#dark chocolate mocha goodness

[lorenzokamerlengo]

Cookies - Dark Mocha Crinkles Recipe

While baking, sugar-coated mocha cookie dough crinkles and cracks, hiding a chewy center.

[curttu]

Dark Mocha Crinkles Recipe Mocha cookie dough rolled in sugar cracks and crinkles as it bakes, but hides chewy goodness in the center.

[pierreperkins]

Dark Mocha Crinkles Mocha cookie dough rolled in sugar cracks and crinkles as it bakes, but hides chewy goodness in the center.

[koa-z]

btw u can just make urself a mocha by pouring hot chocolate into a filter full of ur preferred ground coffee

it does have to be w/ water tho bc I think once you get the milk to the right temperature (it will be sweeter if you heat it a certain amount) it gets too dummy thicc for the filter and nothing will go thru

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Toji + Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face-fucking + sitting - clitoral play - double penetration; anal & penetration - reverse cowgirl + missionary (fusion?) dp positions - spitting - pet names (baby, mama, princess, pumpkin, sweetpea) - mention of drool/spit and tears.

Nothing beats the feeling of your husbands, Nanami and Toji, taking turns spoiling you rotten. Nothing but utterly raw skin-to-skin action with the two hands and sweat cascading on every skin of your body left untouched, and your lips barely keep your moans locked to your throat. The neighborhood may be sound asleep, yet that atmosphere is entirely different within the heat of this master bedroom.

Your face is glued to Nanami as he kisses you, pillowy lips taste his old, favorite scotch, same with the tongue flaying around with yours until he sucks on it to have you mewl so alluringly. “Mmm…hey, sweetpea.” He coos with his half-lidded mocha gaze warming you, straightening his posture on his knees as the glans of his cock meet your lips. And your mouth instantly waters as you suck him in with hallowed cheeks.

Meanwhile, Toji sits right underneath you, his face buried in between your thighs, scarred lips peppering your wetness with slow, lazy kisses that have you whimpering on Nanami’s shaft. The older man’s tongue burrows between your folds, groaning at the sense of you on his tastebuds, slurping anything and everything the muscle can get. And his nose bumps onto your clit, your muffled shrill music to his ears. “Fuck, mama, smell so good…taste too fucking good…”

So fucking sticky — that’s how you’re feeling at this moment. Your lips were coated with your spit, pooling over and painting around the blonde’s shaft. This pace of his hips quickens with haste, speed growing to where he gives in and fucks your face. Wails are muffled, and you submit to him with every hit to the back of your throat. God, he looks so disarranged, his golden locks not kept in their tidy form, sweat gleaming from the ceiling lights, and chocolate eyes scanning your face stuffed with his cock. He titters, watching you suck him off so eagerly, and rewards you with more ruts to spill your saliva down to your chin.

Jesus fucking Christ, Toji’s moans as he eats you from below are to die for, feeling his voice of pleasure reverberate from your insides. The raven-headed man has no desire to let you go, his firm hands on your thighs to keep you on him. “Oh, don’t do that,” he licks your clit sluggishly after pulling you back onto his tongue. “No runnin’ ‘way fr’m me, princess…” Your lower half can’t help but motion to ride on his muscle, and your husband contentedly sucks your labia until you shudder.

There’s too much going on at once – your lips are puffy and hot from the hits of Nanami’s pelvis drilling into your mouth, while Toji has your legs trembling with a mere flick of his tongue, evoking screams that are felt on Nanami’s cock. “Mmmff, mmph!” Shit, this is too much! Your head pounds because of the fair-haired one, and the dark-haired other makes your eyes crawl upwards. I’m gonna cum���!

“Haahh, ohhh, ohhhhshiiiit, I’m gonna cummm!”

“Hnnffuuck, I can tell…! Squeezing my dick like crazy, pumpkin…”

Your legs wrap around Nanami’s waist as he rocks into you. As the hour goes on, your body goes numb to the overstimulating sensations your husbands bestow on you — so drunk off them using their little wife like a fucktoy. Your swollen cunt, full of Toji’s semen and your wetness, is now being pumped by Nanami’s dick. Pistoning his length until his balls profound, excess substances seep down to the crevice of your ass. All the while, Toji is under you, his girth stuffing your asshole.

“Fuck, so tight,” Nanami curses, strands of his hair now stick to his forehead. “Trying to milk me dry, baby?”

“Heh, they’re doin’ the same here,” Toji snaps his hips concurrently with the other husband, rushed dicks brushing your walls too good you gasp. “Hm, ya want me to fill this nice ass of y’rs, too, baby? Bust my whole load like I did to y’r pussy?” He sneers at the twitch of your ass puckering, embarrassed to hear his words, yet your body can’t suppress the excitement. “Well, at least your body is honest enough; so needy for y’r husbands’ cocks, huh.”

You turn your face away from his. “Don’t say—ohoo!–say…” 

A hand from your fondled chest comes up to snatch your chin. “Heh, what’re ya shy fr’?” Toji kisses and chews on your bottom lip until you whimper, shoving and exchanging tongues with blissful moans. It isn’t long before Nanami bends down to peck your cheek, claiming your lips immediately after Toji lets go. 

“Hey, sweetpea, open for me.” Words you follow, your mouth opening for him to spit, drool falling gracefully down from one tongue to another before Nanami slams his face into yours, the rhythm of his hips increasing from the sound of your yelps being taken by his mouth.

Nanami kisses you passionately, hot air puffing from brushed noses and lips smacking, and Toji whistles at the sight. “Hot as hell…” Toji lays his lips on your neck and cheeks as his hands keep groping your chest, rutting up to your ass aimlessly, along with the blonde’s cadence.

Once again, senses are pulled into overdrive. Your body and nerves are too sore and keen from constant pleasure, tears threatening to streak from your eyes as Toji sneaks two fingers to please your clitoris. Wailing aloud into your husband’s mouth, you succumb to the climb of your crescendo, and it rattles your frame to the core. Both holes contract with each hit of your orgasm, causing the men to groan merrily and lock into your climax until tranquility. A few more rough thrusts to your clamping entrances, and they soon fall into their respective orgasm. 

Nanami breaks away from the kiss, spit breaking the connection while he removes his dick from you, and the spurt of his semen falling out with it, trailing from your hole and spilling to your ass still plunged with Toji. “Ahhh, you’re a mess,” he comments with a smile, rubbing your cheeks. 

And Toji sniggers in agreement. “Don’t hear ‘em complaining, though,” he brings your face to his to kiss. “Right, mama?”

You sigh into his lips with a simper. And as warm bodies and sticky skin relax and cool down, nothing beats the feeling of being spoiled by your husbands. 

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[lazyjellyfish300]

Birthday Sex

Synopsis: Miguel is working late on his birthday, leaving you needy and you can't resist getting started without him. Words: 859

CW: MINORS DNI, x Fem!reader, Miguel wears glasses(had the dadbod version of him in mind tbh). Masturbation ,Mention of breeding, fantasizing, just smutty in general lol

A/N: Happy Birthday to our Migs!!🎂 idk if I still got it tbh but this was in my drafts for a sec so I cleaned it up a bit and here ya go. Idk if it's good but I couldn't not do anything for his bday! 😭😭 @melpomenes-garden thought of you on this one ;)

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR FLUFFTOBER🎃 (don't worry, I'm cooking on my pending requests, I have 5 to write, I promise I see it💕)

Of all nights for Miguel to be working late, his birthday certainly was particularly inconvenient for you.

A burnt out candle that lingered in the air of toasted marshmallow pumpkin, gathering clouds outside your window that threatened to drizzle more raindrops onto the October city line of Nueva York. 

Leftovers that were boxed up hours ago in the fridge had lost their freshness. They didn't taste the same without your boyfriend eating with you. 

A chocolate cake and half drunk glass of Cabernet that was working its bitter rich magic and traveling swiftly to your neglected pussy. 

