#Italian chef fingers kiss

[unsafe-chikku]

Watching a Wayne NovelAI VOD. They are doing a trick or treat Halloween theme. Having a good time.

Then the (paraphrased) sentence pops up “your buddy walks this year as Skittle”

The idea of calling someone dressed up as a skittle for trick or treating as “walks this year as Skittle” hit me like a fucking truck. I had to pause the video and laughed so hard I cried. What the fuck.

[kissitbttr]

mafia!toji and his sweet sweet baby girl who he rescued from that dingy stripper club because he just can’t stand seeing her pretty face and body being exposed to sleazy old men. because she belongs to him. ever since he he laid his eyes on her, he’s locked in. no going back.

he spoils her. everyday. she wants custom swarovski crystals dress? he’s already making calls with the designer as they speak. she wants blueberry pancakes for breakfast? he ordered his private chef to make a luxurious brekkie in bed with five different dishes. she wants to taste the best italian food in town? he’ll do her one better. booked two tickets to rome, letting his right hand man to take over the job while he’s going vacation with his baby.

she asks for one, he gives her ten,

“oh come on, ji-ji! you have the other three looking stoic already! just smile one for meeee”

the two of them went out for an anniversary dinner. toji had booked reservations at one of the most expensive fine dining restaurant in the city. despite telling him to keep the money for something much more important, he feels like there’s no need to. he’s loaded with it.

she feeds him the delicious food, wipe stains off the corner of his lips with her tongue a napkin. while he sits back against the chair, hand around the whiskey glass as the other roams freely against her bare thigh.

seeing her happy, makes him happy. there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t give her.

…except smiling

what he thought that it would be a simple dinner and a long night of him fucking her, she had another idea,

he hears her plead, all while she sits cross legged on top of his thigh.lips forming into a pout as her manicured fingers cradling his handsome face,

“baby” toji grumbles, eyes lulling to the back. “i don’t smile”

“you smile whenever i play with your hair”

“that’s different!” he argues, looking at her as his cheeks turn crimson pink. “i only do that in the comfort of my own home. with you.”

she rolls her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. “you’re so dramatic. it’s just a photobooth! i’ll tuck it nicely in my drawer so no one will have to see. pleaseeee?”

she’s doing that thing with her eyes. puppy dog look. bottom lip jutting forward. one look that got him hooked in the first place.

damn him for folding so easily,

he groans yet faces the camera once again, pulling her close by the hips. “fine” his reply makes her squeal, giving a big fat kiss on the cheek, leaving a bright red stain on the skin. “just this once, ma”

[theostrophywife]

my collar.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: she's my collar by gorillaz (feat. kali uchis)

author's note: sometimes theo just needs to be put in his place and i'm more than happy to deliver that 😏

It was heinous.

It was criminal. 

It was downright torturous.

Your boyfriend leaned over, his lips grazing your earlobe as he lowered his voice to a husky, seductive tone. “Are you okay, principessa? You seem a little distracted.” 

Crimson colored your cheeks as you straightened against the wingback chair, clearing your throat while you looked around the table, which was currently occupied by your closest friends. All of which were none the wiser to the effect Theo had on you tonight. 

“I’m fine,” you squeaked out. 

“Really?” Theo drawled, sliding his hand down your thigh and squeezing firmly. “Because you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since dinner started. A shame. Malfoy flew in a private chef from France. He really wants to impress his girl. I know what that’s like.” 

You inhaled sharply as his hand trailed higher, his rough and calloused fingers slipping underneath the slit of your dress. “Teddy, please…” 

“Begging already, dolcezza? I thought we agreed to save that for the bedroom.” 

The teasing and taunting, the push and pull, the cat and mouse routine between you and Theo had been constant all night. Punishment for turning down his proposal for a quickie before dinner. It was hard enough to say no to Theo on a normal day, but declining your boyfriend’s proposition of hot, frantic sex while he looked absolutely sinful in a custom three piece suit was nearly impossible. Not to mention painful. 

Still, if you’d taken him up on the offer, you most likely would’ve never made it to dinner. You couldn’t do that to Draco. He needed emotional support. Tonight was his first time integrating Hermione into your friend group and you promised that you’d do everything in your power to make her feel welcome. 

With a sigh, you pried Theo’s fingers off of your thigh. “Behave, Theodore.” Your boyfriend pouted like a petulant child. “Draco needs us.” 

You nodded towards the blonde who looked equally panicked and appalled while Blaise recounted embarrassing stories to Hermione. The golden girl seemed amused by the antics, but Malfoy was anything but. 

“Save him before he ruptures a blood vessel,” you murmured to your boyfriend. For good measure, you batted your lashes up at him and gave him a look that he couldn’t refuse. “Please, baby.” 

Theo sighed, mumbling in Italian under his breath. “Gentlemen. Care for a cigar?” 

Thankfully, Zabini’s plan to embarrass the hell out of Draco was momentarily forgotten. Crisis averted. Draco shot you a grateful look, knowing that you were most likely behind the save. Salazar knows that Theo would’ve delighted in the effort of sullying his oldest friend’s reputation if he hadn’t been distracted. 

The boys rose from their chairs, excusing themselves from the room. Theo lingered beside you, dipping his head to place a kiss right underneath your jaw. He sucked lightly on the sweet spot and smirked as you melted against him. The bastard was playing dirty. 

“You owe me for that, cara mia.” 

Desire bloomed in your core, flooding heat through your body as you peered at your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but admire him in his suit. The midnight blue fabric draped over his tall and lean figure like your own personal gift and the deep stormy color brought out his eyes. You flushed as he turned, training his intense gaze on you like he was savoring the sight. With a cheeky grin, Theo shot you a wink before slipping out the door. 

Beside you, Pansy tutted in disapproval. “Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.” 

You flushed as Hermione bit back a grin. The curly haired witch patted your hand. “You have my sympathy. When I first saw Draco in a suit, I nearly spilled wine all over myself.” 

“See, Pans. I’m not the only one,” you murmured in self-defense. “I can’t help it.” 

Pansy shook her head, her glossy bob grazing her chin. “You can and you will. Don’t let Nott turn you into a simpering mess. The Y/N I know would bring a man to his knees.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I think Pansy’s right. You should show Theo who’s really in control.” 

You smirked as an idea started forming in your head. “You’re more devious than you look, aren’t you, Granger?” Hermione flashed you an innocent smile, which made you laugh. Draco had his work cut out for him. You liked her all the more for it. “You two have a point. Maybe I’ll give my boyfriend a taste of his own medicine tonight.” 

Once your mind was made up, the three of you moved on to more important topics. You were fascinated to hear about Hermione’s work on curing lycanthropy while she was equally curious about the proposed laws that you were in the process of bringing before the Wizengamot. The bill was a passion project of yours because it would give rights and protections to muggle born wizards and witches that had never been afforded to them before. You were ready to fight tooth and nail to see it come to fruition. 

Needless to say, you were a little too passionate about it. The last time Rita Skeeter interviewed you under the guise of bringing light to the cause, you nearly strangled the sneaky little witch for taking more interest in your romantic relationship than the work you were trying to achieve. You were glad that Pansy worked her high society charm and publicity experience to diffuse the situation. 

In the end, she bribed and threatened the proper people to have the story killed. It was a blessing in disguise since you ended up giving exclusive rights to the Quibbler, which was now spearheaded by your old classmate Luna. She truly did the story justice. As a bonus, her tenacity seemed to have caught the attention of the pickiest witch you knew. No matter how many times Pansy denied it, you knew your friend was smitten. 

“Babe, you should take your own advice and just ask Luna out already.” 

Your friend nearly choked on her wine. Hermione watched the interaction with an amused expression. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she turned over to Pansy. “I happen to know that you’re just her type.” 

Never in your life had you seen Pansy Parkinson blush that furiously. She caught herself, holding her head high in that aristocratic way of hers. “Of course I’m her type,” your friend declared in a haughty tone. “I’m everyone’s type.” 

You and Hermione looked at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Pansy cracked a smile and laughed along. The three of you were in full hysterics by the time the boys came back. 

Theo slipped back into his seat, squeezing your shoulder gently. “What’s so funny, dolcezza?” 

“Girl talk,” Hermione answered on your behalf. “It’s not for you boys to hear.” 

You nodded in between giggles. “What Granger said.”

Draco groaned. “Bloody hell, they’re unionizing.” 

Your boyfriend raised a brow. He placed his hand back on your thigh, resuming the torturous contact from earlier in the night. “Keeping secrets from me now, Y/N?” 

You plastered a saccharine sweet smile on your face. Theo observed curiously as you peeled his fingers from your leg before firmly holding his hand. “I thought you liked a little mystery, baby.” 

Theo swallowed thickly as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. He held his breath while you pressed your palm against his chest, twirling his tie between red painted fingernails. You lowered your voice into a dark, seductive tone. “Have I told you how good you look tonight? I could just eat you up.” 

Lust blown eyes stared back at you, those familiar piercing blue irises completely swallowed by darkness. Theo shifted in his seat as his gaze dropped down to your mouth. You flashed him an innocent smile before releasing his tie and returning to the conversation happening around you. You could feel that burning gaze on you as you laughed and talked with Pansy and Mattheo. 

For the rest of the dinner, you kept up the nonchalant act. You mustered every ounce of self-control within you and rebuffed all of Theo’s advances. Every time he leaned in for a kiss, you gave him your cheek instead. When the group moved to the sitting room, you walked by his side instead of leading the way because you knew Theo would take advantage and smack your ass when no one was looking. To his surprise, you slapped his backside with a sly little smirk, causing him to glance over at you in shock. 

By the time you were seated on the expensive velvet couch, Theo was practically jittering. His knee bounced beside you as Hermione continued telling you about the Paris trip Draco had planned. Without looking at him, you placed a hand on your boyfriend’s leg and stopped his anxious bouncing. He sighed beside you, no doubt pouting like a petulant child. Yet you didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement, which only made him more desperate. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Theo whispered into your ear. “You can devour me all you’d like, cara mia.”

You shook your head. “We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet, my love.” 

When Draco brought out a spread of chocolate covered strawberries, the opportunity to tease Theo even more quite literally presented itself on a silver platter. You pinched the ripe fruit between your fingers before wrapping your lips around it. Theo watched with rapt attention as you took a slow, deliberate bite, making a whole show of sucking and licking off the chocolate. He gripped the armchair so hard that his knuckles turned white from the strained effort. 

You bit back a smirk as he crossed his legs and tried not to groan. It was obvious that you had the upper hand now. Theo was barely paying attention to whatever anecdote Enzo and Mattheo were rambling to him about. Those electric eyes were trained on you as you picked up another strawberry. 

“Want a bite, Teddy?” you asked lovingly. “They’re sweet.” 

Theo sucked in a breath before nodding slowly. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment. You offered the fruit to him, cradling his cheek gently as he wrapped his lips around the strawberry in a suggestive manner. Theo kept eye contact as he sucked the white chocolate off. You stared back, smiling sweetly as he devoured the fruit in one bite. He seemed frustrated at your unaffected expression, but you were determined not to break. You were going to come out on top tonight. In more ways than one. 

Usually, the two of you would be the first to leave. You rarely made it through an entire night without Theo dragging you into the floo so you could tear each other apart back at your shared flat. Tonight was different though. You lasted all the way through midnight, forcing yourself to laugh and chat with your friends as you ignored your boyfriend’s fuck me eyes from across the room. 

For that, you made sure you were the last to leave. Theo was convinced he was slowly dying. As soon as the two of you stepped through the floor, your boyfriend scrambled towards your direction, itching to get his hands all over you. 

You stepped out of his reach and shook your head. “I didn’t say you could touch me.” 

Theo looked utterly confused. “I’ve never needed permission before.” 

You chuckled darkly. “You really think I’d reward you for acting like a brat all night? You’re going to learn that it’s a bad idea to tease me like that in front of all of our friends.” Theo gaped at your words. “Now, sit. You can use this time to think about what you’ve done.” 

“Dolcezza, please —“

”Did I fucking stutter, Theo?” You jutted your chin to the bed. “Sit. I won’t tell you again.” 

Judging by the look on his face, Theo was stunned at the sudden change, but you knew your boyfriend well enough to notice that he was entirely turned on by it too. He settled on the edge of the bed, watching in anticipation as you made your way over to the vanity table. As slowly as possible, you took off every piece of jewelry one by one. The diamonds glittered brightly as you removed them from your neck, ears, and fingers. 

A tense silence settled in the room while you pulled the pins out of your updo, sending your hair cascading over your shoulders. Theo squirmed in place, groaning at the sight. You knew that seeing your hair down was his weakness.

“Baby,” he pleaded in the darkness. “Can I touch you?” 

You cut him a disinterested glance over your shoulder. “You can help me take my dress off.” 

Theo sighed in relief as you sauntered over to him. His slender fingers struggled with the zipper, eager to tear the fabric off of your body. You met his gaze through the mirror, giving him a stern look. 

“Slow, Theo. You need to be patient.” 

Your boyfriend swallowed thickly, struggling to reign himself in. He concentrated on undressing you slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled the zipper down. He cursed under his breath when your dress pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a little lacy green set — his favorite. 

The struggle was evident in his expression. His gaze raked over your body, settling on the spiky heels that you purposely kept on. The red soled stilettos clicked against the wooden floors as you closed the gap. You smirked as you settled between his legs and tugged on his tie. 

“Your turn,” you rasped while Theo gazed at you with pure hunger. “Let me undress you now.” 

“Okay,” Theo murmured, dazed and confused as you unbuttoned his shirt. 

He hissed when you raked your nails over his chest and made quick work of his tie. Theo started unbuttoning his shirt, but reeled back when you swatted his hands away. Your boyfriend gazed up at you expectantly, letting his hands fall neatly to his sides while you took over. Without much effort, you expertly unbuckled his belt and kneeled before him to help him slip out of his pants. Once he was stripped down to his boxers, your eyes flickered back to his face.  

“Get on the bed,” you commanded. 

Theo was mesmerized, inching backwards towards the headboard on his elbows, but keeping his attention on you as you crawled on the mattress with your heels still on. Your boyfriend was completely under your spell as you brought your face close to his, your hair tickling his chest while he eagerly drank you in. 

“What do you want?” 

“I want to kiss you,” he answered without hesitation.

