#Hire Kitchen Designer

[kitchensplus]

If you are looking for the best Kitchen Renovation Near Me in Canada, then you are at the right place. Shouldn't it be a place you enjoy? If you're like most people, you probably use your kitchen mostly to cook meals, and renovation is the ideal method to meet your culinary goals. A kitchen renovation allows you to optimize the arrangement of your kitchen. You can also install new countertops, task lighting, and professional cooking tools to make your kitchen more functional. There are numerous advantages to remodeling your kitchen.

[dawnofus]

one thing about my new job is that they’re making me do anything and everything they can on the pretense that “it’s a small company and everyone does a bit of everything sometimes” as if my actual job isn’t already a lot most times

[macustoms]

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Find an Interior Designer Near You: Finding the right interior designer can seem like a daunting task, but with the right approach, it can be a rewarding experience. Here are a few tips to help you find an interior designer near you:

[mariespen]

I know ⋆ ﾟ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader ₊✩ˎˊ˗ summary: your eldest daughter, Ellie, gets into a fight at school. warnings: mention of slight injury

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You checked the time on the kitchen clock, looking over your shoulder and making sure that you were on schedule. You needed to leave to pick up your two kids from school by 3:25 to avoid traffic. You wanted to go shopping before picking them up because your oldest, Ellie, needed some new winter clothes. No one told you that picking up your kids would need this much planning, even after your husband insisted on sending them to a prestigious private school.

Speaking of your husband, at 1:15 he pulled into the garage. You rolled your eyes, only half annoyed.

“Hi, baby.” He said with a smile, walking into the house with his dress clothes, straight from work.

“Late lunch?” You asked as he came up to you, holding your hips and pulling you closer to him.

“Just left early.” He said, grinning and kissing you gently.

“Rafe..” You said, kissing him back.

Your husband, Rafe Cameron, was the CEO of Cameron Enterprises, so he was pretty lenient with his duties. The surprise visits had gotten more common after he hired a new assistant, which freed him up time to be with his wife and two girls. 

His body towered over you as he kissed your neck and down to your shoulder, his hands moving to grab your ass. 

“So perfect..” He mumbled the compliment, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“Baby.. I gotta get to the shops. Ellie needs a new coat.” You said, pulling away and looking up at him with a sad smile.

“I’ll go with you.” He announced, setting his briefcase and coat down on the kitchen island before walking to the door.

You giggled, grabbing your purse and the keys to your white Porsche SUV. Rafe waited for you at the door, smiling and holding it open for you as you walked out. He gave you a look as you got into the driver's seat, hesitantly sliding into the passenger’s seat beside you. You rolled your eyes playfully and started the car, driving off.

About 15 minutes later, you turned into a small outlet mall. Putting the car into park, the two of you got out. He started to walk to the more designer stores and you rolled your eyes.

“Rafe, she’s 11. The last thing she needs is designer.” You said with a giggle, pulling his arm to an Urban Outfitters. Rafe looked at you, a confused frown on his face as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. After picking out a nice coat to keep her warm enough, the two of you started to walk back to the car. You looked around, seeing a small cafe and looking at Rafe with doe eyes. He looked at you expectantly, smiling at your face.

“Rafe can we-“ You started, interrupted by Rafe intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Of course, m’lady.” He said, smiling and kissing the top of your head as the two of you walked.

Your phone rang from your purse and you stopped, confused. Your personal phone doesn’t normally ring unless it was Rafe or your girls and your face knitted with concern as you rummaged for it. After pulling it out, you saw that it was the school. You frowned, looking back at Rafe’s equally confused expression.

“One second..” You mumbled, picking it up.

Your eyes shot up when the administrator requested your presence at the school office.

“Why? What happened?” You asked and Rafe leaned down, trying to hear as much of the conversation that he could through your phone.

“Ellie had an.. incident with a boy in her grade.” The woman on the phone said cautiously.

“Is she okay? What happened?” You repeated, worry and anxiety growing in your chest for your eldest daughter.

“Mrs. Cameron, Ellie got into a physical altercation with another boy in her class.” Rafe looked at you with an equal, but more subtle, amount of worry. 

“I’ll be right there, thank you.” You said quietly, hanging up the phone.

“What? What happened?” Rafe asked and you turned around, heading away from the cafe and back to the car with him close on your heels.

“Ellie got into a fight, they want us there.” You said, your breathing picking up.

Rafe held your hand, trying to sooth your incoming panic. He was still a bit confused, but he took the keys from you and opened the passenger side door, insisting that he would drive the two of you back.

“What did they say?” He asked, his eyes flicking back from you to the road every so often.

“She got into a ‘physical altercation with a boy in her grade.’” You said, quoting it directly with a lightly mocking tone.

Rafe’s face was still serious, but his facade was cracking with his concern for Ellie.

The two of you pulled up to the school about an hour before the final bell would ring. Rafe walked in first, storming into the office, preparing to demand answers. His face dropped when he saw his precious girl with a bloody nose and blossoming black eye. Your gaze followed his and you gasped, beating him to Ellie.

“Baby what happened?” You asked, touching her eye gently as she winced.

“Who did this, Ellie?” Rafe’s booming voice asked from behind you, his expression deep with anger.

You watched your daughter’s eyes glare across the room. You turned, seeing a young boy with an ice pack to his head, his condition significantly worse than hers. You looked at her, eyes wide. Rafe sprung up, demanding answers right as the woman you spoke to on the phone came out of the principal’s office. 

“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron.” She said, showing you to the principal’s office. You left a quick kiss on Ellie’s cheek before walking behind Rafe and entering the small room.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron.” The principal said, his face pale at the sight of your husband’s outrage.

“What the fuck happened?” Rafe asked, nearly yelling. You put a warning hand on his knee, silently telling him to take it down a notch. Naturally, he eyed you with a quiet ‘no.’

“According to the witnesses, Ellie started a fight with a young boy in her class during lunch.” The principal said with a sigh, shuffling a few pages of paperwork to the top of a stack.

“That can’t be the full story.” You said, leaning forward, as if to urge him on.

“That’s the part that I need to look at. Unfortunately, there are some severe consequences for this-“ You rolled your eyes, listening to him talk before Rafe got up suddenly, leaving the office.

You started to hesitantly stand up after him, sitting back down and trying to stay calm. You watched the door as it opened again, Rafe walking back in with Ellie’s hand in his.

“Let’s hear the full story.” Rafe said, gesturing for Ellie to sit in the seat that he was in previously as he resumed a stance at the door of the closed office.

You looked at your daughter, putting a gentle hand on her leg as you waited for her to start explaining. Her gaze met the principal’s, staring him down.

“Gabe said that my mom was a gold digger and that she doesn’t really love my dad.” Ellie said, her little voice raising as she continued, “And I told him to shut up and he said ‘do something about it.’ So I did.” She finished with her arms crossed.

God, she had so much of Rafe’s attitude that it almost made you wince.

You were astonished, your mouth wide. Rafe was quiet at the door and you didn’t make eye contact with him, not wanting to see how this would turn out.

“What?” You asked her, looking at Ellie and then the principal, “Did she tell you this?” 

“I did!” Ellie interrupted and you gave her a knowing look and she slumped back into her chair.

You heard Rafe moving closer to the desk and you looked up at him as he stood behind you. His face was red with anger as he looked at the principal.

“What consequences will you have for him, huh?” He asked, his stance intimidating as the principal collected himself while Rafe kept going, “My kid got beat up too, what’s going to happen about that?” He said, pointing to the blood drying on Ellie’s nose.

Ellie nodded, her little arms still crossed. Rafe shifted so he was between you and your daughter. The three of you looked at the principal expectantly.

“From what we know as of right now, Gabe was simply defending himself-“ “Bullshit!” Ellie interrupted and you looked at her, warning her to be more careful. Of course, Rafe nodded along with her.

“We will review the classroom footage and determine an appropriate punishment.” The principal stated, eager to get this over with. Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I will give you a call. Thank you.” He said and Rafe helped you up and out of your chair.

His arm protectively wrapped around Ellie and the three of you walked out without another word. When you passed through the office, you could see both Rafe and Ellie staring daggers into the little boy, still holding an ice pack to his head. Rafe’s protective hold on Ellie didn’t let up until he opened the door for her to get into the car, opening yours as well. He got into the driver's seat and you sat quietly, knowing one of them would say something soon.

Without a word, Rafe turned and looked back at your daughter who was fidgeting nervously. He smiled slightly, holding his hand up for a high-five. You rolled your eyes playfully, watching as her face lit up and she high-fived him without hesitation.

“Rafe!” You said, trying to stifle your smile.

“What?” He said, putting his hands up in surrender. He put the car in drive as Ellie smiled to herself.

“Ellie, you shouldn’t get into fights at school. Especially not over dumb things like that.” You said, trying to sound serious and stern.

“Mom, that's not fair!” Ellie said, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Your mom’s right, Ellie.” Rafe said, knowing you desperately needed backup. You listened expectantly, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. He offered you a shrug and kept driving the way back to the house.

You got out, watching as Rafe opened Ellie’s door and picked her up, grabbing her backpack. You smiled, walking ahead of them.

“Just like your dad.” You heard Rafe say quietly to Ellie, hearing another high-five between the two of them.

You rolled your eyes, giggling at Ellie’s prideful smile. 

“Go get changed, love.” You told her as Rafe sat her down.

She went upstairs to her room and you looked at Rafe, watching him try incredibly hard to stop himself from smiling.

“She’s too much like you.” You said with a huff, trying to play off your smile once he breaks and starts laughing.

“Looks like we’re raising them right.” Rafe said, kissing you softly. You rolled your eyes as you felt him smile into the kiss.

“I love you.” You said, your fingers tracing his cheekbone.

“I know.” He said, kissing you again and then pulling away with another breath, “I love you too, pretty lady.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[designbyalma]

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[kdskitchens]

Custom Kitchen Redesign

From interesting wire structures to fabric shades with many different faces, these unusual accents can add a geometric edge to your kitchen. Whether you choose eye-catching patterned cabinet fronts or switch between neutral and colored doors to make your own statement, cabinets can quickly become geometric wall art in their own right. Try putting neutral-colored and wooden fronts together for a look that is both striking and classic. Click Here:- Custom Kitchen Redesign

[zara-renata]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-dominant (heh), although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

The Sylus series

Part 1 Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Part 2 Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

Part 3 No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan.

Part 4 Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born.

Part 5 Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Part 6 Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Part 7 Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

Part 8 Not my type | ao3

Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Part 9 Sylus makes a deal | ao3

Sylus answers some questions, receives dating advice from a dubious source, makes a deal you can't refuse, receives a birthday invitation, and plans to take you home for the night.

Part 10 Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3

Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Part 11 Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart.

Part 12 Q&A with Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus cares for your injuries and feeds you a meal. After he shows you a part of his home that you didn't know existed, you finally ask him why he was so cruel to you when you first met him. Sylus does his best to answer with as much honesty as he can right now.

Part 13 How you learned to stop worrying and embrace Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus reveals his latest little plot and makes you an offer that you ultimately can't refuse. More lying around talking in different beds with Sylus Qin.

Part 14 The dream, the tie, the tour, the dream | ao3

You have a good dream, get a guided tour of Onychinus's base by the chaos twins, talk yourself into being sad again, and then have another good dream

Part 15 The right hand, the left hand, the heart of Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus meets with his legal counsel while the twins give you a tour of the base, you wake up from a dream, Sylus wastes some eggs, you attempt to get to know Sylus better, and you have your first 'date' with Sylus Qin.

Part 16 The pool | ao3

You dream, you do some art, you go for a swim, Sylus destroys part of his office, you discover the hot tub, you're close to catching a clue. A 'morning' in the life at Onychinus HQ.

Part 17 And everything that is now already existed then | ao3

Sylus shows you his favorite parts of his house, you are haunted by a strange feeling of familiarity, you spend some time with the twins and Noah, you learn about the bet they had going.

Sylus standalones

Control: a Sylus series interlude | ao3

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Creature Feature with Sylus Qin | ao3

You and Sylus dress up for a Halloween gala. This is a short little Sylus series interlude, occurring after these idiots finally get together.

Goodcat code, or how you learned to care for your catboy | ao3

Your crimelord boyfriend disappears for a week, you make yourself sad listening to breakup songs, you learn that he got turned into a catboy, you get assigned a mission on the worst cruise ship ever, undercover shenanigans ensue.

Would you love me if I were a worm drabble

Xavier

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3

You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

[theoxenfree]

FAULTY

android x reader | 2.5k | 18+

you're hired by a prestigious tech company to test out their latest and greatest—an android of such unparalleled human likeness designed to satisfy your every need and whim. one day, you notice that something is off...

warnings; dubcon, implied!breeding/insemination, mentions dietary habits, dirty talk, roughly proofread

reposted from 2kmps. this is a concept piece to my android x reader story opaque. I'd love to hear your guy's feedback on whether you'd like to read the longer story (35.5k)!! please reblog and interact!!

