’ve been here so much this is practically my home girl please.”she laughed as she grabbed the tablecloth and put in in the hamper.

”Those two are certainly a handful. Don’t take what they said to heart. They are just bitter their husbands don’t love on them like yours” she chided.

You hummed. Rosie was right. What did it matter that you didn’t have kids? That didn’t change anything.

”I know Ro but I feel like I’m failing as a wife. But i promise I’m fine I swear” you quickly said as she gave you a look.

She looked at the clock “Oh my well look at the time! Do give Alastor my love dear”

You gave her a hug and walked her out, waving her goodbye as she waltzed down the road.

You were now alone.

The house was quiet and you had cleaned up everything so you wouldn’t have to look at the mess in the morning.

You rolled your shoulders, sighing at the tension and decided a quick nap wouldn’t hurt as you wait for Alastor to come home.

—————————————————————————————————

The sun began to slowly set through the trees as Alastor ran a bloody hand through his hair, the brown strands slicking back as he breathed deeply. The man had put up quite a fight, but luckily Alastor could quickly deal with his little problem.

He had planned to take his wife out for tonight, but with the way he was feeling, he would rather be in your embrace and sleep.

He would stop and get you your favorite flowers as an apology and maybe cook for you instead. A soft smile appeared on his face as he imagined your face as he came in with flowers and kissed your soft lips as he propose hell cook for dinner.

Soft jazz would be playing and after the meal he would ask you to dance. Peppering your face in kisses as you laughed at him, thinking he was silly.

And maybe afterwards, he could indulge himself in you. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of your face contorted in pleasure.

Oh yes he was sure you wouldn’t mind why he came home late

He hid away his shovel in an old storage house and changed clothes.

Getting in his car, he hummed along to the radio as he thought of what to make for dinner.

—————————————————————————————————-

Alastor softly closed the back door as he slowly set down the flowers and groceries. He peeked his head in the parlor and found you sleeping on the couch.

He quickly made his way upstairs, hid his clothes in the back of your closet, showered, and went back down stairs.

He grabbed the flowers and slowly slid beside you, pulling you into his lap.

You snuggled into his neck, eyebrows scrunching, waking up ”hmmm Alastor?” you groaned as he snickered. He pressed his lips to your plump cheek “Seems my darling wife had a very long day. Seems I got caught up at work and didn’t catch the time. But…” he pressed the flowers to your nose as you took a deep inhale of the flowers, smiling “I do hope you would forgive dear.”

Your heart fluttered at the man, standing to put the bouquet in a vase.

You caught sight of the time and gasped “oh no! I can’t believe I fell asleep for that long, lord on high I ain’t got a single thing out to cook.” You went to make your way to the kitchen, but Alastor was quick to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his lanky frame. “Don’t you worry about dinner darlin’ I got it. I had promised you a night out and forgot. So to pay for my offense Ill cook dinner and why don’t you go upstairs and put on something pretty for me hmm?” He pressed a few soft kisses along the column of your neck, making your breath hitch slightly, before patting your ass to get you moving towards the stairs.

Once you made it back downstairs, the smell of dinner made your stomach growl.

Alastor was just setting th plates as you entered the kitchen. “Book club must have been something today, I see you baked a lot of goods today. Good thing I checked before thinking of making dessert” He turned to actually look at you.

Gorgeous is what he thought as he took you in.

You opted for a simple slip dress that fell just before your knees. How enticing.

You accessorized with your pearls and even had your hair curled slightly.

He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your waist and bring a hand to his lips, kissing it as he looked at you with utter devotion.

”My my don’t you look lovely dear” he whistled, twirling you around slowly.

You blushed and looked towards the stove “Dinner smells great Al, what did you make?” He ushered you to the dining table and pulled you chair out for you to sit before fetching tonight’s dinner.

Shrimp and grits in one bowl and jambalaya.

For dessert he took a piece of butter cake that you made earlier and chilled sweet tea and lemonade.

You moaned in delight as the flavor of the jambalaya burned your mouth. “Oh Al! You added a bit more spice this time but it goes good with the grits. oh i love your jambalaya.” You praised him.

You practically danced in your seat as you ate causing Alastor to chuckle.

”I never tire of your praise for my mother’s recipe my dear. I must say this cake might just be my new favorite” he said.

You decided to fill him the latest gossip you heard today from the ladies

”Rosie sends her love by the way. Oh you would not believe what Agnise told us today…” you started.

Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you talked animatedly about todays gossip. He nodded along and even gasped at the details you shared. You made him swear he wont repeat it anywhere, including on the radio.

You took a sip of lemonade ”Agnise made a comment that she was surprised we haven’t had kids yet. Can you believe that woman?” Alastor tilted his head “I wouldn’t put it pass that one. Well what did you say?”

Alastor asked taking in your reaction as you pouted, swirling your fork in your grits before stabbing a shrimp. You sighed “I told her that we just weren’t ready. I mean you just got settled in at the studio good. Then the nerve of that woman to say that you were probably seeing another because I wasn’t putting out.” You mumbled that part, feeling pinges of doubt start to rise in you as you looked at him.

Alastor scoffed “darling I only ever had eyes for you” he reached across the table to grasp your hand, thumb fiddling with your wedding ring. “Nothing will make me look at you different. To me, you’re perfect. You are much more than I could ever deserve” he smiled at you. “Do you want children darlin?” He asked.

You blinked, a warm blush crept up your cheeks “I-I mean it might has crossed my mind once of twice, but I-I dont know” you looked away, feeling shy.

Alastor grinned “I think you would make a wonderful mother my dear. Through I will admit having to share you i dont know about that” he laughed “buuuuut if having children will make you happy, who am I to say no?” His voice dropped an octave as he smiled at you.

You were shocked. You hadn’t thought that Alastor would be open to having children. But you didn’t just want to have kids because of social pressure. You wanted it to be something you were sure of…

”Its a big responsibility if we have children Al”you whispered. He hummed, shrugging “Dear I make more than enough that our children will have comfortable upbringing, besides Ill be there the whole step of the way”

That reassurance made your heart swell.

You smiled, a soft laugh bubbling out of your chest “Then I guess well see what happens then huh?”

You finished dinner, Alastor leaving the dishes to soak and you giggled as he dragged you upstairs. “Alastor! Hahaha dont you have work tomorrow?” You entered your shared bedroom and squealed as he lavished your exposed shoulders in kisses.

He groaned in response as he unbuttoned his shirt as his hands gripped at your hips.

”what do that have to do with us delving into the throws of pleasures darlin? Its been quite some time since I’ve paid you proper attention.”

Your back hit the duvet as he situated himself between your thighs. Your dress bunched at your hips, exposing your lacy garter. His hand toyed with the fabric, lips curling in a smirk “Were you planing to seduce me dear?” You shook your head as you curled your arms around his neck, pulling his head to meet his lips.

”Hmmm lets keep the pearls and garter on” he grinned down at you.

”Nngh! Ah! Ah! Ha! Ah! Oh god!”you cried out as Alastor thrusted into you. Your fingers gripped at his hair as you moaned into his neck, kissing over the red bruises forming on his skin.

Fingers flexed on your thigh, keeping your leg pressed into your stomach. The only sound that filled the room were your sweet moans and his soft grunts and the slap slap of his dick burying into your cunt.

Alastor’s back muscles flexed as you raked a hand along his back, groaning as your nails left burning trails into his flesh.

”One more. You can give me one more can’t you darlin?” He asked huskily as he snapped his hips into yours.

Your body buzzed as your third orgasm approached. The pearl necklace that hung around your neck, bounced with your breasts as Alastor nipped at your neck. One of his hands crept up your chest to play with one of your nipples. Tugging and pinching the perk peak as your cunt clenched around him.

”I can’t wait to see you pregnant ma cher. All nice and round, carrying my child.”

A sharp pinch had you whining “These lovely tits of your full of milk god I can’t wait to taste it” his head shifted to your chest, his warm mouth taking the mound into his mouth. Teeth and tongue teased as his thrusts picked up pace.

”A-Al! Oh! Oh! P-Please!” You threw your head back in pleasure.

Alastor couldn’t help but let his twisted feelings take over, a hand wrapped around your throat, applying slight pressure as you whined.

He brought his face back to yours, nose brushing against yours as your swollen lips enticed him to suck and bite at them. He maneuvered both your thighs to be pressed against your stomach, giving him leverage to hammer into you soppy heat.

”You want me to give you a baby darlin? Hmm? Want me to fill the needy cunt of yours and spill my seed into you?”you moaned, eyes glazed with lust.

Alastor smirked “Use your words baby. C’mon” a harsh thrust made your toes curl.

”y-yes please please Alastor give me a baby!” You cried.

A wild look was in his eyes

“Oh ill give you all the babies you want. I’ve wanted to see you swollen with my child since our wedding day. You’ll look so pretty baby. All filled with my cum and swollen. Yeeesss what a lovely sight you’ll make”

His thumb worked tight circles on your clit as your back arched into him as your orgasm ripped through you. Alastor slammed his lips on yours to swallow the loud moan that tried to spill from your lips.

He grunted as his hips shuddered. Chasing his orgasm as he rode yours out. With a hiss, his dick twitched and soon warm cream painted your gummy walls.

With a sigh, he coaxed his tongue against yours as he gave you a few more soft thrusts.

Panting and flushed, your legs fell limp as he pulled out and smirked at the mess he had made of you. A white stream slowly pooling out of you.

Spent and feeling the blissful afterglow, you curled into the covers, wincing at the stickiness between your thighs. Alastor pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead “normally Ill clean you up, but since were trying no need.” He brushed a curl out of your face as you began to fall asleep

”Alastor?” You said tiredly.

He hummed, as he ran his hand up and down your arm, admiring the red bruises on your neck and shoulder

”I love you”

He grinned as you dozed off.

”I love you too dear”

———————————————————————

Soooo what did you guys think??? Bit of a slow burn yes? we got a peak into what Alastor was doing hehehee

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @lunaramune @southern-bayou-beau @karolinda007-blog @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @nettaw @purplecatsandhearts @catherine1206 @jellibean2018 @thewinchestah @wonderlandangelsposts @alishii @readergirlstuff @missgurlsstuff @yuzurixx @darkovergrownforestnymph @dasimp777 @markster666 @alastorsgirl48 @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @preciousbabypeter @alastwhore666 @strawberrypimp666 @stawberrypimpsimp @queenariesofnarnia @peachedtvs @peachedtv @tpks @siiv3r @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @aconfusedworld @chewbrry @altruisticalastor @yunimimii @dievia3 @alastorsdear @alastorsdarlingdoe @t0byisher3 @dennsfz @twismare @nanami1chu @yoongibabs @menthatilove @smoky000 @luzzbuzz @stygianoir @kiralaufeyson84 @for-hearthand-home @luzzbuzz

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x wife reader #human alastor x reader

1K notes · View notes

chronicallycouchbound · 9 months

Text

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

1K notes · View notes

diejager · 1 year

Text

Little Red's Wolf

Pairing : Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, exophilia, knotting, breeding, size kink, stomach bulge, biting, marking, blood, oral sex, werewolf, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 3.5k

Little Red Riding Hood, was a kind and beautiful, young maiden from the village. Little Red Riding Hood was known by all, cared and loved by the small town as if you were their little girl. A pretty, little bachelorette in their small village. The people loved you, the smiling ray of sunlight that beamed across the street with loving words and gentle gestures.

Little Red Riding Hood was also the only one who dared venture outside the town, through the thicket around town, to turn left of the paved road and into the unknown. You were the only one who didn't fear straying from the path, having grown up near it, walking between the trees and exploring the darkest creeks within the woods. You knew it like the back of your hand.

Today would be a scheduled visit to your grandmother, to bring baked goods and wine to your lovely grandmother who lived alone in the forest.

"Come, my dear," your mother called you over, and a soft smile pulled her lips upwards. "Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine, take them to your grandmother. She is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, 'Good morning', and don't peep into every corner before you do it."

Donned in your usual red hood, the bright colored cloth ending at your knees with a white chemise and a black skirt, you took the basket in hand with great care, checking over the content you would bring to your grandmother. Once done, you left your house, turning to wave at your mother before you closed the door behind you: "I will take great care."

You walked through the long road through the village, smiling and waving at your neighbors and the neighbors of your neighbors, everyone knew everyone in a small town like yours. Friends of your friends became your friends too, knowing everyone had its perks and made everything easier, more familiar.

"Here! Bring this to your grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood," the Baker, a kind old man who lived upstairs of his bakery, called you over. In his hand was a freshly baked breath, warm and smelling heavenly. Into the basket, it went, wrapped neatly in an ivory cloth, woven with care by the baker's wife.

Farther down the street, the herbalist that lived in her hut, covered with scented grasses and pretty flowers called to you, "I heard of your grandmother's sickness, Little Red Riding Hood," she gave you her most caring and worried look she had, honestly dripping from her eyes and tongue. "Please, mix this with hot water before giving it to her, one quarter of this with a cup should do." The small bottle was carefully placed next to the wine bottle your mother had given you, safely secured with twine and string.

People waved and smiled at you as you walked closer to the forest's mouth, wishing you 'good luck' and bidding you a farewell, until the evening, when you'd emerge from the darkness.

The path was cloaked in the shadows of trees, the leaves brushing against one another in the blowing air, soft and calming. It pushed the gentle smell of nature into your nose and dances beautifully before you.

The road was paved in stone, soft, silver brick that stuck out, the dirt hugged its rounded edges and held it together. The trees hugged the path closely, hiding the turns in the road with greenery, beautiful and lively green. You skipped by habit, eyes wandering around the branches to see bird nests and shy squirrels jumping from tree to tree as you followed the path.

While the paved way led farther out, towards the edge of the forest, the dirt path at the fork led deeper, the way to your grandmother's quaint house. You turned and strayed from the popular road, heeled shoes stepping on the hard dirt. You hummed a tune, absentmindedly following the wavy line deeper into the wildness.

Shadows danced outside your line of sight, appearing at the corner of your eyes until you turned to see whatever or whoever it was. You were scared, although naive and oblivious, you grew up in these woods and knew that it wouldn't hurt those who knew it well.

When you called out, the shadow stood tall and rigid, a dark mass hidden under the shades of the trees. It rumbled out a noise, one closely sounding to a wolf's growl. You stopped to stare at it, watching it amble forward, into the lighted path. A wolf, as intended, covered in warm, brown fur with piercing, blue eyes that stared at you inquisitively.

"G'day, Little Red," he spoke with a slur in his voice, a deep rumble in it. His voice sent pleasurable shivers down your spine, you shuddered physically. He saw that, you knew he did, wolves were perceptive.

"Thank you kindly, Great Wolf," you bowed your head, smiling sweetly at him. You ignored the way his eyes glazed over, going down the length of your cloak and your naked knees to your shoes, then back up to your face. He drank you in like you were a treat to his eyes.

"Where yer goin' so early, Little Red?"

"To my grandmother's, Great Wolf."

Perhaps you shouldn't have told him that, for his eyes shone with a menacing glint, dark and ravenous within the ocean of blue. However, it would have been impolite to ignore such an inquiry, especially to a polite and handsome wolf.

He bobbed his head, his mane fluidly moving along his movement, soft and silky, yet disarrayed. He pointed his muzzle at your basket, nose wiggling as he sniffed the air.

"What 'ave ye in your apron?"

"Cake and wine and bread, yesterday was baking-day; and herbs for my poor, sick grandmother. All to make her stronger, Great Wolf."

"Where dae ye nana live, Little Red?"

Again, you pushed away the chill that ran down your back, his heated gaze weighed heavily on your small figure.

"A good quarter into the wood, her house stands under three large oak-trees and nut-trees just below it. Surely, you've seen it."

He thought to himself, thinking back to the house he saw many times while passing through. An old lady that lived alone so deeply in his home had always been an interest, especially the sweet scent of freshly-baked pie. He knew the old woman, Nana, he called her after being caught by the old woman years ago.

So he nodded, head cocked your way with a knowing glint in his eyes. He hadn't seen you at Nana's, though your scent - fresh and earthly smell of wildflowers that grew in the forest - was familiar. You must've only visited her when he was away, lounging under the shade, running through the trees, or stalking and hunting his prey - like you were, at the moment.

A sugary, little treat that he walked into after a run with Gaz. He considered himself lucky, extremely so for having found you before you reached your nana's house.