”Then learn to ask for it.” 

Theo nodded, biting his lip. “Can I kiss you?” 

You raised a brow, utterly unimpressed. “Try again, Theo.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip, canines sinking down. “Can I kiss you, please?” 

You smirked, pleased with the magic word. “Good boy.” 

Something dark flashed in Theo’s expression. Your words seemed to awaken a new level of lust and desire within him. The praise gave him a rush that he had never felt before. Theo surged forward, his mouth slanting over yours eagerly. He tasted like wine and strawberries, heady and sinful while he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You granted his request, licking the roof of his mouth as you battled for control. 

Theo welcomed the challenge, groaning into your mouth as he pulled you into his lap. You straddled him and tugged at his hair as you flicked your tongue over his bottom lip, licking and sucking until he groaned with need. Theo took liberties without your permission, his greed getting the best of him as he grinded his hard length against your ass. 

You weren’t going to reward his impertinent behavior. You promised to teach him a lesson tonight. Theo gasped as you bit down on his bottom lip before raising his arms above him. He blinked in confusion as you bound him to the headboard with his own tie. It all happened so fast that by the time he noticed, it was already too late. 

Theo tugged at the restraints, squirming underneath you. “Please, cara mia. I want to touch you.” 

You sighed in disappointment. “Then you should've asked.” 

His biceps flexed as he struggled, the veins on his forearms stark and prominent against his olive skin. Panic filled his eyes when he realized that there was no getting out of his binds. “I’m sorry. I got greedy. Please untie me, principessa. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll make it up to you.” 

Theo sounded desperate. You traced his swollen lips with your fingers and tugged at his messy brown waves. His eyes were wild as you straddled him. “Oh, you will,” you drawled, flashing him a devious smirk. “After I’m done with you, you’ll learn not to disobey me, my love.” 

Your boyfriend panted heavily as you kissed down his chest, sucking and nipping at his flesh in a punishing manner. He was barely breathing as you trailed further south, licking a stripe down his torso. Theo whimpered as you pressed sloppy, openmouthed kisses along his abdominal muscles, leaving hickies in the shape of your initials on his skin. You continued taunting him with your mouth, flicking your tongue along his sinfully delicious happy trail like you had all the time in the world. When you grazed your teeth against his v-lines, Theo tugged at his arms so hard that the headboard rattled. 

He was practically in tears as you palmed his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Theo held his breath as you toyed with the band of his boxers, hooking your fingers over the fabric before sliding it off his long legs. His eyes rolled back while you pumped him, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him writhing against your touch. 

A desperate little whine slipped past his lips as you licked at the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over his tip and slurping up his precum. His moans filled the room when you took him down your throat, holding his hips down so he can’t fuck up into your mouth like he wants. Theo cursed in Italian as you pumped him with both hands, all the while sucking down and hollowing your cheeks to suction him in. 

“Fuck, bella. I’m so close,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’m going to cum.” 

You withdrew your hands and your mouth at that moment, making him whine and groan from the sudden absence. Theo’s eyes flew wide open, tears filling his vision as you shook your head in disapproval. 

“I thought I told you to ask,” you chided. “If you want to cum, use your words.” 

“Please, please, baby, I’ll do whatever you want —“

”I know,” you said before settling over him and sliding off your panties. “And what I want is for you to get me off. Think you can help me with that, Theo?” 

“Yes, yes. Just untie me and I will. I’ll make you feel good, dolcezza. I promise.” 

“Oh, but you can do that right here, right now. With your hands tied.” Theo groaned as you grinded against him, spreading his precum and your slick over him. He moaned when his cock rubbed against your swollen clit with the perfect amount of friction. Theo was bewildered, his breaths coming out in ragged spurts. 

“Be a good boy and let me use you as my fuck toy. You can do that, can’t you, Teddy?” 

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind. Theo felt the words escape him as you grinded against him. He felt dizzy. His cock was so hard that it hurt and he couldn’t even think straight. You hummed, brushing a finger over his balls before cupping them in your hand. 

“Use your words, pretty boy.” Theo blinked back, unable to speak. You grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing him back into focus. “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer.” 

Theo whimpered before nodding weakly. “Use me, dolcezza. I’m yours.” 

You smirked in satisfaction. Theo groaned as you rubbed your pussy against his cock. When his shaft brushed against your clit, his eyes rolled back so hard that he was convinced he could see the vacantness of his empty mind. You rode him hard and fast, using his body to get you off. The depravity of it turned him on even more. The blood rushed out of his head at the dominance you exhibited. You were utterly selfish, taking what you wanted when you wanted it, and he was so fucking aroused at how cruel his girl could be. 

You raked your nails over his chest as you balanced, teasing him with your wet folds without letting him feel you. Theo bit his lip so hard that the action drew blood. You licked away the crimson droplets and he sighed against your mouth as you gave him relief, sloppily kissing him while you moaned his name. He could tell you were getting close by the way you convulsed above him and he cursed as your pussy squelched against his cock. 

Theo was in awe as you cried out, cumming while you screamed his name. You slowed the roll of your hips as you lost yourself over to the orgasm, denying him of his own again. Your juices trickled down your thighs and pooled against his stomach. At that point, his cock was so sensitive that it throbbed painfully. Theo was in shambles, his wrists raw and red from tugging so hard. 

“Please, please, baby. Let me fuck you. I need it. I need you. I’ll die if I’m not inside you.” 

You chuckled, brushing the salty tears pooling underneath his pretty eyes. “Pathetic. Are you begging for me, pretty boy? So desperate to fill me up, to feel my pussy hug around your cock while you pump your cum inside of me, hm?” 

“It hurts so bad,” Theo whined. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’ll get on my knees and beg. Please, principessa.” 

“Look at you crying for me,” you cooed, caressing his cheek. “Poor Teddy. You’ve been so good. Let me take care of you now.” You soothed him with praises as you untied his arms. 

You kissed his wrists as Theo sighed in relief. “Do you want to touch me, baby?” 

Theo nodded shyly, which made you smile. His large, rough hands carefully gripped your hips. He looked to you for approval, making sure to check with you for every little thing. You only nodded, dragging his hands up to rest on your breasts. He busied himself with your bra strap, breathing raggedly as he freed your tits from the fabric. 

“Can I touch them, please?” Theo asked earnestly. 

“Is that all you want?” 

“No,” he answered honestly. “I want to kiss them. I want to suck them.” His gaze flickered to your amused expression. “Please, baby.” 

“Go ahead. You earned it, pretty boy.” 

Theo wasted no time, kneading your tits while kissing down your cleavage. He gasped in surprise when you sank down onto him, nearly sobbing in relief when he felt your pussy hug around his cock. His shaky little breaths seeped into your skin as you took inch after inch, making yourself comfortable on his lap as he sheathed himself inside of you. Theo whined when you lifted your hips until only his remained inside of you. 

“Don’t whine, Theo. Be thankful that I’m fucking you instead of punishing you.” 

He rested his head on the crook of your neck, attempting to ground himself. “Thank you, baby. I’m grateful. I don’t deserve it, but you’re so good to me.” 

With a proud smile, you slammed down to take all of him again. Theo was rendered speechless and his mouth fell open as you bounced on his cock. Desperately, he scrambled to catch your perky breasts into his mouth. Your boyfriend sucked on your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You moaned as he nipped at you, tensing when you yanked him by his hair. 

Theo stared at you, waiting for direction. Knowing that you had this much control over him made you clench. In your relationship, Theo tended to take on the dominant role, but now that you knew that your boyfriend was more than open to being submissive, you were ready to explore this new dynamic.

“I like this side of you,” you murmured, kissing down his jaw and neck. His breath hitched as you slowly rolled your hips. “So obedient. So willing. So submissive.” A shiver shuddered through him as you wrapped your fingers around his neck. “Tell me who you belong to, Theo.” 

“You, baby,” he rasped. “Only you.” 

“Show me,” you commanded as you squeezed his throat. It was enough to make Theo feel dizzy, momentarily cutting off his oxygen. “Fuck me like you mean it.” 

The desire to please you overwhelmed him. All thoughts of his own pleasure faded. It was secondary to the need to hear you praise him, to validate him, to call him your good boy. He hooked his arm around your waist, shifting his hips to fuck into you at a deeper angle. You moaned above him as your bodies melded together. Sweat, sin, and sex permeated the air while he worshiped at your altar. 

Theo watched his cock disappear between your folds, his gaze flickering from your pussy to your face, eager to know if his actions pleased you. You brushed his hair back, gentle and loving, while you talked him through it. 

“That’s it, Teddy. Fill me up.” Theo thrusted as you bounced, groaning as he hit the sweet spot that made your body sing. “Just like that. Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good, baby.” 

Your forehead dropped to his, rewarding him with sweet little kisses every time he hit the spongy spot that had you seeing stars. He relished in your compliments, felt himself craving it like a drug. When your pussy clenched around him to signal your release, Theo continued to fuck you through the orgasm. There was a reverent glimmer in his eyes like he was witnessing something holy when you came. 

Theo could feel his own release nearing, but he knew better than to cum without asking. It was abundantly clear to him that you were in control tonight. “Can I cum? Please, principessa?” 

“Of course you can,” you replied with a blissed out smile. “Good boys get to cum.” 

He held his breath, feeling warmth spread throughout his body. “I’ve been a good boy?” 

“Mhm,” you murmured, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “The best boy.” Even though you were sensitive and overstimulated, you made sure to reward his good behavior. Picking up the pace, sliding easily up and down his cock thanks to your wetness, you whispered the words that you knew would push Theo over the edge. “Now be a good boy and cum inside of me, baby.” 

Theo cried out with a shout, shuddering underneath you as he shot hot ribbons deep inside your pussy. You could feel his cum filling you up, warm and wet as it trickled out. He panted against your neck as his cock twitched inside of you, releasing his load with each pump. As he emptied himself out, Theo slowed, his body collapsing from the intensity of the orgasm. 

When he regained consciousness, he was flat on his back. Theo blinked away the white spots in his vision. It felt like his soul had left his body entirely. He had cum so hard he passed out. As he rejoined the physical realm, Theo opened his eyes to find you cleaning him up. You were so sweet and gentle, the complete opposite of the selfish lover you’d been just a few moments ago. It warmed his heart to know that you’d always take care of him no matter what. 

Theo smiled as you kissed his forehead. A small whimper escaped his mouth as you pulled his boxers over his legs, his cock still sensitive from the intense sex. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, soothing him as you brushed your fingers through his hair. Theo cuddled against your side and sighed happily. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. 

You giggled, pressing soft kisses all over his face. “Did you like that?” You asked, teasing your boyfriend. “It seems like you did.” 

He hummed against your skin, brushing his lips against your neck. “Fuck, I think you just unlocked a new kink for me.” You chuckled at his words. “That was so fucking hot, baby.” 

“You know, I was trying to teach you a lesson,” you mused. “I didn’t quite expect you to enjoy getting degraded this much.” 

“Degrade me whenever you want, dolcezza.” 

"Really?" you hummed, musing on his willingness. "How far would you let me go? If I broke out a leash and collar, would you have stopped me?"

You were half-joking, but the eager expression on your boyfriend's face told you that he was more than willing to make your suggestion into a reality.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, cara mia." Theo wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. "I'd crawl to you on my hands and knees if you asked. If you're the one asking, there's nothing I wouldn't do."

The power definitely gave you a head rush. As much as you relished in the hold you had over him, you tucked the knowledge away for later. There was plenty of opportunity to act out all your dirtiest, filthiest fantasies, but for now, you were more than content to snuggle with the love of your life.

You smirked, nipping at his jaw. “That’s my good boy.” 

[fadingdaggerr]

first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon. 

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—☽—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ‘M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend. 

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated. 

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

[starhvney]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after your reserved dinner date fails last minute, you and your husband decide your anniversary is better spend together in the privacy of your home.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, established relationship, laurance and reader are married

𝐂𝐖: you both get slightly tipsy off of wine, suggestive ending

𝐀/𝐍: laurance please become real please i’m

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

laurance sighs, shutting the door of your shared home with a bit more force than normal. you two had returned sooner than expected, and not by choice. with your anniversary coming up, laurance had told you to relax and leave the planning to him. when this evening came, he had the both of you dress nicely and escorted you to the car, before driving the two of you to a fancy restaurant.

he had approached the host stand with an excited look in his eyes, asking her about the reservation he made. the excitement was not shared, as the hostess gave him a stressed look. 

“i’m so sorry sir, whoever made the bookings last week overlapped the days and now we’re completely packed. you probably won’t be able to get a table tonight,” she explained, her styled hair frazzled after probably getting yelled at all night by unhappy customers. “we can reschedule you if you want to come another day, and you’ll get a discount. i’m so sorry.”

laurance only shook his head, jaw clenched in irritation. “no, it’s alright, we’ll come back another time. i hope the rest of the night goes well for you.”

he proceeded to apologize to you on the way home, with a pout permanently etched on his features for the whole ride.

“hon, it’s okay! it’s not your fault.” you insist again.

“i know, but i just… wanted tonight to be special for you.” he groans, approaching you and hugging you to him with an exasperated sigh.

“it’s special just being with a man who cares about me so much.”

he rolls his eyes, still unsatisfied. you huff out a laugh at his sassy response, leaning up on your tiptoes to give him a short but sweet kiss. you feel his shoulders slightly untense as he leans down, chasing after your lips and frowning when you lean back.

“why don’t we make something nice here? i doubt that restaurant could beat your cooking anyways.” you suggest with a small grin. 

the hopeful look on your face was contagious as always to him, causing him to subconsciously smile back. 

“i’m pretty good, but i think you may be biased.” he chuckles, cheekily leaning down to kiss you again before turning you around by the hips to guide you towards the kitchen.

“alright then, what’s on the menu mrs.zvahl?” he questions, his voice lifting smugly at the title.

“i don’t know mr.zvahl, you’re the chef here.”

“i’m asking you what you want, silly.” he snorts, lightly veering you to the side as he inspects the fridge for ingredients.

“why don’t we honor your italian genes and have some pasta.” you poke his side and lean next to him.

he side eyes you with an unimpressed look, though the mirth shining in his eyes couldn’t be masked by his sarcasm. “if you want pasta, you can just say it.”

he turns his attention back to the fridge, humming as his fingers idly tap on its door. his eyebrows raise before he turns back to you.