He had a face structured to be unimaginably beautiful, a sort that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet it saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Maker?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Maker? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, and respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained. He was supposed to memorize it, but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio explained in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked how they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio, and he did not laugh

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffers from similar afflictions: lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this to say, my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on Fifth and Lowe, where you'll consume around one hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine, and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit.” You had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on the gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure. Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim or if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest decoration from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes, and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height on you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion.’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours?. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the companyCompany—in Researcher Kim—, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours, and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing to seekseeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong., Suchsuch was a natural behavior predating all written records; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation, and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, amidst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin, that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moved lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” heHe said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-laidlain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed and redressed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to turn left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. I think eucalyptus would be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movement within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a sliverslither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

[zazter-den]

Sweet Tooth

Minors Do Not Interact

Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Izuku likes the freedom of being a very private business owner when he has dual lives to run. After all it allows him to "hire" himself as a new worker to get close to Barista!Reader- Wait, why do you smell burnt?

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Stalking, Drugging, Overstim, Size Diff, Mindbreak.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Rabbit!Izuku, Dom!Izuku, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Kitchen sex, Scentmarking, Creampie, Excessive seed, Undercover boss, Oral!receiving.

Word Count- 8.1K, because apparently I missed the coziness of Autumn

Izuku sat in the manager's office, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the skylight, casting a gentle radiance upon his features. Short, curly forest green hair, slightly disheveled from his earlier preparations, framed his face in an endearing manner as he sat back in the cushy chair. His emerald green eyes, filled with anticipation, seemed to glimmer and reflect the moonlight, adding a glow to his gaze.

Sitting up, he carefully removed his silver rings with practiced ease, each etched with swirling thorned vines and placed them into a velvet-lined box before making his way to the safe hidden in the wooden paneling of the small room.

Next, Izuku's attention turned to his hunting knife, a weapon as beautiful as it is deadly. He gripped the handle, his hand steady and sure, and twirled it effortlessly in the air. The moonlight danced along the metal, illuminating the intricate green thorn designs that ran down the blade. With a measured flick of his wrist, Izuku sheathed the blade, and it disappeared into the hidden safe. The compartment closed with a soft click, concealed behind an intricately designed wooden panel once again. Sealing away his secrets until they are needed once more.

Leaving the manager's office behind, Izuku made his way through the empty cafe, his steps light and silent as he headed toward the kitchen to prepare for the day ahead. The 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe's pristine jade green walls, soft lighting, and delicate hanging glass terrariums created a serene atmosphere, inviting its inhabitants to relax and escape the chaos of the outside world. Izuku being no exception.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, the signature evergreen scent of the café mingled with the aroma of matcha and lime. Izuku's tall figure gracefully moved around the kitchen, his large rabbit ears twitching with every soft sound. Like second nature, he set up the kitchen before taking the bright green citrus butter out of the fridge.

When it came to rabbit hybrids, most people weren't used to seeing Flemish Giants. Clad in a light green t-shirt, tightly hugging his well-defined muscles, Izuku's towering physique was more reminiscent of a predator hybrid, his strength barely hidden beneath a veneer of dorky charm and wit.

With precise movements, Izuku began preparing the perfectly striped, two-toned croissants that the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe is known for. He measured the ingredients meticulously, his attention to detail reflected in every step. There is a comfort and tranquility in the act of creating, a stress reliever that he cherished amidst his dual lives.

The rhythmic sound of his palm hitting the dough, gently flattening it, filled the dark kitchen. Izuku's movements are methodical and precise, almost hypnotizing, as he continued to work on the matcha-lime croissant dough. His thoughts drifted to his upcoming shift with you, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over him.

Izuku was under your spell from your very first shift at one of his cafes. He had watched you on the security cameras for months, studying every little detail. Your moves, your smile, the way you interacted with customers. Izuku was drawn to you like a moth to flame, captivated by charm and spirit.

Izuku imagined you standing there, your lovely form illuminated by the soft café lights, under the delicate swaying terrarium spheres. He could already see himself making your favorite flavored latte, as he's seen you make it countless times on the security feed. How many times did he tweak that syrup to get it just to your liking? The thought of serving you a cup he made himself brought a smile to his face, his green eyes glowing with anticipation.

Lost in his fantasies, Izuku accidentally spilled some flour onto his t-shirt. Chuckling softly to himself, he brushed off the white powder and ran his fingers between his ears and through his short curly forest green hair, basking in the thrill of the upcoming shift.

He focused his attention on the task at hand, skillfully wrapping the mix in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge to rest until tomorrow. Drumming a brawny calloused hand against the fridge door, he grabbed a sheet of pre-chilled blueberry-lemon dough before closing the door with his heel.

At the kitchen island counter, Izuku's hands worked the dough skillfully, his fingers deftly shaping it into perfect croissants. The dough was soft and pliable, and Izuku liked the feel of the texture against his fingertips. It was smooth and velvety, the aroma of smashed berries and lemon rind wafted through the air as he worked. Izuku appreciated scents that complimented his own. Citrus, teas, your jasmine-like signature.

Shaping the pastry mix, his mind briefly wandered to thoughts of what it would be like to touch you, to feel your curves beneath his hands. Lost again in daydreams, Izuku envisioned the feel of your silky skin against his callouses and scars, his mind conjuring images of your usual flowery fragrance intertwining with his yuzu and evergreen scent. The thought of your lips, soft and inviting, added to his desires, and his thoughts wandered to the taste of you, the way your lips would feel against his own.

Izuku's mind is completely consumed by the thought, and he could feel the heat pooling rapidly within him. He desperately wanted to trace the contours of your body, his fingertips exploring every inch, as his desire continued to build. His breath grew heavy. With a raspy whimper escaping his lips, Izuku momentarily lost himself in his fantasies, feeling bead of pre-cum line the tip of his straining erection. The excitement building within him became overpowering, overwhelming his senses.

As his arousal grew, Izuku's scent turned musky, blending with his natural citrus evergreen aroma. Izuku's eager slit continued to weep the viscous fluid, the sticky patch of his boxers trapped against the thick head of his dick. As he continued his task, every so often the precum slick fabric would slide forcefully against his tip, eliciting another deep groan from his lips. His need for you at this point was overwhelming, almost unbearable, and his foot tapped on the floor in rabbit-like frustrated anticipation.

It was a struggle for Izuku to maintain focused on his work, his mind overloaded with longing and the intense desire to fulfill every single one of his fantasies with you. He took a moment to compose himself, releasing a pent-up growl of frustration under his breath. He couldn't afford to lose his shit on day one and scare you off, he wasn't some amateur.

Knowing he must regain control, Izuku attempted to once again throw himself into getting the shop ready for the morning rush. With a reluctant sigh, Izuku carefully took out the raspberry two-toned croissants that he had prepped the day before, placing them on the kitchen island counter to be baked for today's morning rush.

Izuku looked at the clock hanging on the wall, he just needed to be patient.

⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱

When you first stirred from slumber, your first instinct was to dive back under the blankets in the pre-dawn darkness. Slowly peeling back the covers of your cozy bed, the moon cast a dim glow through the window, barely highlighting your room.

As you slid your feet out from under the quilts and sat up in the chilly room, your sleep blurred gaze fell on the neatly arranged uniform laid out on the dresser. The tan and jade green dress holds an air of cute professionalism and elegance, perfectly suited for your role at one of the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafes.

As you took off your pajamas, your gaze wanders downward, landing upon the growing bruises and scratches that marred your sore hips. You shook your head softly, a mix of emotions flooding rational thoughts. Last night with Katsuki, the tiger you shared your apartment with, had been...intense to say the least, at times his territorial nature could cross bounds. It seemed his bestial inclinations towards you often manifested in these marks and an aching pussy full of the feral feline's load. It had been necessary to join him in the bath, to wash away any traces of other scents but his own, before he was satisfied last night.

Tossing your head in frustrated resignation, you took a deep breath, attempting to push the memory of those bruises aside. You adjusted your uniform in the mirror, determination to face the day with your usual brand of professionalism. With each careful movement, you purposefully shed the weight of hectic apartment life, transforming into the dedicated and fun-loving barista that your colleagues and patrons know you to be.

The early morning air carried an invigorating crispness as you stepped out of your apartment, the pitch darkness of the night slowly yielding to a beautiful, dark purple sky. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle luminescence upon the world below. The beauty of the early morning took your breath away.

Walking through the quiet streets, you took in the sights of the autumn morning. Vibrant hues of orange and red adorned the foliage, casting a mystical fall atmosphere all around. The gentle crunching of leaves under your feet became a soothing background melody, heightening your anticipation for the day to come. It's a picturesque scene that brings a smile to your face as you take in the beauty around you.

The short walk to the 'Lunar Rabbit' café is refreshing, the cool breeze gently caresses your skin, and you can't help but lift your face towards the sky, embracing the tranquility of the morning. The scent of dew-kissed grass and the earthy fragrance of autumn fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere.

Unlocking the door, you entered the cozy café intricately designed with a charming lunar forest theme. Most of the walls were adorned in a relaxing jade green color, with glistening glass sphere terrariums hanging gracefully from the ceiling. Creating a sense of tranquility whenever the light caught the floating gardens just right.

But it's the back wall mural that always draws the attention of customers—a breathtaking depiction of ethereal rabbits, crafted from swirling shadows, engaged in a graceful dance beneath a moonlit sky adorned with countless stars.

The careful brush strokes bring the scene to life, immersing you in a mysterious and whimsical world. The rabbits are beautifully painted, their whirling silhouettes seem to come alive under the gentle glow of dawn and fairy lights, creating an otherworldly ambiance. It's a mesmerizing sight in the early morning, one that never failed to captivate you in the dark hours.

You stepped into the dim kitchen, a sense of familiarity washing over. The soft glow of the moon outside cast a gentle illumination, highlighting the edges of the counter tops and appliances. You began gathering the necessary ingredients to create the delectable quiches that will soon grace the cafe's display case.

The movement is sudden. You only caught the shifting of shadows on the opposite side of the kitchen out of the corner of your eye. Your heart thumped rapidly against your chest as your attention was drawn to the mysterious figure standing upright near the ovens, rising to full height in a fluid motion. The towering silhouette seemed to materialize out of nowhere from the depths of the dark kitchen. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes glimmer in the shadows, as if they were momentarily aglow with a vivid emerald light.

The initial shock sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your previously fatigued body. Startled by the unexpected sight, your muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the hulking man's presence, you ran through your options.

Then Izuku shifted forward, the illumination from the skylight instantly brightening his features. The ethereal glow revealed his forest green ears nestled in curly hair, and vivid green eyes, capturing the essence of mischief and charm that so often accompanies his presence. A genial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, “Mornin'!” he chirped, closing the oven behind him, the raspberry croissants settled on the racks. His soft rabbit ears entirely too perky for this pre-dawn hour.

Recognition immediately dawned on you, and a mix of relief and frenzied amusement flooded your features. A little laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of underlying nervousness, as your eyes met Izuku's. "Midoriya! Damn, you scared me." you exclaimed, the words tumbling out with a hint of manic energy. Izuku's grin widened as you stammered, the sound of his name on your lips seemingly delighting him. Your laughter lingered in the air, relief palpable. All you could do is laugh off the initial fright, glad to see a familiar face in the dimly lit tranquility of the kitchen.

Wait.

Your brow furrowed as confusion washed over. The gears in your exhaustion-addled mind began to turn, piecing together the inconsistency of Izuku's presence in the closed cafe at such an early hour. As a new employee, Izuku shouldn't have the keys to the establishment. "How did you get in?" You blurted out, voice equal parts curiosity and suspicion. You looked at him, searching for an explanation.

Attempting to quell any rising doubts, Izuku quickly weaved a web of deception, words slipping off his silver tongue with practiced ease. His response was laced with an air of authority, as if the decision had been handed down by corporate in a moment of desperation. "Ms.Usagiyama gave me a key," he stated, his voice confident and unwavering. "They needed someone to fill in as an overnight baker, and it seems I was their best option."

When was the last time he had called her anything but Mirko?

Your surprise was blatantly displayed across your face as you registered the information. You didn't expect management, especially Rumi, to be handing out keys so freely and enlist new employees for overnight baking duties. Then again... given the rather unexpected departure of one of the bakers, you supposed the situation must be dire enough to warrant such desperate measures given the shop's popularity.

“...It'll be nice to have help in the mornings” With a shrug, you dismissed your initial doubts, content to accept Izuku's explanation. After all, you're just a team lead, not really the position to harp on the decisions made by upper management when you'll only get a headache for your trouble. As the manager of your location, Rumi can deal with that nonsense. The fact that you're just honestly grateful for the extra hands during the morning rush seems to override any lingering uncertainties.