"Ye best be on your way, then," he mocked a curtsey, his tail waving lazily behind him. "Guid luck, Little Red."

His bright irises followed you, watching the back of your red cloak ride up the inside of your knees, shoulders bobbing along the rugged ground. He was addicted, obsessed with your scent and your appearance. You were soft and naive, too trusting of him, a wolf. An adorable little treasure he would love to eat whole.

He stayed until your red figure became a dot in the flora, swallowed up by the woods he lived and hunted in. He would wait, lurk behind you from afar and pounce the moment he saw you stagger and hesitate.

You did as your mother told you, you greeted your sickly grandmother with a "Good morning" before peering at every corner of her house, searching for any change since the last time you passed by. Setting the basket down, you picked the piece of cake and a cup for the wine, and put aside the bread and concoction for later use. Placed in a tray, you brought it to your grandmother, supported by pillows against the headboard.

As you watched your grandmother eat, you recalled the brief discussion you had with the Great Wolf, dangerously handsome and mischievous. You fed her the herbalist's recommended dosage, a quarter of a cup. She hisses and complained but still drank, swallowing the green mix with small gulps. Once she finished and rested comfortably under the drapes, you spoke, "Grandmother, I met a Great Wolf today, on my way to bring your cake and wine. Do you know of him?"

She muttered, a shallow and weak "yes" at your inquiry: "Kind wolf, that one," she blinked slowly, glazed over with tiredness. "Hungry too! A ravenous creature, but gentle, Little Red Riding Hood. Do not fear the wolf, he is caring."

Without much left to do for her (you placed the cake leftover and the bread on her stove, wine, and cup on her nightstand, and the rest of the concoction on her kitchen table), you bid your farewell and crossed the room to her door, sending her a kiss before you closed and locked her door behind you. The sun had crawled higher, nearly noon as it blared its heated gaze over your crimson figure, bright and energetic as the color of your cloak.

Rustling followed your steps, taunting and teasing every time you stopped to look around you, only seeing green leaves and brown barks with a few specks of vibrant color. the farther you went, the more eager they became, closer to you and stopping later than you did.

You heard panting and low rumbling from the being, it gave away your stalker's identity. Instead of walking the path, you stayed between the trees, diving into the shades created by tall branches and wide leaves. Within them, anything could happen without passersby seeing it knowing - unless there was noise to hear. You were baring yourself to the creature, oblivious of its intentions.

As if hearing your thoughts, the beast appeared before you, a broad and hardened frame looming over you like the mountains near your town did. His cerulean orbs shone under the shadows as he stared at you with such intensity that it made you shiver, a pleasurable chill.

"Oh! Great Wolf!" you called, sounding surprised with your gaping mouth and wide eyes. "What big ears you have."

"All the betta tae hear yer with, Little Red," he spoke, pointed ears flickering and twitching under your gaze.

"What big eyes you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae see yer with, Little Red," he rasped, eyes taking in your voluptuous figure, dark with arousal.

"What large hands you have, Great Wolf."

"All the betta tae hold yer with, Little Red," he growled, arms flexing, threatening to close around you and cage you against his chest.

Your body thrummed, warmth flooding your body and heating your groin. His strong body stalked so slowly toward you, teasing you both. You ate him up, trailing from his snout and down his naked pectorals, from his sculpted abdomen to the bulge in his pants, and down his beautiful thighs.

"What a terrible big mouth you have, Great Wolf," you gulped, legs shaky.

"All the bettea tae eat yer with!"

He pounced, paws falling to your shoulder to pin you down. You fell with a yelp, followed by a gasp as he clawed at your chemise, ripping it in two. His warm nose nudged your breasts, tongue reaching out to lave between them. It was hot and wet. You moaned and gripped his head, reveling his tongue running over your mounds and swirling around your nipple. He closed his mouth around your left, perky nub, sucking harshly with the other being occupied by his big palm, kneading it sensually.

You cried his moniker, squirming under his skillful tongue. Your legs wrapped themselves around his small waist, grinding against his hardness.

"Soap, Little Red," he groaned, licking down your chest and your navel as he pulled down your pants. "Mae name's Soap, Little Red."

His fingers slid between your thighs, claw drawing a line down your inner thigh to your ankle. He panted against your heat, jaw flashing his sharp teeth, just inches from sinking into your supple flesh to watch blood roll down your slit and ass. Fuck, the thought made him hornier.

He latched onto your clit, rolling the tip of his tongue over it. Your legs were pulled over his shoulders, both hands gripping your hips from bucking into his jaw. They dwarfed your body, almost able to meet at the front. Your body wracked with waves of arousal from his motion and the pure implication of being speared by a being Soap's size, twice - dare say, thrice - your size.

He growled when you gripped his mane, pulling his hair and squirming too much, the vibration tingled, traveling from your core to the tip of your curling toes. He growled a second time, smirking at your thrown-back head and drooling mouth before replacing his tongue with his callused thumb. He wandered lower, dipping between your labia to probe at your entrance.

He loved the sound of your moans and mewls, crying out every time his muscle dragged the warm walls inside of you, thrusting and curling, exploring your drooling cunt with a deep hunger. Your walls spasmed and your limbs twitched, your orgasms teetered on the edge.

"Let go, Little Red," he groaned, the apes of your thigh slotting perfectly between his maw, teeth shy of digging into your muscle. "Come for mae."

You came with a silent scream, euphoria washing over you as Soap lapped your slick, hungrily drinking the essence of your pleasure. He rode it out, thumb gently rubbing your clit until you calmed down, shaking and gasping for air, but all you could smell was sex and the pungent odor of Soap's musk, a masculine and predatory thing.

With one last long lick from your ass to your clit, he pulled away, back hunched as he ground his crotch on your wet cunt, kneeling with his legs splayed open.

"Ye ready for mae, bonnie?"

You shakily nodded, the extremities of your limbs still tingling with pleasure. He smirked a cute and smug grin that fit his stature and personality so well. He dropped his slacks, pumping his cock, spreading his pre around his thick girth. You stared at it with amazement, mouth agape with hunger. What you'd give to have a taste of him, throat gagging around his girthy rod.

The red, angry tip tapped your clit a few times, you jumped and moaned, eyes pleading for him to hurry, to claim you and eat you as he promised. Hearing your pleading mewls, he tested the resistance, tip slowly easing in. He watched you take him inch by inch, lips opening and stretching to take him whole and raw. Spread to your fullest, you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you felt him push in. He perfectly filled you, bottoming out as his bulbous tip hit your cervix and bulged slightly under your navel.

"Fuck- tight lil' thang too, aye?" Soap groaned, his tongue lolling out as he panted, drinking up all the soft warmth that clenched around him. "This snatch's perfect for mae, eh?"

"Yours," you mewled, locking your ankles by his maned nape, pulling him closer to you, your red, swollen nipples pressed against his hard chest. "For you, Soap."

"Aye, fer mae."

He pulled out until only the tip lingered in, heading the loud squelch, and slammed in, head meeting your cervix and bulging. He started a fast and rough pace, pounding like a beast in rut, grunting and growling every time his balls slapped your ass. Your cum stained his brown fur, painting the growing knot with a white, creamy ring and his balls lewdly wet.

The innocent and naive appearance you had before was ruined by your current one, debauched and drunk with the pleasure that his pounding cock gave you. You tightened around him, wet walls clinging to his shaft as he pushed in. He rolled his hips, watching the protrusion swirl along his hips and the way you leaned at him for more, harder, faster.

"Ruin me, Soap!"

A primal urge overtook him, and he snapped his hips, plunging deeper, faster, harder into you. His thoughts numbed and his glands pumped dopamine into his brain, filling his thoughts with needs. He wanted to breed you and pump you full of cum as his knot kept you plugged. He wanted to watch you grow big and round with his pups, your breasts grow sensitive and heavy with milk.

His dreams urged him farther, draping himself closer to you, teeth lingering over your shoulder. He teetered on the edge of wanting to bite down and watch your crimson ichor ooze from beneath his teeth, roll down your shoulder, and stain your pretty vibrant cloak with a darker shade of red.

He could feel his fast-approaching orgasm, the beat in his chest, and the heat that pooled into his crotch. While his tongue dragged over the patch he was gazing at, jaw flexing to bite down, his knot grew, swelling around the stretched skin of your entrance.

"It's fine," he heard you say between your keens and the wet slapping. "You can bite."

A shiver wracked his back, muscle clenching and knot flaring. He gave a few thrusts before his knot locked, slowly pushing the swollen base of his cock fully into you. He bit down as he came, tasting your sweet (a delicate sweetness that he'd never tasted before, rivaling your slick) blood on his muscle.

You cried, screaming and mewling, your walls closing around him in a vice, milking his cock of potent cum. Ropes fired from the tapered tip, his slit oozing and filling you with burning warmth. He pulled back, mouth unlatching from your bleeding shoulder with a dazed look.

He licked your wound when you whined, cleaning it and kissing your pain with red-stained lips. He held you close, watching you move your hands to your bulging stomach happily. He followed your hands, how you rubbed your growing stomach, being filled and plugged by him.

"Sorry, Little Red, " he kissed you, painting your lips a pretty shade of crimson. "We're stuck together fer a while."

"It's fine, Soap, " your voice was slurred, expression content.

He really got lucky, stumbling on such a sweetheart like you. If he ended up knocking you up, he wouldn't mind staying with you, you've already made a place in his heart and mind. Your smell, your taste, your voice, and your soft hands were imprinted in his mind.

He didn't mind watching run after his - your - pups, caring and motherly, doting on his children. He couldn't wait to care for you. He's marked you, you were his and his scent covered you. He was yours too, he smelled sweet and flowery, he had your taste on his tongue and you drew lines on his back and arms, marking him.

A few minutes before

Like yesterday and the day before, the hunter made his usual way through the woods. He watched over the few creatures that lived in these woods. He scratched his beard, rifle slung over his shoulder as he recalled what Gaz told him.

He whipped his head towards a scream, body stopping on the path he took. He gripped his rifle and dashed through the trees, weaving between the trunks and bushes until the screams became clearer. The high-pitched sound turned to moans and cries, deeper, wolfish grunts joined the cries. He frowned, confusion laced his blue eyes until he got closer to the source.

"-Soap!"

He froze, jumping at the name he heard. He knew Soap, the wolf that lived in these woods along with Gaz and Ghost. He peered through the thick cloud of leaves and gaped. He caught a red cloth and a small - smaller than him and Soap - figure beneath the hulking mass of a wolf, crying and mewling at the ravenous predator. He recognized the vibrant cloth, it was Little Red Riding Hood's recognizable cloak and her voice.

He knew the girl for coming over so often, invited by Nikolai, his husband of decades now. He gulped and backed away, turning away with tensed muscles and a shocked - traumatized, even - expression. He wished he could forget the sight, wipe the memory from his mind.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to look at Little Red Riding Hood's face without feeling the awkwardness crawl his way up his nape, clinging onto him like a sinful reminder.

#soap smut #mw2 soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mw2 #cod mw2 smut #mw2 smut #soap x reader smut #soap mactavish #cod mw2 x reader #exophilia #monster 141 au #monster fucker #terato #price mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 gaz #mw2 x reader #little red riding hood

1K notes · View notes

avastrasposts · 2 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen - Twelve

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Series Master List

The final Pedro boy is coming to the bakery. Twelve weeks, twelve Pedro Pascal characters and one very lucky baker girl!

Thank you all so much for your comments, reblogs and love for this slightly unusual series of short stories. I've loved writing them and I've loved reading all your comments on the chapters. The love you've shown these boys, especially some of the ones that don't always get that much attention (I'm looking at you Pero...) is heart warming and really makes me as mushy as Marcus's chocolate fondant.

So...I think you can guess who the twelfth and final boy is 🥰🥰🥰

Your Sunday morning rush is just dying down as you see Mrs Levinson come through the door. As you watch, she turns and waves someone into the shop, and you catch a glimpse of a tall man in a baseball cap and aviators, before your next customer steps up and you turn to greet them.

You glance over at Mrs Levinson at intervals, she’s chatting to the man while waiting her turn and he’s got his back to you. As you watch, he shrugs, making an apologetic gesture with his hands and starts walking towards the front door. You can’t help but giggle under your breath as Mrs Levinson’s frail old lady hand comes out at viper speed and grabs his arm, making him stop in his tracks. Even though he looks big enough to just shake her off with another shrug, he stops and turns back to her. She gives him a smug smile, and even from behind the counter, you can see the sigh that escapes him, his shoulders lifting and dropping as his hand comes up and scratches at the back of his neck.

You’re intrigued when it’s finally their turn, Mrs Levinson stepping up to the counter and giving you a delighted smile. The man with her follows just behind and glances up at you from under the peak of his cap. He looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can see his fingers twitching by his side, nervously tapping his thigh.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mrs Levinson coos, her smile bright enough to rival the sun, mischief in her eyes, “I’m so glad we caught you in the shop today.”

“Hi, Mrs Levinson, what can I get you?” you smile back at her with slight apprehension, there is something decidedly unusual in her manner today. Plus, she was in yesterday for her weekly order, you didn’t expect to see her for at least another few days.

“Oh, I think it’s about what I can get you, my dear,” she twinkles, turning and ushering forward the man behind her, the neck visible above his gray t-shirt a deep shade of pink, “This is the boy I was telling you about, Mrs Morales’s son, Francisco.”

“Frankie”, the man says immediately, quickly pulling the aviators from his eyes and looking as if he’s just waiting for you to put him out of his misery at being coerced into this by an old lady about a third of his size.

“She works too much, Francisco,” Mrs Levinson says, “I thought maybe you could do something about that,” she smiles at Frankie, who briefly closes his eyes and seems to send up silent a prayer.

Mrs Levinson pats his arm, “There now, dear boy, buy something nice for your mother. This girl really bakes the most delicious cakes, I’ll let you two get acquainted.”

With that she gives you another beaming smile, and leaves the shop, leaving you and Frankie staring at each other. You crack first, a nervous giggle erupting from inside as you realize the ridiculousness of the situation. Frankie’s eyes widen for a moment, before he cracks too, a deep wheezing laugh making his shoulders shake as he grabs hold of the counter for support.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he finally says, drawing a deep breath as you both fight back the bubbling laughter, “She’s been talking about you for weeks and when I ran into her down the block, she wouldn’t let me leave.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to her meddling, I swear she’s tried to set me up with everyone of her friend’s sons,” you smile. The man across the counter, in the thankfully empty shop, gives you a nervous smile back. He really is cute, you realize, as you look closer at him. A deep dimple in his cheek as he smiles, smile lines around his eyes and wild curls escaping the ball cap to wrap around his neck and ears.

“Well, I’ll buy something and then leave, I hope this wasn’t too weird,” he says, still looking a little nervous as he rubs the back of his neck again.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, she’s a menace,” you say, rolling your eyes and smiling at him, “And you seem like a perfectly nice man, I was expecting much worse from her to be honest.”

Frankie chuckles at that, a pleasant sound, and his dark brown eyes are warm as he tugs at his cap, the pink creeping back up his neck.

“I’m glad I've exceeded your expectations,” he says, shifting his weight on his feet, crossing his arms before he uncrosses them again and stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, glancing up at you, one side of his mouth pulled in a crooked smile, “And to be honest, I wasn’t expecting much either, but I’m…uuh…you’re even prettier than she said.”

Your cheeks feel like someone lit a furnace as Frankie tilts his head, his smile widening as he sees you nervously swallow, your tongue suddenly feels too thick.

“Thanks,” you squeak, “that’s…really sweet of you to say,” a shy smile creeping across your face as you hastily rearrange the order forms on the counter before you look up at Frankie again. He’s still looking at you, a bit more confidence in his smile now, and for what feels like several minutes, but is probably only a few heartbeats, you look at each other across the counter, something starting to bubble under the surface.

Eventually Frankie clears his throat, “I should probably buy something now right? Before you think I’m even weirder than getting dragged in here by a little old lady.”

It makes you laugh, and Frankie smiles back at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling again as he looks at you with something that loosens a delighted little flutter in your belly.

“She’s a very convincing little old lady,” you chuckle, “but what can I get you?”

“Uuh…I have no idea,” he fumbles, glancing across the display case and then looking up at you with a slightly desperate look, “What would you recommend?”

“For your mother?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, I think I should get her something, she always saying how good your place is,” he replies, giving you another smile, “She loves your lemon meringue pie.”