“chicken alfredo?”

you nod with an excited smile, ducking under his arm to grab the rosé wine. laurance gathers the ingredients while you fill two glasses, before hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter.

watching laurance cook always mesmerized you. he did it with such ease, never hesitating to recall measurements or nervously checking if he was doing something right. he just knew. he was so confident about it, and it was so… attractive.

you glance up at his face only to realize he’s looking right back at you, his eyebrow raised as his lips turn down in a held-back grin. he totally caught you, but he doesn’t mention it as he turns his attention back to the boiling pasta and the chicken he’s pan-frying. 

“can you hand me the italian seasoning?”

you nod, grabbing the mason jar with a sliver of masking tape on it labeled ‘italian’ and handing it to him. it was his own personal mix of different herbs and spices, and somehow it was better than any store-bought one you’d tried. 

after helping him season the chicken, you slide off the counter and take a few generous sips out of your glass, humming and mindlessly trailing your hand along his back before you pace around the kitchen. along the wall is a small collage you had made a couple months ago, with pictures starting from when the two of you met in high school to your honeymoon trip.

you smile fondly at the flash photo of your younger teen faces. laurance has his arm tightly wrapped around your neck as he pulls you into a hug, his cheek pressed against yours as he cheeses into the camera. you shyly smile next to him, hands placed against his shoulder as you hug him back. you giggle to yourself at the memory, remembering how your heart had thudded in your chest as he pulled you in for the picture.

you don’t realize how long you’ve spent gazing at the timeline of pictures before you turn back, realizing laurance had already drained the noodles and mixed together the ingredients for the sauce. 

“so, chicken alfredo for dinner, and what’s for dessert?”

“you’ll find out,” he replies, the seductive rasp in his tone much too suggestive for the statement to be about an innocent surprise.

you nearly swish some of your wine out of your glass as you take another sip, cursing how your husband manages to fluster you even after all the years of dating and marrying him. you brush it off with a nonchalant hum, cuddling up next to his side again. 

you go to take one of the delicious-looking noodles, earning you a sudden smack to your behind before your hand even reaches the inside of the pot. 

“don’t,” he scolds in a teasing tone, “it’s not done yet. you’ll spoil the effect of the final product.”

“you’ll spoil the effect of the final product,” you mock him in a nerdy tone, finger raised in the air.

he leans down, lightly biting your cheek as he holds you in place. you squeal in response, smacking his chest before he draws back, leaving a bit of saliva on your cheek. you groan dramatically, wiping it off with your sleeve and pouting up at the man. he only challenges you with a “can i help you?” look, before leaning down to give you a sweeter kiss on the cheek and getting back to the final touches on the meal.

“go sit. i’ll bring your plate for you.”

you huff, before grabbing his glass for him and setting it at the table. from the dining seat, you watch as his arm and back muscles move and pull against his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie loose. his dirty blonde hair hung over his eyes as he focused on plating your dinner, before he shook it out of his face and balanced both of your plates in his hands as he brought it over.

he sits across from you, face morphing from his serious and focused expression to a proud grin.

“see, why would i need a five-star restaurant when i have my own personal chef,” you muse, tapping his leg with your foot under the table.

he rolls his eyes, before trapping your legs between his.

“so that’s why you married me. i get it now.”

“oh whatever,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “so dramatic.”

you have to hold yourself back from scarfing down the whole meal at once as you practically salivate before and after every bite. you spend your meal in random chatter, feeling yourself grow warmer and cozier as your wine glass slowly loses its fill. 

when you’ve had your fill you get up, slinking around the table and making yourself comfortable in your husbands lap. he gladly scoots back, adjusting his hips and resting his hands on your hips.

“thank you for dinner,” you smile, before leaning in to give him a deep kiss.

he groans, panting up into your mouth as you feel something hard begin to press against your thigh. as soon as you pull away his arms hoist you up into a bridal carry as he stands up, the chair scraping against the wood flooring and utensils lightly clanging together from his sudden movement. you quickly steady yourself as you cling onto his shoulders, giggling as he quickly makes his way towards your bedroom.

“thank you in advance for dessert.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Ssussspicionsss

[mysterious circle of robed figures] Elon Musk: eyyyy i just thinka you should post somethinga besida da transphobia, si? Musk: lika da strega bambino! Musk: da people lova da straga bambino! [chef's kiss]

Rowling: wow elon maybe you're right Rowling: maybe i should take a break from transsphobia to talk about the sssix other booksss that i'm planning to write Rowling: becaussse there are sssix other minoritiesss that have really been pissssing me off lately

Rowling: [counting off on her fingers] sssso my next books are gonna take down the transss, the queersss, the dissabled, young people with blue hair, hoodie ssscum, and fattiessss Rowling: they've all had it too good for too long

Rowling: thank you for having this conversssation elon Helen Joyce: oh no! the dark lord is in trouble! Rowling: i'm fine Allison Bailey: elon musk is attacking the dark lord! Rowling: thatss not whatss happening Jesse Singal: mommy needs our help!

Helen Joyce: how dare you speak to the dark lord like that! Joyce: you will regret this day, elon musk! Joyce: we are, even now, just asking questions about your larynx size on mumsnet Musk: mama mia!

Musk: ey whatsa matta for you? Joyce: wow elon that italian accent seems to be suspiciously averaging in the 75 htz range and i'm hearing a lot going below 50 Bailey: very suspicious Julie Bindel: [tape over mouth] mmf! Bailey: that's right julie Bailey: you sure said a mouthful!

Joyce: i can't believe that elon musk is actually trans! Joyce: why else would someone get bored listening to a constant, never-ending 24/7 stream of transphobia? Rowling: wow i never thought of it that way Rowling: but you're right Rowling: it is the only logical explanation

Musk: issa notta true! i hata da trans people justa as much as you! Musk: my son, he tella you the same! Musk: [falsetto voice, hiding behind couch] eyyy its me, elon musk jr! my cool dad issa real transphobic! ga ga goo goo! i amma NOT a sock puppet! don't a look back here!!

Rowling: you lied, elon! you and your naturally occurring sssmall gametesss, the mark of a lying AMAB! Rowling: but Rowling: if elon was sssecretly transss this whole time Rowling: ANYONE could be ssecretly transss Rowling: any one of you could be a traitor!

Rowling: everyone iss ssusspect! [camera slowly pans around circle] Jesse Singal: Allison Bailey: Helen Joyce: Julie Bindel: Jed the sled dog from John Carpenter's The Thing (1982): Maya Forstater:

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 7/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

                “You need to work the dough.”

                “Stop worrying about your clothes.”

                “You will get messy.”

                “Come here. Watch me.”

                Bradley follows Nonna’s instructions, now fully aware just where Leandro gets his demeanor from, although while she is exacting, she is also much freer with her praise. He’s also meant to be helping Violet with her English, but so far she seems unimpressed with him, watching him fail at making pasta.

                “More flour.”

                “Now work it.”

                “You get strong arms making pasta,” Nonna says, poking at his bicep and Bradley huffs in amusement. “Okay. Stronger arms. You make all the pasta from now on. I can rest my old bones.”

                “You’re not old.”

                “Never ask a woman her age! Or even imply that you might know it.”

                “I know, I know. All women are beautiful.”

                “And all the men, sì?” Silvia asks, coming into the kitchen and Bradley flushes, because he hadn’t exactly expected her to find that out the way she did. Fortunately neither she nor Leandro seem to care, and now Violet is looking at him with surprise rather than disdain. It makes a nice change.

                “And all the men,” Bradley agrees, ducking his head with embarrassment.

                Silvia lets out a mad cackle of laughter and pats his face, leaving a flour imprint.

                “Come on now, we still have to make ravioli…”

…            …            …

                He knocks on the door and waits for Leo to come and answer. He’s packed a small bag, basic toiletries and a change of clothes, even if the assumption is that he won’t be needing them. The door opens and he goes to step forward, greet Leo with a kiss except…

                “Oh. Shit. Sorry. You are not Leo.”

                “No. No I’m not. Nice to know he’ll get a warm welcome though. I’m Violet, one of Leo’s cousins.”

                “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Jake Seresin.”

                “Seresin? Huh.”

                She’s giving Jake a once over, and rather than feel like he’s getting checked out he feels like he’s being assessed and critiqued, a bit like he’s undergoing inspection back in USNA and about to be yelled out for having a spot on his boot. However he’s got five older sisters and he can wait out anyone.

                “Everything okay?”

                “Hmm. You’ll do Cinderfella.”

                “What?”

                “Just what I call you. Leonardo got drunk and talked about you. I called you the one who got away. Like… Cinderella. But Cinderfella.”

                “Clever. Except I didn’t leave a shoe behind,” Jake grins, quite intrigued to learn that Leo definitely remembers him. That he wasn’t just a vague memory but had made enough of an impression to not only be remembered, but talked about and for his cousin gave Jake a nickname. He’ll take it.

                “No. You didn’t.”

                Her voice is low and serious, she gives him another look, this time Jake wonders if he’s being measured for a body-bag, suddenly a little more nervous. He didn’t expect a shovel talk for a hook up. Prolonged hook up sure, but still a hook up. She jerks her head and steps aside, calls out something in what he assumes is Italian which he thinks he might understand half of. He steps in after her, takes the open door for the invitation it is, toeing off his shoes. Leo appears and his face lights up when he sees Jake and he smiles back. Raises an eyebrow when Violet slaps a hand on Leo’s chest and starts talking to him in rapid fire Italian. Leo is still looking at him, although a quick few snaps of her fingers in front of his face bring his attention back to her.

                “It’s rude to talk in front of guests when they don’t understand...” Leo states with a grin.

                “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to repeat what I just said in English?”

                Jake raises an eyebrow, because it’s obviously got to be embarrassing for him, or maybe Leo. Or maybe her, given the way she’s flushing, although he thinks she might be angry with Leo for putting her on the spot.

                “It’s fine. I don’t mind…” Plus he’s sure Leo can tell him later if it’s funny.

                “She was just saying it was a shame you don’t have a sister…”

                “Uh…” Jake starts, because Leo knows he has sisters. Maybe not quite how many, or that one is in fact a lesbian, if that’s what the angle is here, but he’s not just going to toss that out there.

                “I was joking! Ugh. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

                “Yes your highness…”

                She gives Leo the finger and it reminds Jake so much of his relationship with his own sisters it makes him grin. Leo had said he didn’t have siblings, but obviously he’s got cousins he’s close to. Close enough to work and travel with anyway. Then Leo is clearly not caring about his cousin and is stepping in close to him and giving him a deep kiss, like the one he’d planned to give him when he opened the door. Nice to know they would’ve been on the same page at least.

                “Hi. All good?”

                “Very good… anyone else here I need to meet? Or hide from?”

                “No. They’ve all gone, managed to get earlier flights. Just me and Vi. And she’s going back to New York day after tomorrow.”

                “And she knows when to make herself scarce…”

                “That she does…”

…            …            …

                Bradley feels energized, the other side of fucked out and instead is going to be in a sickeningly good mood which is going to annoy Vi so much. He can’t wait. He is indeed going to make dinner and he’s not going to do anything fancy or new, but he does need something to direct his buzzing energy into so he’s making pasta from scratch, enjoying Jake’s company in the kitchen as he watches Bradley feed the dough through the pastaio.

                “You know, I would have been fine with store bought right? Even takeout.”

                “Just as easy to make it. And it’ll taste better.”

                “If you say so.”

                “You can give me your honest feedback…” Bradley says, pausing to give him a kiss, and it drags on a bit longer than he anticipates, Jake shifting to grab and massage his ass and he groans into it, a little amazed because he’d thought he was done. At least for a little while. Apparently not.

                “No fucking in the kitchen!”

                “Vi…” Bradley groans.

                “I told you to call me when dinner was ready.”

                “Does it look ready?” Bradley snaps, and she’s interrupted the beginnings of a nice make out session.

                “No. And it never will be ready if you keep stopping to…” she pulls a face and waves her hands around, her annoyance at not being able to find the rights words palpable. English idioms were something she’s always hated.

                “Play tonsil hockey?” Bradley asks. “Grab ass? Mess around? Suck face?”

                “Better than sucking other things. Come on. Cook already. Then I’ll go back to my room and put my headphones on really loud. Because I won’t make that mistake twice.”

                He rolls his eyes, pulling away from Jake with reluctance, reminds himself that she’ll be gone in less than thirty-six hours. And he’ll probably miss her when she’s gone, although he’ll only have ten days with Jake and then… well. He doesn’t want to think about what comes after. Instead he lets Jake and Vi make polite conversation and she’s telling him all about her Masters in business and languages while Bradley finishes making the pasta and then starts on the sauce. It’s a simple carbonara with some pancetta and mushrooms because he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of ingredient with it all used up for filming yesterday and then consumed pretty much immediately, and he’d used the rest of it for breakfast and really hadn’t thought it through. At least he’ll be able to go to the farmers market again twice before he leaves. He dishes up and Vi looks at the bowl and then at him, pulling a face and he chuckles.

                “Leave me alone. I’m on vacation.”

                “I’ll say.”

                He puts the sauce on the table automatically, but he sees Jake reaching for it automatically and he grabs his wrist.

                “Wait. Just… try it first without the sauce?”

                Jake rolls his eyes and does a whole put upon sigh; Bradley tries to ignore the feeling of Vi’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Jake dutifully tries it, nods and smiles and then promptly adds sauce and Bradley just lets himself shake with silent laughter. Just his luck the hot guy has god awful taste.

                “He’s… you’re… tomato ketchup on pasta? Leonardo.”

                “He’s not making you eat it,” Bradley says with a laugh out loud this time, and he sits down, hooking his ankle around Jake’s. It’s the third meal now he’s seen Jake add ketchup to and he’s starting to think Jake’s tastebuds might be dead. Or unable to taste anything other than ketchup.

                “Salsa scandalo. Mamma mia… Nonna e la Nana sarebbero morte.”

                “Shut up. They wouldn’t die,” Bradley says, kicking her under the table in an effort to make her remember to at least try and stick with English.

                “Oh, I think they would. Then they’d turn into ghosts and haunt you.”

                “Salsa scandal?” Jake asks, repeating part of what Vi had said.