You stretched your arms out wide, movements fluid and graceful, as a yawn escaped your lips. Fatigue lingered beneath the surface, evident in the slight droop of your eyelids and the darkened circles barely visible beneath your eyes. A testament to your restless night of sleep, body aching from the intensity of the “bath” you shared with Katsuki.

You offered Izuku a small, tired smile as you spoke, voice carrying a soft, lingering weariness. "I'm going to get the quiches ready in the other oven," you said with sleepy determination.

A moment later, as you set about your task, Izuku's acute senses detected a faint scent of burning sugar, tickling the edges of his nostrils. His eyes immediately darted towards the ovens, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the raspberry croissants had only just begun baking, their doughy forms barely touched by the heat. He dismissed the fleeting scent, assuring himself that it must have been a mere figment of his imagination.

Silently observing you moved past him, Izuku's gaze lingered on the circles under your eyes, a telltale sign of exhaustion and a restless sleep. Concern flickered in his emerald gaze, a twinge of protectiveness already tugging at his chest. He silently resolved to ensure that in time you understood that he was there for your well-being, even if you remained blissfully unaware of his true intentions.

Taking it upon himself to ease your tiredness, Izuku moved with a flurry of efficiency at the tea counter. His fingers gracefully danced across the array of tea leaves, their aroma filling the air, selecting his own special blend to help ease your weary spirit. His movements were precise and purposeful, a silent gesture of care for the woman who stood just a few feet away. You vaguely heard the clink of one of the kettles, as he prepared a cup colored with your favorite hue.

You carefully closed the door of the oven, the final quiche now tucked away to bake to golden perfection. You wiped your hands on your apron, turning around just as Izuku walked over, cradling a cup of tea in his large hands. Leaning against the kitchen island, your tired eyes blinked back the haze of exhaustion, momentarily jolted back to alertness as Izuku approached.

“This the seasonal energy tea blend?” Your gaze drifted down to the cup, its colorful pattern a perfect match to your favorite shade. You paused for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your features, but quickly brushed off the coincidence. After all, how could the new guy know such a personal detail? Thanking Izuku with a sweet smile, you accepted the cup and immediately felt the relaxing warmth it radiated.

The steam rose in ethereal tendrils, almost imperceptible in the dim light that filtered through the skylight overhead. Your eyes followed the wisps up towards the still dark pink sunrise through the window, their graceful dance capturing your attention briefly before you brought the cup to your lips.

With each passing second, Izuku's senses were assailed by that same faint smell that evoked a sense of ...smoke? His brows furrowed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. It lingered in the air, a faint odor that didn't align with the barely warm food in the oven. Izuku couldn't have known it was due to Katsuki, your territorial roommate, his pheromones carrying a note of smoldering embers. The scent itself evoked a strong dislike within Izuku, as his attention to detail in the pastry-making artistry made even the slightest indication of burning a source of disdain. Izuku swept over the kitchen, muttering to himself, trying to locate the source of the offensive smell.

As your finished the last sip of the steaming tea, a wave of warmth washed over you, permeating your body from the inside out. The autumn morning chill retreated, replaced by a comforting sensation that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. The embrace of the herbal infusion wove its soothing spell, making you feel pleasantly drowsy in the brisk kitchen.

"I'm thinking this new morning tea is a miss" you muttered as you glared half-heartedly at the leaf dregs of the delicious brew. The aching fatigue that had clung to you began to dissipate, replaced by a gentle drowsiness that weighed down your eyelids. A yawn escaped your lips, body responding to the tea's intended purpose. Izuku stepped close, closer than necessary, as he reached out to take the empty tea cup from your hand.

You held out the cup, your hand hovering in the air as Izuku moved closer. But it's in that moment, as Izuku inhaled the lingering scent, nose giving a small twitch, that his gaze narrowed with a sudden intensity. Your drowsy mind failed to register the glare of his emerald eyes, an indication of something more than casual curiosity.

"Why...do you smell like you fell in a damn bonfire?" Izuku's words carried a sharpness, a demand rather than mere inquiry. They sliced through the air, hanging there with a weight that is impossible to ignore. His voice had cut through the air with an uncharacteristic edge, void of the easygoing nature she had come to associate with the coworker facade he portrayed.

Your heart skipped a beat, embarrassment flooding your features as Izuku's question settled in. You were stunned for a moment, the truth of the situation hanging heavily on your heart. Of course, you realized, Izuku's hybrid senses would pick up the scent left behind by Katsuki last night. How could you forget?

Scratches, cum, and pheromones laid on you the night before when Katsuki sensed Izuku's touch from when he thanked you during training. His possessiveness in the bath had been clear, his words a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach as embarrassment filled your voice, intertwining with a shard of defiance. "I...uh...had a bit of a disagreement with my room mate last night," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's nothing to worry about, really."

Your admission threatened to tip the scales of the delicate equilibrium. Whether or not you were fully aware, the territorial boundaries have already been drawn between the territorial tiger and the love-mad hare. The situation a powder keg waiting to ignite, and Izuku the bastard he is, was going to make sure it blew up in the face of this “room mate” of yours.

Izuku's large hands swiftly found their place on your hips, his touch firm yet careful. In one fluid motion, he effortlessly lifted you clean off your feet and placed you onto the island counter. The contrast in your heights is stark, you find yourself still having to tilt your chin to look up in shock at Izuku. His long ears twitched with barely restrained irritation.

As Izuku's nose scrunched involuntarily, a mix of emotions surged within him. The scent of Katsuki, with its notes of cayenne, brown caramel, and smoldering embers, emanated from you like a provocative challenge even without a claim on your neck. To Izuku, it reeked like burnt sugar, an acrid aroma that didn't deserve a place within the confines of his shops.

His possessive instincts kicked into overdrive, an unwavering determination surging through his veins. He leaned down, his breath warm against the soft skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a low, firm tone. "You know," he began, his voice carrying a velvety cadence. "we can't have you smelling like that. It doesn't suit you, and it definitely doesn't suit this cafe."

“After all, who wants to eat in a smoky bakery?” Izuku finished as he knelt with calculated grace, his strong, muscular frame shifting closer to your exposed thighs. As he positioned himself between your parted legs, Izuku's eyes lock onto yours. In the short time you've known him, Izuku's eyes have never seemed this intense, brimming with an unwavering determination to claim you as his, to erase any trace of Katsuki's scent and replace it with his own. Your breath hitched softly, eyes widening at the audacity of Izuku's actions. Looking down at the fierce Flemish Giant between your thighs, you weren't sure you really wanted him to stop, consequences be damned.

Leaning back against the cold counter top, you let out a soft gasp as Izuku's lips met the inside of your knee. The contrast between the cool stone and the warmth of his mouth adds to the growing pleasure that courses through your body.

As Izuku's lips continued their path up your thigh, he deftly moved your cute underwear down your trembling legs. a shiver ran down your spine as the cold morning air kissed your exposed folds. The delicate material glided lower, clinging momentarily to your thighs before slipping over your uniform shoes.

Izuku's emerald eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took a moment to appreciate the shade of green of the fabric. You're already wearing his color, he couldn't have planned it better himself. With a small grin against your soft skin, he quickly tucked your panties into his pocket, claiming another piece of you for himself while he distracted you with kisses and nips along your thigh.

Izuku's chuckle had a dark edge to it, tinged with an unmistakable sense of triumph as Katsuki's scent gradually began to dissipate. Your slick hole starting to carry the familiar fragrance of your usual jasmine, proof of Izuku's determined assertion of dominance over any traces of his new rival's presence.

With a deliberate and confident movement, Izuku pushed the bottom of your thighs up, hooking your ankles over his broad shoulders and positioning himself between your legs. His biceps barely flexed as his large tan hands gently scooted your hips closer to the edge of the counter, granting him better access to your tantalizingly wet pussy. The shadowy figures of your bodies blended together in the dark kitchen, the only source of light being the faint glow of the dark pink sunrise streaming through the skylight above. The faint rays of the sunrise dance across Izuku's face, highlighting his handsome features and the determination in his emerald green eyes.

Izuku's lips found their way to your tender slit, his tongue gently flicking and teasing your hooded pearl. The expert motions and the expert blend of pleasure and pressure elicited from his mouth heightened the sensations coursing through your body, intensifying your pleasure with each passing moment. Your taste was intoxicating to him, driving his desire further, as if he can't get enough.

Then again, he always did have a sweet tooth.

As his tongue hungrily slipped inside your aching cunt, suddenly the weight of Izuku's actions broke through the sleepy haze. Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had with Katsuki the night before, a warning that now echoed in your head. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, "My room mate is gonna be pissed.” You groaned into your hands. The memory of Katsuki's threat looms in the back of your mind, a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

Izuku lifted his gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across slick lips, as he locked eyes with you. His rabbit ears moved, playfully expressing his amusement. "Oh? And what is your room mate gonna do?" he retorted, a playful challenge in his voice. Without a hint of hesitation, he dives back down, his lips and tongue resuming their intoxicating dance against your sensitive folds and clit . He seemed completely unfazed by the threat, his confidence unyielding, a trait born of his secret life.

Even though the haze of pleasure, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether you should reveal the full extent of Katsuki's threat. Reluctantly, you gave in, letting the words slip out before your pleasure-addled brain could catch up. "He said he was gonna 'put you in the ground'," you admitted, lust thick voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Izuku's grip on your hips tightened, his possessive desire flaring again within him. The threat of violence from Katsuki barely registers as a deterrent. With a sinister glimmer in his eyes, Izuku responded, his voice laced with barely-contained excitement. "Is that so?" he murmured darkly, relishing the challenge "Let him try, I don't see a claim on your pretty neck." Without wasting another moment, Izuku went back to work, his mouth and tongue working diligently to replace any remnant of Katsuki's presence.

Feeling a sudden surge of mixed emotions—fear, excitement, desire—your hands had a mind of their own as they reached down lightly grazing over the soft, velvety texture of Izuku's rabbit ears. They quivered beneath your touch, responding to your exploration with an almost eager sensitivity.

As your fingers tangled in his forest green locks, you felt the warmth of Izuku's growl vibrating against your sensitive pussy, an intimate sound that resonated deep within you. The way his growl reverberated against your heated core sent shivers down your spine, making your swollen clit ache with need.

Izuku's mouth continued its relentless assault on your dripping cunt, his agile tongue expertly explored every hidden crevice, every secret fold, as if he was committing your every contour to memory. Each breathless moan that escaped your lips fueled Izuku's frenzy further.

For a moment, the tension in the air feels electric, a heightened awareness of the forbidden nature of your encounter. Despite the threat hanging over Izuku's head, he had explosive pleasure coursing through your body, casting an intoxicating spell over both of you. It's a dangerous game you've walked into, driven by the irresistible magnetism that seems to resonate between you and the hybrids in your life. The world around you seemed to fade away, the though of any brewing storm quickly silenced by the chorus of your erratic breaths and the wet sounds of Izuku's devouring lips.

With each passing moment, Izuku's own arousal became more apparent, his throbbing erection pressing insistently against the fabric of his pants, boxers already growing slippery with precum. The sheer desire in his eyes lit up the dim space, reflecting the hunger growing inside, as his tongue continued its wicked exploration.

As the sensations kept building, Izuku's nibbles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs grew insistent, his teeth grazing your tender folds with just the right amount of pressure to send waves of tingling pleasure coursing through your veins. Each nip sends surges of electricity shooting up your spine, heightening your already stimulated state.

With a final, gentle nip, Izuku's attention returned to your swollen clit, his talented mouth engulfing it entirely, his tongue milking the pleasure from your body with a hunger born of his obsessive adoration.

The cold surface of the kitchen counter beneath you contrasted sharply with the scorching heat that consumed your being. It further intensified the sensations, making your body arch uncontrollably, craving more of Izuku's skilled tongue and the delicious friction against your dripping slit. As Izuku continued his tantalizing assault, a whirlwind of pleasure tore through you. Every touch, every lick, is electrifying, driving you to the edge of sanity and euphoria.

Your body responded instinctively to Izuku's ministrations, muscles tightening, drawing you closer to the precipice of your first orgasm. The familiar coil of ecstasy grew within, winding tighter with each flick of his tongue and gentle suction against your throbbing clit.

And then it happened—your climax hit you with an intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, shattering any composure you still had and leaving you breathless and trembling. Your body quaked, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, drowning out rational thought.

As the echoes of your orgasm still shook you, Izuku didn't let up. His mouth continued to work its magic, prolonging the throes of your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of intoxication from your trembling body. The sensations are almost too much to bear, your mind spiraling in a haze of ecstasy as he licked you dry.

“Do I still reek?” Voice trembling, as you questioned whether the lingering scent of burnt caramel still clung to the air. But Izuku, always perceptive, noted the shift in your aroma, the return of your usual sweet jasmine-like scent. A return that happened a little too quickly for his oral fixation, to be quite honest.