“I don't have any left today I’m afraid,” you say, “I sold them all, but I made canelés this morning. She probably hasn’t had them before, I only just started making them,” you point to the small golden brown cakes and Frankie bends his tall frame to look closer at them.

“What’s in them?” he asks, glancing up at you again and you grab one from the tray, handing it over to him.

“Vanilla and rum, try it, see if you think she’ll like it.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the cake from your tongs and you can’t help but notice how his large hand seems to dwarf it before he takes a bite.

“Oh yeah…” he hums, nodding as his eyes widen, “these are amazing, I think she’d love ‘em, they’re really good,” he puts the other half in his mouth and chews with a smile. The pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his lips as he swallows the last bite down.

“Sold,” he says with a grin, “give me eight of those, four for her, four for me.”

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like them,” you beam as you start packing his order, “they’re my new favorite and if people like them I’ll keep making them.”

“I hope you do, they’re really good,” Frankie replies, discreetly wiping his thumb over his bottom lip, catching some crumbs that have fallen into his scruffy beard, as he watches you.

“Alright, there you go,” you say and Frankie pulls his wallet from the pocket of his tan jacket, and taps his card on the machine, “And…I hope you come back, Frankie,” you give him a shy smile, “If Mrs Levinson didn’t scare you off.”

“No chance,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your skin tingle, “I’m happy she made me come.”

“You’re welcome back any day,” you reply, your cheeks burning under his soft eyes. You’re both caught staring at each other for a few seconds again, Frankie swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he seems to search for a reason to stay, and you’re quietly hoping he’ll find one.

“I…I should maybe get going,” he stutters eventually, taking a tentative step towards the front door, glancing down at boots, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. You’re quickly starting to love the small gesture, especially when he looks back up again from under the peak of his cap and gives you another small smile, the dimple deepening in his cheek as he sees you smile in return.

“Bye, then,” he raises his hand in a wave, reaching the door and pulling it open, still smiling at you.

“Bye, Frankie,” you smile, mentally trying to stop yourself from twirling, “See you soon.”

You don’t expect him to turn up as soon as he does, but on Tuesday afternoon, when you’re busy kneading dough for cinnamon rolls, you hear the doorbell jingle. Stepping out of the kitchen you can’t help the smile that creeps up when you see him standing by the door, looking around the shop. He’s foregone the cap today, his dark chocolate curls a bit tidier around the ears but still fighting to escape whatever he’s attempted to do to contain them.

He smiles when he spots you by the kitchen door, his hand flying up to tug at his cap, forgetting it’s not there as he grabs at nothing. Fumbling he pushes his hand through his hair instead, the curls immediately escaping and creating a halo around his head.

“Hi,” he says, walking over as you take in his long legs in dark jeans, the untucked blue shirt crinkled as if he’s just tugged it out of his pants.

“Hi Frankie,” you smile back at him, wiping your hands on your apron, wondering how much of a mess you are, the kitchen is hot and the dough has been fighting you for the past ten minutes. He comes to a stop just in front of you and you can smell his cologne, the warm scent mixing with the cinnamon from behind you.

“Whatever you’re baking, it smells really good,” he says, looking over your shoulder and then back at you.

“Thanks, cinnamon rolls, the ultimate ‘good for business’ scent,” you grin, “people always buy extra when I bake them.”

“Sneaky marketing,” he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles and shifts his weight, “You’ve got something on your cheek, can I?” he asks, lifting his hand and you nod, wondering what the hell you managed to smear on yourself this time, “You’ve got flour right…here,” he says, his thumb gently swiping across your cheek, dusting away the smudge and leaving a warm imprint on your skin.

“Thanks, I’m always getting stuff on my face or in my hair,” you say, attempting to wipe off your apron, covered in more flour to hide your nerves at his close proximity, “I’m a messy baker.”

“It’s cute,” he replies, swiping his thumb over the spot again, slower this time, “I think I got it all.”

The oven timer beeps in the kitchen, interrupting the moment, “First batch,” you say, thumbing behind you, “I need to get them out.”

Frankie nods and leans on the door frame as you hurry back into the kitchen. The warm smell of cinnamon hits you both as you open the door and you hear Frankie inhale deeply.

“That smells incredible,” he sighs, inhaling again, “you’re clever to use that as marketing.”

You laugh and set the trays down on one of the stainless steel counters, “I need to get a fan with an exhaust out onto the street, spread this scent across the block.”

“You’d sell out in a heartbeat,” he chuckles as you go back to the dough and start rolling it out on the workbench.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asks as he watches you, “I just wanted to stop by and say that my mom loved those little cakes and wanted me to ask what they’re called. I totally forgot…” he gives you an embarrassed grin as you glance over at him with a smile.

“Canelés. And I’m glad she loved them, I’ve only got a few left but I’m making more tomorrow.”

“Canelés, I’ll try to remember that,” Frankie says, “And I’ll tell her you’ve got a fresh batch tomorrow.”

“You seem close with your mom,” you say, still working on the dough and Frankie smiles fondly.

“Yeah, we’re close. Wasn’t always like that though, I had some messy years after I got out of the army, I tried keeping everyone away. But she didn’t give up on me, hauled me back to town, helped me out a lot more than she should’ve needed too. I’m trying to pay her back for saving my life.”

You look over at him, he’s leaned his head on the door frame and gives you a little embarrassed shrug, “I’m a mama’s boy.”

“As you should be, Francisco,” you tease him, “She’s a very nice lady and one of my best customers.”

“Even before I moved back here she was telling me about your bakery,” Frankie grins, “can’t believe it took me so long to visit,” He pushes himself off from the door frame and comes over to the workbench, “Can I help out with anything, feels weird standing there doing nothing while you’re working.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Frankie, you’re just nice company,” you smile at him and he smiles back as the tips of his ears go slightly pink, his hand drifting down to the small of your back as he stands next to you. The warmth of his large hand radiates through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and sends a tingling up and down your spine.

“Come on, put me to work,” he says and your mind goes blank as he slowly moves his hand up and down your back while he waits for your reply. The small motion is so unremarkable, so ordinary, but it feels like all you need to do is turn to him and let him lead, let the comfort of his solid frame standing next to you, wrap around you like the warmth from his hand. You look up at him, letting go of the rolling pin and turning into his arms, his hand on your back sliding around your waist, curling gently to hold you.

He smiles again, tilting his head to the side as if he’s getting ready to say something, but the doorbell jingles out in the shop. Frankie leans back and peaks out, whipping his head right back in with a low curse.

“It’s my mom!” he whispers, his eyes widening as he tries to stifle his giggles, “if she sees me back here I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Fridge,” you whisper back, matching his giggle under your breath, “stay close to the wall and she can’t see you.”

Frankie nods, his grin wide and mischievous as he hugs the wall, sliding towards the fridge as quietly as he can. You wipe your hands on the apron as you make your way out to the shop, smiling at Mrs Morales.

“Hello, Mrs Morales,” you say a bit too loudly, to hide the sound of her son opening the walk-in fridge in the kitchen, “How are things?”

“Just fine, thank you,” the gray haired lady smiles at you and you’re hit by how much Frankie looks like her, the same warm smile and deep dimple in her cheeks. “How are you, busy as ever?”

“I’m good, thanks. Business is a bit quieter after the holidays but I’m keeping busy, preparing for Valentine’s Day and then Easter,” you reply, strategically leaning on the counter so that she can’t see straight into the kitchen.

“Oh, of course, Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” she says, giving you a sly smile, “Anyone special to take you out?”

“No, no one special,” you say, trying to keep the giggle that’s bubbling up inside contained at the thought of her son hiding just a few feet away, “I’m too busy for that, especially coming up to Valentine’s Day.”

“Well…” she says, an air of false indifference to her tone, “if I run into any handsome single men, I’ll send them your way.”

“That’s really nice, Mrs Morales, but you don’t need to,” you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the grin that wants to split your face, “I’m sure someone will come by the shop and ask me out.” You hope Frankie heard that, you’re sure he’s eavesdropping with the fridge door cracked open.

“I’ll make sure they do,” his mother replies, a mischievous smile on her face so reminiscent of the one her son just gave you, before she schools her features.

“So what can I get you today?” you ask, steering the conversation away from potential dates and she scans the selection on display.

“My son Francisco brought me the most delicious little cakes on Sunday,” she smiles innocently, glancing up at you, “he said you sold them to him, he got some for himself too.”

“I remember,” you say, “I have four left but I’m making fresh ones tomorrow if you want to come by then instead?”

“Oh, you know what, that’s a great idea,” Mrs Morales beams, “I’ll send Francisco to pick them up, can I reserve ten? I’m having some friends over that I know will love them.”

You grab your order pad and nod, not trusting yourself to not giggle madly, and write down her order, carefully folding it up and placing it next to the till before you dare look up at her again.

“I’ll make sure to put aside ten canelés for you, Mrs Morales,” you smile, biting the inside of your cheek, “Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again.”

A metallic clunk is heard from the kitchen and you quickly clear your throat, “Sorry about the noise, I’ve got a repair man taking care of the fridge.”

“Such a talented girl,” Mrs Morales smiles brightly at you, “you bake all these lovely things and run your own business,” she gives you a wave and opens the front door, “I’ll be sure to send Francisco tomorrow.”

“Bye, Mrs Morales,” you wave, turning back to the kitchen as soon as the door closes behind her.

Frankie is just closing the fridge door behind himself as you come in and he looks up at you. His neck is flushed beet red, his ears the most violent shade of pink and he’s pointing an accusing finger at you as he tries to stop the grin that’s splitting his rosy face.

“She…she is bad enough,” he says, “but you, egging her on!”

“What, I was just being polite to one of my regulars,” you grin at him as he shakes his head, the same bright smile as his mom’s.

“‘Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again,’“ he says, mimicking your cheerful customer service voice as you giggle, “You know, she’ll call me the second she’s in the car, I’ll never hear the end of this until I marr- “ he coughs, cutting himself off and impossibly turning an even deeper shade of beet.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried, Frankie, I was only telling the truth,” you smile at him and go back to the workbench and the cinnamon roll dough, “I am looking forward to you coming by tomorrow.”

Frankie lets a low chuckle escape as he scuffs his boots on the floor, coming to lean his back against the workbench.

“That’s so?” His ears are still a beautiful shade of pink, and his small smile while he looks at you with those deep brown eyes, makes your insides fill with excited little bubbles.

“That’s so,” you tell him as his phone starts to ring and he pulls it out of his back pocket.

“Told you she’d call me,” he laughs, showing you his phone, “I’ll sneak out the back if that’s ok?”

“Sure, avoid your mom, Francisco,” you tease him, but he just steps closer, drops a soft kiss to your cheek, and steps back with a smile.

“See you tomorrow, cariño.”

Before you can compose yourself, he’s out through the back door, giving you a final wave.

The canelés spread their vanilla and rum scent throughout the bakery the next evening, and you’ve packed up a box of ten for Mrs Morales. The only thing missing is her handsome son to pick them up. If you had to, you’d admit to yourself that you’re really, really looking forward to him coming by. As it draws near to closing time you keep checking yourself in the small mirror, glancing out at the street. Slowly you clear out the display cases and bring things into the dishwasher, and then you hear the front door bell jingle out in the shop.

You attempt a casual stroll out from the kitchen, and Frankie is by the door, giving you a warm smile. He’s just swiped the ball cap off his head, running his fingers through the unruly curls with one hand as he stuffs the cap into his back pocket with the other.

“Hey,” he says, coming over as you reach the counter, “you look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him, glancing down at your new blouse that’s really far too nice to wear in the kitchen, “you look good too.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up into his curly hairline and then he glances down at himself like he has to check what he’s wearing.

“I do?” he asks and the disbelief in his voice makes you laugh. The faded denim shirt hugs his shoulders and he’s folded the sleeves up over his forearms, a smattering of freckles visible under the shop’s overhead lights. As he runs his palms over his chest, smoothing out the fabric you smile at him.

“Yeah, you do, that’s a really nice color on you.”

“Thanks,” he gives you a crooked smile, his ears turning pink. Watching Frankie blush is quickly becoming one of your favorite things and you’re glad to see that even the slightest compliment will get him there. His nervous little shuffle and the way the tip of his tongue comes out to lick at his lips before he glances up at you again, makes you feel giddy as you feign a need to wipe the tables and step out from behind the counter.

“I just need to finish up so that I can close, but I’ve got your mom’s order ready to go,” you say and walk around him to the first table.

“No rush,” he says, “can I help you with anything?”

“Thanks, Frankie, do you think you could bring in the sign from the street?,” you reply, pointing to the chalkboard sign, “it’s so heavy, I always hit my shins on the damn thing.”

“I could probably put some wheels on it for you.” Frankie says, pushing open the door, holding it open with one hand as he grabs the heavy sign with the other, effortlessly picking it up and moving it into the shop while you look at his casual display of strength with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he says, his forehead furrowing with worry, “Did I do it wrong?”

“It takes me two hands and a lot of grunting trying to get that thing inside without scratching the floor, and you’re acting like it weighs nothing,” you give him a mock scowl as his worried look disappears. He’s chuckling as he leans the heavy sign against the wall.

“Sorry, I’ve handled a lot of heavy backpacks in my days, this really wasn’t that much in comparison.”

“Show off,” you grumble and he dusts off his hands, still chuckling.

“You’ve got other skills, like being an incredibly talented baker,” he smiles, “I bet you can make anything, no limits.”

“As long as I’ve got a recipe, I guess,” you admit, “it’s just chemistry in the end.”

“Have you ever made alfajores?” he asks, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his arms as you start wiping down the last table, “They’re my favorites.”

“No, I’ve never made them, but I’ve tried them once, they’re really good.”

“My mom doesn’t really bake, but I know she’s got my abuela’s recipe,” he says, “if you wanna try something new. The recipe is in Spanish so you know it’s authentic,” he gives you a quick grin.

“I don’t speak Spanish, I wouldn’t be able to read it,” you say, twisting the kitchen towel in your hands as Frankie smiles at you. You’ve wiped down the last table and now you’re leaned against it, mimicking Frankie’s stance across the room.

“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?” he asks, his dimpled cheek making your heart flutter for a few seconds before you find your voice again.

“Yeah, sure, but I remember like three or four things,” you can’t help but smile back at him, especially when you recall what phrases you remember. You can feel your cheeks heat up and he definitely picks up on it.

“You only remember the dirty words?” he winks, and you have to turn away and busy yourself with wiping down the table again as you giggle.

“No, they’re not dirty words,” you laugh, shaking out the cloth and tossing it in the back.

“So tell me then,” he grins, “I wanna hear your Spanish!”

You feel the smile on your face, threatening to take over as your cheeks heat up even more, and he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised up towards his unruly brown curls.

“Fine…” you say finally, drawing a deep breath and recalling your high school Spanish and the lines you’d learnt from a cute exchange student in college.

“Cállate,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up even more, before he mimics zipping his lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key.

“Ven aqui,” you continue with a smile at him and he smiles back, immediately stepping across the floor and standing obediently right in front of you.

You pause and exhale slowly, he’s so close now, you can see the rich dark brown color of his eyes so clear, the woodsy smell of his body wash, or maybe it’s his aftershave, lingering in your nose, and his lips quirk up in a smile. He knows the effect he’s having on you, and he loves it.

You smile back at him, working up the courage to say the next phrase.

“Bésame.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. He steps a little bit closer, leaning into you, and you feel the tickle of his scruffy beard as he softly touches his lips to your cheek. He lingers for a few seconds, and you dare hardly move, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. And then he pulls back, his smile softer now, his eyes darker.

“Any more phrases?” he asks, his voice low, and you nod slowly.

“Un beso más.”

“Un beso más?” he whispers, his lips already so close, and you nod again as they brush against yours.

His kiss is gentle and soft, his hands carefully coming up to curl around your waist as he bends his head to yours. The short scruff of the mustache tickles delicately against your skin as he deepens the kiss, and when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your hands finding the silky soft curls at his neck, he hums into your mouth. His hands, so warm and large, tighten their grip and pull you a little bit closer, making you curve yourself into him. He’s solid, firm, under your arms, but his mouth is soft, warm and wet when he gently nips on your bottom lip, making you open up for him. With a small moan you let him lick into your mouth, making him groan in response and pull you tight against his chest. His hand slides up from your waist, cupping your cheek, his large hand easily spanning around your neck as his thumb caresses your skin.