                “You adding ketchup to pasta. Our grandmothers would both have something to say about that.”

                “Bitch. You’d normally have something to say about that. Il cazzo deve essere davvero buono.”

                Jake chokes and Bradley looks at him sharply, remembers Jake saying he’d been learning Italian using DuoLingo. Huh. He probably understood something there, dick or good, or both. Vi can be incredibly crude when she thinks no-one understands what she’s saying except for Bradley.

                “Jake here is learning Italian, so you might want to watch your language. Don’t want him to think you’re not a lady.”

                “Uh, there was never any danger of that…” Vi snorts. “So, Italian huh? That’s a funny coincidence.”

                Jake just shrugs and smiles at him.

                “No, not really.”

EIGHT

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 1-----------------------Read on A03---------------------------

Pairing: Miri x Gale Prompt: Against the Kitchen Floor Modern AU, Fluffy, Married life, NSFW

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

The front door of the Dekarios house swings open with the blustering winter wind as Gale and Miri trudge in from their biweekly date night. They pause to kick the snow from their boots and shake the flakes free from their hair. Their cheeks are flushed pink from both wine and the chill. Despite the weather they both enjoy making their usual trek to the busier downtown to enjoy dinner and dancing.

“-I’m telling you, I could make a substantially better tiramisu,” Gale iterates for the half dozenth time as he hangs up his coat.

Miri puts a foot up against their bench to start unlacing her tall boots, shaking her head with a lopsided grin. He’s been hung up on this all night - dessert was hours ago at this point.

“And I fully acknowledge you are an exceptional chef,” Miri returns, “But you are not a master baker.”

Gale huffs, taking her coat from her to hang in the closet beside his. “I am perfectly good-”

“Liebchen, please,” Miri huffs back, catching his face between her hands before he can tirade further, “You know I absolutely adore the magic you work in our kitchen. But you cannot convince this Schwarzwälderin that you’re a baker extraordinaire.”

Gale pouts, and she can already seen that gleam in his eye. The man can never be wrong or less than the best at anything he touches. And while usually he’s right - this is one of those things that is her forte. And she can already tell he’s going to be a menace in the kitchen for who know how long as he attempts to perfect and outperform the exceptional dessert they just enjoyed at an Italian restaurant.

He’s surprisingly quiet as they finish disrobing their winter gear - hanging up scarves and gloves, earmuffs and hat.

Miri’s half-tempted to believe he might drop it as they make their way down the hall and he curls an arm around her waist. Gale leans down, pulling her close to press sweet kisses to her temple and cheek - his lips pleasantly warm against pink, chapped skin.

But he’s gone as soon as he came, veering to the left and leaving her suddenly bereft just as she means to pull him in for something deeper.

Miri halts, staring after his back. Infuriatingly handsome devil that he is, Gale is sauntering through their living room, unbuttoning the cuffs of his nice button up and rolling his sleeves up to the elbows. Absurd how attractive he can make that look, really.

“And where are you scurrying off to? Sir, the bedroom is that way,” Miri calls, planting her hands on her hips and jerking a thumb towards their little slice of paradise. The place he’s been promising to take her for the last several hours. With nonstop flirting and innuendo and less than chaste dancing. That place.

But he just grins over his shoulder at her as he rounds the sofa and keeps going. “The kitchen, my love.”

Miri sputters a confused scoff. “I’m sorry, was three courses not enough for you?”

Gale scoffs and chuckles, dismissing her concern with a wave. “To bake, Mir, not to eat.”

He saunters into the kitchen, readjusting the tie of his hair blown loose from the winter winds and his hat, and pulls on an apron. The nice one for baking that crosses in the back and has all the pockets. Her apron.

“Baking.” Miri repeats deadpan. Gale only looks up at her with that smarmy, confident smirk of his - not phased a bit when she narrows her eyes across the room at him and props clawed fingers against both hips. It’s not a question when she says, “You want to bake. Right now.”

“That’s right,” he returns, pulling one of her nicer cookbooks down from the narrow shelf beside the double ovens. Almost totally ignoring her as he fingers his way through the index.

The lythari crosses her arms, rumbling a low warning growl. She glares at him from the entryway of the hall to their room. Where they should be going right now.

“Dr. Dekarios, you get the hells out of our kitchen right now.”

“This’ll only take a moment, love, I promise.” He’s already switching to a different cookbook - somehow dissatisfied with the last pâtissier and moving on to the next.

“No, it won’t,” Miri rebuts. Nothing he says will ‘only take a moment’ ever does. “Neither one of us needs an entire tiramisu in this house.”

Gale doesn’t seem perturbed as he starts pulling containers of dry goods from the pantry and setting out mixing bowls and equipment. He even hums the tune of the last song they danced to, a little sway and shimmy in his steps.

Miri grows increasingly impatient as she watches him. She can’t tell if he’s being deliberately cheeky or if he’s really just set on the idea of perfecting a tiramisu on a random Friday night in Nightal.

And then those long fingers start shifting the equipment in her little corner of the kitchen and she’s moving into action. Her tights and tea length skirt swish and flutter as she storms her way into the kitchen.

“Gale Dekarios, it is eleven pm and you are a full wine-bottle deep, you are not going near my stand mixer.”

“Hush, it’s fine-” Another dismissive wave over his shoulder as he rereads a line from the recipe book he’s laid open on the counter. Not even glancing back at her as she approaches this time.

“It is not fine-” Miri growls with simmering irritation. “Gottsverdammt-”

She reaches her arms around his middle and starts walking him backwards. His arms pinwheel out with alarm, making it clear it was probably hyperfixation and not mischief waylaying their evening rendezvous.

“Mir! What in the hells are you doing-” Gale sputters when she spins him about and takes the mixing spoon and measuring cups from his hands.

“Seizing the reins of our date night back from your ego,” Miri answers in a low, calm tone, “I am not waiting for you to make an overly elaborate baked dish on our first night with no morning obligations in ages.”

“That’s precisely why there’s time to try my hand at a new recipe,” Gale argues, making to pick up the instruments she had just sent down.

“No, that’s precisely why you and I have plans already,” she counters, grasping his wrists to stop him.

“Miri. Don’t be silly.”

She gives him a glower, and before he can fight back she’s spinning him about and pulling her apron over his head. Gale sputters and flounders, but she tosses it across the room.

“Gale.”

“My love,” he returns, giving her a petulant frown with a concerned pitch of his brows. Miri growls and his eyebrows raise. Her hands move up to grasp his waist firmly, running her claws over his shirt in a gesture he knows all too well. His cheeks go a little pinker. “Ah.”

“I’ve had enough of your teasing tonight, Liebchen,”She murmurs softly, sliding a leg between his. He grasps her by the shoulder blades and it’s a soft pantomime of their dance - yet decidedly something hotter boils underneath.

Gale’s pulled in to the dark, heavy heat of her gaze as she looks up at him. The warmth in his stomach that had ebbed on the walk home was roaring back to life. Enough to have him dazed by her. By that low, heady sound of her growl - that predatory sound she makes when she wants.

“Oh,” Gale breathes. The fervor of his mind settles - thoughts of recipes and mascarpone fizzling away, replaced with his most pressing need. His purest desire and most heated passion. His wife.

His thoughts are swept from him almost entirely as Miri sweeps her leg beneath his and takes his weight into her arms. In a quick move more gentle than it has any right to be, Miri’s lowering him onto his back on the floor.

Gale lets out a ragged groan when she strips her tights and straddles his waist.

“Impatient, my love?” He murmurs.

“You’ve no right to ask that, Liebchen,” Miri breathes as she leans over him, her hair waterfalling over her shoulders to spill beside them. Those dark pupils could swallow him whole as they roam his features. “Not with the way you’ve been teasing tonight.”

Gale huffs a soft chuckle, his expression softening to grin up at her. “Well. I had the delight of spending the evening with the most gorgeous lythari you’ve ever seen. Can you blame me?”

“Oh, I can and I am,” she purrs back. Clawed fingers are making quick work of the buttons of his shirt, parting the fabric quickly to paw at the skin of his chest. Gale huffs another soft laugh and slides his hands up her thighs and beneath her skirt.

When he reaches the bend of her hips his brows raise, one arching in cheeky question. Miri only raises her eyebrows back with a sultry, knowing smile. Gale lets out a low groan in reply, his fingers squeezing and kneading greedily at her flesh.

Miri in turn undoes his belt with a quick flick of nimble fingers. When she palms him through the fabric Gale’s head tips back with a heavy moan.

“Ah, my love-”

“Hush, Gale,” Miri returns with a smirk. She tips his head back down with one hand and closes the distance between their lips hungrily.

They dance and slide together in a symphony of groans and heavy breaths. Nipping and licking and kissing their way through the passion of the evening, patience and bedroom long forgotten.

Miri pries his trousers free of his hips and just as quickly guides him inside her waiting heat. They moan together in delight, ragged prayers of one another’s names.

Gale grips possessively and desperately at her hips as she rocks and slides on top of him, praising her as he helps guide her rhythm. Her hands hold tight to his shoulder, press against his chest. The soft sounds of her cries as she grinds that sweet spot against him has him gasping. Every sound that falls from her lips a sweet symphony that never fails to set his body ablaze.

Each rolling bounce of her hips sends sparks through him. She cries out breathy moans against his lips, his neck, as she kisses him haphazardly, barely able to hold it between panting breaths. Miri's legs tremble softly as she rocks her hips against his.

Gale’s panting her name, whispering those sweet praises she loves to hear. So good, so sweet, so perfect, gorgeous, lovely, everything, everything, everything-

It’s not a desperate flash of fireworks as they finish together. It’s the intimate rocking, clutching cries of husband and wife holding each other in a sweet embrace more primal and soul-forged than anything else. The gasps of shared breaths, foreheads pressed together and whispered I love yous.

There will be time for desperate passion when they make it to the bed.

[second-axis-point]

Hey there! Could we please get a fic with Joel x male reader in which reader finds one of those really bad action movies Joel loves and they watch it together? Love your writing!! 🫶

Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff, Ellie’s bad jokes

This is a sort of AU where Ellie never needed to go to that Firefly hospital.I just had an Alien movie marathon so I thought it was appropriate!😄Thanks for the request!! 💚

Movie Night

You gave Ellie an apologetic look before following Joel outside. You rubbed his back gently as crumpled up the note from Bill. You saw that he was a bit shaken up but he kept a neutral face.

“I'll check the truck. You can go grab supplies and get Ellie to help you.”

You hesitate, not wanting to leave him alone. He notices and turns to face you. He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you in slowly. He kisses your forehead and mumbles.

“I’ll be alright, I promise. Go on.”

He nods his head forward and gives you a small smile. It reassures you enough to shuffle back inside. You see Ellie still sitting at the table as you hear Joel open the creaking garage doors. You toss her an easy smile, signalling that he was alright.

“You mind bringin’ out that joke book while I grab supplies?”

She lights up and jumps to get at her pack. She pulls out the book and opens to a random page. You walk around the house taking things that you need while she follows you, spouting stupid puns.

“Did you hear about the Italian chef who died?”

Ellie stifled a laugh.

“He pasta-way.”

She lets out a loud giggle as you look through the bookshelf. You set down the box of stuff you had and thumbed through all the movies Frank had organised alphabetically.

“Did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut?”

She laid down on the couch, book in hands.

“He just needed some space.”

Ellies eyes crinkle as her laughter fills the room once again. You grin and continue to look through the movies.

“A dyslexic man walks into a bra.”

She hides her face behind the book as you turn to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“What do you call a psychic little person who escaped from prison?”

She pauses.

“A small medium at large.”

Joel walks through the front door, reading out the punchline before Ellie could. You chuckle at the offended look on her face. He walks over to you and grabs your box before escorting it back out to the truck.

“How do you make holy water?”

Ellie checks over her shoulder to make sure Joel isn’t there.

“You boil the hell out of it.”

You hear Joel laugh as walks in once again. He had mentioned something about a movie night a few days ago and you had just found a movie that you hadn't seen in a while. You carefully pull it from the shelf.

“Hey Joel, remember this gem?”

He ambles over and takes the disc from your hand.

“Alien Resurrection? Jesus, I haven't seen this since it came out in theatres.”

He smiles and hands the familiar box back to you. You shove it into your bag and continue to salvage what you can from the late couple house. After helping Joel lift the heavy stuff into the truck, you all loaded in and set off back to Jackson.

The three of you had to carry most of the stuff due to the loss of traction. The car couldn’t make it in the snowy terrain so you hiked up to grab a few people and horses to hoist the rest of the supplies into town.

It took until sundown to get everything and everyone situated. You and Joel finally got a second to yourselves. Flopping down on the couch, you sigh.

“You still up for movie night?”

You pull the movie from your pack. He nods and sits down next to you. You get up and put the dvd in. The fact that he found a semi-functioning dvd player was the closest to a miracle you've ever witnessed. The movie started playing and you sat back down next to Joel. You pulled him closer until he was laying his head on your lap.

You ran your fingers through his hair as the movie played. The two of you laughed at the cheesy horror and the special effects. About half way through, Ellie sauntered in and plopped down next to you.

“What’s this?”

She cuddled up into your side, watching the movie.

“Alien Resurrection.”

She hummed and turned her focus on the movie. When the credits start rolling, you hear both Ellie and Joel snoring. You laugh and shuffle out from underneath them. You easily pick Ellie up from the couch and lay her down in the spare bed. You walk back to see Joel sit up and rub his eyes. He gives you a soft smile and walks over to you. You make your way back to your bedroom with Joel in tow. He was tired and a bit lovesick but you both were happy.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

So...he's a little pre-race drabble for the racing gods. I have no idea what this is. It's not what I was meant to put out. I was possessed by the holy spirit of RPF, Mr. Gasly himself.

It had been a joke.

Joris had signed him up for it before the ink had been dry on his divorce paperwork as his maman would say. Even though he hadn’t physically signed anything. It was like a…PDF signature. Digital and depressing. Like their entire marriage had been.

Charles thinks that Joris really had done it for a bit and then it had gone too far and before he knew it, he was on a plane to Paris to meet with producers and then he was signing NDA’s and getting fitted with wardrobe and someone that sounded vaguely Italian was cutting his hair even though he kept telling them that his maman did just fine.