A devious gleam danced in Izuku's emerald eyes as he listened to your words. He leaned back slightly on his knees, his chest rising and falling with his own ragged breaths. "Oh. Sorry, you still smell burnt," he lied with ease, a feigned apologetic smile playing at the corners of his lips. In this moment, he reveled in the idea of indulging his sweet tooth on the object of his obsession- You.

What was another white lie in the grand scheme of things?

Before you could respond, overcome with desire, Izuku plunged back down between your trembling thighs. The sudden latch to your swollen bead caused you to buck against the cold counter, your fingers instinctively tightening around the curls at the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, holding on for dear life. A sharp twinge of over-sensitivity mingles with the persistent pleasure, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

Nose pressed against your mound, Izuku's tongue delved deep, searching for every trace of their intoxicating cum. His mouth moved with a fevered rhythm, his ministrations calculated and purposeful. His tongue speared through your slick folds, flicking and teasing as if he planned to consume every intimate drop. He couldn't get enough of your taste.

Meanwhile, your body danced on the edge of ecstasy once again. The contrasting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity, sent electric currents shooting through every nerve. With each movement of Izuku's skilled tongue, your hips involuntarily bucked and writhed, seeking more of that delicious contact.

As you came a second time, a loud cry escaped your lips, reverberating through the dimly lit space. The intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, nerves tingling with each tantalizing touch of his skilled tongue.

Izuku's own desire burned hot within him, waiting to be unleashed. Amidst your writhing against his face, Izuku's hips involuntarily jerked forward, another surge of precum staining his boxers. The feeling of the slick fabric against the head of his dick only served to increase his hunger for you.

As your thighs instinctively attempted to clamp shut around Izuku's head in a desperate bid to shield your oversensitive clit, his arms flexed, exerting a near herculean strength to keep them in place. With your back arched and thighs trembling in his hands, you were entirely at Izuku's mercy. It was just easier to surrender to the Flemish Giant's powerful hold rather than fight his iron grip.

Izuku's movements remained unyielding, a relentless pace that threatened to push you past the limits of pleasure and into the realm of cumdrunk ecstasy. In all honesty however, Izuku's own need fueled his actions, his tongue dancing deftly, exploring every hidden crevice with fervor. Maybe he was the cumdrunk one at this point.

“T-too sensitive 'Zuku” your plea for him to let up fell on deaf ears as Izuku wickedly ignored your words, except for the cute way you whimpered his name. Izuku could listen to you stuttering his first name in pleasure for the rest of his life. He took pleasure in pushing you to your limits, eager to indulge in his own selfish desires without hesitation. He had waited so long for this moment, he was going to get his fill. Or at least enough to satiate him while he made his claim.

"You can handle cumming for me again," Izuku insisted, his voice filled with dark adoration as he denied you mercy, before plunging back between your folds. Fuck, he loved you clamping down on his tongue like this, he only hoped you could handle all of him.

Your body quivered in response, overwhelmed by the heightened sensitivity of the onslaught on your swollen clit. Izuku's unwavering focus and iron grip left no room for escape or mercy. His tongue pressed skillfully, teasing and taunting your most sensitive spots, delving in with fervor and purpose. The taste of you, the intoxicating flavor that mingled with your heavenly musk, is like a drug to him, an addiction that drove him deeper into his feral desires.

Your body squirmed uncontrollably, overcome by the unbearable pleasure Izuku exerted on you. Every gentle nip and forceful suck sends you writhing. In desperation, your hands find solace in reaching the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, gently tugging with an almost desperate plea. Too much..!

But far from slowing down Izuku, the sensations of your tender grip on his ears only served to fuel his primal instincts. It's as if the touch of your shaky hands ignited a feral fire within him, intensifying the frenzied pace of his ministrations. His own need reached a fever pitch, his tongue dancing with an even more voracious appetite, ravishing every inch of your cunt.

Your body reacted uncontrollably to the overwhelming sensations, saliva escaping your lips as you moaned and whimpered in a haze of pleasure. Your legs twitching and trembling, but Izuku's firm grip prevented you from dislodging him, keeping you at his mercy.

The sound of Izuku eating out your soaked cunt echoed within the otherwise empty café kitchen, the lewd noises amplified by the decorated tiles. Your grip on the base of Izuku's furry ears tightened, desperation evident as you sought an anchor to ground herself amidst the waves of pleasure forced on you.

Driven by his feral determination, Izuku continued to devour you with a relentless pace. His imposing length now popping up and over the band of his slick boxers, yearned for release. As your squirms and whimpers grew more unrestrained, your body teetered on the edge of a precipice, ready to crash to a blinding climax.

As Izuku forced a third orgasm from your bullied clit, your vision faded into a hazy whiteness, the sheer intensity of the pleasure causing your consciousness to spiral into a realm of overwhelming ecstasy. Your mind became consumed by a kaleidoscope of sensations, blurring the boundaries of pleasure and reality. Your entire being is overwhelmed by the whiteout, a surge of ecstasy that drowns out all other thoughts and sensations.

You remained lost in your own world of ecstasy, mind blissfully blank by the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through your veins. In the midst of the pleasure-induced haze, you barely registered Izuku standing to his full height pushing 7 feet, his uniform khakis and boxers shifted low on his chiseled hips. His imposing figure cast a shadow over your flushed form. He reveled in the sight of your face caught in the throes of your cumdrunk daze, body trembling and clearly craving further gratification.

Who was he to deny you?

With another shift of fabric, Izuku's thick cock sprung forth, liberated from its confines, hardened and throbbing. His erection stood tall despite it's weight, demanding attention, the embodiment of Izuku's primal nature. Flemish Giants are big in, well, every way. If your mind wasn't completely blank right now, you'd probably be worried about how the monstrous girth could fit in you. A concern Izuku clearly didn't have.

With an unquenchable desire driving him, Izuku moved between your quivering thighs, positioning himself to align with your sopping entrance still twitching from your last orgasm. The immense size of his swollen cock head presented a challenge for your tight and unprepared opening. Your poor pussy's struggle to accommodate Izuku's massive girth sent shockwaves through both of your bodies, setting the stage for the battle between resistance and persistence. Don't worry, he'll make sure he fits.

The first few frantic and desperate tries by Izuku only drew a frustrated growl from the large hybrid. Your body strained to accommodate the overwhelming size of Izuku's cock, your senses overloaded with both pleasure and over sensitivity. But with a slick pop, the tip of Izuku's engorged member finally breached your entrance, forcing its way inside.

You remained blissfully lost in a euphoric haze, your body intertwined with Izuku's as he leaned over you. The cafe's dim lighting from the sunrise cast gentle shadows across the kitchen, highlighting Izuku's disheveled green curls and the captivating glow of his emerald eyes, resembling one of the rabbits forged from swirling shadows on the mural that adorns the wall.

Leaning over you, Izuku's dominant side asserts itself, swiftly pressing your knees up towards your shoulders. Applying pressure to open them wider, he exposed every inch of your quivering slit spread tight around the head of his dick. With a growl of determination, Izuku bullied his way further inside your depths, his larger size causing a twinge of pain as he stretched you to your limit to accommodate him. Your body struggled with the difference between him and Katsuki.

The sheer size of Izuku's cock, larger than even your room mate's, brings a mixture of pleasure and ache to your sensitized cunt. While Katsuki's barbs had their own unique sting, the contrast in size between him and the rabbit currently using you like a fucktoy induced new levels of soreness and bliss.

Izuku thinks he may have found heaven when he finally breaks in your pussy enough for his monstrous dick to bottom out against your cervix. Undeterred by your cunt's struggle, Izuku sets a rapid rabbit pace, his thrusts forceful and demanding.

The sound of their intertwining bodies filled the room, the wet slapping of Izuku's balls against your ass creating a rhythm that added to the sound of their escalating pleasure. Despite the stinging stretch, you remained freely vocal, too lost in your bliss to be concerned about anything else. Izuku's moans and your cries filled the air, adding to the sinful symphony.

As Izuku's large muscles flexed, his grip on the counter edge on either side of your head tightened, seeking leverage to thrust even more deeply. His forearms came to rest on the cold surface. Your knees were pinned again Izuku's chest, as each of his motions rocked your body forcefully against the stone counter of the kitchen island.

As Izuku continued his relentless pace, his large muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, his emerald eyes shone with feral bliss. Soft forest green ears were pinned back against his curls, a clear sign of his animalistic desire taking hold. Noticing your slightly pained fucked-out expression, Izuku found a sort of sadistic glee in your reactions. He couldn't help but revel in the sense of superiority it gave him.

No fucking way that crispy room mate of yours has ever filled you like this before.

"Aw, am I too big? Does it sting?" Izuku crooned huskily in your ear, voice filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Fuck..! Taking me like such a good little pet- I knew you could handle it.” Even if his love is tainted by selfish obsession, he takes genuine pride in your resilience. Not everyone could take his bitch breaking girth the first time. Or at all.

You could only offer a weak nod in response to what little you catch of his words. Your walls clung to his thick length, the stretch more than you've ever experienced before. Yet, your blissed-out state allowed you to push through the discomfort of having your guts rearranged, exchanging it for a facet of ecstasy that only Izuku could provide. You were intoxicated.

The grip of your walls around his pulsing member further fueled his desire, his relentless pace never faltering. Your pussy clung desperately to his too thick cock, the force of each slam eliciting a a ragged gasp as he bottomed out against your cervix. His intense gaze locks onto your dilated eyes, drinking in every nuance of your cumdrunk expressions as you submitted to him completely.

For Izuku, this moment is the culmination of his desires since the moment you were hired at one of his coffee shops. His obsessive desire for you have driven him to go to great lengths, even "hiring" himself as a barista to get close to you. Now, his darkest desires are being fulfilled, the mate he craves finally within his grasp.

Fuck, he wasn't going to last much longer with you looking past him all fucked-out like that.

Intense pleasure coursing through your veins, you were overcome by the sensory overload of cumming again. Saliva escaped your parted lips, a shiny trail down the side of your chin. Your moans and whimpers intermingled with the wet, lewd sounds of your boss' thrusts into you, heavy balls accentuating squelches with quick slaps against your ass. Your gushing cunt walls attempted to tighten around Izuku's massive member with some success as you reached one last mind shattering orgasm. Your trembling pussy clamped down as best it could, Izuku thrusting all the while.

As he reached his own tipping point, Izuku's rabbit ears stood straight up, a visible sign of his peaking pleasure. “S-shit” He whined, your tight cunt was strangling his cock, causing his foot to bounce uncontrollably as he thrust as fast as possible. Each slam was met with the rhythmic spasming of your walls, clenching onto his too thick length with a desperate intensity. The sensation of your pussy clinging to his dick on every exiting pull, and the feel of his mushroom tip slamming against your cervix, was too much for Izuku. Driven by his unbridled desire, Izuku maintained his rabbit-like pace until the end, unable to resist the sweet agony of the tight vice that surrounded him.

With a deep groan of satisfaction, Izuku succumbed to the milking motion of your tight ring of muscles. The tip of his cock became engorged and sensitive, the pressure pushing him over the edge, the slit gushing forth with his warm cum. Pumping spurt after spurt, Izuku filled your womb with his seed, the pulsing sensation mixing with the raw pleasure that coursed through you both. One of his fuzzy ears cocked to the side, a visual display of the euphoria that engulfed him.

As with most rabbit hybrids, Izuku momentarily leaned all his weight on your pinned legs and his forearms, his body collapsing with the intensity of his climax. Your cunt walls stretched tight around his member still milked and clenched, coaxing every drop of his essence from within him. Overwhelmed by the influx of cum you could only moan brokenly in bliss, your consciousness long faded away during your last orgasm.

In the aftermath of your shared climax, Izuku remained trembling and breathless over your spent body, his emerald eyes still gleaming with a primal intensity, as he nuzzled your hair. The cafe was filled with the scent of your combined arousal, a poignant reminder of the powerful connection. A perfect mix of pine needles, yuzu zest and jasmine blossoms in the smug Izuku's opinion.

Much better than that burnt sugar bastard's stench.

Izuku needs a few tries to withdraw from your clasping cunt, before the head of his dick pops free of your pubic ridge with a final jerk of his hips. He hissed in oversensitive pleasure at the sensation of pulling free of your quim. Geez, were all humans this small on the inside? He wondered as his cum began to gush out of you. Izuku's viscous seed quickly flowed down your folds, trailing onto the cold counter top before beginning to drip onto the floor. He could definitely get used to that image. “You should get some rest” Izuku smugly beamed down at you before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your lids heavy with fatigue. You could hardly fight the chemicals, both natural and otherwise at this point, from pulling you into slumber, and soon you lost the battle. He smiled as he heard your breathing even out, asleep.