Minutes pass, the only sounds your combined breaths mingling, soft moans and wet lips pressed together.

After what feels like an eternity, but also not long enough by far, Frankie pulls back a little, his thumb gently brushing over your kiss swollen lips, letting you chase the pad of his thumb with a small chuckle.

“Better than I even dreamed of,” he mumbles, removing his thumb and pressing one more kiss to your lips. You hum in agreement as his tongue tangles with yours again, the need to feel more of him rising, making you curl your fingers tighter into his hair, standing on your tiptoes.

Suddenly Frankie bends his knees, dropping his hands and grabbing the back of your thighs, picking you up. You quickly wrap your legs around his narrow waist and giggle. He continues to press kisses to your lips between the bouts of laughter that bubbles up between you as he walks back to the kitchen with you hanging on like a koala.

“To many people walking past outside,” he mumbles as he puts you down on the counter, kissing you again, “with my luck Mrs Levinson will come into the shop.”

“I’d say she’d be scandalized,” you giggle, “but something tells me she was a menace when she was younger.”

“Definitely, I’d say she’s done her fair share of making out,” Frankie chuckles, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, capturing your bottom lip between his own, his nose bumping against yours as he gently nibbles on your lip, making you pull him closer with a moan.

Frankie’s hand slides up and down your back and you tangle your fingers in his hair again while he cups your cheek with the other. Several more minutes disappear as he explores every way he can pull soft moans from you with his lips close to yours.

Eventually you pull back a little and Frankie opens his eyes. His pupils are blown wide but he’s smiling as he sneaks a final kiss from you.

“You make me lose track of time, Francisco Morales,” you mumble as he tries to pull you in closer, making you giggle when he pouts, his plush bottom lip pink and shiny from the past few minutes.

“Your kisses are distracting,” he smiles, “I guess I’m keeping you from important baking chores?”

“I just need to order some things for later in the week,” you say as he steps back and pulls you off the counter.

“Don’t let me distract you any more then,” he replies, his hands sliding down over your hips, lightly grabbing at the softness, “just let me come back soon.”

“Come back anytime you want and I’ll make those alfajores for you,” you tell him, “just bring the recipe.”

He smiles at that, his hands never seizing their movements up and down your curves, “I’ll bring it and we can make it together if you want,” he replies, “My abuela used to let me help her make them.”

“I’d love that, Frankie,” you beam, “just tell me what to order,” you make him walk backwards, pushing at his wide shoulders as he chuckles, glancing behind him as you walk him towards the small office set up and your laptop.

“Well, you need manjar, that’s what she calls dulce de leche,” he says, letting go of you as you sit down. He stands next to you, one large hand splayed on the desk for support as he leans in to look at the screen, “Fuck, I’m getting old, I need reading glasses,” he grumbles, making you giggle as you stroke your finger over the gray in his beard.

“I bet you look really good in glasses, Frankie,” you smile up at him and he chuckles.

“Thanks, I need to hear that often or I’ll never wear them,” he replies and you shake your head.

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” you laugh, turning back to the laptop, “So, dulce de leche, anything else I might not have?”

“Corn flour?” he says, “That’s the only ingredient my abuela would have to buy specially for them, the rest is normal baking stuff.”

“Good to know,” you say, adding the extras to your order, “We’re all set.”

“When can I come by,” Frankie asks as you stand up, following you back out to the shop.

“I’ll have the order tomorrow, so any day after closing this week works for me,” you grab Mrs Morales’s canelés and give them to Frankie.

“Does Friday work?” he asks, looking a bit shy all of a sudden, especially for a man who’s just spent the past half an hour kissing you breathless, “Only, I’d like to, I mean if you want to, I’d like to take you out for dinner afterwards. On a date, I mean, if you want too?” His ears go pink as he fumbles through the question and you take a step forward, putting both your hands on his cheeks and pulling his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose as he begins to smile.

“I’ll love to, Frankie, dinner on Friday sounds perfect.”

Halfway through closing on Friday afternoon you hear a knock on your backdoor. You’re already serving a customer so you ignore it, you’ve left the door unlocked for the delivery guy and he knows what to do. Mrs Levinson is next in line, ready to pick up her usual weekend order, and she’s looking very eager and chipper as she steps up to the counter.

“Hello, dear!” she exclaims, a bright smile on her face as she winks at you, “How’s Francisco? His mother told me she sent him here the other day for a special order.” She winks at the last word, making you blush as you try to keep your composure.

“He picked it up just fine, thanks, Mrs Levinson”, you say, praying your voice is neutral. Internally you’re picturing how the little old lady’s head would likely pop with excitement if she knew how his last visit had gone.

“Such a good looking boy, don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s very much a rhetorical question, but you nod along anyway, “Those brown eyes,” she sighs, “I tell you, if I was forty years younger….” She titters, delighted at her own joke, and you can’t help but laugh with her.

“He does have very nice eyes, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, “I’ve got your order in the back, I’ll just get it for you.”

You step into the kitchen, expecting to see the delivery guy, but instead you’re met by Frankie’s pink cheeks and big grin. He’s leaning on the doorway into your small back storage that leads to the backdoor, having clearly heard Mrs Levinson’s comments. He mouths a silent “Hi,” to you and you smile back at him, trying to stop the giggles that are threatening to bubble up. You have to pass him to get to where the orders are kept, and he quickly snakes an arm around your waist as you step into the storage room. His red plaid shirt is soft against your skin and the t-shirt underneath smells like him when you wrap your arm around him and return his hug.

“Hi,” he whispers again, his mouth close to your ear, his ever present cap bumping against your cheek, as you reach up and caress his curls at his neck quickly, before grabbing the order.

“Hi,” you whisper back, “I’ll be right back, let me just get rid of Mrs Levinson.”

He nods and presses a warm kiss to your cheek before he lets you go.

“Here you are, Mrs Levinson, your usual order,” you say as you step back into the shop, leaving Frankie hiding in the back room, “Anything else today?”

“Four canelés, dear,” she smiles sweetly, “Mrs Morales was praising them, said her son just loved them.”

“They are very nice, I’m sure you’ll love them too,” you reply, boxing four of the small cakes and ringing up her total, “There you go then, have a nice weekend now, Mrs Levinson.”

“Speaking of Mrs Morales,” the old lady continues, ignoring your attempt to wrap up the conversation, “She said you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, I’m sure Francisco would love to take you out, you’d make such a handsome couple.”

“I won’t have time for a date, really, it’s one of our busiest days,” you say, starting to wipe down the counter, praying she’ll get the hint, but no such luck.

“Oh, nonsense, dear, you need to have some fun. I’ll tell Francisco to ask you out the next time I see him.”

“Really, Mrs Levinson, please don’t do that, I’m sure- “

You’re interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer, which is odd, the oven shouldn’t be on, but right now you’re very grateful for the beeping.

“I’d better get that, Mrs Levinson,” you rush out, giving her a quick wave as you turn towards the kitchen, “Have a nice weekend!”

“Always so busy, dear,” she smiles, waving back at you and leaves the bakery. With a deep sigh of relief you go back into the kitchen. Frankie is standing by the oven, fiddling with the knobs and you walk over and push the right one to turn off the alarm.

“So I guess that was you,” you smile at him as he grins.

“Yeah, it was either that or knock something over. Mrs Levinson was getting a bit too meddlesome,” he chuckles, glancing out through the kitchen door to make sure that she’s gone before he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, “Is it true you’re too busy for a date on Valentine’s Day?” he asks, “Because if you are, I’d like to ask you out for the fifteenth instead.”

“I’m busy during the day, in the evening I’m free,” you smile up at him, “But any evening works for a date with you, Frankie.”

The tips of his ears go pink at that, and he gives you a wide, dimpled smile, bending his head to yours, his nose brushing over your cheek before he lets his lips capture yours in a soft kiss.

“Good,” he mumbles, “because I want to take you out every night.”

“I don’t want to go out every night,” you smile between his kisses, “Some nights I’d like to stay on the couch with pizza and a tub of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a nice night too, is there room for me on that couch?” he asks and you nod.

“There might be, it’s not a very big couch, but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.”

“Sounds even better,” Frankie mumbles and you can feel him smile against your lips, “How about we do some baking and then I take you out on that date I promised for tonight?”

“Let me just lock up the shop,” you kiss his warm lips one more time, before pulling away, “and we’ll get right to it.”

“Let me grab the street sign for you, cariño,” he says, following you into the shop.

With everything locked up and the lights off in the shop, you set up in the kitchen and Frankie pulls out an envelope from his pocket. Inside is an old handwritten note in Spanish with the alfajores recipe from his grandmother. He gently smooths it out on the bench and joins you in the fridge where you’re getting the butter and eggs.

You hear him come in and stand behind you, taking the butter from your hand as you balance three eggs in the other.

“Anything else we need from here?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No, just the eggs and butter, we need three egg yolks.”

“Ok, let's get the rest in the pantry then.”

“Lead the way,” Frankie replies, smiling as you turn to face him, and you can’t help stepping closer and reaching up so that you can kiss him. He comes willingly, bending his head to your lips, and parting them for your tongue.

“I really like kissing you,” you mumble against his lips and you hear the low rumble of his chuckle.

“Good,” he mutters, “because I don’t want to stop kissing you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as you look up at him, his smile making you feel liquid inside, like jelly legs and too much fizzy drinks, bubbling over as you smile back at him.

“Alfajores,” you finally say, after he’s kissed you a few extra times, and he chuckles again.

“We keep getting distracted.”

“I blame you, Francisco.”

“I’m innocent, your lips are too kissable,” he grins and you giggle, cheeks heating up and it makes him laugh, taking your free hand in his own, “C’mon, baker girl, at this rate I’ll never get to take you out to dinner.”

He leads you over to the pantry, listing the ingredients you need and letting you pile them high in his arms. Back at the workbench you weigh them out while Frankie translates his grandmother’s handwriting on the note.

The ingredients come together to a loose dough and Frankie takes over, showing you how his grandmother would push the dough together without kneading. He’s shrugged out of his red plaid flannel shirt, the gray t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps as you watch his large hands gently push the dough around the bench, transfixed by how they move.

“She always told me not to knead the dough,” he says, pressing a few more bits of dough into the circular mound taking shape, “Just push it together so that it holds its shape and then wrap it in cling film and chill in the fridge.”

He pats the dough a few more times while you tear off a piece of plastic wrap and lay it down on the bench.

“There,” Frankie says, gently lifting the dough onto it and wrapping it up, “thirty minutes in the fridge, then we can bake them.”

You open the fridge door and he puts it on a shelf before coming back out and closing the door again.

“Now how do we spend thirty minutes in a kitchen?” you ask, tilting your head with a smile, “waiting for the dough to chill?”

Frankie raises one eyebrow, leaning back against the fridge door, giving you an amused look.

“What did you have in mind, hermosa?” he replies as he reaches out and takes hold of your hand, pulling you towards him.

“I was thinking…deep cleaning the oven,” you grin up at him as he wrinkles his nose, lips curling down in disappointment, “Maybe wiping out the shelves in the fridge? Or you can help me fix the blockage in the drain under the sink?”

Frankie rolls his eyes so far back you think they’ll get stuck, but he’s grinning at the same time.

“Not really what I had in mind,” he says, both his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body and you bring your own arms up, cupping his cheeks and letting your thumbs caress his scruffy beard.

“I love the little patches in your beard,” you say and lean closer, smelling the warm cotton of his t-shirt and a faint whiff of his body wash, “I especially like this one under your chin.” You make him tilt his head up as he chuckles, showing the smooth underside of his neck, freckles dotting the pebbled skin. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“I’m glad you like ‘em,” he smiles, a small shiver running through him when you press your lips to the bare patch under his chin, “Because that’s as much beard as you’ll get from me.”

It makes you giggle against the soft skin, the longer parts of his beard tickling your nose as you press more kisses along the underside of his jaw, keeping his head tilted back. His hands around your waist are starting to wander, slowly caressing up your back and down over your hips. A small, low sigh escapes him as you stand on your tiptoes, your mouth reaching the spot under his ear where you can feel his pulse beat.

“Is this what you had in mind?” you ask, your voice low against the shell of his ear, his hands tightening around you. He gives you a small nod in response, lowering his head so that he can meet your eyes. He’s not smiling anymore, instead his look makes you wobble, curling your fingers around his shoulders for support. The peak of his cap nudges your forehead, closing both of you in under it, and as he moves closer, he reaches up and pulls it off. You hear it land softly on the floor next to you somewhere, but you’ve already closed your eyes as Frankie’s warm lips find yours.

When you break apart your lips are hot to the touch, the soft scratches of Frankie’s beard tickling your skin, and the evidence of his growing need impossible to hide between your bodies. You can’t help but press closer against him, feel him jerk as your hip moves, a stifled groan caught in the back of his throat.

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “let’s make those damn cookies so we can get out of here,” he’s tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you close to his mouth, his breath warm against your skin when he speaks, “Can we make it through dinner?”

“I’m really not that hungry for food,” you whisper back, his lips trailing over your jaw as you speak, nibbling a wet path down your throat as his fingers gently pull at your hair, giving him more room to taste your skin.

Another chunk of time is lost to his kisses. Every time he nips and licks at your throat, a moan escapes your open mouth, breathing heavily while you curl your fingers into his shoulders, moving down to his thick arms.

“Frankie…” you mumble as his hands begin to slide up under your shirt, leaving warm trails across your torso, his kisses starting to move down over your clavicles as he pushes your collar to the side, “don’t start something you can’t finish here…” you warn him, but you do nothing to stop him. His rough palms grab at your flesh, pulling you closer, one last hot kiss, a mark on your skin, before lifting his head, his hands slipping down to your hips again.

“You’re right, I don’t want to do this here,” he says, looking up at you with dark eyes, his lips rosy and pink, “Grab the dough, we making these fucking cookies now and then I’m taking you home.”

You nod and reluctantly pull away from him as he moves to the side, letting you open the fridge door and retrieve the dough while Frankie gets a rolling pin. You watch him as he begins to roll out the dough, the muscles of his arm flexing as he presses down on the firm dough, forcing it to flatten onto the workbench. He’s focused as he works to roll it out to an even thickness, the tip of his tongue coming out in concentration as he gauges the dough with this hand.

“That’s enough, not too thin,” he says when he’s satisfied, “or the dough will break.”

Together you use a cookie cutter on the dough and soon two trays of cookies slide into the oven under Frankie’s watchful eye.

“We don’t want them to overbake, they should still be a pale color,” he says, closing the oven door and setting a timer on his phone.

“Much as I’d like to get back to kissing you,” you smile at Frankie as he winks, “we should clean up so that we can leave once they’re done.”

“I’ll clean up, cariño,” he smiles back, “get the manjar and a piping bag and get us set up for the cookies.”

You nod and do as he says, watching him as he efficiently wipes down the workbench and the counters, removing the leftover dough and putting away the ingredients. You fill the piping bag with the soft manjar and lean on the workbench while Frankie rinses the cloth and hangs it to dry.

“Do you need a job, Frankie?” you ask, “I’d hire you in a heartbeat with those cleaning skills.”

“One of the few good habits I picked up in the military,” he gives you a crooked smile as the timer goes off on his phone and he pulls out the cookies, “That and making beds with sharp corners. Nothing else good came out of those years.”

A brief shadow passes his eyes as he puts the tray down, turning back to hand the oven mitts on their hook without meeting your eyes. When he comes back to the bench you put your arm around his waist and pull him into your side, pressing your lips to his cheek. He leans into it, his eyes briefly closing with a small contented sigh.

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he says, “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

“Ok, Frankie,” you reply, your lips still close to his cheek, another kiss to his small bare patch there, and you see his smile return, his warm brown eyes finding yours again.

“You’re on manjar duty, I don’t trust my piping skills. I’ll sandwich the cookies.”

“Did your granny say anything about how much manjar each cookie should have?” you ask, picking up the piping bag.

“About the same thickness as the cookie,” he replies, holding the first cookie steady for you, “There you go, perfect!” He grabs the cookie you’ve just piped the filling on and presses a second down on top before rolling it in desiccated coconut and holding it up proudly.

“Our first alfajores cookie,” he chuckles, “I’m so proud of us.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you or your grandmother, Frankie” you smile at him, getting to work on the rest of the cookies. Frankie puts down the first one and starts assembling the rest.