A finger stained with melted frosting, you allow the tip of your tongue to swirl around it, closing your eyes and imagining for just a moment that it's Miguel. 

Fffuck, Miguel...

No thoughts, only thoughts of Miguel. 

Miguel. 

Thoughts of his body...

You really should wait for him to get home so you can celebrate properly together but the desire is one step ahead of you, led hopelessly by the wine. 

His arms...his thick forearms with dark hair. Imagining the soft pads of your fingertips running all along them memorizing the pattern, feeling his veins, feeling his strength enveloping you, encased underneath his scorching skin. Him tugging you closer to him as he laid you on your back.  

This fine, strong man handling you and holding you down like you were his toy. 

Imagining his weight on top of you now, trying to picture that he was using his fingers instead of your own, aching to recall his delicious scent and that masculine musk, imagining the shape of the shadow of the outline of his naked body, those shoulder muscles rippling as he holds and cages you under him.

His plump, juicy lips and the way they felt as they trailed down your neck, feather light and dancing across the pattern of your skin, as though he was trying to burn their impression onto your body from his touch alone. 

Those thick fingers of his, calloused and rough yet handling you so delicately as they roamed your body in a loving search until they landed and magnetized to the treasure of your clit, his mouth falling open as he rubbed the aching bud in circles, endless mantra  softly pleading with you to cum for him until you were quivering. 

His hands pressing into your palms as he'd pin them into the mattress, squeezing them tenderly as he gave you every inch of his cock, over and over again, even lightly gripping your chin, his thumb slipping over your bottom lip as he made you watch his wet cock slide torturously in and out, bathed in thickening slick with each steady thrust. 

The way those delectable brown eyes of his utterly melted into yours, deep like the mocha you drank every morning, oozing with a lust only you could awaken.

Maybe even imagining he'd keep those narrow frame glasses of his on as he fucked you. Imagining them sliding down his nose as he looked up at you skillfully, slowly circulating your hips, keeping his cock nice and warm within you. This enormous man whimpering and trembling underneath you as you slid up and down and grinded your clit against the thick veins of his ample length.

Imagining his face dizzy red and delirious with passion as he gripped your ass cheeks, letting gravity do the work as he held you up then let you slap against the base of his cock with the sloppiest plap. The cream oozing out of you adding to the pooling juices of his love mixed with yours he was already planning on making you clean off of his fingers while he pounded you from the back later on. 

You feel your body quake under the overwhelming snap of pleasure that manifested in more wetness seeping out of you and onto the silken sheets. The apex of arousal rendered you numb as you imagine listening to Miguel softly panting above you, his happy trail smeared in glossy strings of cum. 

You hum peacefully, sleep already descending rapidly upon you, but a voice yanks you promptly out of it. 

"Started without me?" 

"Miguel!"

Your face heats deeply, but you bite your lip, concentrating on his voice, the way it seduces and settles you, the way it drips so beautifully. The baritone awakening the latent heat settling between your thighs. Not bothering to close your legs, gifting him his first present of many tonight with your shiny, glistening cunt. 

"No te preocupes, definitely not complaining about what I'm looking at right now..." He whispers before he captures your lips in a soft kiss that quickly escalates into something heated and sloppy. "Though so impatient..."

He pulls back momentarily to breathe, his sharp jaw completely slack that weakly curled into a smug look of satisfaction, eyes darkened as he gripped your thighs before flipping you on your stomach.

"Happy Birthday to me..." He mutters before his thick tongue teases then flattens against your soaked folds, burying into your ass as you softly whine. 

"Gonna give me at least two more before I make you a mommy tonight, right baby?"

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 1

-Imagine that after John Wick wins his freedom from the High Table, he [re]retires to your sleepy little mountain town, where you work in a coffee shop...

-Your quaint little town tucked in the mountains is the kind of place people go to get away from it all, and you can’t help but wonder what Mr. Wick is running from. He is an unfairly handsome man. You nearly make a huge fucking fool of yourself, the first time he approaches your counter, so taken that you could hardly speak. For all his good looks there is something compellingly melancholy about him. You see it in his soulful dark eyes, and the set of his shoulders. You can see this man carries a weight beyond what anyone of his years should bear.   

-He becomes a regular at your little coffee shop, and you get over your shyness with him. He’s soft spoken, sometimes a little grumpy, but usually impeccably courteous compared to some of your unbearably entitled clientele visiting from the Big City for the ski resort or the hiking. He never orders anything fancy, just black coffee, and he likes to stay for an hour or so in the cozy cabin atmosphere of your shop. He favors a corner table tucked in the back by the river-stone fireplace, usually reading an old book, though sometimes you think he just sits, his attention fixed beyond the page he’s on, eyes not really seeing the room.

-You manage not to stare too hard, when you see him without gloves for the first time, and realize he is missing his left ring finger. You are not repulsed. You just wonder what happened to him.

-In time you notice he barely touches his unadorned coffee, and you wonder if he even likes it. You don't know where you get the cheek to tease this so-serious man. “Do you just order it like that to match your clothes?” You’ve never seen him in anything but head to toe black.

At first he looks at you as though you have grown a second head. Then he answers, completely dead pan, “Maybe it matches my soul.” 

You snort with laugher, not believing him.

Maybe you should have, looking back.

“Sure, Mr. Wick.”

The next day you surprise him with a cup of something you concocted with him in mind. It's nothing too scathingly original. Just a dark chocolate mocha, with a splash of hazelnut, and just a bit of steamed cream. “Try this,” you say, setting it on his table totally unsolicited. You feel validated, for he's barely touched his black coffee again. 

“What is it?” he asks, peering at it suspiciously. 

“I just think you might need something a little sweet.” 

He looks up at you through his long hair, and you don't know why, but a little chill runs down your spine. It's not fear, exactly. It's like walking in the woods, and stumbling on a powerful animal on the trail. Something that maybe could eat you, if it chose, but instead just disappears back into the dark trees.

You do not pester him anymore that day, even if it is the highlight of your shift sometimes. But when you go to clean up his dishes you do notice the cup you gave him is empty. 

He doesn’t come in for almost a week after that, and you fear that maybe you were too pushy and pissed him off with your boldness. 

Maybe it's a little pathetic, the way your heart leaps when he walks through the door again.

“I’ll have…whatever that thing was you made the other day.”

You try not to gloat, but your lips twist in a smile.

-It becomes your little mission in life to make this man smile, and if just the corner of his mouth ticks up at some point during his visit you feel as though you’ve accomplished a good thing.

Maybe it’s totally a cliché, but you’re an artist, and when you’re not making coffee, or cleaning up coffee, you draw bright designs on the chalkboard around the menu with your pastels. You make elaborate landscapes and art nouveau maidens inspired by Mucha. People in town seem to enjoy your weekly designs, which is nice, even if it’s not entirely the recognition you crave. Four years of art school just to doodle on the chalkboard, you can hear your father say. He’s not wrong, but it still stings.

One day, you sketch Mr. Wick reading in the corner on the back of a discarded receipt. He is…such a lovely man. When you walk past you slip it on the table for him. You don’t let yourself watch his reaction. If you had, you would have seen his expression soften, the stony façade cracking even if just for a moment.

Is this how you see him? Not some broken down old man, the way he absolutely feels after his war with the High Table, but something…not unpleasant to look at.

You don’t know it at the time, but this is the action that sets off an avalanche. You wake a sleeping beast in him, and a dark obsession begins to kindle.

[dietmtdewbabynewyorkcity]

HOW I’VE BEEN SUCESSFULLY LOSING WEIGHT: Notes from a former binge eater ♥️

*this guide is to show how ~I~ do things and offer advice on how to do it MY way. I am in no way encouraging anyone to do themselves harm. First off,

HEALTH IS WEALTH.

That being said.. this is literally the longest I’ve ever gone without bingeing. It’s just,,, easy this time. Once you get a feel of what it’s like to be skinny you just don’t crave junk as much anymore bc you KNOW it’s not worth it. The trick is to eat clean 90% of the time and allow your favorite treats 10% do the time. Fit them into your calorie limit!!! Here’s some personal favorites that have helped me lose like 20lbs in the past 2 months.