Izuku's tea, and it's added ingredient, had taken longer to take effect than he expected. When he saw how exhausted you were, he had just intended for you to nap through your shift. Cuddle with your unconscious form under a cozy blanket in the autumn afternoon during his lunch hour, maybe. Izuku was so glad he'd been given enough time make you cry his name so prettily before you slipped into sleep.

In comparison to this morning, you looked so serene and relaxed, even after your intense encounter. Izuku leaned over you, his forearms resting on the cold stone, nuzzling your hair tenderly. His nose twitched, catching your mingled scents again, making his rabbit ears flick with delight. Izuku, hidden behind his gentle facade once again, wished he had “hired” himself sooner. He could have felt you shuddering around him months ago, but he vowed to make up for lost time now that you were already spreading yourself for him on his kitchen counter.

With gentle care, Izuku's muscular frame picked up your sleeping body from the kitchen counter. He cradled in his arms with a protective tenderness, mindful not to jostle you from slumber. He carried down the hall to the employee room across from the office, where a comfy jade couch awaited, a place for you to rest while he tended to the café.

As Izuku lay you down on the couch, your sleepy form stirred and before turning over with a yawn. Izuku would have stayed there, with his forehead against yours, all day. However, as the sunrise streamed through the kitchen skylight, Izuku became aware of just how late in the morning it was. With the sun coming up, he only had a few minutes until the coffee shop opened. He watched over you for a moment more, ensuring you were comfortably tucked into a cushy blanket, before he turned his attention to the café.

After all, as the owner of the 'Lunar Rabbit' chain, Izuku had responsibilities to fulfill.

Izuku is gonna be mad when he realizes he left the pastries in the oven, but raspberry croutons are a small price to pay in the long run.

Comments and Reblogs make a difference!

[kitchensplus]

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Thus, if you're searching for Kitchen Renovation Contractors Near Me, pick Kitchens Plus or another respectable company. They take part in both countertop installation and selection. Depending on the client's tastes and financial constraints, they work with a variety of materials, including laminate, granite, quartz, and marble. For reasons of utility and aesthetics, proper installation is essential. They work together with customers to select and install new appliances, such as dishwashers, refrigerators, and ovens. 

One of their duties is to make sure these appliances are positioned, connected to the electricity, and have enough ventilation. They plan the electrical and plumbing tasks required for the kitchen makeover. This might entail changing lighting fixtures, moving sinks, installing new faucets, and making sure the kitchen has enough electrical outlets to power all of the gadgets. 

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[astridthevalkyrie]

me getting into a new character: how neurodivergent am i allowed to go

cw: fluff + a few mild horny thoughts

Rafayel has this little quirk where he's practically incapable of acting like a normal boyfriend. Or a normal person, honestly. Where other people would just take your hand walking down the street, he holds it out with a too-happy, beaming grin so that he can see you take it yourself. Where other people would just sit down at a fancy restaurant, he makes mock offended noises if you try to sit before he can make a big show of pulling your chair out for you.

Where other people would kiss you, he likes biting.

"I'm thinking," he muses, nibbling on your earlobe, "what about a diamond necklace?"

You sigh, burrowing yourself further into him, back against his chest. You're quite comfortable, and you could even fall asleep if it wasn't for his constant yammering. "No."

"Come on," he complains, sinking his teeth into your cheek this time. You let out a brief sound of exasperation, trying to bat at him, but he remains steadfast, tongue poking out to soothe the minor indent he leaves into your skin. "How'm I supposed to prove myself if you won't let me?"

"How would you buying me a diamond necklace prove anything?"

One of his hands slips under your shirt, resting right under your chest. His fingers knead whatever they get in contact with—it's not painful, actually it feels pretty good, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Though you suppose, turning around in his hold and silently indicating to him to pull you closer may just be admitting exactly that.

"It'd prove I'm not cheap, for one thing. I'd be able to tell everyone, whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets! You're so strange, not wanting anything. Do you even know how rich I am?"

"Tell you what," you mumble, burying your face in his neck and completely melting in his arms as soon as his comforting scent fills your senses, "you buy me a quesadilla tomorrow and I'll tell everyone you're practically my sugar daddy."

Rafayel scoffs. "Like anyone would ever believe you were a sugar baby. You don't have the constitution for it."

That might be a new lead in the top ten strangest insults you've ever heard from him. Shooting a small glare up his way, you bite back, "Are you going to let me sleep or are you gonna keep talking?"

"Keep talking," he answers without hesitation, then barrels forward before you can protest. "Hmm, maybe I should just fill my place up with amenities for you. Cheese plates in the kitchen. Exfoliators in the bathroom. A butler to take your coat."

The ridiculous idea of him hiring a butler just so someone could occasionally take your coat from you when you come over makes you laugh, which in turn puts a pleased smile on his face and accidentally encourages him to continue.

"What's that kids' movie you like? Twelve Dancing Princesses? What if I just repaint this room with the floor design from that?"

Now hang on. This one actually interests you, the idea of playing out your childhood fantasies out by dancing around in Rafayel's room. If you asked, you're sure he'd hire someone to replicate the same dress the main character from that movie wears too. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Anyone who comes here would see it."

"Yeah, something tells Thomas won't care. And if anyone else does come here, they'll probably write a boringly long article meant to flatter me. Renowned artist is super nice and generous to his childish girlfriend—"

"Says the guy who cried during Island Princess," you fire back, "also, it's nice to know you're only trying to spoil me for acclaim."

"Hello? Did you miss the part where I said boringly long? I'm trying to spoil you because I want you to spend my money."

"Why? It turns you on or something?"

"Maybe," he grins, pretending to lean in to kiss you, then sinking his teeth into your cheek once more the second you purse your lips to meet him halfway. With a quiet growl, you kick at his feet, and he only laughs against your skin. "Come oooon, I'm serious. Tell me at least one expensive thing I can get you."

Finally, you open your eyes, looking up at him with all your sincerest conviction. "Raf. If you wanna ruin your reputation and renovate your floor into the Twelve Dancing Princesses one just to prove a point, go for it. But I'm warning you, I'm gonna have to give you the best head of your life if you do that."

Rafayel groans, the hand that's not up your shirt tangling into your hair. "Don't tell me that, you're gonna force me to be selfless and turn it down. This isn't transactional. I give you my card and tell you to go wild, and then you just do it. Nothing in return."

Ah, yes, the Raf classic. Say the sweetest possible thing in the most irritating way he possibly can. Well, two can play at that game.

"If you give me your card and expect nothing in return, I'm going to strictly buy paint supplies in all your favorite brands, all your favorite colors—"

"I don't have favorite colors—"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, you press on. "And your weak attempt to spoil me will fall flat because not only will I only buy things you like, but I'll wire you the entire amount of what I spend the next day."

He lets out a dramatic half-whine, shaking you a little. "Man, you're so embarrassing!" Tugging you closer, he drowns out your complaints with his own protests. "So clingy, stop getting so close to me! Oh my god," he moans, holding your hand tighter the more you try to fight him and pull back, "get away from me, stalker. Let go!"

"Holy shit, you're so annoying—"

"And you're so obsessed with me, it's concerning."

For once, you're the one pouting at him. "I'm trying to sleep. You're really warm. Can you please push my limits later?"

An affectionate smile lights up his face. "Yeah, okay. As long as you agree tomebuyingyouapradabag."

"No."

Rafayel snorts, tucking his face into your hair. "And you think you could handle being a sugar baby."

[macustoms]

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[coriolanussnowswife]

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐶. 𝑆.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❆ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

𝟾.𝟽.𝟸𝟺

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 𝟸𝟹𝟶𝟼

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑣𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑡, 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑒 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑦, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑

𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒

𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 (𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒

𝑦𝑜𝑢)“

~ 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑒 | 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝐷𝑒𝑙 𝑅𝑒𝑦

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Coriolanus Snow isn’t the feelings type of person. He didn’t express an ounce of love for you throughout your entire marriage, and didn’t expect any from you. Not even in the most intimate of moments, and never behind closed doors.

He wasn’t abusive which is better than most man in the capitol. Although if you ever got in his way there was no doubt that you would meet an untimely demise. He mostly just kept himself cooped up in his office all day, mulling over stacks of papers and papers.

You were more than an exceptional wife by his standards. Quiet and obedient, you were smart and graceful and were a wonderful cook when need be. You have given him a beautiful heir, with little to no complications during birth.

He admired your beauty, appreciated you in general, but love you? No. He denied himself of love after that horrible district girl had torn down the walls that he had so meticulously crafted his whole life. All because he had been stupid enough to fall for district scum.

So why was it that when you had succumbed to your sickness had he been drowned in such an overwhelming feeling of dread that he felt like recreating the end of Romeo and Juliet?

At this moment he lies curled in on himself on the queen-sized bed in your sleeping quarters. You two had never shared a room and his is down the hall but for some reason he does not get up when he knows he should.

Sheets engulf his body, smelling of the rose perfume he insisted you wore mixed with the smell of your shampoo. Dried tears stick to his face and his eyelashes droop from the weight of them.

He wasn’t like this immediately after the funeral, what drove him to this point is noticing all the things you had done for him that now leave a gaping hole in his life.

The way you used to draw designs on his coffee every morning, the way you would massage his back after a long day of work without him even having to ask, the way you would bring him snacks when you knew he hadn't eaten all day from being too engrossed in his work.

He would always shoo you away and chastise you for disturbing his work, (although would always bring an empty plate back into the kitchen).

For some reason, he was expecting you to come into his office to hand him a plate of food or ease the tension of his shoulders with your delicate hands. But then you didn't.

And he couldn't take it anymore.

Which is why he has barely moved from his position for days, only to go to the bathroom occasionally. He can’t remember the last time he ate or drank anything. Maybe at the funeral, maybe before.

He sees you in his dreams, what your relationship could've been if he wasn’t so cold to you

.So he rolls over and slips into unconsciousness yet again.

You walk with him in the gardens of the president’s mansion.

The gardens you so carefully tend to every day, even after Coriolanus tells you that you can hire people to do that. You say it’s for your joy, and although he still thinks it inefficacious he leaves you be.

“The gardens really do look beautiful at this time of year,” you state as you lean in to capture the musk of a rose bush besides you.

It really is an alluring sight, even a man like Coriolanus can admit. Although he has come to notice everything you touch has become beautiful in his eyes.

“Yes, it does,” he says, his eyes practically glued to the back of your head.

You reach your hand out to touch one of the flowers and prick your finger on a thorn.

You wince and Coriolanus peeks over your shoulder to see a red stain on your, otherwise perfect in his eyes skin.

“Are you okay?” he reaches out and places and hand onto your shoulder to try and give a soothing effect, nevertheless his hands had never had that effect on people, as they are nearly the same as a corpeses in temperature.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you say.

A strong feeling of a mix deja vu and unease spread though his body, manefesting in a shiver that runs all though his frame.

It’s not fine.

The bleeding doesn’t stop.

Blood gushes out of the wound and the force of it tears the skin around it. Three long gashes spread their way up your arm as you let out a chilling scream.

The red liquid spills and pools around your feet as your face twists in horror. Your knees hit the floor with a sikening crack and they split the fresh blood mixing with the blood littered with debris from the floor.

“HELP ME!” You shriek as the gashes spread up your shoulders and to your neck the loose skin of your arms draping off of the red flesh underneath. Almost like a flower wilting.

You always were his rose.

Coriolanus’s wants to help, he really does, surprisingly. But something is preventing him from moving, his body is as stiff as a board. He tries to move, to override the benevolent power that overwhelms his whole body. But he can’t. He is out of control.

He hates being out of control.

He wakes up drenched in sweat. His heart is beating rapidly and his breathing is skewed. He turns to his side and vomit spews off the side of the bed and into a bowl that one of the avox put down after the third time cleaning up.

Grief is something that Coriolanus has had very minimal exposure to, so it materializes in such a violent way for him.

He stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the desk next to the entrance of the room. Sitting on it is the diary you kept, you would write in it every night, Coriolanus knows. You rarely wrote in his presence but during the few times you did you refused to go into much detail of the contents. He assumed it was because you were writing about minuscule things, and he was right. For the most part.

But as he sat days ago, after your funeral, he found himself turning to the back pages of the worn book to find detailed entries of the last days of your life.

Repeating things like, ‘I told Coriolanus it was just a cold so he wouldn’t worry.’ And things similar to that dotted across the pages.

Some of the later pages become incoherent as your state deteriorates and you become too tired to form the thoughts that ever so filled your brain before.

One of the specific reasons you downplayed your sickness was you didn’t want to distract him from his work.

His stupid, horrid work.

He never wants to set foot in his office again.

Much less touch quill to paper.

His therapist, (that you suggested to him), told him not to beat himself up about it, that it wasn’t his fault. But how could he think otherwise? It was his fault, it was, at least by his justification.