He wasn’t…opposed to the whole thing of it - although reality television was a joke, he knew that he wasn’t going to find his soulmate on a TV show, but he was experiencing. He was learning about his sexuality and he was out and he was going to maybe get a couple of brand deals out of it.

Probably cry at least once. He was prepared for that. 

One of Lorenzo’s friends from uni had done a very low budget Italian version of Love Island and three of the guys from his Villa were in his wedding and Charles could honestly use some gay friends! His friends from Monaco were trying, but it was hard for them to understand sometimes. He had married a woman after all. He had made a life with her for years and then he had just - 

So, yeah. He had walked into this whole thing knowing that it was going to be an experience - one he wanted to take with both hands and that he would try and come out of with dignity and then on the first night, Pierre fucking Gasly walked in and Charles was done for.

-

He tries to make friends in the house. And he thinks they make progress every day.

He likes to work out with Peter - the guy from Denver who moved to France for university and never left. He attempts to learn to cook from Esteban - the chef who owns two of his own restaurants. He watches movies with the two friends from Italy who talk to each other in Italian constantly and he thinks he’s making friends with them.

But then someone comes in from a date and he just…crumbles.

He kissed me, someone will say and Charles will burn up with rage, his face red and blotchy and he never ever ever congratulates them or asks them questions because he can’t stand it. He can’t stand them and he knows that it’s ridiculous because there are…fifteen men left in this house and only one of them will leave with Pierre, and it’s only been two weeks of this, but Charles cannot stand it - feels as though Pierre is his.

He can feel the cameras on him and he knows that when he leaves the room in a hurry, they’re following him.

He can already see the narrative that’s being developed about him.

Bratty and silly and naive. 

He knows the mic’s pick up the way Pierre leans in and says his name so softly and the camera's see the way that Charles’ blushes and it’s so stupid because there are so many accomplished, wonderful men here and Charles is not special, but…

Pierre makes him feel like he’s special - like what they have is special and even though they’ve had a handful of minutes together…Charles knows that he and Pierre could be…

Well, they could be great.

-

There are eight of them left and Charles is on his second one-on-one date.

Not just his second one-on-one, it’s the second in a row.

Charles has only seen one season of this show - that he watched frantically all in one night two days before his flight - but he doesn’t think it normally happens like that and the only reason Pierre had been allowed to do it was because he had asked Charles during the rose ceremony in front of the other guys. 

It’s confirmation for what he already knows. That he and Pierre have something together. The way Pierre looks at him, the way he listens to him, the way he laughs with him, the way his fingers always stray south when he’s kissing him…

They’re on a boat - mic’d up, sitting in front of food they can’t eat. 

The boat is docked and Charles would be annoyed by that normally because he loves the sea and he loves to go and he thinks that’s half the reason they’re on this date - a two hour drive through France in the back of a car is all worth it for this moment with Pierre - that Pierre arranged because Charles had talked so fondly about his families boat in Monaco.

Charles is talking softly about Monaco and his brothers and Pierre stops him, “Cha,” he says, running one finger down Charles’ cheek, “Can I have a minute? I hate to call cut, but I need to go and have a talk with production.”

The bottom drops out of Charles’ world.

You only call cut when something bad has happened. That was what they had coached him on when he started. You get to call cut, but only if it’s really really really bad, and Charles thinks Pierre is about to send him home.

That’s the only reason he would call cut right now.

They had been kissing, Pierre’s fingers tucked into his goddamn waistband and then he had pulled away to ask about Charles’ family and…he’s realized he has no feelings for him whatsoever, but wants to save him the embarrassment of a rose ceremony after he -

“Yes,” Charles backs away from him, “Of course.”

He can feel the cameras again, hyper-aware of the way this is all going to get edited. 

Desperate. He’ll be painted as desperate and ridiculous and he just cannot breathe and he -

“Charles -” a producer says, and Charles waves him off as he stands, feeling like he might puke, leaning over the side of the boat, trying to draw in breath the way Joris had taught him.

He should go and tell them he wants to go home.

That’s the dignified thing to do. 

He thinks that’s allowed. There’s an eject button on this too, but that’s only for big big big emergencies and this might be that. 

He was just so silly. To think he and Pierre had a connection - that he was feeling like he and Pierre could be in love - that they could have a real future. 

Charles was thinking about moving to Paris. Uprooting his entire fucking life to be close to Pierre’s practice because -

He hears his name being called again as he stumbles towards the sliding door that Pierre had disappeared behind.

There’s a kitchen and a lounge and that’s where the camera and production crew are hiding and he knows that’s where Pierre is and he is just going to tell them all that he needs to go home right now, but he gets to the door and freezes.

Pierre is in profile and he has one hand on his chest and there are tears streaming down his face.

A rather severe looking producer is wagging a finger in Pierre’s face and Charles is suddenly full of rage because how dare he make Pierre feel like that? This is Pierre’s show and he gets anything he wants and -

“I don’t want to go back to the house tonight,” Pierre pleads, tapping his chest. “It’s Charles, it has to be him.”

The producer - Jacques, Charles thinks - pats Pierre on the shoulder like he’s a child. “There are still weeks of filming left. You could change your mind. I know he is nice. Charles is very sweet and he is testing well, but you have such a great connection with Esteban. Don’t you want to see that through?”

Charles is frozen in place. He wants to hear everything. He wants to know everything happening, but the producer that was in his face earlier is shooing him away from the door, back to his spot with a cross look on his face. “You cannot repeat any of that,” he says firmly.

“Repeat what?” Charles echoes back and then waits in agonizing silence until Pierre remerges some time later. He looks stressed and tired, but he sits down next to Charles, placing his hand on his thigh and apologizes to him for the interruption.

Charles leans over and kisses him instead, open-mouthed and too much for fucking television, but Pierre’s fingers are so tight on his waist and he knows somehow that this is it for him.

He’s not walking away from this thing with a couple of brand deals and some friends.

He’s walking away with Pierre.

-

He doesn’t tell him until their honeymoon.

Pierre in a white linen shirt with too many buttons undone and Charles in a pair of swim shorts he is sure don’t belong to him and a boat that Pierre is renting from some PSG player.

Charles is laying between Pierre’s legs - despite their size difference, it’s the way the two of them prefer to be - Pierre splaying his hand on Charles’ bare chest, Charles hands on Pierre’s thighs, letting the hair run between his fingers.

It reminds him of their last night together before the final rose ceremony. Pierre and Charles had spent the night together in that sterile white suite, but most of the night had been spent like this - on the lounge chair on the balcony covered in the hotel duvet. Talking. Just so much talking.

Away from the cameras for the first time and in love.

And even then Charles hadn’t told him because he was scared of it - there had been a piece of him that had wanted to hold it back. In case…

He tells him now. Maybe because there’s no one else. Maybe because they’re on another boat.

“I heard part of your conversation that night.” Charles twists, cheek on Pierre’s chest. “The night of our date on the boat. You said that it had to be me and -”

Pierre grips his face too hard and forces him to twist around, coming to his knees so he can move and they’re face to face - Pierre’s eyes are blazing and Charles is breathing too quickly - he’s all too familiar with that look.

“You heard me?” Pierre demands. “I told them all that I loved you and you heard me?”

“No!” Charles says, “You - you only said that you didn’t want to go back to the house and that you wanted me and then Jacques told you that you had a connection with Esteban and then I didn’t hear anything else. I had to go and sit down -”

But he doesn’t get to finish. Pierre is kissing him hard and unrelenting and Charles is still trying to catch up.

“Pierre -” he mumbles, pushing on Pierre’s shoulders, “What?”

“I wanted to end it that night.” Pierre tells him, fingers coming away from his cheeks to grip Charles’ chin. “I asked them to end it because I didn’t want anyone else. I only wanted you.” He heaves a breath. “You’ll see when the season comes out, but we were…they were so angry. There’s barely a season after that night. I wasn’t…I knew it was you.”

“You never said -” Charles starts, but Pierre is too strong and he flips them, pinning Charles to the cushions. 

“Fuck, I love you and I have loved you since I laid eyes on you.” He sinks his teeth into Charles’ collarbone and Charles forgets he was going to protest.

“I love you,” he says instead.

Pierre soothes the sharp bite with his tongue. “Going to love you forever, Charles.” And then softer, “Husband.”

[faegoddessog]

Woman in Red Ch. 8/17

Chapter 8: Be My Guest

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, outdoor nudity, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll!), butt plug, masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected anal sex, unrequited shower sex.

A/N: In this story, I make no mention of birth control or condoms or STI's. Please, darlings, please love yourself enough to protect yourself appropriately when you have sex. <3

Message me or leave in in a comment if you'd like to be added or removed from my tagged list!

@purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef

Here is the Woman in Red Masterlist

Here is the link to all my posted work: My Dirty Little, and not so little Stories.

Chapter 8: Be My Guest

Aya hears Austin’s stomach growling when she opens the bathroom door. 

“Geeze, I heard that from over there,” her arms drape around him from behind. 

“Yeah, I’m a growing boy you know,” he smiles, playing off the age gap, “do we have dinner plans for the evening?” he asks. 

“Of course, let me text…,” she grabs her phone, tapping with one hand, not finishing her sentence. Austin waits patiently, lightly rubbing her forearm.  

“OK, Dinner will be here in ten minutes. Hmmmm, whatever will we do with our time.” Aya tosses her phone and presses her mouth to his skin. She kisses down to that sensitive spot at the crook of his neck. She sinks her teeth in just enough and sucks. Her fingers play lightly at his nipples. Gooseflesh trails down his arms. 

“Oh, Mmmmm,” Austin’s eyes flutter closed. He had forgotten how triggering his neck was. He reaches around behind him and pulls her into his lap, cradling her. 

“You are incorrigible,” he whispers, hand on her jaw, “I fucking love it.” His mouth is on hers. His full lips softly playing on hers. 

They stay here, softly lost in one another.  Their lips and tongues tender, languishing in sensation. 

‘Ding, ding’ goes the door chime. Austin pulls away from her confused and looks towards the bedroom door. 

“So,” Aya sits up, nonplussed that someone just walked in her house unannounced, “you can either stay in here until she leaves, or put clothes on, she’s only 18 so… .” 

“Who.. what?” Austin reaches for his clothes, he definitely missed something. 

“Oh, sorry I must have had that conversation in my head,” she makes a face, grabbing a pink tank and pulling it over her head, “I do that sometimes. I have employed my neighbor's daughter to make us dinner. She takes care of Kato during the week and when I’m gone.” She steps into a maxi skirt, “She is a fantastic chef and as soon as she is out of culinary school I am going to hire her as my full-time personal chef.” She starts, barefoot, down the hall. 

“Oh, well I’m gonna use the restroom, then I’ll be out.” he calls down the hall, “Personal chef?” he murmurs, wondering just how wealthy she is. 

When he steps out, a feast has been laid out on the marble bar of the kitchen.  A dark haired teen, diminutive in stature is unloading the last of her bags. She is telling Aya the dishes at breakneck speed and with nary a breath taken. Austin leans on the wall just inside the hallway, listening and trying to follow along.  

“Sea scallops, obvi, and beef carpaccio with the Italian olive oil you brought me. God that is amazing stuff. Lobster ravioli with mushroom reduction, Yes it’s THE wine.” she shimmes her shoulders excitedly. “I know you SAY you don’t like it, but I brought a nice beluga caviar service, just in case it changes your mind, plus your date might like it. Really, Aya, you don’t know what you are missing. A nice cheese plate with some goat and sheep’s cheeses too because I know how you are. Then for dessert I tried my hand at basque cheesecake. I think it’s ok, but you tell me. Then I was debating some dark chocolate truffles, but they totally didn't work. I don't think I’ll ever be a chocolatier, so, knowing you need chocolate, I whipped up my dark chocolate mousse with raspberries. Who do you have over? I thought you didn’t bring dates here? They must be special. Oh hi Kato,” she follows the movement of the cat, turns and sees Austin leaning with arms crossed. 

“Oh HI! I’m…. “ she pauses,  “Wait… you’re…“ Her mouth falls open, rendering her magically silent.  The girl looks at Aya in astonishment. 

“Austin, this is Bee,” Aya introduces her. 

“Nice to meet you Bee,” he waves, his voice soothing. Dammit, his sister is right, he slipped right into 'fan mode.'

“You too, Austin, ” she recovers her voice, “Damn Aya,” she casts a sidelong glance at Aya, “You cougar, you.” Then back to Austin, “Listen, if you like my stuff, you owe me a selfie.” She smiles.

“You can have one right now if you want,”  he says with a little smile.  

“Oh no, I want to know if you like my food first,” she smiles, “I have priorities.”

“You let me know if you want me to come clean up,” she says to Aya, waggling her eyebrows. Then she whips back to Austin, pointing at him threateningly, “You had better treat her right or else.” 

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, nodding seriously. 

“Good… enjoy you two!” and she walks out the front door. 

“Wow, she’s…” Austin starts.

“A teenage girl,” Aya shrugs, “But just wait until you taste her food.”

They ate out on the deck under the stars. He was astounded by each and every dish. Truthfully, it was better than some of the fancy Micheline star places he’d been. Aya doesn’t touch the caviar and neither does he. He doesn’t  mind caviar, but he is planning on putting his mouth on hers later. 

“Text Bee and tell her I owe her a whole bevy of selfies.” he says after tasting her mousse. 

Aya just laughs. 

Bee comes back to clean up, getting pics of him eating her food, a few selfies and an autograph. He helps her clean up, he just can’t help being polite and sweet. “I like him, you should keep him,” she says to Aya as she leaves. 

Aya’s eyes go wide and her lips press together, “Bye Bee” she says tight lipped and trying not to laugh.  

Bee just giggles and walks out. 

Austin pours the end of the bottle of wine into their two waiting glasses and motions for her to lead the way. He watches as she peels off her tank top and tosses it on the couch. With a coquettish glance over her shoulder, she walks outside. 

“I love being naked outside,” she says as she grabs a glass from his hand, sipping. 

He glances around, her back yard is completely secluded with vegetation  on either side. The ocean beyond was down a steep embankment of rock. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been naked outside,” he sets his glass down and peels his shirt off. 

She raises her eyebrows, and looks pointedly at his lower half. 

He shrugs and pulls his joggers off, leaving them in a puddle  on the deck. 