I tend to do one higher- calorie drink during the day (protein shake, Starbucks, etc) and one healthy filling but low cal meal and a sweet snack at the end of the night.

LOW CALORIE 90%

Mediterranean salad (~150): mixed greens, chopped bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, red onion. Little bit of feta cheese. Balsamic vinegar (not dressing or vinegarette!!!!) I don’t add meat but you could totally add chicken for low cal high protein choice. You could also add olives but I don’t fw them.

Chocolate Protein shakes from the gas station (loll). They’re 220 cal on average and a great treat. Strawberry one is good too.

SEAWEED SNACKS they’re literally 30-60 calories for a pack and kill my urge to eat chips!!! Please give them a try!

Soups. Soups that are already portioned and have the calorie amount posted. I add extra seasonings and spice to boost metabolism.

Coffee!! With almond milk and a little coffee creamer. It’s worth the calories if you want a coffee just make one it’s better than going to Starbucks.

Sushi: I’m vegetarian so I get an avocado and cucumber roll. It’s so good with fresh ginger and a little soy sauce. Sometimes I will be craving it allllllll day and have it as my OMAD so rewarding 🥹

Miso soup>>>>>> add tofu and seaweed and onions!! And mushrooms if you like them.

Monster Ultra energy drinks,,,, yeah I know they’re bad for you but I love them.

Fruits!!! I especially love strawberries, watermelon, cherries, blackberries, pineapple and mangoes.

TREATS 10%

Trail mix: dried cherries, pecans, walnuts, pistachios, cashews. High in calories but perfect for killing hunger. High protein keeps you full and muscles strong, high healthy fats will keep your hair and skin and nails beautiful.

Chocolates: SMALL PORTIONS. if you can’t eat just eat a piece without bingeing, do NOT buy a big bag. what I do is I buy a bar of whatever chocolate I’m craving for my bf and we share it piece by piece. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white, hazelnut, with coffee beans, with toffee, fruits, chocolate is the best thing ever 🍫

Starbucks! My fav drinks are matcha lattes (hot/iced), iced white chocolate mocha, caramel macchiato, and occasionally a pumpkin spice latte. Peppermint mochas on the holidays. Oat milk always

Baked goods. Same deal as the chocolate, ONLY BUY THE PORTION YOURE GOING TO EAT. If you have been craving a croissant, go get one. One. Don’t buy a whole dozen of them. You will end up bingeing trust me. My favs are cinnamon rolls <3

Habits

I’m going to the gym!!! Consistently for the first time in my life. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Spend 30 min on the treadmill alternating between incline walking and easy paced jogging. Put on a YouTube video. Wear pink and bring a cute water bottle. You have to make an experience out of it! I stick to cardio and full body stretches plus ocasional (light) strength workouts w my bf.

I don’t drink anymore. Just 🍃. Alc is so high in sugar and carbs and it’s literally poison bro. I know it’s hard to stop but once you do you’ll feel so much better.

I rarely weigh myself. I’m at my bfs house all the time so I only step on my scale maybe 3 times a month. It’s been a game changer!!!

MINDSET

I practice mindfulness and speak kindly to myself. Basically sweetspo + affirmations to myself all the time.

Taking more pride in your appearance will also help motivate you. You think you’ll still want to binge after you took a full body shower, clean PJ’s or outfit, painted your nails, skincare and makeup done, whitened your teeth and lit a candle? No thanks.

Limit stupid, negative, useless media consumption. Watch things that have to do with your hobbies/ interests and your social media algorithms begin to kinda clean themselves up over time. My pages are all about exercise, study blogs, beauty tips and sciencey stuff. No more drama or celebrity nonsense. Cut down your following!!

Remember you only have one life on earth. You’re young and hot once. Don’t you want to grab this chance while you have it? Unfortunately your beauty is your currency especially as a woman, so if there’s anything I can do to give myself a better life I will. Losing just a few pounds of fat will make the craziest difference in ways you’d never expect. Free and discounted stuff. More people smile at you and listen to what you have to say. Both literal and figurative doors will be opened for you.Clothes fit better bc they’re more flattering when your body is fit and healthy. While it feels good to get validation from other people, the best part of it is looking in the mirror and feeling proud instead of ashamed. The inner confidence that comes from successful transformation………….there’s no other feeling that compares. If you know, you know. I’m just saying,, the choice is yours 🤷🏼‍♀️

[daengtokki]

Warm

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 2.5k

rating: fluff/explicit/18+ (contains oral sex) ಇ

contains: domestic idol!Seungmin — oneshot written as a continuation of Blind Date! ૮ฅ・ﻌ・აฅ

✩彡

The room is cold. The two blankets you have tucked up over your head aren’t doing very much at all. You could get out of bed and turn the thermostat up, but that would require leaving this nest that you worked so hard to warm up.

It can’t possibly be morning though, so why are you awake? It feels like night still. It feels dark and cold and very very quiet.

You run your hand across the chilly sheet and feel for a body. Seungmin’s body. He’s not there. Why wouldn’t he be there? Now you’re forced to peek out and investigate. The room is pitch black, curtain closed tight, tv turned off (you distinctly remember falling asleep with it still on).

But the door is cracked, just a little bit. The faintest glow is coming through, and you can tell right away that it’s coming from the kitchen, possibly the living room.

You yell out his name, but it comes out like a feeble, sleepy groan. Shit, I’ll have to get up.

You try yelling again. This time it echoes through the room, but you’re not sure it made it through the crack in the door and into the kitchen. He doesn’t answer.

Slowly you sit up, keeping one of the blankets wrapped tight around your shoulders and chest. You swing your legs up and over the side of the bed and search the floor for a pair of slippers. None.

The bedroom is carpeted, but nothing else in the house is. Touching your feet down here is no big deal, so you tiptoe to the dresser and pull out a pair of his socks. It takes some work to get into them, seeing as how your joints are frozen, but you manage.

Now to find Seungmin. He doesn’t mind the cold as much as you do, but he can’t be enjoying this.

The floor creaks as you cross the hallway. It’s definitely one of the kitchen light glowing, but the living room is lit up now as well. He’s standing by the kitchen sink, electric kettle in one hand, the other stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

“Minnie!”

He jumps, spilling water hot water onto the counter. “Fuck!”

“Sorry.” You shuffle closer to him, “I yelled for you, twice.”

“Why are you being so sneaky?!”

“I yelled for you!” You whisper it this time. “Why is it so cold? Why are you up?”

“The heat won’t kick on.” He finished pouring hot water into his mug. “And I woke up…couldn’t get back to sleep. Do you want some?”

You look into the mug as he stirs his hot chocolate, “yes please…you know, this never happened at my old apartment.”

“Your old apartment was always a thousand degrees.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

He gets into the cupboard again and pulls out your mug. “Pick one.” He gives you two different hot chocolate options. You choose the mocha one.

“My body knew you weren’t there.”

“That’s cute.”

“I know,” you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He’s still pretty warm. “Are you coming back to bed?”

He mmhmm’s you and hands you your mug, “we will worry about the heat tomorrow, I guess.”

“Good.”

——

You set your mug on the bedside table and crawl back into your chilly pile of blankets. Seungmin finds the tv remote first and clicks it back on before doing the same. The glow in the room makes it feel a little warmer; the hot chocolate helps a little, too.

“Your legs are cold.” He pulls you a little closer when you wrap yourself around him. “Pants would probably help.”

“Yours are warm.”

“You’re gonna suck all of the warm out of me.”

“That’s usually the plan.” You bury your face against his side and relax. He yawns and pushes himself a little further under the covers. It’s comfortable. And it’s warm.

“Seungmin?”

He lets out a soft yeah. It’s almost a whisper, and it sends a little chill down your back. You almost forget what you were going to say.