Maybe that’s what he was feeling, guilt. Guilt for prioritizing work over you, his wife, the person he should be completely enamored with. Guilt for not being there for you in your final moments. Guilt for never saying goodbye.

Maybe guilt is why he lays his head down on your desk, or maybe it’s the selfish need to not want to deal with his thoughts anymore. And sleep washes over him.

Coriolanus would’ve been perfectly fine, content even, with sitting at a table in the corner of the room. A glass of posca in hand, observing other people mingle and dance. And he would’ve stayed if Ms. Plinth hadn’t urged him to go dance.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to do formal dances he just despised them. Ms. Plinth was right though, stating that it would be a perfect place to find the wife he talks about so very much.

He goes through a couple of dances with… interesting people before he spots you. You sit at a table with a girl, a beaming smile on your face as you laugh at something the girl had just said. He makes a beeline to you, as nonchalantly as he can. Which is admittedly not very.

Once he gets there your friend gets up and gives you a look and nods her head towards him subtly. He has no idea what that means but hopes for the best.

“May I… uh have this dance?” He asks as you filck your eyes up to him. You hold your hand out to him and he lowers his head and takes your hand in his before bringing it to his lips, giving your hand a slight peck

“Sure, umm-” you look to him for his name

“Snow, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Coriolanus Snow.”

A waltz starts playing and you take to the floor. With one hand still gripping yours and the other resting on your waist where the torso of your dress ends and the skirt stops, he guides you through the dance. And you get lost in the steps and twirls, completing each step from muscle memory.

Couples dance around you and you seem to take in everything but him. But he is solely looking at you.

When your eyes do land on him his breath falters for a second, just as the music slows but he plays off his very obvious staring.

Once the music comes to a stop you thank him and curtsy, “Do you want to go have some fun?” You ask in a whisper just as he is going to send you off. Not that he wants to get rid of you.

“I- what do you mean?” he asks, his mind wandering.

You gasp, feigning insult. “Do you think me a common whore Coriolanus?” you place a hand on your chest, “I meant to wander the halls, visit the garden. Something other than being here.”

He nods and you slip out of the room and walk through the halls.

“You know I really do hate those events. They are one of the most boring things I have ever experienced. I usually just come for the food to be honest.” you ramble as you stroll through the corridors.

“Right?” he says “Also the amount of dances you have to memorize is lethal.”

You laugh, a sound that is like heaven to his ears. Just as he lets his guard down you pull him into a room and quickly close the door behind you.

“I think I heard someone coming,” you breathe out.

“That or you just wanted to get into a room with me alone,” he jokes “though I wouldn’t be completely against the idea.”

Your eyes, god your eyes, shift up to him. “Hm?”

“I said what I said.”

You move to peek out of the crack of the door and see a guard walking by. Once his footsteps fade away you slip out of the room and hurry down the hallway in a fit of muffled laughter.

The crunch of your footsteps ricochet off the hedges of the garden as you nibble a croissant that Coriolanus had snuck into the hall to grab.

“You eat very slowly,” he says, observing the pastry still in your hand.

“You eat like a starved man,” you say as of now you are taking larger bites, conscious of his words.

You and him find a seat on a marble bench under a tree that has draping limbs resembling the strands of a wig once placed on a mannequin that is not quite the right size. By now you have finished your croissant.

The remnants, he notices, are still resting on the corner of your lips.

His hand grips your chin and turns your face toward him. Your brows furrow and your gaze lands on his.

“What?” You question although it comes out as more of a nervous laugh.

He brings his other hand up to your face and swipes the chocolate from your lips.

“You had something,” he breathes. His hand still is resting on your face and a couple of moments of silence pass. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

His words send a rush of warmth down your spine, “so I’ve been told,” you respond in a breathy whisper.

Almost agonizingly slow, he leans into his face getting closer to yours every second, every breath.

Under normal circumstances this would be something Coriolanus would never do. Spontaneous and him don’t mix. But something about you makes him want to rush, rush everything. Just so you can be his.

Coriolanus wakes with a jolt. Quite literally as someone is shaking him out of his slumber.

“Mr. Snow, your supper has been prepared.” One of his maids say. Glinda, that’s her name, old but efficient in her craft.

“Thank you,” he dismisses her with his words along with a wave of his hands and gets up from the chair. Pain shooting up his back from the not-so-comfortable sleeping position.

He makes his way down the hall for a lonely dinner, the first one in days. One that he specifically asked for your favorite foods to be littered across the spread of the meal.

He eats listlessly, and makes his way back to your room.

He doesn’t bother to change into pajamas and just lays down and rests his head on the pillow that he prays will never lose your scent.

He nods off and falls into the dream space of you that will continue to torture him every night.

Now until forever.

[cavillscurls]

Divine Dynasty | Joel Miller Mafia AU (THE PREQUEL)

**PLEASE NOTE: This installment was written and released after Chapter Two. It can be read at any point in the series.**

Pairing: Mafia!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel graciously hosts your twenty-first birthday party at his estate. You are both finally forced to acknowledge the feelings you have been harboring for one another.

Warnings/tags: MDNI. This takes place 4 years prior to the main storyline. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Age gap (reader is currently 21, Joel is currently 36). Dual POV. Joel wrestling with the idea of his attraction to reader. Sexual tension. Suggestive scenarios. Flirting !!! Mutual pining. General Mafia themes. No descriptions of race or body type; reader wears a bikini bathing suit. Moodboard for aesthetics only.

Word Count: 5.4k

CHAPTER ONE. | CHAPTER TWO. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

❝Babe, there’s something wretched about this.

Something so precious about this.

Where to begin?

Babe, there’s something broken about this,

but I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin. ❞

— Hozier, From Eden

“Joel, I swear, if you ask me about the goddamn cake one more time, I’m gonna sock ya right in the jaw.” 

Joel Miller was not a patient man. 

He tried to be, albeit, not very well. In a life where one was used to getting what they wanted whenever they wanted, feeling out of control was not a skill he had mastered. And fuck, did he feel out of his element. 

He didn’t realize when he offered to host your birthday party in his home that it would be such a massive undertaking. The truth was, it was only so because of his own doing. He was making it much harder on himself than needed, but how could he not? It was you. Ever since your mother passed, he had seen much more of you. Always at your fathers side. A watchful eye never passing judgment on the life they lived, only admiration and curiosity. Joel couldn’t shake the incessant need to seek another moment alone with you. 

Moments altogether were few and far between. Normally reduced to watchful eyes across the room while you beamed pridefully beside your father at dinners or laughed at whatever ridiculous joke Tommy was telling the group. In truth, he had hardly spoken to you directly since you were but a child, the thought alone making his stomach clench in disgust for how quickly pure thoughts of joyous youth became an unbridled attraction. 

Joel hadn’t thought much about the feelings he discovered he was harboring about you. It was purposeful. Dimming them to a dull throb in his subconscious was easier than facing the gravity of what they meant. He could admire from afar. He would admire a little closer tonight—but it was a special occasion. 

Instead, he channeled all of that energy into creating the perfect evening. He had hired chefs working in his kitchen since four o’clock. The decor for the grand foyer and living space were designed and chosen meticulously, mostly gold accents to accompany that of the chandeliers. And of course, the cake, which he and Tommy spent a good thirty-five minutes arguing about, settling on a chocolate mousse that could satisfy any crowd. 

Guests began arriving about an hour before Joel knew he could expect you. This was good. This meant he had ample time for people to get drunk enough to not notice how insane he was going over just about everything: did he choose the right food? The right music? Could he have possibly forgotten someone vital to invite? 

He was in the midst of checking over the hors d'oeuvres for what felt like the fourth time when he felt the startling clap of a hand on his shoulder. Joel cocked his head over to see Tommy shuffle in beside him, his arm draped over his shoulders. 

“Doin’ alright, big brother?” Tommy asked, but Joel had already turned his attention back to the table in front of him. He reached out to carefully adjust some of the dishes that were placed crooked. 

Tommy watched him fiddle for another moment before he gave Joel’s shoulder another squeeze, this time, a bit more firm. 

“Joel,” Tommy said slowly, to which his brother responded with a grunt, finally finding his eyes. Tommy was looking at him sympathetically, a quaint smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Joel was certain he already looked like a wreck. Sweat dampened his brow, his heart pounding against his chest. “Everything’s gonna go just fine,” Tommy consoled. 

“Everythin’ has to go perfect.” 

“It will.” It was no secret that Joel was a perfectionist, but this was beyond his usual absurdity. Normally, the younger Miller brother would not pass up the opportunity to tease, but he knew better. This was important to Joel, which made it important to the entirety of the clan. 

Tommy released his brother with a final pat between the shoulders. “I’m gonna make sure they’ve got enough hands at the front. Call me if you need anythin’, yeah?” Joel’s insufficient grumble would have to suffice as a response. 

If you need anything. What did he need? To get his head on straight, for one. A drink, for two. An open bar may have been one of his best ideas of the evening thus far. He hiked his way over to the makeshift station, doing his very best to avoid the eye-line of his men and arriving guests alike.  

“Whiskey neat,” he mumbled to the bartender, wrapping his fingers around the glass when it was handed to him and taking it back in one, hearty swig. The burn was familiar, comforting in the way it slid down his throat. Numerous evenings much like this one were spent locked up in his parlor, the weight of an empire on his shoulders, while he nursed the entire bottle through the night. It calmed the nerves and steadied him. A habit that he, perhaps, needed to be mindful of, but was nonetheless grateful for in a moment of irritating self-doubt. 

Joel Miller had never been a man to question himself, his actions, his intentions. 

Not until you. 

“Surprise!” 

When Meg, your oldest and longest friend, told you to get dressed up for the evening, you had an astute inkling that it may have had something to do with your birthday. You were rather indifferent to the occasion, content to spend the evening with a handful of friends inside watching films and eating snacks most years. But you would never pass up a party. 

Especially not when it was being hosted by none other than Joel Miller. 

You had decided to get ready with Meg at her apartment, giving in to the soft nudge your father conveniently pestered you with to get out of the house. This was the first clue of the evening's plans. You spent the next few hours with homemade margaritas in hand, dancing around her living room to music much too loud while you dolled yourselves up; a routine you were all too familiar with, as many high school nights with Meg were spent doing similar antics. The dress of choice was a deep crimson, with thin straps holding up the square neckline, hugging your curves in all the right places; it reached the floor, but saved room for the generous slit up your right leg. 

When the car arrived for you both, it took all of three turns before you knew exactly where it would be taking you. You had this particular route mapped out, and it wouldn’t have taken much on Joel’s part to organize your arrival with Meg. The idea alone that he sought out the guidance of your closest friend for a special day made your chest tighten in delight. 

Your friends didn’t know the line of work Joel ran, but they had their educated suspicions. They were smart enough not to question; they got to bask in the glory of what his field of work provided, and to that, they were content. Meg would dance her way around the conversation a bit less inconspicuously than the others, but she never pushed. Her friendship with you went beyond any perks of your father's profession. 

It wasn’t long before you were standing at the double doors of Joel’s foyer, being bathed in the love of friends and family alike. Your father was one of the first to approach you, pulling you into a hug and wishing you a happy birthday. You thanked him with glassy eyes, overwhelmed by the affection of those who greeted you. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Only heightening when you finally looked across the room to see a certain brown-eyed beauty sauntering over your direction as the path around you began to clear. 

Oh, he looked good. 

Gelled curls and a firmly pressed black suit, you already felt like mush upon his gaze. His lips were curled into a quaint little smirk, and his dazzling eyes seemed to glisten a little under the chandelier lights. A proper host, dashing and bold. And yet, when he approached you, it was easy to feel like the only two in the room. 

Joel stopped a few feet short of you, and you tilted your neck back to take in his glorious tanned features. You tried to bite back the grin that spread across your cheeks, but it was impossible. Not while he was looking at you like that. Not while you knew this entire spectacle had been his doing for you. You had hardly even noticed the two champagne flutes he held until he lifted one up to eye level. 

“Believe I’m allowed to give this to ya now,” he remarked, and you chuckled breathily. 

He handed you one of the flutes, tipping his own in your direction for a gentle clink. You both took a sip of the bubbly sweetness and then, he was placing his free hand delicately at the small of your back to properly greet you, taking a step forward so he could lean his lips down to your ear. Your body ignited, growing taut at his touch. 

“You look incredible,” he murmured, words only the two of you were allowed to indulge in. His proximity made sure of that. It also gave you a heavy whiff of him, the heady scent of his expensive cologne mixed with his natural pheromones had your head spinning. 

You let your eyes close momentarily, basking in the moment that was bound to be fleeting. “Thank you,” you whispered in response, and with a soft chuckle and careful peck of his lips to your temple, he released you. 