“We make a good team,” he says, “and I can’t wait for you to try these, her’s are the best ones I’ve ever had.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to put the rest of the cookies together, with a flourish Frankie rolls the edges of the last cookie in the coconut and holds it out to you.

“Go on, try it,” he says with a smile, picking up a second one for himself. The light and airy cookie crumbles as you bite into it, the manjar coating your mouth as you hum around the flavors. The hint of lemon in the cookie blends with the filling and it makes your mouth water.

“So good, Frankie,” you mumble, your mouth still full and he chuckles, biting into his own a bit too eagerly. Manjar squeezes out around the sides and he quickly catches a blob with his tongue, his fingers coated in the sticky filling.

“Damn, I should’ve remembered, I always make a mess eating these,” he laughs, tilting his head back to stop the cookie from falling out of his hand as he stuffs the whole thing into his mouth. With puffed out cheeks he grins down at you, chewing the cookie with a happy face.

“As good as you remember?” you ask and he nods.

“Even better,” he says, his voice garbled from the mouthful of alfajores and it makes you giggle as he swallows the whole thing down. His fingers are covered in manjar and he tries to lick it off, the sight of his pink tongue sliding over his index finger temporarily shutting down your brain as you stare at his mouth. Frankie’s eyes flick up to your face, seeing your expression, and slowly pulls his finger from his mouth. Holding it out to you, he gives you a mischievous smirk.

“Here, try it.”

There’s a challenge to his tone, daring you to step up to him and cross a very weak line in where this new relationship is. The sight of his thick fingers, smudges of manjar stil clinging to them, and his brown eyes going dark as they lock on to you, makes it an easy step to take.

Your own hand wraps around his wrist as you pull his fingers towards your lips, Frankie’s jaw falling open of its own accord and his eyes drop to your mouth. His thumb has a dark streak of caramelized filling near the top and as you take it between your lips, your tongue tasting sugar and salt, he groans, louder than he intended in the quiet kitchen. From the corner of your eye you can see the hand hanging idly by his side twitching, the fingers opening and closing as another, lower, groan slips from him. Your tongue is wrapping around his thumb, closing your lips around it and sucking it deeper into your mouth. Frankie’s eyelids are heavy, threatening to close, but he fights to keep them open, starting at the way your mouth takes his thumb, images of other things disappearing between your lips making arousal thrum through his body.

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

With a soft pop you pull off his thumb, gently wiping the corner of your mouth with tongue as Frankie inhales sharply.

Three long steps and he’s got you pinned against the fridge, his hands suddenly on your waist and behind your neck. He bends his head, finding you eagerly waiting for his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips. He’s not hiding the way he’s grinding his hard on against your hips, your moans mixing with his breathy groans as you grab hold of his waist and pull him closer. With a growl he buries his face against your shoulder, his mouth hot against your neck.

“Fuck….” he groans again, “You feel so fucking good, just put the damn alfajores away, we’re leaving now.”

He pulls away a little, you can feel your face flushed as you press your legs together, heat shooting through every nerve ending. He’s caging you in now, his eyes dark under his furrowed brow, pressing a final heated kiss to your lips before he steps back, pulling you with him.

“I’ll get a box for them,” you mumble, reluctantly moving away from him to the work bench. He bends to swipe his cap from the floor and shrugs back into his flannel shirt and watches you fold one of the take away boxes and pack the alfajores.

“Grab leftover manjar too,” he suddenly says, pointing to the piping bag, still half full with the sticky filling, “I know other uses for it.”

You look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and he winks at you, snaking his arms around your waist from behind before he bends his head to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he nips at your earlobe.

“I’m thinking I’ve got other places that you might need to lick it from.”

Part Thirteen

Series Master List

A/N: I hope you enjoyed Frankie's visit to the bakery, I know I loved going back and writing my favourite Pedro boy.

But this is not the end because, as some of you have pointed out; a baker's dozen is thirteen, not twelve. So as this post goes up, I'll also put up a poll where everyone can vote for what Pedro boy they'd like to see return to the bakery, a second part to their story. Vote for your favourite to return!

The Poll!

In the meanwhile, thank you all for reading, commenting and sharing!

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal character fanfic #frankie morales fanfic

182 notes · View notes

fuckmyskywalker · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐊𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲.

18+. Fauxcest. Dddne.

Happy Valentine's day! — Anya xoxo.

The sweet aroma of freshly baked cake filled the kitchen, it was a lovely gesture that makes your heart swell with anticipation. Just a few more minutes before dad comes back from work... and just a few more minutes so you can have him all for yourself.

Just like magic, the front door unlocks with a loud click, just in time for you to place the heart-shaped chocolate cake at the center of the kitchen aisle. Your mother will be working extra hours today, so there's plenty of time to spend with James.

"Honey?" You hear his voice, and just seconds after he creates an exiting thrill in your veins he walks in… holding a bright bouquet of your favorite flowers. James' face illuminates with a smile seeing you standing there with your red apron, hands behind your back and a happy expression on your pretty eyes.

"Happy Valentine's Day," You say walking closer and stopping when he lifts the bouquet. Your heart melts as you receive them, bringing them to your chest and giggling. "Oh... Dad. They are beautiful."

"Only the most beautiful flowers for my precious angel."

His words make you giggle again, and James can't help but to pull you closer and lean down to capture your soft lips in a kiss. It feels perfect— it feels magical. A moment designed just for you.

He breaks the kiss just to give the cake a quick glance, smiling wider and admiring the pink icing and themed sprinkles. "Is that for me?" You nod, earning you another deep kiss. "Aren't you perfect? My love."

The kitchen becomes a small bubble for you to just embrace each other. Basking in his presence and his blue eyes. There is no other place you would desire to be rather than next to your loving father… the man who walked into your life when you needed him the most— the man who opened his arms to let you grow and be the beautiful person you are today.

"If your mother sees these, tell her someone at school gave them to you," He whispers deviously, taking the flowers from your hands and placing them on the counter next to the cake. His hands circle around your hips, pulling you closer.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and toy with the dark curls growing at the nape of his neck. You like how James looks with long hair— you like him either way. In fact— you love him.

James is totally helpless, completely wrapped around your finger and played by the loving strings of your heart, always happy to do anything you ask for and always needy for your presence. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes at work still linger in his tongue but you don't find it unappealing, it just brings you back to him. It's a spellbound effect that awakes every fiber of your being, igniting a never ending love… just for your dad.

"Aren't you going to eat your cake?" You ask, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. He is warm, he always is. His palm is calloused and heavy, always holding you and lifting you to touch the sky. Just like James says it is meant to be.

"Maybe later… right now I just want you," He replies. Dragging you to the living room, James takes the apron off you, awfully eager to touch your skin. "I couldn't ask for anything else, you know?" His lips trail down your jaw and your neck, nibbling the skin. "You are using that perfume I gave you?"

"Hm–hm," You mumble, caressing his shoulders and slowly grinding your hips. Being on daddy's lap is your favorite place. "I love it."

"I love you, baby."

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#james kelly #james kelly smut #james kelly x reader #james kelly x you #james kelly x reader smut #james kelly fanfic #james kelly x y/n #james kelly x f!reader #james kelly one shot #hayden christensen x reader

238 notes · View notes

rosesbxrry · 2 years

Text

Banquet

Pairing: Husband! Jay X Wife Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), established/ married AU!

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink (to the max), Oral (female receiving), fingering, slight lactation kink (very brief but if you’re sensitive, I advice you not to read any further), a lot of dirty talking about making babies, Jay using the term ‘wife’ to the reader, slight cockwarming. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else

Summary: Celebrating special occasions with your husband was nearly impossible with your young son around, especially when the both of you craved for something more intimate. With the help of your mother, she opt to take care of your son, leaving you and Jay to take advantage of this rare moment.

Main masterlist

Word count: 2, 469 words

The sound of your phone closing echoed in the empty dining room, finding no trace of any new messages from your husband who had promised to come back home from work as early as he can. Today marks your wedding anniversary, preparing a banquet full of his favorite dishes to celebrate the special occasion.

You had left early from work to send your son to your mother who agreed to take care of him so that the couple could enjoy some quality time without their toddler fussing around. Don’t get it wrong, you love your son from the moon to the back but the last time you baked a birthday cake for Jay, your son took his time destroying it before the surprise party.

If it wasn’t for his chubby cheeks and buttercream frosting all over his face and body, you would have cried instead of laughing at the sight of the mess.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door opening, signalling that Jay was back. You shuffled hastily to greet him, beaminng at the entrance of the door as Jay took off his dress shoes.

“Welcome back.” You said, reciprocating the hug he initiated even though he was holding his briefcase and jacket on each hand.

“Hey, love. Happy anniversary.” He circles his arms around your waist, pulling you into a quick peck on the lips, smiling loopy as he holds you close to his body. You laugh, arms lock around his neck in an intimate manner.

“Happy anniversary to you too.” You grin at the way he sneaks another chaste kiss to your lips before losing his grip to stare at you.

“Sorry about coming home late,” He apologised, pushing some strains of hair that escaped your bun out of your face lovingly. “The others wouldn’t leave me alone to come home to my beautiful wife.” You chuckled while imagining Jake and Sunghoon constantly tailing him for business related affairs.

Yet, Jay doesn’t want to admit that without those two as his trusted right hand mens, he wouldn’t be able to flourish the company without his advisors beside him. You gave him a few pats in the chest before saying. “Now, now. As the boss, you have to set a good example to your employee if you want them to actually see you as the leader.”

“Oh? I thought I was the boss here? Why would I need to listen to you?” He raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Because I’m your wife, and it goes without saying that I’m automatically your boss.” You poke his chest challengingly.

He gave you a mini salute. “Yes Madam, anything you say goes.” Laughter ensued in the room as you ushered him to come in, heading towards the dining table filled with an array of dishes you’ve prepared.

“I might have to heat up a few. They’ll taste better warm.” You said, distracted on washing your hand on the sink to handle the food when a pair of arms circle themselves around your waist from behind.

You immediately giggled when you felt his pair of lips pressed against the shell of your ears, hugging you from behind as you shiver from the contact. He moved to kiss you at the column of your nape when you turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You really can’t wait until the end of dinner, can you?” You taunt, staring at the way he was looking at your lips before smiling. His grip on your waist in a sensual manner as he leans close to your face to whisper— it almost gets your knee buckling at the proximity.

“I can’t help myself, can I? Not when my son is not here and I got his beautiful, sexy mommy all to myself.” He bit his lower lips, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle at his words.

“So you’re not gonna eat my food?” You ask. He shakes his head, watching you with hooded eyes.

“I'd rather eat you.”

He captures your lips without a second to spare; a content sigh emits from both of your lips as the constant aching feeling inside finally vanishes at the touch of each other’s lips. Jay’s soft lips move to devour your own, not like the ones he would usually display in your mundane life, but a sort of thirst or hunger in the way his tongue explores the roof of your mouth to suckling on your bottom lip.

“You don’t even understand the things I want to do to you.” He mumbled.

You moan and tighten your hold on his neck as he trailed down to kiss your jaw, leaving rough butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin before moving slowly to nibble on your neck. He pushes his body against yours, the edges of the marbled countertop digging at your lower back. The faint smell of his cologne alone could intoxicate you with electrifying pleasure but partnered with his dangerous lips and roaming hands on your sides, you can’t help but let him take the wheel.

“What is it you want to do to me?” You whispered, leaning back to let him leave hickeys on your neck with his love bites.

His fingers moved under your shirt and you let out a little gasp at the feeling. He chuckled at your cute reaction. “I rather let my body do the talking.”

His arms lifts you up to sit on the countertop before he adjusts himself to stand between your legs. You took this opportunity to loosen his tie while he proceeded to remove your shirt, diving in to attack the swell of your breast against your bra.

“Jongseong.” You whine, feeling his cold fingers on your back as he unclasps your bra from behind. He watches with a lustful gaze as your breast bounces out from their confinements.

“Beautiful.” He compliments, and you blush at the way he cups one pair to level it to his mouth, lips capturing the hardened nipple with a small suck. You cried out when he nibbled the area, licking and lapping at the sensitive tit while the other was occupied with his other hand, fingers delicately played with the neglected nipple to compensate for the lack of attention from his lips.

“Fuck, Jongseong.” You moaned. “Feels so good.” You close your eyes, feeling the pleasure stimulate the throbbing on your cunt as you lean back in your palms.

“If I suck hard enough, will your milk come out?” He asked while his mouth was still occupied with your nipple, his cheeky comment made you let out a shaky laugh.

“Not unless you want me pregnant again.” You said before choking on a whimper when his fingers discreetly moved under your skirt, rubbing at your clothed folds that were wet with your arousal. He pushes you down on your back, letting you rest on the marble surface before you look up to see him unbuckling his belt to relieve himself from the huge visible bulge of his hard cock against his pants.

“I think we can arrange that.” He commented.

He was roughly unbuttoning his white dress shirt, his fingers moving impatiently to rid of the fabric to display his lean body; melanin skin with toned arms and deep v-line bare for you to gaze. You swallow down the saliva coating at your throat, imaging the way his body would move against yours, the amount of brute force as he pounds into you that it was almost impossible to even imagine you not being pregnant after.

He almost chuckled at the way you squeeze your thighs together, grabbing your knees to pull them wide open for him to see the visible dark wet patch on your panties.

“Shit,” He cursed. “Are you that excited for me to fuck you? Can’t wait for my big cock to be in your pussy and fucking you dumb until my seeds make you pregnant with my babies? Yeah, you want that don’t you?”

You let out a breathy yes as he pulled your panties down until it dangled on one of your ankles before bunching your skirt. The sight of your folds wet with your own juices in full display for him like a meal had him groaning while messaging the flesh of your thighs. You bite back at the way he prompts one of your legs on the countertop, shivering at the sheer coldness that hits your core.

“Don’t worry, I'm gonna fill this tight hole with my seed and you’re gonna thank me for it like a good wife. But first—“ He leans down and you let out a loud gasp that echoes through the kitchen, feeling his tongue licking a stripe along your dripping slit. “—let me eat you out.”

You stuttered out multiple broken moans, pleads mixed together in between when starts going faster until he was burrowed deep into your cunt. With a hand gripping his hair while the other rested over your forehead, you see the concrete ceiling of the kitchen when you throw your head back when he attaches his lips around your clit.

“Please go faster.” You were sobbing at the sheer amount of pleasure as your husband eats you out without mercy, every flick of his tongue sends you over the edge until you feel the tight knot in your stomach.

“Fuck— Jongseong, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

As if his tongue wasn’t enough, Jay slid a finger in you before following it with another, stretching your hole and caressing your sensitive walls. You cried so loud when he slid his fingers in and out of you, accompanied with his tongue pressing on your clit in a slow agonizing motion that you came all over his mouth with your back arched and hips bucking ever so often.

His mouth welcomes your juices, cleaning the fluid off your folds as he rides you out of your orgasm.

“You’re right. The meal does taste good when it's warm.” He wipes the excess off his lips.

You tried to catch your breath, but when he handled your other leg on the countertop as well, you stared at him reaching into his pants to whip out his hard cock, pumping the length a few times with beads of precum leaking out of the head.

“You’re going to be beautiful carrying another baby for me, yeah?” He said, aligning the head with your hole. You let out a shaky breath as he descends into you between your legs, his cock filling you to the brim as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“So fucking round with my child. Breasts filled with milk for them. Showing everyone how good I’ve knocked you up with my cock. You like that don’t you? Showing them how bad you wanna carry my kids.” His mouth spouts every dirty word and you can’t help but reach out to hold onto his arms for support, his pelvic flush against yours.

You moan with every thrust of his hips, his grip on your sides were hard and tight that you were sure bruises would form the next morning. The loud wet sound of skin slapping echoed in the kitchen and this time, the both of you don’t have to worry about your son from ruining the moment and potentially scaring his life.

“Yes— God fucking yes. Put a baby in me, please.” You plead, watching as Jay’s eyes turn feral at your request. His fucking you roughly, your face twisted into the most lewd expression possible. The carnal lust was evident in the way the head of his cock japs at your g-spot over and over again, imagining it reaching close to your womb and painting it with his seeds.

“Fuck, take it. Take it like a good girl. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and breed you like a good wife you are—“ He chokes a little, voice an octave lower as he groans loudly. “—fucking hell, you’re so tight.” He growls out while watching you squirm below him with your mouth agape. He feels you sucking him in, your walls spasms over his length that gets him throwing his head back with his eyes shut closed.