“I’m not very tired anymore.”

“You just have to get warm again.” He rubs his hand in circles over your back, but that just wakes you up even more. “Close your eyes.”

Instead of closing your eyes, your fingers find the hem of his hoodie and make their way underneath. You can hear his reaction in your head before he even notices what you’re doing.

He flinches and you can feel his stomach flex under your cold palm, “no no no!” His sets his hand over yours on top of the fabric and kicks his feet, but you have him trapped. “You’re so mean.”

You pull your hand back out and push yourself up on the bed a little, just until you’re face to face with him. He’s smiling—you kiss around his mouth until he closes his lips for you. But you only peck them once before moving along his jaw and to his neck.

“Oh, you’re really not tired.”

“Are you? I can stop.” You climb on top of him anyway and work your way across his throat—at least where you can get to with his clothes still in the way.

“I’m good.”

You shove both hands under his hoodie and slowly move your palms up either side of him. His hips shift under you; stomach tightens, a little sound escapes his lips.

“Your hands are so cold,” he laughs and brings you in closer, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders at the same time. “Come here.”

You latch onto his mouth again and kiss hard until he relaxes into his mound of pillows. One of your hands move down from his ribs and along the outside of his waist and hip, kneading gently until you get a handful of thigh. He jumps a bit— he’s ticklish— but settles back immediately when you soften your touch.

He makes more room for you between his legs. You take the opportunity to slide your open palm to his inner thigh and underneath his shorts. Seungmin moans into your mouth when you touch him, and then giggles, “just take them off, please don’t tease me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You can’t tease him the way he teases you, you’re too impatient for that. “I mean, I will…” you sit up on your knees and look at him. The blanket slips from your back and piles up behind you, “…take them off,” you finish your thought as you look down at his legs spread open in front of you.

He’s propped up on his elbows, looking down at himself, and then at you. You reach behind for the blanket and throw it over your head, and then disappear under it.

“So I don’t get to wa—” he stops abruptly and laughs. “Oh, be gentle please.”

“I always am,” your voice is muffled between him and the thick blanket. You pull gently at the waistband of his shorts until they come down just a bit, showing more soft skin. You place a kiss there and Seungmin flinches and you can see him hard and twitching beneath the fabric already.

“That’s teasing.”

You sush into his stomach and wrap your hand around him, still keeping his shorts on. He bucks his hips up again, this time much harder, so your hand slides smoothly over him. When he settles back on the bed, you pull down the fabric until the head of his cock peeks out. You put your lips on him and listen carefully for any little sound he might make.

He doesn’t disappoint. His groan comes out husky, and his stomach sucks in as he keeps himself steady. Your tongue slides up and over, and then down the length of him, getting him as wet as possible.

Just as you’re working him as far into your mouth as you can manage, you feel a cold burst of air. You don’t let it distract you, but as you slowly come back up, you sneak a look at him, and he’s smiling down at you. You can just make him out in the glow of the tv.

“That’s much better,” he says it in almost a whisper, “do it again.”

You don’t look at him, but you listen. His cock disappears completely in your mouth again. You hold him in as long as you can manage, and right before you slowly release him, you feel his hand brush the side of your face.

Now you lock eyes as you slide him out, making a mess of spit as you go. His mouth hangs open a little and one corner of his mouth twitches into a grin. You take him fully in your mouth once more before wrapping your fingers around him.

Seungmin lays back and sighs, enjoying the steady grip of your hand and the warmth of your mouth. You listen to the little hitches in his breath as you speed up—slow down—speed up a little more.

Suddenly his hand is on the back of your neck. You didn’t notice him sit up again. Now he’s looking down on you, gripping you tight but letting you keep your own pace.

You moan when he hits the back of your throat, and he holds you there.

“Do you like that?” He speaks softly, still kneading into your neck, but gently, and with just enough pressure to keep you there.

Another moan to answer him. Your eyes start to water, and you pull him in a little deeper even though you know you shouldn’t. You need to come up for air.

He senses it and softens his grip on you, runs his hand down your back until he can reach the hem of your sweatshirt, and pulls it up. The tips of his fingers tickle as he slowly moves them over your skin, and you have no choice but to release him. You put your hands to work so you can catch your breath.

“That’s good,” he wipes at your messy lower lip with his thumb and holds your gaze as you stroke him. His eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lip to try and stifle a groan, but it comes out like a desperate mmm instead. He laughs at himself before looking down at you again.

“It must be,” you get up on your knees and pull him closer with your free hand so you can kiss him, but all you manage is a few bites at his lower lip. He grabs your hips and pushes you down hard on the blankets.

Just for a moment, you remember the coldness in the room, but Seungmin is on top of you before it matters. He kisses at your neck and pulls at the collar to get to more skin. His hands reach under your sweatshirt and fingers brush over hard nipples, but doesn’t attempt to pull it off of you. In fact, he pulls it back down over your stomach as he kisses further and further down.

“You’re still cold,” he laughs and hooks his fingers in the band of your underwear, slides then down your legs and discards them. Then his hoodie comes off— also thrown to the floor, before he leans forward and sucks at the skin on your inner thigh.

This he does for an achingly long time, because he’s much more patient than you, and so much of his pleasure comes from the wait. Even when you whine his name, he acts like he doesn’t hear—just keeps kissing and licking at his own pace.

Eventually though, he does give in. His hands slide roughly over your thighs and he pushes them even further apart. You feel his warm breath on you first, then his mouth. The contrast of the cold room and the heat of his tongue gives you goosebumps all over.

You know he’s holding himself back, but it’s still enough to get a whimper out of you. He moans back in response, and then the heat is gone. When you peek down at him, he’s looking back, mouth hovering inches above you.

“Minnie…”

“Yeeaaah?”

He goes back down and kisses your thigh again.

“Stop”

“I did”

“You’re a jerk”

“I know,” he closes his mouth over you and runs his tongue up until he hits your clit. His lips close around it and he licks gently until you push your hips into his face. You can feel his teeth graze lightly against you, and it makes you shudder.

You push into him again and reach down to run your fingers into his hair. He lets out a gravelly moan and you feel the vibration run through you, but he holds you down to keep you from moving.

Lips close tight around your clit again so he can suck. You can hear the little kissing noises he deliberately makes every time he releases you and latches back on again. It’s too much, and you feel yourself getting close to coming. You were already halfway there before he pushed you back onto the bed.

He stops again—makes his way back to your thighs—sits up again and looks at you, gives you his best cute, innocent smirk. It would be innocent, if it wasn’t for the wet mess all over his lips and chin. He dives back down and teases…uses the tip of his tongue to just barely touch you. It sends little sparks of pleasure through you, but it’s not enough. He knows that.

You tug his hair again. It gets his mouth moving. He licks and kisses, and you have to focus on not coming yet, because you want it to last so much longer. He adjusts himself for better leverage, and two fingers slide in easily, reaching and pushing at just the right spot. He presses and licks hard, like he’s trying to make his tongue and fingers meet.

Seungmin looks up at you, lips tight around your clit. You can’t hold it off anymore. It rises again, slowly. You’re warm all over, your thighs start to shake despite his grip on them. A smile lights up in his eyes when you buck your hips to his mouth. You let yourself cry out, a mix of fuck and oh god and Minnie fills the room.

He lightens his touch and flicks his tongue across you until your hips lift and you cry out again, loud enough to echo through the room. The release lasts longer than you expect, and he doesn’t slow down until your moans turn into steady, heavy breaths.

But when you settle, he keeps eating, unable to get enough. You reach for his hair and pull again, because now you’re too sensitive and his mouth is too much.

He stops, gives you a moment, then slides his tongue over you once more, just to see your body shake again.

“Minnie,” you breath out, this time a little more coherent. He’s kissing his way up your stomach, but you hear his little hmm? from under your sweatshirt. “Come here.”

You gently tug at him until he pops out and looks at you with sleepy eyes.