You looked up to him again, this time, pure admiration displayed behind your eyes. “This is incredible,” you told him, nodding your head towards the decorated foyer in front of you. “Thank you for arranging all of it, I—”

He held his free hand up, halting you. “Ain’t no need to thank me, darlin’. Besides,” he said, tilting his head to eye you over your shoulder. “I had a little help.” 

You turned your head to see Meg standing behind you still, glittering smile and all. She shrugged, swiping a piece of hair back from her shoulder in subtle boasting. 

“Oh, it was nothing.” She couldn’t even pretend to hide her pride, but you didn’t mind. Eternally grateful to have someone who would go through such trouble to appease you for one night. 

It wasn’t long before Meg was blabbering about how many things and people there were to see; old friends from high school, the few from childhood, new ones from university. Family you hadn’t seen for years. A photo booth she insisted be used by you and her first. Before you knew it, she was grabbing at your hands, tugging you away from the crowd that greeted you, away from Joel. You turned your head over your shoulder to shoot him an apologetic glance at her eagerness, hoping to convey how desperately you wished to continue talking to him. You could talk to him all evening long if obligation didn’t lie elsewhere. 

He softly shook his head at you, mouthing a have fun, and you convinced yourself his focused eyes were promising you they would find you later. 

The rest of the occasion was just as grand as you expected it to be at the hands of Joel. 

A delicious array of food that kept your belly filled pleasantly, nonetheless allowing room for the decadent dessert that came shortly after. You held your cheeks, inflamed with appreciation and embarrassment when the horde of your friends and family sang happy birthday to you. It was one of the few moments you were able to spot Joel’s eyes throughout the evening, as he dutifully held up the cake with Tommy whilst you blew out the candles. You couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him beaming at you, overcome with a delight you were not sure you had ever experienced as intensely. 

The steady flow of champagne and cocktails kept your veins buzzing and your head free from worries. More of your school friends from the years had filed in throughout the evening; Steven, a particularly charming fellow that Meg had her eyes on for years, made an appearance. He brought along one of your old flings, Noah, who had remained a good friend despite your attraction to each other never blooming into more. You wondered how long it would take and how drunk Meg needed to be before she made her move on one or the other. 

Around eleven, guests were beginning to make their exits at a leisurely pace. You were nowhere near tired nor ready to say goodbye to what felt like the perfect evening, but you could not overstay your welcome. Besides, nothing could diminish the sheer glee you felt in fact that Joel Miller had planned all of this just for you. 

You were in the midst of embracing your father in farewell, promising him you would call as soon as you and Meg made it safely back to her apartment for the night when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning away from the doorway, you saw none other than Meg herself standing behind you, a smirk on her face and rocking giddy from heel to toe. 

“Party’s not over yet, birthday girl,” she started, your confusion only sending her grin wider. “Two words: Night. Swimming.” 

You frowned. “But I didn’t bring a bathing su—”

You didn’t notice the bag hanging off her fingertips until she brought it around from behind her back, dangling it in front of your face, proudly. You gave her a knowing look, and she beamed back at you because of course she came prepared. Preparedness meant you had no room to protest her plans, but even if she hadn’t come ready, you wouldn’t have complained. 

Any opportunity to stay even a moment longer in Joel Miller’s home as an opportunity you would take. 

“Cannonball!” 

Tommy was the culprit of the barbaric screech and mighty splash of water that attacked everybody in the pool. He, amongst other younger members of the clan, as well as Meg, Steven, and Noah had joined the after-party in Joel’s spacious backyard paradise. Warm, twinkling lights you had never noticed before were strung up over the pool. You wondered if he set them out just for the occasion, a thought that made your chest warm with more than just the soothing touch of the heated water. 

And yet, the gracious host himself did not partake. No, he sat idly by. Still fully clothed in his evening apparel. Watching. 

You, on the other hand, could not decide whether or not you were thankful for or mortified at the choice of swimwear Meg brought you. Of course, it was your raunchiest bikini; a two-piece black set with triangles that just barely cupped each breast, and bottoms that, no matter much you tugged at them to cover more, revealed a generous amount of your ass. 

You did your best not to draw too much attention to yourself, as if that was even possible on a day like this. At the very least, you tried your hardest not to keep casting eyes back at Joel who still sat at one of the lounge chairs. He would check his phone every few moments, a party still no distraction from the work he was still responsible for. But when he wasn’t occupied, you would catch his eyes on you; following your descent into the warm water, keeping a watch on the way you moved, maybe even how close the other men got to you. 

The latter very well could’ve been a false fantasy, but it was one you didn’t mind indulging. Not one bit. 

At one point, Tommy set up a net at the far end of the pool, rousing everyone into a game of volleyball. You were lucky the estate had no nearby neighbors, as the shouts of triumph and groans of defeat echoed loudly through the night sky. You ended up on the winning team, much to Tommy’s efforts. 

The approaching midnight did little to cease shenanigans, and after the third game, it was decided that more drinks would be necessary before another round could commence. Tommy chanted in excitement over some bourbon he had in the reserve, to which both Steven and Noah showed interest in, eagerly grabbing their towels and following him inside. 

You were the last to leave the pool, taking your time in drying yourself when you reached for your towel that was conveniently placed on the lounge chair adjacent to Joel’s. He had made no effort to move, still lost in his phone. 

This is your chance, you thought. The most unobtrusive opportunity tonight thus far to get yourself a moment alone with him. You scrunched at your wet hair painfully slow, hoping the crowd would disappear without so much as a glance in your direction. 

“You coming?!” Meg called from the sliding door. 

Fuck. 

“Uh, yeah! I’m just gonna dry off a little more. I’ll catch up,” you assured her with a tight lip smile. She returned it with an arch of her brow but pressed no further before slipping inside. 

With the majority of the chatter migrated back to the house, a calming silence fell over the backyard. You could hear the crickets in their dusk song, a soft rustle of wind through the leaves on the trees, skin prickling with goosebumps at the realization that it was colder outside the warmth of the pool. When you were certain the back door would not reopen, you turned your attention back to the occupied lounge chair. 

Joel’s eyes were already on you. 

“Too cool to join us?” you teased, tilting your head at him as you continued to run the towel through your hair. 

His lips curled into a smirk. “Someone’s gotta be sober ‘nough to keep an eye on y’all,” he mused, carefully tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket. When he looked at you now, it was as though it was the first time he was really seeing what you were wearing. Or not wearing. He was shameless, letting his gaze run over the entirety of your figure once, twice, mapping out damp skin and committing it to memory. 

You, on the other hand, were speechless. A gawking statue frozen in a perpetual daze, unmoving to the only spectator who had ever made you feel like a piece of art worth looking at. Joel had that ability. To cast away your insecurities with his suave words and tender eyes, never giving any indication that his intentions with you were anything but sincere, whatever they may be. It was no wonder he consumed your very being; night and day, an endless cycle of senseless yearning you attempted, and failed, to tame. 

You realized, then, that your time was limited. Girlish fantasies and chronic overthinking of his every move would have to wait.  You braced yourself with a deep breath, wrapping the towel around your torso and rolling back your shoulders in an attempt to release some of the budding tension before carefully stepping towards the chair beside him, and plopping down on the edge. It was now or never. 

“Well, it’s certainly not me you have to worry about,” you feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes rather dramatically. Teasing him. “I’ve never had a drop of alcohol before tonight.” 

Joel threw his head back, laughing. The kind that spread his lips so wide, his dimple showed, filling your stomach with heat.  “No, ‘course not,” he agreed, turning his body to mirror you, knees nearly touching across the short distance between chairs. “Too much of a good girl to do such a thing, right?” 

The way he said it, low in his chest, his chin tilted down and peering up through devilish eyes, you couldn’t even allow yourself to entertain the idea that he was just being nice. Being Joel. That had always meant something entirely different when it came to you, anyway, hadn’t it? All rational was thrown to the wind, and for a moment, as foolish as it may have been, you let yourself indulge in the idea that perhaps he was interested in you beyond being the daughter of one of his men. 

“Right,” you breathed, internally scolding yourself for how winded you already sounded. 

He was studying you again. In a way that made you hyper aware of your body, the droplets of water rolling over your skin the only saving grace from the way it burned under his gaze. Joel pursed his lips, and then: 

“Come here,” he beckoned, lifting a hand to curl his fingers gesturally in the air. Your brows furrowed in momentary confusion. How much closer did he want you to get? 

Realizing how stupid your own question was, you wordlessly stood, holding the towel taut around you as you stepped into the space between his thighs. He craned his neck back to look at you, the twinkle that sparked in his eyes simultaneously frightening and exhilarating. 

“Sit,” he commanded softly, patting his thigh and seeming to pay no mind to the way your body was already dripping water onto his slacks. 

Your brows lifted and your lips parted a bit in surprise. He must have been losing it. You must have been losing it. “But…I’m all wet,” you said, your eyes peering sheepishly down at him. 

He tilted his chin up at you, a casual smirk ghosting his lips. “I gotta closet full of suits, darlin’. I ain’t gonna miss this one.” 

You wondered if he heard the way your breath caught in your throat. 

You were a damn fool to even consider denying his request. Joel Miller asking you to sit on his lap? He may as well have plucked the very fantasies from your brain with his own fingertips. If only you could tell the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you of who he was, where you were, to shut up for five minutes. What better day of the year was there for selfish indulgences, anyway? 

And fuck, were you eager to be selfish for him. 

You didn’t allow yourself to dawdle any longer. Wordlessly, you lowered yourself onto one of his thighs, muscles rigid. He eyed you the entire time, the intensity of them drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His legs were sturdy below you, but his hands remained dutifully to himself. 

“Got somethin’ for ya,” he spoke, his voice somehow sounding richer this close. He was reaching into his back pocket then, pulling out what was revealed before you as a black, velvet box. 

You sucked in a breath. “Joel…” You peered down at the rectangle in his hands, feeling as though your chest may explode. The entire evening had been grand, the idea of any more endowments seeming almost undeserved. “You really didn’t have to get me—”

“Hush, now. Ain’t no way you thought I wasn’t gettin’ you a gift,” he interrupted, shaking his head at you. “Been waitin’ all night to give it to you,” he admitted, the soft glimmer that casted over his eyes when he said it making your heart flutter. “Go on, open it,” he urged you softly.

You stared at the box for a moment before finally reaching out to hold it between your fingers, paying no mind to the way the towel slipped from below your arms. It bunched up around your lap, and you swore you felt Joel’s body tense below you. With trembling fingers, you carefully took off the top. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, eyes grown wide. Splayed within the box was a dainty station necklace; what it lacked in gaudiness it made up for in sparkle, a sequence of gems, alternating between diamonds and your birthstone. Even in the lowlight, they twinkled. Confirming their legitimacy.  

You were overcome by incessant emotion; the idea of him spending time meticulously hand-picking a gift for you, one that you would wear with pride, an eager display of the way his charm had consumed you, dowsed you in a sick sense of pride. Not to mention how expensive it must have been, and yet, he deemed you worthy. The thought alone made you shiver. 

You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyeing up at him wistfully through your lashes. He was so close, and he smelled so good. Peering carefully down at you, you saw his eyes flicker to your lips. 

“Put it on for me?” you asked softly. You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch before he nodded once. Hesitation was no longer a foe. You gave into instinct, turning your body until you were perched forward on his lap, his chest flushed against your back. 

Joel reached around you, carefully lifting the necklace from the plush fabric it sat atop. You snaked a hand up, gathering your hair to the back of your head as he brought the gift closer to your neck. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut. 

You were consumed by him. The sturdiness, the safety of his body around you. Warm breath fanning cool skin, while yours came bated. You imagined what a predicament you must have looked like, then; Joel, fully clothed, your scantily clad body rested back against him. Perhaps you should have been ashamed, but all you could picture was what it would be like, feel like, to be just like this in a much less savory scenario. What it may feel like to have his hands mold your body to their touch, the way his lips would bleed whispers into your skin. 

His knuckles brushed the tip of your spine while he secured the clasp. Sat perfectly above your collarbones, you couldn’t help but let your hair fall to reach the same hand forward, tracing gentle fingers over the stones. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “Thank you.” 

You weren’t sure he heard you at first, but then, you felt it. Feather-light, you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you. But there was no denying the rough sensation of his stubble as it tickled your neck, the plush of his lips just barely grazing your skin right below the precious gift. You stiffened, body set alight at the smooth pass of his warm breath over your wet skin. There was no doubt he could see the goosebumps that rapidly began to litter your arms and legs, and you held your breath in fear of whatever would come out in response to having him so close. 

“M’glad you like it,” he muttered, right into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs together. The delicious baritone vibrating straight through to your core. 

“I love it,” you emphasized, not trusting your voice to speak any more above a whisper. Even then, it came out mangled, strained. On the precipice of losing control. 

Up until then, he had been rather restrained. But the hands he had honorably kept to himself had crept up slowly, knuckles brushing over the sides of your thighs. Even with the barrier of the towel, your skin felt like fire under his touch. 