“I’m so close, fuck— I’m cumming.” You’re at the edge of losing your mind at the familiar tight feeling in your stomach, letting him rut you into oblivion even though it was starting to hurt with the way he keeps drilling into that sweet spot, making you see stars dancing along your vision. Your legs were shaking at every vicious movement of his hips, his balls slapping against your skin.

A few more slams of his hips and you came hard on his cock— ropes of his cum filled you in warm slow waves. At this point, Jay would usually fuck you through your orgasm but that would risk spilling the load and for some reason, it made the pleasure even more overwhelming at that thought of him trying to keep it in.

He didn’t show any intentions of pulling out, instead he helped you sit up on the countertop, clinging on to you with his face nozzle to the crooked of your neck. You wrap your hands around to feel his back, beads of sweat sticking to his skin under the tense muscles.

Only heavy breathing filled the silence but oddly enough, him being in you was completely relaxing. This is just you and him basking in the moment of clarity in each other’s embrace. Jay moved to stare at you, pushing back wild stray hairs out of your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He hummed sweetly.

You nodded your head with confidence. “Yeah. I have been thinking about it a lot and maybe adding another little one into the family is the right decision now. Are you okay with it?” You ask. He pecked you without hesitation, a big smile on his face was enough to tell you that he equally wanted this as well.

“You should call in sick for work tomorrow.” He said. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Why?”

You yelp in surprise when he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, making you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck for support. The movement caused you to be well aware of his cock still inside you, hard and aroused that gets your toes curling at the way his throbbing against your sensitive walls.

You feel him moving to the familiar direction of your bedroom, and you can't help but shiver when he whispers an octave lower against your ears, heart pumping in excitement.

“I don’t think you can walk properly once I’m sure you're stuffed full with my cum.”

Permanent Taglist: open/ take this form to be added!

@forjongseong @skzenhalove

2K notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 5 months

Note

first father day for our boys!

Note: it's dad!driver, which we all love!

Charles Leclerc

"We don't want to wake up papa, right, my love?", you asked your son as you took him out of his bed, changing his diaper in the changing table, "and now you're going to tuck into mama's chest while I make us some breakfast", you wrapped him in the sling, grabbing your utensils and starting your baking.

When you had everything ready, you put it in a tray, balancing the tray and your son, "see? Papa drives really fast cars, but can he do what mama's doing? I don't think so, mon ange", you kissed the top of his head, walking inside the bedroom and seeing your shirtless husband resting his back against the headboard, "seems papa is not going to be surprised as he is up already", you scrunched your nose, setting the tray down on the bed so you could unwrap Hervé so he could go to Charles, "happy father's day, my love", you said as Hervé snuggled on his chest.

"Aren't you happy today?", Charles cooed as his son smiled up at him, "I really want to spend the day in bed with my two favourite people, if that's okay", your husband suggested, "and I smell some delicious pancakes, which is more the reason to stay inside", he smiled.

Sitting next to him, you snuggled to his side, the both of you looking at your baby boy, "you're the best papa, Charles, and we are both so lucky to have you in our lives", you whispered, rubbing your nose on his bicep, "I'm the lucky one, Y/N".

George Russell

"Hey, little love", George croaked out as Olivia crawled up to him, her hands going up to his face as she tapped his stubbly cheek, "isn't this a great morning greeting, hm? Seeing your gorgeous face right in the morning", your husband straightened up, propping himself against the pillows so he could sit Olivia on his lap.

"Mummy is doing something downstairs, isn't she? She always goes all out for these celebrations, and we love that very much, but she also loves to do those things alone, she likes having control over it", he smiled as his daughter grabbed his cheeks, "they're not as squishy as yours, buy they'll do apparently", he managed to say as Olivia pulled and pushed.

After waiting a little bit, George out on a t-shirt and walked downstairs with Olivia on his hip, finding his wife in her pyjamas, writing a card, "hello, handsome. Me and Liv are you a card", you smiled as you showed him the abstract drawing, "very artsy, that's for sure. So we are having breakfast and then going to my parents'?", he recalled, "yes. Your mother just texted me saying the surprise for your father if going in full swing, he doesn't suspect a thing", you smiled.

"Sounds like grandpa is going to love his surprise then", George cheered to Olivia, "all of the kids and grandkids in the same place".

Mick Schumacher

"When mama said she was surprising papa, she didn't account for you walking me up, did she?", Mick said as Aurora fussed in her cot beside the bed, making him pick her up so he coiled changed her diaper and grab her bottle, "she forgets that your our alarm clock these days", he chuckled as he walked downstairs, wanting to make it easier for you and not having you carry anything upstairs.

Pierre Gasly

"She's baking that cake I really like, isn't she? I bet you told her I was craving it, and that was our secret, miss Rora", he chuckled, crossing the corner and seeing Angie greet him excitedly before he heard your voice, "I knew you were up the minute Angie left me in the kitchen. This little bug was supposed to keep sleeping so you would be surprised", you pouted, hugging your husband's torso and kissing your daughter's cheek.

"I can go back upstairs if you want me to act surprised", Mick pointed to the stairs, "I'll just jump and pretend I didn't know you were baking my favourite, I'll even let out a small scr-", he chuckled out as you started tickling his stomach, "I'm perfectly fine with eating here. I have my girls, all three of them", he said as Angie laid by his feet, "best father's day ever".

"This is where papa used to race", Pierre spoke to Alexandre as he looked curiously around the track. Since his brothers also wanted to spend a fun father's day wirh their kids, who were a good bit older than your son, he rented out the karting track so they could spend their day together.

Lance Stroll

"And you will too one day, if that's something you'd like to do, join your cousins for races and battle for the first place", Pierre continued, "we might have to wait a while, I'm sure mama will wrap you in bubble wrap the minute you say something about karting and I'm going to be the one to hear about it the first time you have so much of a scratch".

"They're the duo you always imagined they would be, hm?", your sister in-law Charlotte said as you sat down at the tables, sipping on your coffees, "he's my son, and I know he loves me as I love him, but as soon as Pierre gets back or as soon as he sees him, it's gars competing with my husband for his attention", you smiled, "the fact that they're lookalikes also helps the whole thing, it's Pierre and his mini him, and he loves every second of it".

"I don't know if I ever told you, but when you were pregnant, he was so worried he wasn't going to be a good father because of his schedule, that you and Alexandre would resent him sooner rather than later. We told him he was so wrong, there was no way that would happen", Charlotte noted, "and it's true, look at him", you pointed at your husband who was adjusting Alexandre in a go kart with him as the baby sat on his lap, "the best papa".

"When mummy and I found out we were expecting you, I think that was one of the best days of my life", Lance told the little baby resting in his arms, big brown eyes looking up at his own and hanging on to every word he was saying, "the other ones are probably when I won my first race, when mummy and I started dating, and when we got married. The day you were born, though, that was another level of happiness and a bunch of other emotions", Lance gulped, "you made me a father, Addy, and I hope I'm doing my best because you and mummy deserve the world, the moon and the stars, and I'm trying to get them for you", he said as he snuggled her further into the blanket and on his chest.

The night was beautiful, nice temperature and clear sky so you could see the stars, shining beautifully. The plans weren't big, but neither of you liked big plans. A cabin for the weekend and the perfect environment to just chill out and enjoy family time.

"Here's your mug", you called, holding the two steaming mugs with tea and setting your husband's in the arm of the big garden sofa, "we're you two having a chat?", you asked, kissing Lance's lips and Addalynn's head, "is it a chat if it's just me doing the talking? Little miss is not very keen on sharing her opinion", he chuckled.

"She loves listening to you, I think she's fine with just that", you smiled, taking a sip from your mug and snuggling up to him, "did you like your first father's day, love?", you wondered, "I loved it, I spent it with my favourite girls, doing my favourite things", he smiled back, "there's nowhere o would rather be", he said before kissing your forehead.

Daniel Ricciardo

Daniel had been the one to make the plans for his first father's days: a picnic in the garden with his wife and daughter. They ate croissants they had baked in the morning and shared giggles and silly faces whilst enjoying the sun.

"I'm going to make a flower bracelet for you, little one", he explained as he gathered the flowers, "this is going to be a present for you, even though it will never come close to the best present I ever got from mummy, which is you, by the way, in case daddy wasn't clear", he chuckled, "so we begin with this one here, and we thread it through here", he kept showing her as you took in the sight.

Daniel was the best father to your little girl. There wasn't a moment where he didn't give his all for her, always there at her every need and encouraging her whenever she braved through in her explorer adventures, "That's right, that goes in your wrist. Clever girl!", he cooed, kissing her chubby cheeks.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#charles leclerc blurb #george russell blurb #mick schumacher blurb #daniel ricciardo blurb #lance stroll blurb #pierre gasly blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

186 notes · View notes

nymphoheretic · 1 year

Text

Synopsis: You give your beloved husband, Kyoujuro a wonderful surprise for his birthday.

Warnings: Daddy kink, clit slapping (just one), Breeding kink, mentioning of pregnancy, food play, fingering, oral (f recieiving), light choking, unprotected sex, established relationship, cute nicknames, edging, dirty talking, dacryphilia, cervix fucking, creampie

Word count: 4k

Pairing: Kyoujuro Rengoku x Fem!reader

Tagging the rengoku girlies(gn): @bakugosbratx @renhoeku @glz-100 @herohibiscus @potofstewie @comatosebunny09 @cherryblossomsenpai @linpunny @unknownspecies @yeahitzally @taisho-era-secrets @auraee @diorsbrando @kyojuro-my-wuv and the network @enchantedforest-network

Join the Rengoku girlies: https://forms.gle/YGTATcvxh2oAUc3o9

Kyoujuro never really liked celebrating his birthday. His birthday reminded him too much of his late mother as her birthday was the day before his. It was not until he met you and made you his wife did he start to enjoy his birthday again.

You brought such joy to his heart every year. Each year you would come up with a surprise for him, each one more exciting than the last. So, for the first time in a long time, he was excited for his birthday. He hurried home after the Hashira meeting so that he could see what you had planned for him.

You had just finished putting the last touches on your surprise for your husband when you heard the front door open. You quickly closed the door behind you as you saw him round the corner. Greeting him with a smile, you said. “Welcome home, my love.”

You stood on your tiptoes, placing your hands on his shoulders to press a sweet kiss to his lips. You sighed when he in turn wrapped his arms around your waist and deepened the kiss. A moan vibrated in your chest as his tongue swept inside your mouth.

He massaged your tongue with his own before you gently pushed him away. “Slow down, Kyou.” You tapped him on the nose. “I have the bath heated for you. Go on and bathe while I get things ready.”

He pouted as he let his beautiful wife leave his arms. Kyoujuro was really curious as to what you had planned for this year. Tempted to peer into the dinning room where everything was set up, he flinched when you yelled at him to not peek and go take a bath. Crossing his arms over his chest, he grumpily walked down the wall to the bathhouse. “She could’ve offered to join me.”

“Already took one before you came.” you giggled as you leaned back against the door as you avoided Kyoujuro attempting to spoil his surprise like he’s been doing for the past couple of birthdays. You slid the door open just a bit to make sure that he was indeed gone before walking back to the kitchen.

You smiled at the large array of food items. You had made his favorite dinner and had prepared a little special dessert for him. You made sure your yukata was tied shut tightly as you walked over to the large cake you had made.

Grabbing the piping bag, you finished writing his name on bright red letters. “There!” you smiled down at your handiwork. This was going to be the best birthday surprise ever for your husband. He deserved the world and more, especially after yesterday.

You recalled the solemn look on his face as he and his father and brother visited his mother’s grave, decorating the headstone in flowers. You stood by his side and held his hand as he said his piece to her, whispering his farewells and happiest of birthdays to his beloved mother.

You comforted him and Senjurou the best you could by making them baked sweet potatoes and giving them cuddles like their mother did as they wept silently into your shoulders. You also tried to comfort your father-in-law, but as usual he brushed you off. So, you left him his favorite sake at his door.

But today was all about your wonderful husband and you were determined to make this day a happy memory for him like you’ve been doing since you started dating all those years ago. You could hear his footsteps walking back down the hall, letting you know that he had finished with his bath and was coming back to the dining area. You quickly slipped out of the room to greet him with a warm smile. “You ready for your surprise, my love.”

Kyoujuro wrapped his arm aorund yourr waist, pulling you closer to him with hand large hand pressed against the small of your back. “You’ve already made my day so much better by just being here with me, my fireball.” He breathed in your scent as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “You smell nice. New perfume?” He brushed his lips against your throat, making you sigh out his name.

You gently pushed him away with a smile. “No. Your surprise first, Kyou.” you giggled when he pouted. Turning around, you slid the door open and called out “Surprise.” you grinned as his eyes widened at your hard work.

You had managed to transform the entire dining room into a replica of the starry sky without having to open up the roof. You had many small lights placed in very accurate constellalions. You grabbed his hand and pulled him inside and motioned to the various constellations You made. “There’s Gemini, Taurus, and Leo.” you pointed to the small cluster of lights that made up each group of stars.

“This...this is beautiful, my love. Truly it is.” Kyoujuro breathed. His eyes could not stop staring at your beautiful craftsmanship. How you managed to do this was remarkable. It was like he was surrounded by the stars in the skies. You really outdid yourself this time.

He turned towards you and pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately, his tongue sliding against yours. Kyoujuro tugged at the obi tied at your waist. He growled when you swatted his hands away. “Little one...”

Your body shivered when he growled out that name. It was the name he called you when he wanted you beneath him. “You gotta eat first. I didn't slave over a hot stove all day for you to not at least try some of the things I cooked.” you tapped him gently on the nose before retying your obi. You led him to his seat at the table and made him sit down. “I’ll be back with your plate.”

You went into the kitchen and fixed him a quick dinner because you knew how frustrated he was becoming. You were wearing a thin robe that barely hid anything and you had sprayed your body down with a new perfume that seemed to awaken a beast within him. You walked back, set the plate in front of him and watched as his eyes widened.

“You learned how to make my mother’s dish?” He whispered softly as he stared down at the food on the plate. His heart swelled with love for you. You were truly an angel his mother had sent to him from heaven. His eyes misted over as he took that first bite. It tasted almost exactly how his mother made it. Kyoujuro looked over to you, who was smiling softly at him, “You’re an angel, my darling. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You smiled at him, your face warming a little at the snecereity of his words. “I only want you to feel nothing but happiness everyday, but especially on this day since it was such a sad day for you in the past.” You walked over to him and rubbed his shoulders, easing out all the tension and stress that had built up in them. Once he was fully relaxed and almost finished with his food, you went back into the kitchen to grab dessert.

Kyoujuro’s heart was truly touched. Not only did his wife manage to simulate his favortire thing, you also managed to copy his favorite dish his mother made him often. He wiped at the corner of his eye. He did not deserve someone so precious, but he was not going to give you up to no one.

He turned to look at you as you brought out a tray filled with various items. He quipped a brow as you walked past him to set the tray down on the table. His breath caught up in his throat as his eyes widened when you faced him.

You hid a smile as Kyoujruo’s jaw dropped when he saw what you were hiding under your robe. You leaned in and lifted his jaw with a finger, your breasts nearly spilling out of the red lace bra you wore. “See something you like, Kyou?” you giggled as you straddled his lap and sat down, running your fingers though his hair. “Because it’s time for your dessert.” you grabbed his fork and took a piece of the cake onto it and held it out to him.

Flame colored eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to take the offered piece, but he nudged it with his lips purposely and made it fall onto your chest. “Oops...” He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulled you closer while making your chest stick out more.

“I need to clean my mess up.” His tongue slid out of his mouth and licked at the sweet tasting frosting that smeared over your breasts. He scooped some of the cake into his mouth while lapping at the creamy confection. “So sweet.”

You opened your mouth in a silent moan as his wet muscle licked over your tits. You curled your fingers into his hair to hold his head in place. His fingers came up and tugged at one of the cups of your bra as his other hand reached for something behind me.

You jumped when something cold dripped down my breasts. You then saw that Kyoujuro had grabbed the ice cream and poured some of the melted liquid onto your flesh, his tongue quickly following the path it took. He quickly sucked the nipple he freed into his mouth as he tugged the other cup down to play with the other.

“Ah~” you cried out, pressing your hips down into his.