He plants a loud kiss under your jaw. “Yes?”

“I wasn’t finished with you.”

“No, that finished me,” he laughs into your ear and tucks his arms underneath you. “Now I’m tired.”

“And cold.”

Seungmin lifts and drops you down on the pillows before pulling the blankets up to his neck. He folds himself around you, pulls you tight against him, and places a kiss on top of your head.

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man-Part Ten (the end)//W.W.

Info/Warnings: Wonka family fluff, smut at the end, calling cum “cream,” another baby making session hehe, licking chocolate off of the body, use of ice for sex play

A/N: This is kinda long, grab a snack maybe.

The third Wonka baby, a little boy, was named Cotton, as in cotton candy. Willy couldn’t name his children after anything other than candy. You had to actively stop him from giving your child the name “Chocolate.” But Cotton was cute, and sweet just like his older siblings, Maple and Mocha.

Willy told you he liked the name ‘Cherry’ for when you had another girl together. You thought it was bold of him to assume that you’d continue having more of his children. You loved him, but hated him for always being right.

After your new son was born, it was finally time for you to become Mrs. Wonka. It was your wedding day. All of the original scrubbers happily helped you and Willy orchestrate the most beautiful wedding.

It was all traditional white ribbons and touches of cotton candy pink. Your bridal bouquet was two shades of pink roses with the tiny white flowers of baby's breath.

You thought it would be a little silly for you to wear a white dress, since this was your second, and albeit, last wedding, and Willy had made you a mother three times over. Thus, you decided on an adorable blush pink gown that was satin and chenille to the floor.

Willy looked handsome as ever, as you had helped fix his curls to lay in beautiful heap on his head. You were used to working with the texture of his hair; two of you children had the same curls, and though you knew baby Cotton would most likely have the same also, he was too little to tell just yet.

Daddy Wonka wore a dark brown suit, it was an homage to chocolate, but not too over the top, which you appreciated. You thought the rich color looked quite nice on your man. He wore a boutonniere that matched your flowers. He cried as you recited your wedding vows. He was so soft, but you knew how happy he was. He had come a long way. And before you knew it, he was wiping your tears away too.

.......

In time, your kids grew, and the success of the chocolate factory allowed your family to have a rather nice life. Willy was able to hire more workers and spend more time at home with you and the kids. You and Willy would spend the workday at the factory, with you mostly in your office and Willy overseeing the candy making. And then you'd spent the latter portion of the day with the kids.

Maple and Mocha remained playful and curious, like their father. Willy would play with them in the chocolate room and let them try out new flavors he was creating. But little Cotton was more on the reserved, quiet side. He liked hanging out with you in your office. He was good with numbers and figuring, and he had a knack for solving problems, even at an early age.

All three kids got along and played well together, for the most part. They would fuss and fight now and then, like all siblings. But while the twins ran around and picked fights with each other, Cott liked to climb up into his Daddy's lap and ask him about his Grandma Wonka and how Willy remembered making chocolate bars with her. The first Wonka chocolate.

"And she would be so proud of you and your brother and sister." Willy would say to his youngest baby after looking back fondly and telling him the stories of his childhood with his mother.

You hoped you'd never forget the nights when Willy would hold little Cotton in his arms, singing "Pure Imagination" so softly, so angelically. And your sweet baby would fight the sleep that called him, but alas, his green eyes would flutter behind long lashes, and little curls would fall onto his sleepy face as his father's voice would lull him into slumber.

Willy's zest for creativity was passed to on Mae, who would spend her childhood using crayons to create designs for her Dad's candy ideas, all the way down to the style of the packaging. Her eye for color was impeccable. She never lost her sweetness, but she did develop an edge for the dramatic. Neither Willy nor you could complain about her over-the-top flair, because she was responsible for a lot of Wonka's eye-catching, and best-selling product designs.

Her twin brother was also like their father, in his love for the experimental side of the candy making. Mocha loved thinking up flavor combinations and bringing those ideas to fruition alongside Willy in the factory. There were many times where the young boy and his father would come home in need of sparkling soda to ease their stomach aches from eating too much sugar and mixing some of the wrong ingredients together.

Little Cott, however, seemed to inherit your mind for business. He loved his Daddy, of course, but he stuck to you quite often. He was always a serious, yet thoughtful child. He was a sensitive boy, and though he wasn't as into the candy making process like his artistic siblings, he was just as sweet and loving as they were. You had to admit, it was nice having your Cotton as a constant companion, as your older two kids were their father's little shadows.

As for you and Willy, things never changed, if they did it was your love growing stronger and deeper with every moment you got to spend together.

Nights of returning to the factory to visit the secret chamber never ceased. Anytime you and Willy wanted to be together and unwind, or let all of your fantasies come to light, you called one of your friends or your parents to babysit and made your way back to the chocolate factory.

Now, you could still have intimate nights at home, but three kids made it difficult at times. And in your private room, no one would ever bother you or be disturbed by anything that happened in there.

........

"Can we have another baby? I think the time is right." Willy asked you one evening after dinner. The kids were occupied with whatever game they were playing amongst the three of them.

You were surprised at his question; it was the first time you'd discussed the idea with seriousness in a long time. "You aren't happy with three kids?"

"Of course, I am, honey. That's not why. I know that you wanted to wait awhile, and the twins are almost seven and Cotton is five. I want to have just one more experience raising a baby." he took your hands, "Please, my love? Just one more, that's it. One more sweet little one, it makes me happy, creating a human that's half of you." he caressed your face, looking at you with puppy eyes. The eyes you could not say 'no' to.

"You're right. And you've been very patient, Willy. I love that you've let me take my time on deciding. My answer now is yes." you smiled, squeezing your husband's hands.

Willy grinned widley, "Really? We can?!"

"Yes, let's have another baby!"

Willy cheered and picked you up in his arms, spinning you around. "Oh honey, I'm so happy right now! I love you, y/n."

You hugged him tightly, "I love you too, Willy."

"What are you two so excited about?" quipped Maple, showing a little sass at the ripe age of nearly six and a half.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about, young lady." you responded. You didn't want to spill any beans and get the kids excited for something that hadn't happened yet. "Now, go on upstairs, it's almost time for baths."

"Ugh, I don't want to take a bath tonight." your daughter grumbled.

"Maple Wonka, don't you sass your mother, now do as she says." Willy demanded, using his stern Dad voice.

Mae rolled her eyes, "Fine." she huffed. She, along with her brothers, made their way upstairs.

As you watched them go, Willy put his arms around you from behind, and kissed your cheek.

You put your arms on his and rested your head back against him, "Mae is going to be the one to give us a run for our money." you sighed.

"Oh, it's going to be okay. She's strong, like you, but it's not a problem."

"Hmm." you put your hand in his curls, "I hope you're right."

"I'll go make sure bath time goes smoothly." he kissed your temple, parting from your embrace, "And you can think up a time for us to start making a baby."

As he started walking away, you said, "What about tomorrow night? At the factory?"

He pivoted on his heel and his eyes were wide when he caught your gaze, "Oh, that soon? Honey, I'm so excited." he said, running over to kiss your lips as you giggled.

............

The next night, Willy tied you to the bed, and had poured warm chocolate all over your nude body. He teased you with his tongue, swirling over your hard nipples, trailing down your tummy, dipping into your navel, and slipping down between your legs as he lapped up every trace of the chocolate.

He got you all worked up, sweaty, and dripping wet. Your body ached and writhed in anticipation.

He came back over to the bed with a medium sized metal bucket in his hands. "Some ice." he announced, "In case the chocolate was too warm for you."

You nodded, and he went ahead, placing a cube of ice on your lips first. You couldn't help but lick the ice as it was near your mouth, and you gave his fingers a tiny nibble as well.

He ran the ice from collarbone to collarbone, then downwards, over your nipples, making you gasp.

Willy smirked at the effect the ice was having on your body.