A randy smile crosses her lips. She tilts her chin towards the couch. 

He sits down, wine glass in hand, sipping. 

He gives her skirt the same look as she sidles up to him. She puffs out a breath with a slight shake of the head. She drains her wine glass instead.  She gathers the hem of her skirt in her hands and straddles his thigh. He knows she has nothing under her skirt, he watched her put it on for christ’s sake. But the feel of her nakedness against his thigh is still exhilarating. He wasn’t quite hard before, but he can feel his balls tighten under her skirt. She was right to leave it on, sexier this way. 

Aya settles down, knees on either side of his hips. 

“Sasha, dim the lights please,” she speaks as though to someone in the house. The lights lower, even the outside ones

“Who is Sasha,” Austin looks side to side nervously, painfully aware of his nudity.  

“It’s the house, silly,” she grins, “I like the whole smart house thing, so I named it. Makes it more fun.” 

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head in slight embarrassment.  His hands slide up her thighs to her sides, moving with the expansion and contraction of her ribs. His thumbs are under her breasts and he can feel  as much as hear the vibration of the low, sexy ‘mmmm’ rumbling in her chest.  He pulls her to him, flexing his quads.

She is licking and biting her lip, looking down at him. Good lord he is agonizingly fine.

“Now for the real dessert,” she murmurs into his mouth just before she kisses him. 

 She pushes away only to let him pull her pussy lips back again over his muscular thigh. She pulls away from his lips with an audible smack. Her head falls backwards as the moon peeks out from behind a cloud, bathing her prominent tits in ethereal silver light. She looks fae. He wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted wings, pointy ears,  and horns at this point. Her panting increases as does her hip movements. He is mesmerized by her use of him, even just his thigh. 

“God I want to fuck you more,” the words slip from between his lips. 

“Do you now,” she purrs, looking down at him, her eyes seeming to glow. “And how do you want to fuck me more,” she mimics his tone and cadence for the words ‘fuck me more.’

She moves to straddle his whole lap, his cockstand pressed between them, the fabric of her skirt catching on his tip.

“Any way and all ways,” he gathers it in his hands, the stretchy waist of the maxi skirt easily allows him to pull it over her head. “That’s better, I like you naked,” he lightly runs his hands down her frame. 

He angles his hips, pressing forward and up. She lifts up, but not high enough to capture his long cock, only paint the shaft with her juices. His face is a mask of torture.

“Do you want this pussy, Austin?” she asks, her hands lock behind his neck. 

He looks up at her, hunger in his eyes, “Yes, yes I do.” 

He knows he sounded a little desperate, but he just doesn’t care. It doesn't matter that he was in her an hour ago, he wants her again.  When her hot pussy blissfully envelopes his hard cock, he realizes he might never be able to get enough of her. She is a Venus that needs to be worshiped at all costs.  He refuses to take his eyes off hers as he flexes his glutes, pressing into her. Her forehead creases, little mewls of pleasure squeak from her. It just makes him want to fuck her harder. 

So he does. 

Her ample tits bounce as he thrusts into her. He bites his lip. Lord she feels so damn good, looks so damn good, is so damn good.  He’s gonna cum if he keeps this up. 

He fills her to the brim, ramming into her over and over. She holds herself up just a bit. She could cum like this. But then she remembers something. 

She rises to her feet, pulling off him mid thrust. His eyes flash with frustration for a millisecond.

“I believe you promised me an ass fucking, Mr. Butler.” Her voice is sultry and smooth. 

His chest expands slightly,  whether from exertion, the abrupt cessation of his pleasure, or the way that she said ‘ass fucking’, she doesn’t know. 

He wasn’t going to remind her, wasn’t going to force her to make good on his mad threat from last weekend. He is actually slightly embarrassed that he even said it in his frenzy of dark mojo. Thank the lord for the bottle of wine they had already consumed, liquid courage and all. 

“I did, are you cashing in on that promise now?” his eye brows raise. He’s not well versed in anal, he’s tried it once or twice, but he’s never had a partner that really was into it.

“Oh yes,” she breathes out, running her finger tips along his shaft, “if you are ok with that.” 

“I am,” he nods, his dark self flaring up, “ but I might need some guidance, I’ve not done it much and not with much success.” 

“I got you, Austin.” she holds out a hand. “C’mon,”  she leads him toward the still open glass doors of her bedroom. 

“Just so you know,” she stops in the doorway, “it’s my plan to make you lose your mind.” 

Austin nods, capturing his rich bottom lip between his perfect teeth.

“In that case, I should inform you that I want to make you forget everything but my name when you cum,” he winks. 

“It’s Austin, right?” she teases. 

He purses his lips in a smile and narrows his eyes, but says nothing. 

She walks to the drawer beside the bed, reaches in and pulls out a clear bottle with a pump top. 

“You ok?” she asks, she’s not sure why. 

“Oh I’m more than ok,” he whispers, stepping to her and leaning into a passionate kiss. 

Aya hands him the lube, ”I'll be back in a few. when I do, you’d better have that cock lubed and ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,”‘ Austin promises, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She disappears into the bathroom. 

He smiles, shaking his head to himself. 

“Jesus, that woman…” he murmurs. He is so turned on, she just hits things in him like no one else ever has. 

He positions himself by the open door, so he’ll be silhouetted by the low lights outside. He stands sideways, his hand full of lube, waiting to hear her bathroom door open. He knows how to put on a show, if nothing else. He knows just how magnetic he can be, and he wants her dripping the moment she sees him playing with himself. 

Aya steps into the bathroom and blows a long breath out into the mirror. “Fuck me, he is so unbelievably hot.’ 

She hurries to clean herself inside and out. She brushes out her long hair. She debates slipping  into a pair of red crotchless panties and a red lace crop top, but then remembers him saying he liked her naked. She pulls out her pretty steel butt plug. She is about to lube it up and push it into her ass, then she has a thought. If HE puts it in, he will be well on the way to losing his mind. She smiles deviously.

She walks out with it and a towel in her hand, Austin is standing, back lit, in front of the door.  His lean form is situated with his side to her. His back is arched, hips pushed forward so his cock juts out. The entire front of his body is outlined in the sparkly lights from the deck as he strokes himself slowly. She can hear his breathy moans. 

“Oh… my,” she is barely audible and stopped in her tracks, “You are so fucking sexy.” 

Dropping the towel on the bed, she quickly closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his in desperate need. His free hand wraps around her back, feeling just as needy. 

“You are…” she hesitates, panting slightly, “are you trying to make me lose control, Austin?” 

“Oh yes,” he growls into her mouth, pleased at her reaction. 

She almost loses it, almost shoves him down on the bed to ravish him. Almost slides her legs on either side of him. Almost pushes herself onto that gorgeous cock. Almost. She takes a big breath, tensing her jaw. She is determined to stay in control of herself. 

“Come over here,” she hooks a finger around his and leads him to the bed, ready to play her own card in this game of sexy one-ups. 

“I need to stretch my ass a little, if I’m going to take,” she runs two fingers lightly  over his lubed cock, ”this magnificent thing. So I got out my favorite butt plug." She holds it up for him to see, "I hope it's big enough." She holds it down near his hard cock, comparing the sizes. His breath catching in his throat is all the response she needs.  She climbs on all fours on the tall bed and holds up the plug. 

“Do you want to? Or shall I?” she says with a wicked glance over her shoulder. 

“Oh, well,” his eyes widen, taking it from her. “I’ve never… but I’ll try.”

“Be my guest,” she leans over and switches on a string of hanging lights that adorn the back of her bed. They give enough light, but keep the mood sexy. She leans her head down, ass up, opening her legs wide.

“Good lord that is a sight,” he murmurs.

He drips lube onto her exposed asshole. It’s a little cold, as is the steel, but it feel oh so good as he rubs it around in the lube and against her tight ass. 

“Just go slow, Austin.” she says 

“Yes, Ma’am.” he starts pushing. 

She inhales sharply, her mouth open.

He pushes harder then relents, her ass pushing it back at him. 

“Oh god yes,” she moans, fisting the sheets. 

He smiles, ‘who’s gonna make who lose all control?’ he thinks. 

“Fuck me with it.” she says, looking over her shoulder, eyes hooded in desire. 

Oh Dammit.  She is too hot all bent over and just the right height, he could fuck her just like this. No he will fuck her, just like this. He slides the plug in and out, going deeper each time. As it nears the drop off point,  her ass grabs it and pulls it from him. 

“Fuuu-uu-uu-uck” she says,  rocking her hips, letting the weight settle. 

“God that is hot, babe,” he breathes, hand caressing her round cheek. 

She pulls herself up on her knees and turns around to look at him with a lopsided smile,  “‘Babe?” her tone questioning. She shakes her head, she is not doing a good job of managing expectations here.

“Uh… well…um,” usually quick with a retort, his brain is completely derailed with how sexy she is right now. On her knees, looking over her shoulder, her hand fondling her own ass. Her hair flows down her back, begging to be wrapped around his fist. 

“You wanna fuck me with it in…Babe?” her words are slightly taunting, but her body, eyes and tone say something completely different.  

He crumbles at the sexy, wanton look on her face, not even registering her tease. “Oh, yes Ma’am,” he hears himself say.

She smiles, knowing she just knocked another notch from his self control.

”How do you want me, Austin. You want to be able to see it? Play with it?” This is not her first rodeo, she knows men. 

Holy hell how does she know exactly what he is thinking?

“I want you in every way, darlin’”, the way ‘darlin’ drips from his lips all southern-like is intoxicating. What’s better is that he doesn’t even seem aware that he’s doing it.

She is suddenly too turned on to care what he calls her. They reach for each other, lips crashing together hard and passionate.  His hand captures her breast, her spine twists to meet him. The heat in the room blazes between them. 

His cock is throbbing and he can’t help but hump against her hip. Fuck he needs her and right now, to hell with control. He pushes her back onto all fours and then manhandles her by the hips, pulling her back to meet him. The silver steel of the flange glinting at him in the tiny fairy lights. He rubs his lubed tip in her wet folds, groaning at the warmth. He nudges forward into her clit just a bit while pressing the stopper with his thumb. If the shaking of her hips and her soft throat-born moans weren’t enough to clue him in, the arching of her back and the pressing of her ass toward him was.

Holy shit, she had forgotten how much she liked being tossed around like this. Then to feel his tip entreating entrance? Fuck she wanted him now, control be damned. Her clit and ass pulse together straight  into her core as he touches them. He pushes, slipping his head into her wet folds.

The bulge of the plug presses against him. Like the plug going into her ass, once his head gets past the roundness, he feels sucked in as her pussy contracts around him. He can feel it slither up his spine. It doesn’t stop until he is deep in her. Even then she seems to want to draw him deeper.  He jostles the plug slightly. He can feel it moving against him, feel the vibrations as he taps it. Her moans of pleasure egg him on. 

She is so… full. His cock deliciously stuffing her pussy. Her ass hugging the steel of the plug. 

“Please, Austin, fuck me, please,” she moans. She means it, and she also knows that one of the two best ways to make a man go crazy is to show him how needy you are for him. 

“Begging for it, huh?” he teases her, pulling back “Ok, but only if you cum on my cock, can you do that for me darlin’.” 

Fuck, there it is again, that hint of southern gentleman laced with the promise of dirty deeds. 

“Uh-huh, just, my god, fuck me, I need you,” her breathy voice pleading. The other way to drive a man to delirious passion is to cum for him, on him, in front of him, because of him. 

He chuckles behind her ear and wraps her hair around his fist, making her wait.   Then he thrusts quickly, using his grip on her hip for leverage. 

She squeals out a tiny ‘oh’. He thrusts again and again, his growl reverberating low in his chest. 

Reaching between her legs, she can feel him entering her and how dripping wet she is.  His rhythm gets steadily faster, harder.  Her ‘oh’s get louder, more explosive as each plunge into her clicks her gears tighter and tighter. 

She knows her body well. One minute on her clit will set her off. She lightly flicks her swollen nub.

“You are so fucking hot under me. No one could even come close to how fucking sexy you are.” He means it too. Austin is not new to women. He knows the effect his voice has, using it to tell a woman just how sexy he finds her is his secret weapon.  And good lord, Aya takes the cake on being sexy as hell. 

“Oh fuck I’m gonna…”  she groans. She is suddenly shivering; arching and curling her spine in an explosive and sexy version of  cat/cow. Her pussy is clenching and unclenching on his cock. She fucks herself on him. Low wordless, moans flow from her. He comes perilously close to creaming her pussy. The pressure from her plug is almost too much. Luckily she jerks off of him to lay face down on the bed, panting and shivering. 

He smiles knowing he made her cum first. He can't help but reach out and tap the plug, she groans and twitches. 

Then, unexpectedly, she says, “Pull it out, I need that cock.” She lifts her hips up to him. He pulls on the plug, slow and steady. She is rubbing her pussy, her fingertips peaking out from between the bed and her cunt. 

“Fuckyes, fuckyes! Oh. My, God!” she almost cums again as it suddenly slips out. He puts it on the bedside table.

She rolls over, her eyes clouded with lust, her arms open. “Come’re” her voice sounds almost angry as she crooks her fingers at him.

She envelops him in her arms, pulling him down, desperate to feel his body along her own.  Her mouth is greedy against his. She wraps one leg around his waist and pushes against the bed with the other, flipping them over.

She sits up on him like a tiger in the jungle, ready to pounce. She pumps lube into her hand, then wraps it around his cock. She looks for all the world like she is stroking her own cock between her legs. It’s deliciously provocative. 

“You sexy mother fucker, I am so … oh .. god… you,” she says with a shaky breath. He is a fucking muse under her.

His hands clamp down on her thighs as his hips lift up into the friction of her hand

“Oh yeah? Well I …. You… are… fuck,” his cock bounces in her hand.

Neither of them are able to form full sentences. The lust is thick and palpable. 

She nods at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.  He nods back, not trusting his tongue. He is nervous. She reaches behind her with a lubed hand, smearing it on her asshole.

“Hold still,” her voice is commanding "I'll have to go slow at first."  'Torturously slow', she thinks. 