He licked up the drippings of the ice cream from your tantalizing breasts before moving down to suck a nipple into his mouth, fingers tugging and playing with the other one. The sweet taste of the creamy liquid made your skin even more delicious under his tongue.

Kyoujuro swirled his wet muscle over the pebbled bud, pressing it against the roof of his mouth as he released it with a wet “pop” “Delicious.” He hummed as he lifted you off his lap and laid you down on the table. At your confused look, he said. “You said it was time for dessert? I’m having you for dessert.”

You opened your mouth to protest. But a soft moan replaced my words as his fingers slid over your clothed heat. “Kyou~” You whined out when he sat back down and reached for the cake and ice cream. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips as he placed the items down next to your body. You watched with bated breath as Kyoujuro placed his cool hands on your thighs before gliding his fingers down to your panties.

You lifted your hips so that he could slide them off. felt my face heat with a blush when he brought them to his nose, sniffing them before stuffing them into his pocket. “Kyou, wha-” Your words were cut off when he dropped a small scoop of ice cream on top of your pussy.

Kyoujuro smiled down at you as he grabbed the bottle of whipped cream and sprayed a generous amount around your breasts before grabbing the chocolate syrup and decorating your body with the brown swirls. To top off his treat, he placed two mashiro cherries on top of each whipped creamed covered breast.

“Shh...I’m having my dessert.” His tongue lapped up the sweet, white cream that coated your body. Your body trembled under his touch, the heat causing the ice cream to melt faster. Kyoujuro quickly moved down to slurp up the melting liquid, purposely avoiding your throbbing clit. Once the ice cream had been cleaned off your body, he went back to your whipped cream covered tits. He scooped more of the sweet treat into his mouth, pulling the cherry into his mouth.

Your body trembled on the table as Kyoujuro took his time devouring your body. It was a feast for him to enjoy and you were not about to interrupt him. But you were soon starting to get impatient, your pussy was throbbing and was begging to be touched and played with. You could literally feel your slick building up until it was overflowing and running down the lips of your cunt.

“Kyou...” you whined, lifting your hips off the table and rubbing your thighs together. “Please...” your voice came out more whiny and pitiful sounding than what you meant as his tongue trailed over to the other cream covered breast, licking it clean before pulling the red fruit inside his mouth. You gasped when he suddenly grabbed you by the cheeks and pressed his lips against yours.

Kyoujuro used his tongue to push the sweet cherry into your open mouth, feeding it to you. Once you had swallowed it, he sucked your tongue into his mouth. His fingers glided down your body until they reached your weeping cunt, feeling your slick that gathered there and spread it over your lower lips.

“So wet. And all for me on my birthday?” He whispered against your lips. He nudged at your entrance with two fingers, slowly sinking them inside. Kyoujuro growled at the feeling of your vevlty walls sucking his digits in deeper. “Such a needy little pussy.”

Your face heated at his dirty talk. Kyoujuro was always so good at it and it always left you a mess. The squelching sounds that came from your cunt made your face heat even more. Kyoujuro was purposely fingering you so slowly to make those noises.

You whined at the feeling of a third finger beeing added, the stretch burned so good. Your hips moved of their own accord as he touched deeper within you, rubbing against your walls as his lips closed over one of your sensitive nipples once more. “Ahn~” you moaned. “Kyou, please?”

“Please, what, my sweet?” He teased as his thumb pressed on your throbbing clit, swirling it slightly. He smiled at the sight underneath him. His beautiful wife naked with three of his fingers pressed so snuggly inside your dripping cunt. Your mouth parted as you panted and moaned so sweetly for him. Only for him.

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” He thought about what he had just said as he slid down your body, his tongue lapping up any stray smears of chocolate sauce. “On second thought. It is my birthday. I should do as I please today.” His tongue teased at your clit lightly, flickering over it.

You opened your mouth in a silent scream as Kyoujuro lapped at your sensitive nub. Your hands flew to his head as your thighs began to tremble. You were not going to last long. Having his tongue covering every inch of your body has made it very sensitive to the slightest of touches.

Your back arched when he added a fourth finger inside, stretching me out even further. You tugged at his hair when his tongue circled at my clit before sliding down to your dripping hole. He licked up at the small space that his fingers provided.

Kyoujuro swirled his tongue over the small space his fingers left behind as he collected some of your sweet honey before moving his mouth back up to suck on your sensitive nub. He slowly thrust his fingers inside, prepping you for what was to come next.

His other hand palmed at his hardening length as he licked you in tune with his thrusting fingers. Kyoujuro pulled his zipper down on his pants and freed his erection, the pink, wet tip slapping against his abdomen. His fist closed over the hard length as he began stroking it in tune with his fingers, curling them within you. “Fuck..my sweet little fireball.” He mumbled into your folds, smearing his pre over his dick.

Your thighs began to tremble even more as Kyoujuro ate you out, his tongue lashing almost violently over your swollen clit. You pulled at his hair, not knowing if you were trying to push him away or pull him closer. Your mouth opened in a series of curses as the knot of heat that had been forming in the pit of your belly snapped.

“AHN~” your voice came out loud as you grabbed at his hair, holding him in place as you rode out my orgasm on his tongue. “Shit...Fuck...Oh god...” you panted, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

He drank every last drop you had to offer. You were always so sweet on his tongue and he loved tasting you. He slowed his fingers until he eased them out of your quivering hole. His tongue still lapped at your clit softly.

Kyoujuro sat back, his chin and neck still wet from your juices. He made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, curling his tongue over the long digits. “Thanks for dessert.” he hummed as he stroked his cock, leaning over you. “But I want more now.” He took hold of your still shaking legs and placed them over his shoulders.

You bit your lip when you felt Kyoujuro rub the bulbous head of his length against your weeping slit. He teased you with the tip, bumping it against your clit until you were a sobbing mess. “Kyou...please?” You whined when he increased his teasing, thrusting in shallowly before resuming flicking your clit with just the tip.

“Kyou...” you pleaded, but was met with a light slap to my clit. You bit your lip to stop the scream from leaving your throat.

“You know what my name is, wife.” Kyoujuro said simply as he rubbed his cock along your slick slit, fingers pressing deep into your thighs as he leaned down to lap at your perked nipple. “You want my cock deep inisde this tight cunt?” At your desperate nod, he said, “Then say what I want to hear, little one. Beg for it. That’s my birthday wish.”

“Kyou...Daddy, please fuck me.” you whine out, tears sliding down your face. You needed him inside you so badly. Your body was aching for him. “I want your cock so deep inside me, Daddy. Won’t you please fuck me?” you gasped when Kyoujuro’s lips spread into a satisfied smile and he angled his cock to line the head up with your opening.

With one smooth thrust, he sheathed himself inside. You opened your mouth and let out a wonton sounding moan at the stretch and the fullness you felt. Your tongue lolled out as Kyoujuro started a fast steady pace, his shaft rubbing all the right spots within you.

Kyoujuro pumped his hips into yours, hands tightening around your thighs. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, tongue tangling with yours. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re so damn tight. You’re squeezing my cock so much. It's like your pussy doesn’t want to let it go.” He growled into your ear, as he pushed more of him inside.

“Did you miss my dick that much?” His voice was a growl-like coo as he spoke directly in your ear, hot breath ghosting across your already sensitive flesh. Kyoujuro increased the speed of his thrusts, heavy balls slapping against your ass as the table creaked under your combined weight.

Your mind was swimming from the pleasure that all you could do was hold on to Kyoujuro for dear life as he pounded into you. Your back arched off the table as his thick cockhead pressed against your cervix and mewls left your raw throat.

“Shit, Kyou, right there. Fuck...you’re so good, baby. S’good to me. It feels s’good.” you babbled out, tears streaming down your face to which he licked away before pressing sweet kisses to your lips, swallowing your moans and screams. The sounds of skin against skin echoed through the living room as the semll of sex grew heavier.

His hips continued to rock against yours as his hand slipped down to rub at your clit, making you cream on his cock. “You’re such a good girl. My beautiful wife.” he purred, eyes full of lust and love. All for you. “I love you so goddamn much.”

His other hand carassed at your neck, giving it a few gentle squeezes before trailing down to your breasts. He groaned when your walls clenched tightly around him, so warm and wet. “Shit, princess...You want my cum that badly?” Kyoujuro asked before nipping at your neck. “You want me to breed you? You want me to get you pregnant, love?”

You felt your body clench down on him harder. He was being so lewd and it was such a turn on. “I love you, too.” you pulled him down for another sloppy kiss, tongues meshing together. You nodded your head as you moaned out, “Yes, Kyou! I want your cum so badly. Please breed me. I want to get pregnant. I want us to have kids.”

That twisting ball of heat in your belly snapped as your orgasm washed over you. Your nails dug into his back as your breath caught up in your throat. You managed to choke out his name in broken bits as he continued to pump his cock within you. His stamina always amazed you.

Kyoujuro smiled down at you, watching yourr chest heave from your second intense orgasm. “Little one, I’m not through with you.” His hips snapped into yours as he scooped you up off the table and walked over to the nearest wall. Pressing your back against the smooth surface, he hooked your legs over his shoulder, pressing your thighs up against your chest.

“You have one more, don’t you, love?” He slid his thick cock out until only the pink, bulbous head was left inside and he looked down at the ring of cream that circled the base. “Fuck..you’re so sexy.” Kyoujuro rammed it back inside, his balls slapping against your ass with each heavy thrust. “Gonna breed you so well, my love. Wanna see you so round with my seed. You’d look absolutely beautiful.”

Your mind went numb as he pumped in and out of your cunt, nearly bruising your cervix with his powerful thrusts. You opened your mouth and let out another series of moans as the squelching noises of your love making filled the air. “S’too much, Kyou. M gonna break.” It felt too good, your body was melting. You could feel that knot of heat burning low in your belly threatening to snap. Your head fell back as you surrendered to the pleasure. “Kyou!” you screamed as you came hard, your juices squirting out of you.

He felt your slick spray out of you, dripping down his length and over his balls. “Good fucking girl.” Kyoujuro wasn’t too far behind as his thrusts began more sporadic until he gave one last pump and held still as his thick, white seed colored your insides. “Shit...” he groaned out as he gave you a few shallow thrusts. “You’re so good to me, baby. Thank you.”

He pressed soft kisses to your forehead as he lowered your legs some until he was carrying you in his arms. Kyoujuro cuddled you as he walked you to your shared bedroom. “Did you really mean those words? Do you really want us to have kids?” He had to know that it just was not the mind numbing sex the two of you just had. His words about seeing you round with his child was truly an exciting and beautiful thought to him.

You smiled as Kyoujuro laid you on your bed and grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “Of course, baby. We are already pregnant.” You laughed when his eyes widened and he asked you if it was really true. “Yes, Shinobu confirmed it today. Kyou, we’re starting a family.”

Kyoujuro said nothing as he pulled you into a deep embrace, tears sparkling in his eyes. “Thank you, my love. This is the best birthday surprise you could have ever given me.” He pulled away only to press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, his hand never leaving your stomach.

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

#nymphomanic♡#rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #kyoujurou rengoku smut #rengoku smut #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #kny smut

721 notes · View notes

kichikichiko · 5 months

Note

Ok, so I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable with this request. If I do, just tell me!

Ok, and you do a SFW/Fluff of Wally Darling x Y/N who is pregnant (I don’t even think it’s possible that puppets can be pregnant but I guess roll with it 😅)

So, can you do headcannons on marriage + pregnancy (If you’re comfortable with writing that. I don’t know why I just think sense he’s in a kids tv show and is overall calm, I think he would be amazing with kids) gender of children/kids if there will be multiple are up to you, doesn’t really matter.

Also I think you would be cute if we got a small reaction from the neighbors of the marriage and or pregnancy! Like how would the whole neighborhood react to this?

Our little family

An: HI EVERYONE IM BACKKKK

I saw this cute request and literally could not resist I HAD TO!

I love reading n writing pregnancy related fics its so fun n fluffy UGH

Hope you like this liz! I totally agree with you. Wally would be good with kids no doubt

Synopsis: HC of Wally with a pregnant puppet reader!

Pairing: Wally Darling x AFAB reader

Cw: fluff, pregnancy, established relationship, reader is called mother @ the end, wally is probs OOC, defies all puppet logic known to mankind

──────•❥❥❥•──────

You and Wally Darling have always been Welcome Home's "it" couple, so imagine the happiness everyone felt when the two of you got married, and imagine the shock everyone felt when you got pregnant!

When you found out you're pregnant you couldn't contain your happiness

You had to tell Wally ASAP after he came back from Barnaby's place

You like knitting so you thought it'd be fun to surprise him with knitted baby clothes, so you got straight to work.

Wally came home at around 1 PM, right after lunch. "Darling I'm Home!"

"Over in the living room dear!" You called, and he made his way to the living room.

Seeing your giddy expression has become one he's used to, but Wally had a feeling that something was different "Darling, you seem really giddy today, did something happen?"

To his question you grinned wider "Im happy everyday with you dear, but I suppose you can say the reason as to why is..." trailing off you picked up the yellow knitted baby outfit you have finished in the morning

Wally couldnt believe it.

Mr. Darling had always been known to have the same expression no matter what, but hearing this news caused him to have his jaw dropped to the floor (quite literally)

Most people would take this as a bad sign, but you knew Wally better than that. You could tell all sorts of emotions and thoughts ran through his brain

"I'll be a father? This can't be happening!" "What a miracle!" "Ill be the best papa for my son or daughter... or both!" "Im so lucky" were just a few he manage to say to you before deciding to kiss you all over your face with his signature slow laugh.

All the other 8 neighbours were delighted to hear that youre pregnant! Thanks to Wally walking around and casually telling them of course.

Julie screamed with joy, hugging you jumping up and down (dangerously close to you) which caused your dear husband to kindly and gently, push and remind Julie to be more careful. To which she complied, causing you to giggle

Sally, a drama queen obviously giggled with joy as well, only she knew better than to hug you while jumping up and down. She promises to give your kid a show once they were old enough to understand.

Poppy was shocked and happy for you and wally, so much so the bird started baking you a cake as a congratulations. She promised you that if you ever had any cravings, just give her a call and she'll be more than happy to bake you something!

Frank was delighted to say the least, despite his face not showing it. You knew he cared. And Frank being Frank, gave you heads up on pregnancy, what to avoid eating, what to do when feeling contractions, letting you know the size of your baby etc. This is his love language, info dumping. He will come and visit Home whenever you need him. As he is Welcome Home's book worm.

Howdy was very delighted. Gave you a pat on the back as well as a hearty laugh. Howdy started stocking up on baby items like pacifiers, diapers and baby toys just for you in the shop

Eddie of course, was just as happy as the other members of Welcome Home. Being the Mailman, he told you that once your belly grows big and you can no longer walk, he'd be happy to deliver your mails and or deliver things to you.

It was delightful having so many wonderful and kind neighbours all around you! And having a wonderful husband made your pregnancy journey fairly easy despite its occasional ups and downs throughout the 9 months.

BONUS:

Once your daughter came into the world, everyone was in awe and took care of her like the niece they never knew they needed!

Wally was obviously a fantastic father, and you were a fantastic mother

When your daughter is old enough, he'd teach her how to paint and they'd go on father daughter dates around the neighbourhood. Painting all they can see and proudly showing their work to you once they get back

Wally would read your daughter bedtime stories to help her sleep

Maybe even throughout the day as well

Waddles up to her father and shows him a book

"Oh? Whats this my sweet peach?" He'd startd "you want papa to read you this book?"

With a gleeful nod she'd get on her tippy toes and give Wally a full clear view on the book

"My sweets its not even bedtime yet are you sure you dont want to save this for tonight?"

He ends up reading it to her anyways

His daughter is his greatest weakness

It made you feel at ease knowing that your daughter is surrounded by kind and loving people <333

──────•❥❥❥•──────

REQUESTS OPEN TEMPORARILY

Masterlist here!

#wally darling x y/n #wally darling fanfic #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling #julie joyful #frank frankly #howdy pillar #welcome home x reader #welcome home fanfic #kichifanficsfw

151 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 26 days

Text

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point.

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some.

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day.

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din.

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display.

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.”

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.”

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?”

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.”

She chuckles, “can be.”

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.”

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.”

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.”

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?”

“Well, he’s... called in.”

“Again?” You whine as you face her.

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs.

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?”

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.”

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?”

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking.

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time.

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful.

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best.

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill.