You held your breath as he dragged the ice down your stomach, your ribcage inflating as you held your breath. As you let out your breath, your back arched as you felt the ice on your clit, melting and dripping between your folds. Your skin was on fire, and the ice was a shock. It was almost too much. Your man had a wicked imagination.

The ice was taken away, "Feel alright, y/n?" he asked, still being your sweet Willy at this point.

"Yes." you said, weakly.

"Excellent." he said, setting the bucket of ice down. Then, he leaned down close to your ear, "Now, I'm ready to breed you." Dominant Willy had arrived. You could barely contain your excitement as he untied your wrists and ankles.

You lay on the bed as patiently as you could, and he climbed on top of you. He took your legs, propping them all the way up on his shoulders. You whimpered, as he made eye contact with you. You feet hung up on either side of his head. With a little thrust of his hips, he was inside of you.

You'd been making love to Willy for years now, sex in every sense of the word, a deep, trusting sexual relationship that you never imagined you'd have, and still, each time was like the first. You looked back to the time you took his virginity on the bear skin rug that you so despised. You fell in love right then. You knew he was special from the beginning.

"Are you gonna make me a Daddy again, my sweet?" he asked, thrusting softly, pushing his curls back as he looked down at you.

"Yes, baby. Give me that Wonka baby cream, please." you whined.

Willy dipped down, kissing you hard and he quickened his pace, "I'll give it to you.”

Your husband kissed you repeatedly, and kneaded your hips as he rammed you. You knew as his thrusts became sloppy and his breath ragged, he was close to coming. He put his forehead on yours, letting his sweat and your mix together.

You ran your hands over his strong back, his arms, then held his handsome face, “I love you, Willy Wonka, I want your baby.” you cooed.

“Oh, I love you.” he huffed, “You should be pregnant before the night is over, Mrs. Wonka." You felt his cum invade you shortly after.

Who would have thought that the innocent chocolate salesman would be saying that to the housewife he met by chance almost seven years prior?

Willy Wonka, as you knew, was never wrong, and your fourth and final child came into the world nine months, to the day, later. Cherry Wonka. She completed your beautiful family. She was the class clown of the bunch, spirited and wild as could be, with bouncing curls and a deviously cute grin. She kept you and Willy on your toes constantly, and you adored her.

A/N: Special thank you to my beta, @gatoenlaciudad ! You’ve been such an inspiration and great support throughout this series!💕

@thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @tchalamss @softhecreator @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt

[monarchberrysblog]

🫧࿐ THE BREAKING POINT ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩 introduction | my love mine all mine

🔞 Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

tags: strangers to close friends to lovers, college au, slow burn, fluff, angst, and older brother's academic rival.

summary: when rivalries go too far, Miguel takes to another level of extreme...

content warning: fluff, no warnings

word count: 569 words (it's the intro, guys)

author’s notes: oh my god, this took a LONG time to work on. But here we are!

“What's your favorite color?” She asks in a soft tone, looking up at me in anticipation. I hum to her, soon looking down at her deep brown eyes. “My favorite color…” I mused to her, soon taking hold of her hand in a gentle grasp. My hand lightly squeezed hers, and I thought for a good moment.

I looked down at her anticipating eyes; her eyes were brown like Dana’s; however, there was something different about hers. Her eyes were brown. Brown like sweet, syrupy honey in the sunlight on a cold winter evening or being melty, like milk chocolate on a hot summer day with hints of golden specks.

Who knew that the color of cinnamon and mocha tasted so good to consume but to look at; at every given moment when she looked up at me with anticipation, brown wasn't Dana’s color. It's her. It belongs to her.

“Brown.” I shrugged before looking down at her.

"Really?" She retorts, her eyes squinting in playful disbelief. "That's such a basic answer. What type of brown are we talking about here? Bread brown or shitty brown?" She playfully punches my arm, causing a brushing sting under my skin that I can't help but rub.

I pause momentarily, gather my thoughts, and then look down at her with a small smile. "No, no," I chuckle, ruffling her hair into a muss. Her neatly painted acrylic nails reach up and fix the mess I left behind. “Think of mahogany wood.” I shrug before wrapping an arm around her. “Oh, okay!” She beams happily, resting her head on my shoulder.

It was easy to assume that the simile went over her head. Mahogany wood is one of the most durable and robust hardwoods. Strong to endure as flooring, even strong enough to build boats and yachts. Strong-headed, like her.

Mahogany. A dark amber color that you manage to light up when you get excited, especially when she sees the things she loves. Little red mushrooms with white spots, hearing that a pizza has stuffed crust, or how you discover pockets in your sundresses. Or how someone can remember something so simple about you.

I never want to forget the sparkle in your eyes.

“Your eyes,” She chimes in, cutting my train of thought.

“What about them?” I challenge her.

“They’re a russet color but a bit more red.” Her smile is so goddamn contagious, like the bubonic plague. It took everything in my system not to smile at the description. “Okay, and?”

“They’re beautiful.”

It felt like my heart skipped a palpitation from the cute, innocent compliment. I huffed, pretending to be amused by the compliment, trying to hide the crooked smile that was twitching to form. “You… Shut up.” I huff out to her, soon turning away from her, allowing her to be looking at my back instead of my crooked smile. “You’re smiling…”

“No, I’m not…” I mumbled through my palm, masking the smile.

“You’re smiling!” She repeats this but with such victory in her voice. “I want to see it!” She rushes over before me and grabs my wrist with her hand, wanting to see the shitty, crooked grin on my lips.

I shake my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips as I press my hand against my mouth, muffling my voice. “No, you're not going to see,” I say, the words barely audible.

“Please?”

“No.”

tag list: @peachey-pie @maiyart @boringpersonality @flordelalunas @pretty-pink-princesss @ryk-mt @cl3stevu @lalalunel @resident-clown @marshhbs @slushycoookie @brokenpoetliz @ohara-whore @thedevax @kavimoo @lazyjellyfish300 @bluesidez @mybvalentine @migueloharasbbm @itsfairly @mcmiracles

[mamawasatesttube]

a soft place to land

T | 3.7k | martha kent & tim drake, timkon | happy birthday tim!

Thanks to Martha Kent, Tim celebrates his birthday for the first time since his father's death.

“Happy birthday, dear! This is for you.”

Martha sets the cake on the dining table, smiling. She’s better a decorator of pies than cakes, but it’s simple, a dark chocolate with mocha icing. Conner said Tim prefers desserts that aren’t too sweet. She meant to wait until Conner got home to present it to Tim, but with how he keeps checking the Metropolis news, it seems like a good time to give him a distraction.

Tim drops his phone to his lap, completely forgotten, as his eyes go wide. “Oh! Kon told you…?”

“He did, yes. Said you two would do something together for it, but since he had to step out for a little while…” she trails off, then shrugs. “It’s quite alright if you don’t want it as a birthday cake, though.”

“I don’t really—um—I usually don’t really do anything for my birthday,” Tim says, looking down at the cake as though he’s not quite sure what to do with it. “Uh—thank you. Sorry, I should’ve opened with that. Thank you. It’s—it’s very nice of you to do this; you didn’t have to…”

The poor thing is floundering, Martha realizes. She softens, reaches over and rests her hand on his shoulder fondly. “It’s no trouble, dear. It’s your birthday! We don’t have to do anything grand, but it’s nice to celebrate a little with family, isn’t it?”

{ read on ao3! }

[syrupfog]

Tired, tired barista Law. Works in the coffee shop at the heart of campus where the line is always out the door and the drinks are so sugary it makes him physically ill to pump the syrups. He's the shift lead though so he has to pull the longest hours and cover anyone out sick. 

He's just. Tired all the time. But it's fine, he just has to keep his grades up and keep his job and get into the fellowship he's after and then it'll be smooth sailing to get onto the night shift at the hospital he wants and work his way up to day shift it's fine.

Honestly the biggest problem he deals with is the store manager, Doflamingo. Once, a year ago at this point, Law had mentioned that he would have to leave his position if he managed to get the receptionist position at the university hospital. It would've given him connections.