He’s never seen anyone so hot as she is at this moment. She leans forward, holding herself up with one hand on his shoulder. The other holding his cock tight against her hole. It takes everything in him not to flip them and rail her into the mattress. But he is willing to take orders, especially from her. He can feel her sphincter tight around his head as she slowly eases down onto him. He is shaking, trying to control his body from thrusting into her. Her ass is unbelievably tight, he didn’t know it would feel this good. 

Holy hand grenade, he feels so damn big in her ass. She is breathing though the stretching, she knows if she can get him in and relax, she will adjust. Panting out little breaths she finally makes it down his cock. She pauses there, forcing herself to relax with long breaths. 

“You ok?” he asks, trembling. He is so sweet. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” she breathes,”you are… big.”  

A red blush rises to his cheeks and he huffs out a breath, looking down and away. 

“Are you being shy?” her eyes narrow playfully as she leans forward slowly, moving on him. “Austin, darling, your big, gorgeous cock…” she can’t help but moan, “...is b- buried, in my tight, little, ass.  There is no room for shy now, sweetheart. 

Apparently they call each other pet names now. 

His jaw is set as he looks up at her through his long eyelashes. His tight little moans accent her movement. He is determined to not thrust as she slides up and down on him a few more times. 

She stops with him deep. His face is scrunched up trying to keep himself in check. Even so, he is utterly breathtaking. She leans down to kiss him. He involuntarily moans at the forward movement. 

“Oh look at you, all that control,” she taunts him, a slight panting to her breath, “when I know you just want to ramrod into me until you fill me. You wanna watch my pussy grasp at nothing as you fuck my asshole? You can,  I’m ready for it now.” she whispers in his ear.

“Oh… you vixen. I may ruin you,” the glint in his eye sparks as his lip curls into a smile, his hands clamping down on her hips. 

“I dare you to try.” she smiles slyly at him. It’s always better at this point, when they can take control. 

For a split second, Austin considers teasing her back. Pushing her off him and not giving her what she so clearly wants. But where is the fun in that? He locks his hands onto her hips and in one motion, rolls her over in the big bed still buried in her ass. 

“What I want, is to watch you come undone on my cock,”  he tries an experimental slow thrust into her. 

“Oh I will, OH! “ she moans below him with her head back, tits pushing forward, wrapping her  legs around his waist, pulling him further into her.

“Ohmigod.. so tight,” he moans as he rides her slowly. “Can I… are you?… fuck it’s so good, Aya.” He is lost. 

“Yes and yes…” she nods, “and you are right, it is.” God he feels so fucking good.

He continues to move slowly, just luxuriating in the sensations. His arms thread under hers, his hands cup her head. He shakes a little as he pushes in, inhales as he pulls back. It is so completely intimate. 

She is giving herself over to it, matching him breath for breath. Her fingers digging into his bulging upper arms. It feels so damn amazing. All her senses are focused on the friction. On the in and out of his cock. It winds her slowly tighter and tighter. She is about to reach between them to get to her clit. 

“I want to see it,” he says simply and suddenly. 

He sits back on his wide knees, pulling her with him. Her hips tilt and he nearly slips all the way out. 

“Oh fuck it’s so good Austin!” she moans loudly as he pushes back in.

“Fuck that is hot” his fingers casually pet her wet labia, exploring. Her pussy is engorged, open and willing. Her clit is glistening, beckoning for his touch.  His eyes are glued to their joining. 

“Oh lord, Austin,” she clenches, even the lightest touch magnified. 

He watches her pussy wink at him, he smiles deviantly. Pushing his cock deeper. 

“I’m gonna finger this pretty pussy now,” his voice is deep and authoritative, “and you are gonna cum.”

With a nod, she feels his ring and middle finger slide easily into her dripping pussy.  He begins to steadily work her.  Her eyelids flitter as he pushes and pulls his cock in her stretched asshole. His opposite thumb trails down her inner thigh and alights upon her clit, tracing a soft circle. It feels beyond amazing. 

“Oh, oh, oh” each separated by a panting inbreath. She opens the eyes she didn’t realize she had closed to see him staring at her. His nostrils flaring with lust. He looks dark and predatory. Patiently, steadily and inch by inch ensnaring her into orgasm.

She is like a mythological siren under him. Every whimpered vowel, every heave of her chest pulls at him. Her very being seems to be begging him to abandon his steadfast approach and just have at her ass. He will, he tells himself, as soon as she cums. He will pound his cum into her. It won’t take that long, she feels so damn divine. It’s like her tight little hole makes him feel bigger, more sensitive. It’s wild. 

Her breath begins to come in rapid gasps. Her hands grasping the back of her knees. She curls up, body straining to cum. 

“Please harder! Fuck me harder!” she begs.

 He refuses, keeping her on that sweet edge for just a little longer. His thumb, however, can’t help but flash across her clit. 

She is poised at the brink, in that maniacal place of almost. She wonders, in the back of her mind, if she’ll pass out before she cums, what with all her panting. His cock fills her ass over and over. His fingers burrow in her pussy, are there three now?  Then his thumb sparks across her clit and there is no more precipice to balance on, she is cast into the abyss. Her whole nervous system ablaze, lit up with his cock, switched on by his fingers.

“Austin, Austin, AUSTIN YESSS AUUUUUS-TIIIN!!" she screams from the depths of her soul. 

He’d heard women scream his name before, on the street, in bed, at red carpet events. He had never heard his name quite like this. It was primal, like a wild incantation. It triggered him deep in his primitive brain. It pried opened an inner damper as she squirted all over his hands. LIttle flecks of moisture peppered both their stomachs, her inner thighs and the root of his cock. His wet fingers dig now, into her thighs. His body let loose, he rages into her, slamming his hips against her ass.  

She keeps screaming “YES! YES! YES!”

He was right. It doesn't take long, or does it? Time has lost all meaning, only reaching the edge and leaping off it with her matters. She thrashes, trapped under his demanding body. She cums and cums, Jesus how much. 

Finally he thrusts deep, pumping his cum into her shaking ass. His ‘ugh’ begins as a whimper and cascades into a deep vibrating growl. His hips give a final jerk into her.

With the sudden cessation of his thrusts, Aya can feel his cock throbbing in her ass. She pants, strung out on vivid pleasure. Her eyes flutter open to see him above her, head hanging forward, his mouth hanging open. His fingers still clamped onto her thighs and shaking. He lifts his gaze to hers. They are both just shocked at how good it is. They stare at one another each trying to find a way back, an anchor point. She moistens her lips, dry from moaning and panting. The corner of her mouth lifts in a half smile. He returns it, licking his own lips. He moves to back away and pull out. 

“Wait!” she grabs his hands and he freezes, “go slow.” 

He nods, looking down at her empty swollen cunt. She reaches between her legs, rubbing her clit side to side with rapid strokes. He pulls out so slowly. It feels so fucking good, her pussy clenches, releases, clenches, releases. She shakes, cumming yet again, spine undulating. Her voice hoarse with moaning. When he is out, she curls up on her side, eyes closed, breath shaky. 

“Hey,” he curls up in front of her, “you ok?” He has no idea if this is normal or if he hurt her. 

She nods, trying to recover her breath. His arms wrap around her, holding her steady. She presses her forehead to his chest, needing the grounding. 

“Yeah, that was just… intense and fucking amazing,” she finally says.

“Mmm hmm,” he nuzzles into her hair, inhaling her scent.  

“Come on, we need to shower after that,” she says after several minutes. 

“Hmmm, yeah,” his voice is sleepy in her ear, but he pushes himself to sitting. 

Aya goes first, just wanting to wash her body, not her hair. Austin slips into the big walk-in shower with her, soaping up her back. She turns around to kiss him, his soapy hands gliding over her torso. 

“Lord you are gorgeous Austin,” Aya says, ”It feels like a travesty, to have you in my shower and not have the energy to fuck you, that’s twice now.” 

“You take my breath away, Aya,” he says simply. “It’s ok, we can take a rain check on hot shower sex.” Again with the promises of more to come.  

Aya is standing in the doorway, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her naked skin. Moonlight streaming in. She turns to see Austin step out of her bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Yup, a total travesty. 

She had offered him one of the guest rooms, but he said he preferred to sleep with her. She liked the idea of his beautiful self merely an arms reach away all night.

“If I wake you by riding your morning wood, will you mind?” she says both cheekily and seriously. 

“Not unless you mind me doing the same,” he smiles. 

“It IS the best way to be woken up, that and ba- ay -ay con,” Aya yawns. 

As he curls around her from behind, Kato balled up at their feet, she thinks just how good this feels, how much she has missed having something like this.  Before she drifts off, she quietly smothers her inner voice, the one that is reminding her of personal vows made long ago.

Austin feels her deep breaths, feels her fall asleep. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck.  It’s been a long time since he felt anything like this. Like a kid in love. Sure, he’s cared about those others, but this feels next level.  

‘Why am I having these feelings? Jesus, who is this woman?’ he thinks to himself. ‘It’s just an orgasm-induced oxytocin release, Austin, calm down,’ he tells himself. ‘Yeah but no,’ is his internal rebuttal, ‘I don’t think it’s just that. She is so… I don’t know… just...more. Maybe it’s just the newness of it all.  Well, I can either run for the hills, or wait and see how this all plays out.' He shakes his head, heaving a big sigh,  just before a well deserved sleep overtakes him.

[soshiharin]

looking out

summary: in which harin sees hajoon again

set: 5 nov 2019

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mention of food and drinks; swearing; angst

an: words in bold are korean, words in bold and italics are italian. send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin gasped as she was embraced in a hug before the door had fully opened. She wrapped her arms around her brother as he slightly lifted her off the ground. They pulled apart with a kiss on the cheek, walking into the apartment.

“So?” Hajoon asked as Harin got a good look at his townhouse apartment. He went into the kitchen to continue preparing their dinner.

Harin nodded, impressed at the place her brother called home. “It’s great. It really is.” She walked past the dining room and onto the patio. “The garden is a nice plus!” She called out as she returned to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Tommy was adamant on getting this apartment because of the garden,” he said, stirring one of his pans. Tommy was his close friend and roommate.

“Tommy is very smart.” She walked up to her brother, watching as he moved on to chopping an onion. “What’re you making?”

He gathered the cheeses and eggs that he was going to mix together. “I know you can’t cook, but can you really not tell?” He teased, measuring how much of each ingredient he needed.

Harin rolled her eyes. “This truly just looks like you put your entire fridge on the island.”

Hajoon paused from where he was fetching the herbs he needed. “That’s insulting. I’m making lasagna,” he told her, adding the fresh parsley to his bowl.

Harin looked over the pots and bowls on the island. “Now it looks… more recognisable,” she said, causing Hajoon to scoff as he began to grate his cheese. “How’s the restaurant?”

Hajoon had started a restaurant with Tommy in 2017. Their restaurant, Seoul in Rome, specialised in Italian and Korean cuisine, influenced by their upbringing.

“It’s going good, it’s going good. We bought the open space next door to ours, and we’re gonna turn that space into a fine-dining area. We’re going to add a kitchen on that side so that we don’t confuse the ingredients for the different sides.”

She walked around the island, standing by the barstools “That sounds exciting. I think. I’m not quite sure…”

“It’s exciting,” Hajoon said, getting started on assembling the lasagna. He spread two spoons of sauce over the bottom of the baking dish that he was going to use, adding two layers of noodles over the sauce to cover it. “Thanks to the money you give us every month, we were able to save all the extra cash and put it towards buying the open space.”

“Yeah, well… I’m a humanitarian.” She bragged with a shrug. “But I’m glad that everything’s going well with the restaurant. I’ll have to pay it a visit while I’m still in New York.”

“Sounds cool! I’ll give you a tour of the place and show you what we’re planning on doing,” he said, adding half of the cheese mixture and sauce. He added the remaining noodles, cheese and sauce before retrieving the aluminium foil and covering the dish with it. He placed the dish in his preheated oven, setting an oven for thirty-five minutes on his phone. He turned around to face his sister. “You know you can sit down, right?” He asked, staring at the barstool she was standing next to.

Harin rolled her eyes as she pulled out the nearest barstool for her to sit on. “Forgive me for trying to work on my posture. Eomma might kill me if I don’t start standing up straight.”

Hajoon chuckled, washing his hands before drying them. “Would you like anything to drink? I can offer you water, soda, fresh fruit juice, and wine,” he listed off, walking to his fridge.

“For a house owned by two men, you sure do have a lot of choices,” she teased, holding up one finger.

He understood her request, fetching a glass from the cupboard. “We’re not just two men, we’re two chefs, so our fridge is always stocked,” he told her as he poured her water before passing it to her.

She accepted it with a smile, taking a sip. She played with the end of her hair as Hajoon began cleaning up the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, noona?” He asked, putting the herbs he used away.

Harin shook her head as she answered, “Nothing’s wrong.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Then why are you playing with your hair?”

She stopped flicking the tips of her hair this way and that, reaching forward to hold her glass. “Um, I… I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, putting down the pots that were in his hand and moving to stand in front of her.

“Um… I–” she groaned. “I got back together with Dongwook,” she blurted with a shy smile on her face.

Hajoon inhaled deeply, his chest moving with his breath. “Hm,” he hummed before returning to organising the dirty dishes.

“Wait, that– That’s all you have to say?” She expressed her shock.

“What else should I say?” He asked, his voice void of all emotion.

“I don’t know. Maybe ‘Congratulations!’ or some shit like that?”

His back still faced his sister as he asked, “Why would I say that?”

“Because this is a happy moment for me and you’re happy for m–”

“I’m not happy for you,” he interrupted, causing Harin’s smile to drop.

“You’re not?”

“Why would I be?”

“I… I’m dating Dongwook again! We– He’s… We’re back together.”

Hajoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And why would I be happy about that?”

“He’s… He’s Dongwook. He’s great, he’s–”

“The guy that broke your heart?” He asked, turning around and crossing his arms. “Or is this a different Dongwook I don’t know about?”

Harin nervously bit her bottom lip as she watched her brother. “He’s the same one, but… he’s changed. We talked about it. I forgave him. You can be happy for me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The only times I had ever seen you cry were at concerts, at–at–at your plays, or on other random days, like my graduation. He had you crying everyday for months. So no, I won’t be happy that you’re back together with him, okay?”

Tapping her fingers against her glass, Harin tried again. “Well, he said his family is happy we’re together again.”