You could’ve stayed like that forever, huddled up in his lap, his very own branding around your neck, waiting patiently for whatever move he made next. But you were feeling bold, a bit tipsy, and intoxicated by the idea of him. Carefully, you maneuvered yourself atop of him again, turning halfway back around until you were able to look at him properly. 

His eyes were on you, taking you in much closer than ever before. It made you gasp, the intensity of his gaze, though you couldn’t seem to falter from it. Tentative hands had crept up your thighs, settling delicately on either hip. Your hands ached to reach out and touch him in return, but your brain left you frozen. Casted under the spell of proximity, his scent alone, like hearty wood and a hint of mint, dampened your senses. 

He said your name once. Quiet. A warning, or an inquisition, perhaps. Then, his eyes flickered down to your lips again, this time, lingering there. You could feel his breath against your face; one motion, and you could taste him. Satiate a hunger deeply rooted inside of you for years past and years to come. But he was already moving, lifting a hand and dragging two fingers over the apple of your cheek, tucking away strands of damp hair behind your ear. 

Your breath had picked up, so loud you were sure he could hear it. See the way your chest heaved up and down. You thought you noticed his hitch, too. Shoulders taut and inviting below his button-up. The hand that pushed away your hair lingered at the nape of your neck, between your hairline and his precious gift, holding you loosely in place. 

He watched the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth nervously before dampening his own with his tongue. You followed the way it dragged across the appealing surface in awe, craving nothing more than to taste the very same spot. 

When he said your name a second time, your thighs clenched harder than before. It was deep, almost a groan of sheer desperation and dwindling restraint. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you didn’t even have the capacity to question the integrity of what was about to happen because it was happening. 

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip away, you reached a shaky hand forward and pressed it to his chest. This time, you were certain his muscles twitched, because you could feel them. Bouncing below your touch, as if your pliancy was a pleasant surprise. Maybe it was to him, but for you, it was the easiest decision in the world. 

You held your breath, the invisible magnet between the two of you pulling you both forward until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You heard him inhale, the anticipation and hesitancy in both of your movements nearly too much to bear. A culmination of every desire you had ever experienced reduced to one moment. 

The faintest brush was his lips, ghosting over yours, never quite leaning in. Testing the waters. Perhaps he expected you to retreat, dismiss him in a fit of rage. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth lay in the way you grabbed a fist full of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes perpetually following the movement of his mouth. His own hand tightened at the base of your skull, wrapping his fingers through your hair. A low sort of groan resonated in the back of his throat, and you heard the metaphorical thread of his restraint snap. He was pulling you to him, snaking his free arm around your waist to flush you forward, slanting his mouth towards yours with another delicate, mind-numbing brush of his lips, just about to capture yours and — 

The sound of voices re-emerging through the back door ceased your fantasy before it even had a chance to begin. 

You were off of Joel’s lap in seconds, scurrying to your feet and he back to his respective spot in the lounge chair. You stood petrified as Meg and the others filed into the backyard, unable to look at Joel while you shakily wrapped your towel back around you. You could hear him, though. Breath as labored and uneven as yours, dark eyes probably blown in the same sort of fear. You fiddled with your hair, trying to look inconspicuous as if you hadn’t just been perched on the lap of your father's boss, a man much older than you, who happened to be the head of the fucking mafia. 

You should have felt more shame for the way that reality drenched you in arousal. It coated every inch of your skin; insatiable and growing, only fueled by the weakness in his self-control that you prayed would continue to break. The gift around your neck was an anchor, bounding you to him more than ever before. The feel of his lips, however brief, a beacon of his shared desire, the certainty you felt in it now destined to drive you mad. 

Perhaps you would be the one to give in, to lose all sense of control. 

You wouldn’t speak about that fleeting moment. At least, not for years to come. But it was only a matter of time.

Because fuck, you wanted him. 

So desperately, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop yourself from wanting him until you had him. 

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chapter song:

bonus gif:

i know it’s not joel, but fits this version of him too well not to include.

[cher-rei]

27 w trent :)

date night [ T.A.A ]

I like the way you stare into my eyes [soren– beabadoobee]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: date night? but on a baking show? and he's flirting with you?

genre(s): flufffffff

[wc: 1.9k]

notes: my little take on lando's chicken shop date a few months ago xxx

baking up chemisty: date night. that was this evening's episode and you were all too excited because of the guest that the director was able to reach out to. you'd had your fair share of football players on the show and it was so much fun.

it was a fan favourite to have you bring out a different side to the usual personal football players put up on camera, so it was highly requested. just last week you baked a horrible excuse for a lava cake with marcus rashford which was all too fun.

not too long after the episode aired, twitter was blowing up over the interaction and thanking you for having him as a guest wherein fact it should be the other way around. viewers loved that you didn't shy away from any of your guests and praised you for the chemistry you tended to have with them instead of keeping it formal.

so when the guest of this week's episode was announced, you bet that the show had a trending hashtag again.

you stood in front of the camera, behind the counter of the kitchen-styled set that felt so close to home. you accounted for all the ingredients on the counter one last time before it was quiet on set, everyone's eyes on the director.

"action."

"good evening everyone." a smile set on your lips, "and welcome back to 'date night'!"

from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of this evening's guest who had you feeling a little more nervous than usual. "tonight, we have a very special guest joining us, a football star known for his skills on the field and his charm off it."

a hearty chuckle came from him off-camera that sent your heart leaping but your eyes remained on the camera. "and before anyone asks–" you sighed in mock disappointment. "no, it isn't mason mount. trust me, I tried."

behind the camera once again, there were a few laughs that lightened the mood of the studio. that's what you loved most about it– the atmosphere and how there wasn't a set script. when you were hired, your director, lewis shaw, gave you one clear instruction– "go with the flow."

and that's exactly what you found yourself doing for every shoot. having genuine conversations with your guests and keeping the atmosphere lighthearted and entertaining. it helped a great deal in making it less suffocating, and more rewarding.

which is why you loved your job so much, being a presenter was one thing. but being given the freedom to do as pleased as long as you do it well was a privilege.

"please welcome trent alexander-arnold!"

the studio was filled with cheer as they greeted the right back as he made his way beside you, adorning a bashful smile and the two of you exchanged a friendly hug that you tried to keep as professional as possible.

after the formalities were set aside it was time to properly start with the segment, and to do so you quickly grabbed something from one of the cabinets and handed it to trent who was more than familiar with what was in the box.

he mocked a gasp and delicately held up the black apron. it wasn't just plain, however, on the right pocket side there was your name and his embroidered beneath it with a heart.

"I've never felt so special my entire life," he said teasingly. "I can't believe I have matching aprons with everyone who was on this show."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. it was customary that everyone got an apron with a similar design, only with their name on it. you shook your head to the side and bit back your smile as you looked at him. "yours is different though."

trent cocked his head to the side amused. "oh really?"

you gestured to the apron, "there's a heart on yours, and–" you fished something else from the cabinet and held it up proudly, "we're matching. you're the only guest I have matching aprons with."

a chuckle left his lips once again and you felt something tug at your heart. he was standing beside you so casually, amused by an apron and your quips and you couldn't help but wonder what it looked like from the viewers' perspective.

soon after you were done putting your aprons on, you began with the interview part. eager questions and playful answers leaving your mouths as if it were just the two of you in the studio. " I have to ask. have you any experience in the kitchen? this is a safe space, don't worry."

he looked down at the rolling pin in his hands and gave a lopsided smile. " I'm afraid not. I'm more comfortable on the pitch than I am with a rolling pin."

it was your turn to laugh, your hands absentmindedly adding the dry ingredients into the bowl while trent passed them on. "I mean we're only baking chocolate chip cookies. I'm sure you'll be fine."

he leant in a bit closer, watching carefully as you measured the amount of baking powder to add in. "chocolate chip cookies are actually a favourite in my family. a close friend of mine once baked a batch for a family movie night and ever since then my mum and brothers see it as an essential when she comes over."

a flush of pink rose to your cheeks instantly but you tried to play it off and cleared your throat. "wow she must be really good then."

trent shrugged his shoulders with a flick of mischief in his eyes. "she's okay I guess."

you glared at him from the corner of your eye and handed the bowl to trent so that he could put it in the mixer with the slow adding of the wet ingredients. "well then, what's your idea of the perfect date?"

you listened as he hummed in thought, adding to the whir of the mixer until it was done.

"I think just spending your time with someone special you know? it doesn't have to be anything fancy. just good company and good conversation."

his answer prompted you to nod in agreement. "I'm heavy on the good company part."

the space between the two of you decreased immensely, as you were now standing flush against his side while gathering the batter and putting it onto the cooking tray.

"oh really?" he questioned suddenly which caught you off guard. "what do you look for in a partner?"

your head quipped to look at him with your eyebrows raised but he innocently continued with putting the batter down. a scoff left your lips. "I'm supposed to be interviewing you right now."

"interview?" he asked and spared you a quick glance. "I thought this was a date, love."

you froze in your spot, unable to fully comprehend what was happening because all you wanted to do was wipe that smile off his face. but you had to carry on. once again you found yourself clearing your throat, watching as trent took the initiative to put the tray in the oven.

"well then?" he asked.

"I'm not picky." you walked over to the sink and put some soap on your hands while he did the same. "just someone genuine and passionate. I need to feel loved, not just be in love. and how about you?"

a low hum echoed from beside you and he put on the tap and rinsed the soap from them. he locked eyes with you and grinned, "someone who can keep up with me, both on and off the pitch. and maybe someone who can bake a decent batch of cookies."

you playfully rolled your eyes. "well I think most people can manage that. so, what do you value most?"

unlike yours at the moment, trent's expression softened and before you knew it your hands were in his beneath the running tap, lukewarm water having no match for the feeling of his hands on yours.

"honesty and trust," he looked up at you with his nose scrunched. "and a sense of humour never hurts."

you looked up at him with your eyes slightly squinted, sharing a moment of silent communication, but I know something that will.

not too long after, the episode wrapped up and you bid your goodbye to the viewers until next week, while also thanking trent for joining you for the evening.

he was more than delighted to be as modest as he could and waved it off with a, "the pleasures all mine. we should really do this again sometime."

it took a lot for you not to roll your eyes at him but you remained professional until you heard the director yell, "and cut! that's a wrap, well done, everyone!"

at that. your shoulders relaxed with a heavy sigh. this was by far the most stressful episode that you'd ever filmed, which completely went against your original statement.

you watched as the rest of the camera crew flooded to the break room, leaving you and trent alone on set. when it was all clear you turned to look at him with your lips pursed.

"one job. you had one job," you said blatantly but he couldn't suppress his smile, his hand instinctively finding yours on the kitchen counter and putting it in his.

your eyes bored into his, the sound of a familiar laugh leaving his lips before ge placed a gentle kiss on your hand. "you wanted chemistry and I gave you chemistry. I think I did my job very well actually."

"oh really?" you quipped sarcastically but that wasn't enough to get at him, in fact it only amused him even more.

the space between you lessened in a matter of seconds, his hands were now draped around your waist and slowly reaching for the back of your apron that was still on. he nodded in agreement and continued to gently untie your apron.

"but what did you expect?" he asked again and placed it on the counter. "how was I supposed to act natural around you? you're literally my girlfriend, so this is natural for me."

you couldn't bite back your smile anymore, not with the excited gleam in his eyes. "but you could've toned it down a bit, trent."

his eyes widened slightly and a quick peck was placed on your cheek. "tone it down?" he shook his head at your response, saying that he was being way too obvious but he didn't care. you'd been together for nearly 3 years, so he'd be more than delighted to have people finally find out.

"and miss the opportunity to tease you like this? baby you were an absolute blushing mess and I enjoyed every single moment."

no way you were blushing that much. you refused to believe it, and said that it was just his way of trying to embarrass you right now. you pulled away from his grasp and began to pack up your things, your boyfriends loving gaze watching you as you complained about his behavior.

he wasn't really paying attention, but he loved seeing how riled up you were and considered this as payback for every single day that you've been together that you've had him blushing like an idiot. it was only fair that he got you back eventually.

"I really wished that we had mason mount on today," you muttered and his smile immediately dropped.

"woah there," he interjected in disapproval and you turned to look at him with your arms crossed. "but we had fun today!"

"yeah but I would've had fun with mason too."

"incorrect."

your eyebrows raised at trent's sudden quip, "you can't just say--"

"wrong," he interrupted again with a smile, watching you from the other side of the counter."

you shook your head to the side as he made his way to your side, the same cheeky smile plastered on his face. "you're such a child I swear."

he hummed contently and took your bag, using his free hand to hold yours as he usually did. you felt another jolt in your stomach, the swarm of butterflies only worsening when trent pressed a light kiss to your temple. "it takes one to know one, love."