But apparently the mere idea that Law would be willing to leave, to no longer work under Doffy, was betrayal enough. He's been... off. Ever since. At the very least, Law knows he's never getting a raise again. He'll be lucky if he's not framed for stealing from the till.

One morning, after an especially rough clopener where Law found himself cleaning literal shit off the bathroom walls multiple times, Doffy comes in to inform him that he's going to have to stay until close because he’s declaring an emergency shift lead meeting.

Law has two midterms and a lab due within forty eight hours, but he needs the money and as much as he'd like to in this moment, he can't just walk out on the job. He nods, stiffly, and goes back to creating the worst latte art of all time.

It's for a regular. He comes in almost every day, orders lattes, and then DOESN'T DRINK THEM. He insists on the drinks that are the most annoying to make (Law's good at hearts but he's started turning them into dicks out of annoyance) and then he doesn't EVEN DRINK THEM.

He just sits in one of the plush chairs in the corner until his drink is cold and then leaves, waving at Law with a big smile on his face like they're old friends. 

It's weird. Law doesn't trust it. 

Of course, as Bepo says, Law doesn't trust much of anyone these days.

And as Penguin says, that's probably because he hasn't slept more than 3 hours in a night in two years. 

And as Shachi says, damn. That's fucked up, dude. 

Finishing the latte (the art is a dick, there's no denying it), Law pushes it across the counter to the regular.

His straw hat is pushed back, giving Law a view of his wide, wide eyes and general overexcited look. 

"Thanks!" he says, taking the drink and blowing on it, instantly sloshing foam over the side. 

Law rolls his eyes and goes back to the ever growing line of customers.

The day doesn't pass quickly, but it ends eventually as all things must. Law is dead on his feet, sweeping the same spot of floor with stained mocha powder for almost ten minutes before Bepo, sanitizing the espresso machines, takes pity on him.

"You should go," he says. "I can finish cleaning up. Go get some real sleep." 

Law rubs at his eyes. "No, it's fine," he says. "Actually, you should go. Doffy's making me stay for a shift lead meeting so I'll be here regardless." 

Bepo does not look happy with that answer.

But Law's his boss, technically. Law grits his teeth and checks another closing chore off the list. 

He knows Doffy's upstairs in his office, but it does slowly dawn on him that he's seen no other shift leads coming in. There's four of them, and yet... 

Odd.

All he can concentrate on at this point, is that the sooner he gets done the sooner he can go home. Home. Where his bed is, and more importantly his notes for O Chem. 

He shoos Bepo off home when the only thing left to do is inventory. Moving slow, he grabs the clipboard and makes his way into the walk-in, propping the door behind him. 

Scones, muffins, cheesecakes... It's dark in here, and Law realizes he's left his phone on the counter. He can't tell what's blueberry and what's chocolate chip. 

He's just about to turn around and grab it when the door of the walk-in slams shut. 

Law freezes. 

He'd propped that door open, right? It wouldn't just close like that. 

The walk-in door doesn't lock, for like. Security purposes. He goes and pushes against it, only to find resistance. Not like it's latched, but like like someone's barricaded the door. 

Law grits his teeth. This isn't good. 

It's cold in here, he has no phone, and Bepo's already gone. If he listens, he can hear someone's footsteps, the scraping of chairs. 

It feels like overreacting to yell. To react at all.

But— he's cold. he's in his uniform, and a short sleeve polo doesn't do much when one is locked in a freezer. Is this one of the shift leads playing a prank? Kid wouldn't be organized enough to try this. Apoo might... 

His chattering teeth eventually win out over his pride.

"Hello?" he yells. "I'm still in here!" 

There's a beat of silence, and then slow, steady footsteps. 

"I know," says a voice that is distinctly Doffy's. "And you'll keep being in there, until you learn your lesson." 

"What the fuck," Law spits. "What fucking lesson?"

"I saw your papers, Trafalgar," Doffy says. "I know you're applying to that summer internship program." 

Law is. He doesn't have a shot in hell of getting in, doesn't have the connections. He's still applying, though. "So what?" 

"You're my best shift lead," Doffy says.

"You're my best worker altogether. It would be ridiculous to abandon me now." 

Law was always going to abandon him. This is a coffee shop. He's not planning on working clopeners the rest of his life. "Let me out, Doffy," he says. His nose is icy. His hands are in his armpits.

"I'll give you a night to think on it," Doflamingo says. "Maybe you'll make better decisions in the morning." 

Law knows very well that he won't survive in a freezer overnight. He's not even wearing socks inside his boots, the cold is already numbing his ankles.

"Stop!" he yells as he hears Doffy's footsteps receding. "Wait! I'll-- I'll cancel the application!" 

The footsteps return. Then Doflamingo laughs. "You can't fool me like that," he says, still chuckling. "I'll give you the night to REALLY reflect on it."

His footsteps recede again and Law shudders out a breath. This is bad. 

He tries the door, pushing with all his strength, until his shoulder is freezing against the metal, but it doesn't budge. He tries pacing, but it's pitch dark in here. He breathes onto his hands for warmth.

He's so cold. So cold. It's been barely any time at all and he's already feeling desperate. Did Doffy lower the temperature? 

He wonders if the door is barricaded well enough that he should be worried about running out of air.

Squatting down, he tries to wrap his apron around himself, but even that is already freezing. it's wet, too, from a spill he'd been cleaning up. 

Law's thoughts drift against his will to home. He thinks about all he did to escape everything. How it wont have made a difference.

How he'll be found in the morning, how the newspapers will say that he is succeeded by no kin, because everyone else has been gone for two decades. 

He should've quit months ago. 

The thing is, is Law is so tired. He was already tired. And now he's cold, and it's dark.

And he knows he shouldn't go to sleep, but— it seems easier. It would be so much easier than having to deal with the numbness in his hands and feet, the way his eyelashes stick to his cheeks. 

But he knows he shouldn't. Knows he should be doing something.

And as a last ditch effort— he knows no one can hear him. Knows Doflamingo will laugh— as a last ditch effort he screams. 

He screams until his throat hurts. Screams until he's coughing from the cold. 

Wordless screams that draw the last of his strength, steal his warmth.

He falls into unconsciousness as the last of his breath is ripped from his cold lungs.

Darkness is welcoming. 

He floats in it. The cold is still there, but muted now. 

He had been so tired. For so long.

Suddenly, Law is pulled back to consciousness, painfully, like ripping a bandaid off of a wound. 

There's light in the walk-in. He feels it on his eyelids. When he cracks open his eyes, he's hit with blinding light. Is this heaven? If it is, it's pathetic.

But with the light comes a wave of warmth, not enough to help him, but enough for him to notice. 

And with the warmth comes arms, strong arms, roughly hoisting him around his middle, dragging him out and onto the blessedly warm tile floor of the back room.

"Traffy?" a voice says. "Traffy! Hey!" 

Someone slaps his face. 

"Fuck!" Law yells, putting a hand to his cheek. He still cant really feel anything in his fingers. The blindingly bright light is clearing enough that he can see the silhouette of someone standing over him.

GOD he hopes it's not Doflamingo. 

But that voice didn't SOUND like Doffy. 

"Traffy! You're alive! Do you have hypno thermia?" 

"Hypothermia," Law mumbles. "Who the fuck is Traffy?"

"That's what your nametag always says!" 

Law's nametag says Trafalgar. He knows it.

"How-- Where's Doflamingo?" 

"That tall guy who locked you in here?" 

Law's vision finally comes into focus and he startles at the sight of the regular with the straw hat. "Yeah," he says. "Him." 

"I dunno, I saw him leave a while ago." 

Law flexes his fingers in search of warmth

"What do you mean you saw him leave? Why are you here?" Are you a part of this? he doesn't say. 

Straw Hat doesn't look at all embarrassed when he says, "I was hiding in the bathroom. You guys never check it at the end of the night." 