He scoffed, rubbing his forehead. “Of fucking course they are, Harper. Why wouldn’t they be over the fucking moon that you’re giving him another chance to break your heart, hm? I mean, I can’t believe how naive you are!”

“I’m not naive.”

“Then why are you doing this! Why were you expecting me to give you flowers and shit for telling me this? If I reacted joyfully, it would mean that I don’t give a shit about you,” he said, turning around to get started on the dishes.

“Hajoon-ah, I know that you have some resentment towards him, but he’s changed. I know he has, and if you just give him a chance, you’ll know it too. I’m a grown woman, okay? I can make my own decisions without you judging me.”

“And when those decisions leave you calling me because you’re having a panic attack and you can’t breathe, I’ll remind you of that.”

A silence overtook the kitchen, only the sound of cars outside filling the room. They didn’t speak for almost five minutes, both trying to calm themselves down.

“You’re the–” Harin swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You’re the first person I’ve told. You’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

Hajoon shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at his sister. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Harrison. Harrison! Are you being serious, right now?”

He sighed. “Can you take the plates out? They’re in the cupboard over there.” He pointed to his left at the overhead cupboards.

Harin nodded, feeling a dull stinging at her eyes. She sniffled, trying to regain her composure. “You know what? I lost my appetite, so I’m just gonna go back to my hotel.” She moved to stand up, waiting for him to say anything.

“You do that,” he said after almost a minute of silence.

“Okay,” she muttered. She walked past the living room and picked her bag up from the couch before going to open the front door.

“Woah! Hey,” Tommy greeted, standing by the door as if he were just about to open it. “Sorry to interrupt your sibling bonding session, I need to fetch something from my room.”

“It’s fine, I’m leaving anyway.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. See you next time, Tommy,” she said, pushing past him and walking down the long hallway. She turned the corner, continuing to walk down the hallway until she reached the elevator. Pressing the down button, she waited for the lift to come. After less than a minute of waiting, she heard hurried footsteps.

Tommy put his arm against the wall as he panted. “Harry said– Oh, just give me a second.” He took a few deep breaths. “Harry said to text me when you get to your hotel.”

Harin nodded, her lips pursed. “He doesn’t even want to hear from me. Great.” She hurriedly pressed the elevator button again.

“Hey, I know it’s not really my place to say, but… Harry may be younger than you, but he looks out for you like he’s older. I don’t know what your argument was about, but I’m pretty sure he was reacting from a place of protectiveness and–”

“I don’t fucking care what place he was reacting from,” Harin interrupted. “I just want this fucking elevator to work so I can go sleep.” She repeatedly pressed the button, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, uh, that button doesn’t work,” Tommy told her. He reached forward to press the up button, the elevator making a ding! sound as it began moving to her floor. “It’s getting fixed next week… But, just give him some time. I’m sure once he’s calmed down, he’ll tell you that he’s sorry.”

“Thanks, Tommy, but I… He needs to fucking grow up,” she muttered as the elevator arrived. “I’ll text you later,” she said, pressing the button for the ground floor before the doors closed.

Harin leaned her head against the back of the elevator with a sigh. She knew that Hajoon had some resentment towards Dongwook, but she didn’t know just how strong it was.She didn’t need his approval to do what she wanted, but to know that he was so against it… hurt.

©️ jang harin

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Taste of Home

Taste of Home

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Le Comte de Saint-Germaine

Tag: Established relationship Cooking Kisses Spicy lines Fluff

Word Count  991

Author’s Note: The song is La donna è mobile from Rigoletto written by Giuseppe Verdi.

A little something to celebrate Italy with Leonardo and his lover, in a ordinary day with a normal amount of dishes prepared from our italian chef, much to the delight of the residents, with some sweet and spicy adding, I very much hope will be of your taste like this little dish I prepared myself take a seat and enjoy the feast. 🥰

Tag list

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 

@william-rex @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty @lichtluv

@ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee              

@maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a summer day at the mansion, the whole nation simmered with perfumes and sounds he never heard of more pleasant, except the ones of his native country, an heavy sigh escaped from his lips at the thought as he shifted around the table, filled to the brim with his skillful hands creations.

La donna è mobile

Qual piuma al vento,

Muta d'accento - e di pensiero.

Sempre un amabile,

Leggiadro viso,

In pianto o in riso, è menzognero.

The fragrant perfume of white bread still warm from the oven placed in a plate next to the baci di dama, the unmistakable aroma of gianduia melted well with the bitter scent of coffee of the tiramisu, the yellow color of the polenta stalked in contrast with the red cover of the lasagna placed next to it, on a side of the candid tablecloth stretched a feast of pasta of any kind and pizza with various filling, enough to satisfy every taste, everything rigorously handmade following the recipes he known by heart. Amidst its chaos stood the improvised cook who do not even remotely cared about any intruder immersed in the task of stirring the red tomato sauce in the pot, carefully blowing air on it before savouring its taste rolling on his tongue as he hummed in delight, his fingers from time to time threw some ingredients in one of the pan like a magician practising his magic in broad daylight, bathing everything in sight in its warm hues.

È sempre misero

Chi a lei s'affida,

Chi le confida - mal cauto il core!

Pur mai non sentesi

Felice appieno

Chi su quel seno - non liba amore!

He let out a chuckle, laughing at the irony of singing about the love for a woman, his parents words ringed still clear in his ear. 

-Do not show us your face unless you have took a wife.-

-Ah if only they knew.

“What are you preparing today ?”

The arms of his husband wrapped around his torso, like the sun brushing away all his dark thoughts, smiling at the soft kiss he left on his neck

“Geez there are people watching us ya know ?” his low chuckle reverberated in his chest, a tone of defiance in his voice he loved so much hearing sing for him in the bed

“Who ?”

“Someone will surely come out of this frat house you create.”

a soft giggle escaped his lips as he pulled away, he leaned against the counter to face him as he spoke.

“I see you have given Sebastian the day off.”

“He deserved it that poor guy acting all up as he is our maid and butler at once.”

He dipped the spoon in the tomato sauce pot once more, bringing the point to his lips, it tasted like home, like the country he could not come back to if not as outsider or traveller, the one he still felt to belong, both italian and french at once even though he far preferred to call himself citizen of the world, inhabitant of the earth, belonging anywhere and nowhere at once, but when the light goes down and he had to find a shelter he knew exactly where to go, the same place he would have kept coming back to over and over again, the one and only he would have chosen in every universe in every timeline even after thousand years he would have still come back home to him, the only man who intrigued him, he felt to know everything and nothing of every time they talked, a mystery he would have gladly spend all eternity discovering, each side of him a precious treasure he collected in his heart.

Before he could do anything he moved to block him against the counter, a cat like smirk on his lips as he stared in his husband’s golden eyes sensual and alluring, leaning over to press a soft kiss on his nose, his gesture made him smile at his boldness, he never was good at masking his own desire, at least not like le Comte taught from a young age to conceal every emotion and so he took action cupping his face in his hands melting his own lips on his, lacing his own hands on his husband’s hips to steady him.

Their kiss was sweet and deep, intoxicating and exhilarating pervading each and every one of his sense leaving him speechless and astounded, butterflies swirling inside his heart, fluttering with all the love he felt for his husband, the sweetest of flavour invading his tongue spreading on his palate, it was the most delicious meal he had ever had in all his life and it was only the first course he though smiling to himself, for the even sweeter dessert that waited for them both in bed, late at night when all the others were asleep and the clock struck midnight signing the start of the time for lover.

Reluctantly they pulled away panting for air, lost in each other's gaze so much to not notice their butler peeking from the doorframe, sliding noiselessly away once he witnessed that forbidden view.

He kissed his forehead tenderly, revelling in the astoundment glimmering in his golden eyes 

“I love you so my ferret.” a smile so bright like the sun itself brightened his gorgeous features

“I love my cat too.” he smiled softly to him, feeling his lips leave a little kiss on his nose making him chuckle, he really did puzzled him one minute he was bold and the other shy, but he knew that despite all their bicker and banter their love was genuine, hidden deep in their hearts only for one another.

Their love confessed countless time with each moan and groan escaping their lips, with every kiss sealing their soul together and that night would have been not exception, basking in the soft alluring gleaming in his eyes at his heartfelt words murmured tenderly on his skin as they laid on their sides looking at one another with only the aster as guardian of their love, because it did not matter how much times they kissed or made love or how many refined dishes they tasted, he always had and always would have been his favourite flavour of them all, because to him his husband tasted like home.

[robottheodorlasso]

u draw the little guys in such a little guy way i want to eat ur art and then lick my fingers clean and give u an italian chefs kiss mwah mwah mwah

This is frankly one of the funniest images I can imagine thank you for the laugh anon, I’m glad you enjoy my work!

[maladaptive-jcb]

Chapter 2: Strokes of Familiarity

Jamie x female!reader fanfic

(fluff, safe for under 18)

Click here for chapter 1 if you missed it.

Summary: Reader is an independent artist who lives on her own in a small town and meets Jamie, a musician, in an art studio where their budding relationship formed through shared interests of different forms of art.

Warning: There will be talks about trauma and PTSD from domestic abuse and dissociative episodes throughout the story.

“Helloooo? Y/n? I said there’s another stack of books coming,” Adrian, my manager snapping his fingers in front of me.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say apologetically.

“What’s up with you today? You’ve been day dreaming a lot.”

There’s not a lot of employees here. It’s just me and a couple younger people who are looking for extra cash. I was Adrian’s first co-worker here and we’re more like family now than just co-workers to be honest. Adrian is older than me so he has more of that big brother energy. His thick reading glasses and brown slick-back hair were the first few things I noticed when I applied for the job.

“I’m sorry, Adrian. I didn’t mean to. Alright, look! I’m focused now!” Smacking my face with both hands in front of him to prove it.

“It’s not just that, you’re a lot… smiley… today. I don’t think I like it. You’re creeping me out,” he looks at me over his now lowered glasses.

“Oh, it's um- It's nothing, okay? I'm going to unload the books now. Now may I please go or are you gonna keep interrogating me?"

He squints his eyes at me. "This is not over, y/n."

Adrian has always been protective of me, especially when he knows the whole reason I moved up here. Telling him about a guy I just talked today is probably not a good idea. Besides, what is there to tell? That I had a coffee with a guy from class? I shouldn't even be all smiley about it yet.

There’s a lot of book donations coming here surprisingly. I clean them up a little before unloading according to their categories. Mystery, fantasy, true crime, science fiction, autobiography, vampires… You get it.

____

I glance at the antique clock sitting on the cashier's counter. It's 5:40 p.m. so it's close to closing time. That also means that he's almost here. I pick up the broom to sweep off some dusty areas while wondering if I even have the time to change my clothes. Although, crazy as it may sound, Jamie being spontaneous also got me all excited. I look around the store and Adrian is already leaving as he lets me close up after him. I finally let a tiny giggle escape my mouth now that I'm no longer within his earshot.

He’s here.

Jamie is five minutes early. Seeing his car pulling up suddenly turns my stomach into a knot. Why am I anxious? It’s just dinner between friends, right?

Before I get to open the car, he stops me and gets out from his seat. “Wait!” He did a little jog towards me and then opens the door for me instead.

“M’lady,” in his teasing tone again.

“My, my. Mr. Gentleman.”

Of course he looks amazing right now. Grey shirt with top half unbuttoned slightly revealing his tattooed chest, paired with a leather jacket that hugs his frames perfectly. His hair swept messily to the side and subtle silver chain on his neck. I step into the car and he carefully closes it before running back to his side and gets in.

“You’re early,” I say.

“And hungry!” he exclaims back. “I know this really good Italian place, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, yes I love Italian!” finally sensing my hunger. Apparently the knots in my stomach has more than one reason to appear.

“Perfetto!” his chef kiss motion follows along with it. “It’s kinda nice to have someone to go out with since I’m new in town. Thanks for joining me tonight,” he smiles gratefully.

“Well I didn’t really have a choice, didn't I?” teasing him about driving off before I could say anything.

“You were gonna say yes anyway though, weren’t you?”

“Well, I-“

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” his tone in playful mocking.

“Wow, really?” I jokingly scoff at him.

He starts the car and drives off to the main highway. I usually walk around town to get from one place to another. I have never gone this far through the highway except that one time Adrian needed me to pick up some new shipments with him. I'm starting to wonder if he's actually about to kidnap me.

“You know… I’ve wanted to talk to you too. In class,” his face focused on the road. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Oh?” My train of thoughts disappear as he spoke.

“It’s just, I feel so out of place there and I’m always struggling. I didn’t know what you would think of me. I mean, you’re very talented. It’s amazing.”

He did a quick glance at me before focusing back on the road. No smile this time. Just a look of serenity… or admiration? I can’t tell. It’s getting dark and the low light is casting subtle shadows that somehow highlight his jawlines even more.

“That’s… Wow. Thank you so much, Jamie.”

He glances at me again. That same look.

I clear my throat.

“But you’ve been improving so much too! I love some of your recent work. I’m very surprised how fast you learned."

A smile curls up his lips. His eyes give a faint glimmer in the shadows. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” I put my hand on his shoulder reassuringly. His fingers stop tapping as I did.

“Will you give me some tips next time we’re in class?”

I can feel myself beaming. “I thought you’d never ask.”

____

Chapter 3

Seems like you have a new budding friendship with Jamie now! Wonder how your dinner with him will go next? 🤔

[heyits-asher]

CLOSED STARTER for @leomlarson at Fired Up Pizzeria

"It's the cheese pull that's important, my dude. Watch — no, for real, watch!"

Asher demonstrates from the way he scoops his fingers under the corner piece of the Sicilian pie and carefully pulls it up to show that despite where the pizza cutter has sliced through the dough, the cheese stretches and stays connected. He furthermore performs a 'chef's kiss' gesture with his free hand and holds it in a stereotypical, 'Italian' way.

"Gooey, melted mozzarella. It is perfect. Mwah. And my munchies are starting to kick."

He plucks a piece of pepperoni from the top the munch on when the slice is finally moved to his plate. Not with the aforementioned stretch of cheese still keeping it connected to the whole pie, but Asher doesn't care. He's too busy sprinkling garlic salt and red pepper flakes all over it.

"So, my dude. broski. What's up? What's new? We're not at a party — I can't say, for once, because I was at one last weekend, just we're not accidentally bumping into each other at one. It's weird."