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting.

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte.

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask.

“Who?” She furrows her brow.

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.”

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?”

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?”

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.”

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.”

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.”

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.”

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth.

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.”

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not.

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him.

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him.

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone.

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch.

“How are you today?” You ask.

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.”

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.”

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit.

“Of course, I always do,” you smile.

“And last time?”

“Last time...”

“Twice.”

You’re confused. What is he talking about?

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--”

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely.

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around.

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.”

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #dark!raymond smith #drabble #series #to a tea #sweet and spicy #the gentlemen #au

139 notes · View notes

missluthorwillseeyounow · 1 month

Note

Ooh I'd love to hear 27 for Lena 😂

27. What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

For Lena, the worst gift was no gift at all.

Her first birthday at the Luthors, and the little girl woke up with the first tiny bit of hope and happiness in her little heart.

Her birthdays, as far as she could remember in her young life, were always happy days. Not grand, in any sense. But the tiny cottage by the cliffs would be filled with a warm, rich scent of the sponge cake baking in the oven, and her mother would always let her sneak a small piece before the cake was even decorated. The sponge would be buttery and soft in Lena’s mouth, and when she exclaimed at the taste, her mother would get a soft look in her eyes and cup her cheek gently, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

No matter how lean the year had been, there would always be a present waiting for Lena at the table, lovingly wrapped by her mother's hand in shiny paper. Most times it would be a cheap pair of shoes or a plastic toy or an old book from a thrift shop - all her mother could afford - but Lena would treasure each as if it were gold.

But where were they now? Discarded by the Luthors as cheap trinkets the minute she moved into their household.

But today, she has a little bit of hope. After all, her mother always showed her that birthdays are special days.

Lena waits at the breakfast table. Lex is at boarding school, she misses him dearly. Lionel is already at LuthorCorp. Lillian has spared a rare moment to sip her morning coffee before heading out the door, and Lena's spirits lift in anticipation.

But nothing comes. No acknowledgment as the maid approaches with her lunch box and book bag. It's not even Lillian who bids her farewell, but rather the housekeeper who tells her to hurry along or she'll be late for school.

Breakfast comes and goes, and Lena is ushered into the family limo without acknowledgment.

She keeps her expectations low throughout the school day, but a little part of her looks up each time the door opens. She knows better than to expect any of the Luthors to come in with cupcakes and balloons or anything like that. But a small message, any sort of acknowledgment would be welcome.

Nothing comes.

School is dismissed and Lena is too. She is sent to her room to do her homework and brush up on her reading. Her Latin teacher comes and goes. Her organic chemistry tutor stays for an hour and talks about chirality and stereoisomers, but mentions nothing about birthdays.

Her last hope clings to life at dinner.

She's too scared to bring it up to Lionel. The man who had picked her up and flown her to the States is more interested in the portfolio he's reviewing at the table. Lillian is similarly distracted by some documents at her side. The entire dinner is silent and distracted, work taken to the table just to avoid talking to the people they share a house with. It certainly can't be called a family.

Lionel retires early and the only two people left are Lillian and Lena. The little girl waits as the maid clears the plates and disappears around the corner.

She summons her courage and musters a small smile for her new mother, who doesn't even look up to see it. "It's my birthday today."

Lillian’s annoyed gaze flicks up at her, her grey eyes almost bored. "Is it? And did you expect some sort of congratulations for that?"

Lena's mouth snaps shut, and her eyes lower to her lap.

"Do you suggest we reward something as trivial as being born? Should you get some award for merely existing?" Lillian arches a fine eyebrow. "Accolades are for achievements, Lena. Birthdays are not achievements, and hardly worth any sort of offering. If you're looking for some sort of distinction or praise for merely existing, you're looking in the wrong place. Let me know when you've achieved something worth commemorating."

But you gave Lex his own lab for his last birthday. Lena bites the thought back, knowing better than to say anything. Instead, she turns back to her plate.

The rest of the meal passes in silence.

#lena luthor #supergirl #replies #rustingcat

79 notes · View notes

vivwritescrappythings · 29 days

Text

Twenty-Five

eddie munson x gn!reader

A self indulgent fic for my birthday today. I always cry on my birthday, no matter what, and this was inspired by my own boyfriend who is so lovely and sweet and Eddie reminds me of him all the time. But, nevertheless, treated this one like a diary entry more than a fic.

You always cry on your birthday, and this is the year Eddie finds out.

tw: crying, talks about death, panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader but also heavily girl coded bc this is a self indulgent fic about my own life and I identify as a girl, not proofread

Word count: 2.8k

There’s something horrible about the way that time just keeps going no matter what. No stops, no returns. There’s no warning that something just happened for the last time, no flashing signs that say: Stop! You’ll never get to experience this again so savor it!

Everything just moves on and moves on and moves on.

Your thoughts are cyclical in nature, it takes you give or take 365 days to get to the same spot: crumpled somewhere private, crying. When you were young it used to be your parents’ walk-in closet, you would curl where your mother’s skirts met your father’s jeans and sob until you could hardly breathe. In your teen years the big meltdown would take place in your car, the beat up SUV felt like your own box of privacy to cry into the palms of your hands after school. You had to hide under the cover of your comforter in your dorm room, praying you were silent enough that your roommate didn’t notice.

This year is the same as any other, you feel like an anvil has been placed on your chest the second you open your eyes. Sunlight diffuses through the sheer lilac curtains over your bedroom window, tinging the morning with an eerie, dreamlike quality. Normally you find the color to be pleasant, mystical rather than gloomy.

Eddie is still asleep next to you, your gaze pulled to the gentle peace that has settled on his face. He’s never still and calm like this, you like to take your opportunities to absorb him in this state when possible. You resist the urge to press a kiss to his pink lips, deciding to let him catch these last few hours of sleep that you yourself have been deprived of.

He’s always been better at sleeping than you, the beginning few hours of most mornings spent on your own reading or watching some show in the other room. It doesn’t matter if you’re at his trailer or your apartment, you always wake up when the first dregs of sunlight hit your eyelids.

You pull yourself from bed with a soft groan, stretching and blinking in an attempt to ground yourself. Of course, it isn’t sufficient, the dizzy feeling of dread curling around your shoulders like a blanket as you emerge from your room into the modest kitchen of your single-room apartment. The bedroom door closes with a soft click behind you, just enough to shield Eddie and let him rest.

There are still a million tasks that you need to accomplish today. You’d made progress yesterday evening, dusting and scrubbing and rearranging every corner of your apartment in an attempt to make it look like no one had ever lived there. It was mostly accomplished, dishes still in the sink and pillows on the couch rumpled where you had been watching television.

While the coffee brews you set on your first task of the day, pulling the mixer out of a cupboard along with a large bowl you’d gotten from the thrift store. Baking while Eddie is asleep will be easier, his fingers no longer poking into the bowl for a taste or his puppy-dog eyes set on you like a weapon in an attempt to convince you to let him lick the spoon. The bowl you used to mix the cake batter yesterday sat in the sink, licked so clean that if you didn’t know any better you would have put it away.

It’s a miracle he didn’t make himself sick.

You put a record on to fill the emptiness, trying to keep your mind busy with tasks and noise so you don’t have a moment to sit down and think too much. By the time you flip to the B side, the red velvet cake you made was decorated in a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. You haphazardly press sprinkles onto its surface as decoration, not trusting your ability to pipe lettering on it.

It’s decent enough, you remind yourself to set your perfectionism aside as you return it to the cake stand in the corner of the kitchen and set about fussing with the rest of your apartment.

It’s easy enough to distract yourself while you have things to do. You don’t rest, jumping from one thing to the next in a journey that leads you from washing the dishes in the sink to straightening up the couch cushions to folding every blanket strewn across your living room.

But you can only keep going so long.

Eventually you run out of tasks, or out of steam. You’re not sure which hit first as you allowed yourself to fall onto the couch with a huff. The dread comes rushing back all at once, nearly paralyzing you as you gather up one of the meticulously folded blankets and cover yourself with it.

No matter what, no matter how many birthdays come and go, you always feel the same devastation of the years going by. With a start you realize that this is your first birthday that you no longer consider your parent’s house your home. It startles you, making you think back in an attempt to identify when the last time you referred to it as your home was.

What are they doing now? Surely they are awake by now, but they haven’t called. Probably giving you privacy, not wanting to wake you up in case you had a wild night to kick off your birthday weekend. It was rare, but it could have happened.

You should call them, but the thought of even talking to your mom right now is making your throat close. It’s all too much, everything is going too fast. You still remember your fourth birthday party, the one with the fairies and the cheap wings made of coathangers and your mother’s old stockings that all the little kids decorated. It gets you thinking about how you used to make crowns with her out of construction paper, emblazoned with crayon butterflies.

A sob wrenches from you before you even realize you are crying, it’s a horrible strangled sound that you hardly recognize as your own. Tears blur your vision as you check the bedroom door, praying that Eddie hadn’t heard.

After a few moments without movement, you let the tears fall and the misery engulf you.

It’s confusingly irrational and rational at the same time, the contradiction eating you up inside as you consider having an annual crisis over the inevitable death of your parents while still actively having the crisis. Your hysterics feel ridiculous, you’re twenty-five now, your frontal cortex is fully developed and you should be able to move on with the idea that someday they will be gone.

Gone.

Jesus. You wonder if every child feels this way or if you are the only one. The soft cushions of the couch welcome you as you slouch onto them, shoulders shaking as your face wedges into the corner of the sofa. Once the floodgates are open you can’t stop them, thinking about how there will eventually be a day that it's the last time you speak with them and you’ll never know it until it already happens.

You helplessly remind yourself that you always tell them you love them before you hang up phone calls, before you leave their home after weekend get-togethers and holidays and family dinners. But will you regret not spending more time with them? Will you look back someday and wish that you had spent more of your fleeting moments with people that were all too temporary despite the fact that they meant everything to you?

Do people with siblings feel like this? The solitude that comes with the idea of the death of a parent? You don’t know, doomed to be an only child and always carrying the burden of it on your shoulders and your shoulders alone.

You don’t know how long this meltdown lasts, crying and crying and crying about grief that is yet to happen, regrets you don’t even know you will have. No matter how hard you try to be rational and firmly rooted in the present, you find yourself mourning people who are still alive every year on the day that should be a celebration.

A gentle hand on your spine startles you from the spiral of your thoughts, shame and grief and guilt fraying your nerves as you choke on a sob. You stiffen like you are electrocuted, your shoulders curling in as you compress closer to the back of the couch.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice is still groggy from sleep, raspy and soft in all your favorite ways.

You can only imagine his confusion, he probably woke up expecting you to be reading a book or finishing up your birthday cake instead of burrowing into your couch in a fit of tears.

Eddie has never been around for the quiet parts of your birthday, the moments where you hide yourself away and wallow. You’ve been friends for ten years now, dating for two of them, but you’ve still managed to keep this secret in the hollow of your heart and bear your misery alone.

“It’s okay,” you exhale, the simple words a staccato as you try to catch your breath. Your face is soaked with tears, you keep it mashed against the couch as you try to stuff everything you’re feeling back into the neat little box it sprung from.

He lets out a soft breath, his fingertips start to move up and down from the base of your skull to where your ratty and holey pajama bottoms hug your hips. “If it’s okay then what are you doing out here crying?”

You know the second you face him the temporary dam you have managed to build will come crashing loose. Eddie nevertheless manages to squeeze his long fingers into the space between your shoulder and the fabric of the couch, slowly turning you on your back to face him.

He looks so sweet, his hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of his neck and his brown eyes round with concern as he looks down at you. Instead of sitting on the couch he’s kneeling next to it, his face closer to yours than you anticipated. You’re sure you look like a disaster, skin red and splotchy and eyes bloodshot. No matter how many times you rub the back of your hand across it you can’t stop your nose from running like a faucet and your lips are so swollen.

Eddie cups your cheek with a calloused hand, rubbing your tears away with his thumb as his brows furrow. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

The plea is so genuine that you immediately whine despite your attempts to steel yourself against your emotions. You burst into an additional round of tears, crying so hard that you are nearly choking. Despite your attempt to explain, your words are unintelligible, distorted by your sobs.

Eddie’s arms curl around you, warm even through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. With no help on your part, he manages to pry you off the couch and into his lap, cradling you against the seat of the couch. As always, he just knows what to do.

He coaxes your head to find the curve of his neck, his fingers caressing the back of your skull as he remains silent. Rather than try to understand what’s going on right now, he just lets you cry it out.

Your tears soak into the back fabric of his cut off Metallica shirt, your arms winding around his torso as you cling to him. Eddie is so solid, he always has been when it comes to you. After knowing one another for a decade, he knows how to handle your storms, how to bring them down to a manageable size and get the gray clouds to go away.

Eventually the sobs slow, you take greedy pulls of air as your fingers twist in the fraying bottom edge of the shirt Eddie is wearing. He claimed there was something he found overstimulating about where the hem originally landed on his lanky frame, cutting it so slivers of his pale stomach were visible any time he moved. Your fingers pressed along the line of skin just above where the elastic of his boxers hung low.

“Do you, uh, just ever think about how everyone is gonna die?” In retrospect, you’re not sure if that’s how you’d phrase the question. It comes out mumbled and wet-sounding against his shoulder, your eyes squeezed shut as you attempt to explain.

He hums his acknowledgment, leaving you empty space to fill. It’s the telltale way he pulls things from you, knowing that if he doesn’t say anything you will babble to fill that silence.

“It’s stupid.” You squish yourself closer, briefly wishing that you could just sit inside his skin. “I just, uh, always think about how, like, when I get older on my birthday that everyone else gets older too?” The way you say it makes it sound like a question rather than a statement.

Again, just a sound of acknowledgement.

“It just is so shitty that everything goes so fast and my parents are getting older and someday I won’t have them and even though I’m older now I don’t even know anything and I have no idea how to do anything without them,” you babble, your gasping breaths interrupting the stream of consciousness spilling from you.

Now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “It’s like my birthday is a marker for how much time is changing and it feels so fast and I’m not ready to be by myself and get even older.” A few tears squeeze out of your eyes, your fingertips pressing into his torso.

“Why am I like this?” you whisper, the question defeated and soft.

“Because you are the most caring person I know, baby,” he murmurs in response, his arms winding around you completely as his hands rub up and down your arms. His cheek squishes into the crown of your head, his warm breath against your scalp. “But nothing is happening yet, and I know the way your brain works makes it feel so real to you even though it’s not real. It will be someday, but you can’t think about it like this right now.”

You nod slowly, trying to take deep breaths. The years of anxiety and guilt and paralyzing fear seem to melt away under his reassurance. “Never talked about this with anyone before,” you mumble into him, feeling deflated.

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you are in a tangle of limbs on the floor of your living room, holding each other close.

You nod against him, the simmering pot of emotions finally slowing down. “I love you,” you say, your words sounding thick and wet and so small.

“I love you too.” The way Eddie says it, you can hear his smile.

You don’t know why you keep this all to yourself, why you let everything bottle up and the emotions consume you. But you’re so thankful that it’s Eddie you have to talk to.

You finally lift your head, lip wobbling as you look up at him with wet eyes. His pink mouth is twisted into a smile, a kiss stamped against your forehead. “There you are,” he murmurs, a tinge of excitement in his tone like he just won a game of hide and seek. A hand comes up to wipe away the tears slicked across your cheeks, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The cliff you were teetering on feels so far away now, your ribs no longer cracking apart under the weight of your guilt.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a sheepish smile settling on your face as you tilt your head up toward his. Eddie presses his lips to yours without hesitation, a hand caressing your jaw as he kisses you with such a fervor that you don’t think you can ever deny the fact that this boy loves you.

His brown eyes are soft as you pull apart, flicking over your face before settling on your gaze. “Now, how about we get dressed and go get some birthday waffles from the diner,” Eddie suggests, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Your mom told me she always makes you waffles for your birthday, but with my luck I’d probably burn your kitchen down.”

You laugh, Eddie’s expression coloring with pride as the sound rattles from you. “Yeah, okay, let’s go,” you murmur, nodding as you start to stand.

Eddie joins you, looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to the bedroom of your apartment. He keeps pressing kisses to your forehead, whispering little quips to you that keep earning peals of laughter.

He’d bend over backwards or lasso the sun just to make you smile, and you realize that Eddie is your favorite present this year.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x gn!reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson angst

91 notes · View notes