Law gapes at him. "Why?" he asks.

"I dunno, I mean most places do and I was honestly surprised you guys don't, but--" 

"Not-- you do this a lot?"

Straw Hat grins. "Yeah! My roommate kicks me out whenever he wants to have sex, which is like every night at this point. So I've been sleeping here. Chairs're comfy."

Well that's. Better than it could be, honestly. 

Law tries to refocus. He probably IS hypothermic. What's he supposed to do for that? Body heat? 

"You said Doffy left?" he asks. 

Straw Hat nods. "Yeah! A while ago! It took me a bit to get all that stuff off of the door though. Like, he's strong! He pushed a whole refrigerator in front of it!" 

Dear lord, he really had been trying to kill Law. 

Shit. Doffy knows where Law lives. 

Law can't go home. 

"Anyway, I think you're hypno thermomic," Straw Hat says. "And you probably need, like, a hot bath."

Okay Law does know that will kill someone with hypothermia. He remembers that much. "I can't go home," he says, still trying to process. "He knows where I live." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "You can come home with me! My roommate is a cook, he'll help."

"Your roommate kicked you out to have sex," Law points out, dazedly. 

Straw Hat shrugs. "This is more important," he says, and like. Well Law can't argue with that. 

He tries to sit up and his limbs listen a little, but Straw Hat steadies him anyway.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," Law says, "But I shouldn't just impose. I can-- I'll call my coworker, my phone's around here somewhere." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "Is that it?" 

He points to a spot on the floor where Law finds his phone. 

Smashed. 

Into several pieces.

He does NOT have the money for a new one. 

"Oh my god," he whines. 

"Come on," Straw Hat says. "Let's go to my place. We can build a fire!" 

"Do you have a fireplace?" 

"No!" 

Law still can't feel his hands or feet. "Listen," he says. "Just- why do you never drink your lattes?"

Shockingly, Straw Hat looks embarrassed at this, gaze shifting nervously. "Because," he says. "They're really gross." 

"Why do you get them, then?" Law demands. 

"The first time I came in, I asked what to get and you said a latte because you're good at hearts!"

Christ. Law has... no memory of that. 

Straw Hat crosses his arms, looking petulant. "It's not my fault they taste gross." 

Law's throat is raw and he's probably got frostbite on his penis like that prince. "I'll make you something you actually like," he says. "Next time."

Straw Hat perks up. "Next time?" 

"If I live through the night," Law adds. "And. Not next time here. I'm quitting this job." 

Straw Hat nods. "Good. That guy was mean, I think." 

Then, without informing Law of his plan, Straw Hat turns around and pulls him onto his back.

Everything in Law hurts at this, but he also doubts he could've walked wherever they're going. 

Straw Hat is shorter than him, but he's jarringly strong. 

"Hey," Law says. "If you murder me, I'll kill you." 

He feels Straw Hat laughing through his teeth.

The actual straw hat's brim is pushed up against Law's cheek. 

"Don't worry," Straw Hat says. "I want you to make me a better drink!" 

He carries Law across campus to a rickety old dorm. 

Law listens to him talking about all of his friends and also his favorite bugs.

He makes sure that Straw Hat does NOT draw him a hot bath or make a fire in the dorm, but he does accept skin-to-skin warmth, which does wonders. The hot tea made by his cranky roommate also helps. 

Tomorrow, he's going to have to press charges, probably. And get a new phone.

Tonight, he's sharing a bed with the weirdest guy he's ever met. 

Life is sort of okay.

[being-addie]

Little Ways to Love Your Life

I love performing little rituals to enhance my life. It's infinitely satisfying and it reminds me why living is so beautiful, on days when I start viewing the world through a pessimistic lens. This is your reminder that there's so much beauty in the mundane, just start looking for it :)

Here's some things I do that make me love my life just a little bit more:

Wake with the sun:

There is nothing better than opening your eyes to golden sunshine on your face. The golden hour has this quality that makes you feel like royalty.

Move your body:

Give your body a dose of endorphins by doing some exercise! Go for a hot girl walk, hit the gym for a sweaty HIIT sesh, or just groove to some Just Dance. I promise it will make you feel like you can conquer the world.

Smell sweet:

Put on a playlist and sing as you shower. Lather yourself up with sweet-smelling soap, and after you step out of the bath, slick on some vanilla scented moisturizer, and perfume. Don't forget deodorant! Make sure to stick with organic products because chemicals can irritate your skin.

Food = love:

A full stomach is a happy person. Make yourself a cup of coffee, and a hearty breakfast. Take note of the way milk swirls into the dark coffee, how the egg sizzles in the pan. Allow yourself to just exist in the moment, where you are taking care of your mind and body.

Self-love:

While I eat healthy 90% of the time, on days I really need to feel excited, I go buy a pain au chocolat from my nearest artisan bakery. It's one of my favourite foods to indulge in and it always makes me smile. Likewise, buy yourself something nice. It could be a new shirt, a bouquet of flowers, or designer chocolates. Indulge in yourself. You deserve it.

Look at beautiful things:

I don't mean window shopping or aesthetic Instagram pictures. Go out and observe. Look at the shape of the clouds, and how the trees dance in the wind. Pet that cute dog. Smell the wildflowers. Disconnect from the online world, even if it's for half an hour. Give yourself that much time.

Take pictures:

Screw retail therapy, taking aesthetic pictures is my new thing. Take so many pictures. The way sunlight filters in through your window, a cat stretching, a close-up of a flower, your Starbucks mocha latte. Unleash your inner photographer.

Pursue your hobbies:

When I'm down I play the piano or whip out my glue gun and craft my worries away. Doing something you love instantly puts your brain in a good mood. It could be tennis, gardening, quilling, birdwatching. Whatever you love. Do it.

Restrict your social media:

I was unknowingly comparing myself to all the girls I saw on Instagram and it was so detrimental to my self-esteem. I ended up deleting the app. I'm currently planning on reinstalling it by July next year. Delete the apps that do not make you feel good. You will have more time to dedicate to work, hobbies, family and relationships.

Finding joy in the mundane is the most healing thing you can do. Make your routine special, and switch it up once in a while. Don't shy away from your dream life, because you DESERVE it. You deserve EVERYTHING you ever want, okay? Now go get it. xoxo

<3

[pekoehoneyncream]

Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick Headcanons

Part Two!

Words: 500~

Tw: None (sfw)

Part One

Enjoy!

Loves Riddles, Puzzles, Brain Teasers, and Mind Games. He really enjoys getting to mull them over and turn them around, either in his head or physically, until he's figured them out. 

Gaz also likes traditional jigsaw puzzles, when he was young there used to always be a jigsaw occupying the coffee table. He and his parents would slowly pick away at it until it was solved. Not in one day, but over the course of a week or three, depending on the size. 

Gaz is very good at lateral and out-of-the-box thinking. This unfortunately means he's also very good at quickly coming up with puns.

Not fond of Tea or Coffee, but will drink either if he wants a hot drink and there's no other options. His favorite drink is dark hot chocolate. He's perfected his recipe. You fill ⅔ of the mug with milk, ⅓ with water, 3 tbs mini-marshmallow hot chocolate powder, and 1 tbs cocoa powder. Then microwave for 2-3 minutes, stopping to stir every minute, so the cup doesn't boil over and you don't get the milk skim on top. If he needs a pick-me-up he'll make it a mocha by adding instant coffee to the mix.

Gaz is one of those people that can smell when it's gonna rain. He can do this very reliably, able to guesstimate when the rainfall will start with about ten minutes of wiggle room. This skill meshes not at all with Price's need to constantly be on top of official weather reports and statistics. Ghost is no help as he always bets on Gaz rather than Price's carefully gathered intel. 

Gaz: steps outside, takes a deep breath, “It's gonna rain” Price: visibly restraining himself from speaking, pulling out his phone to check for updated weather reports. Ghost: “Yeah? How soon?” Gaz: takes another deep breath “Mmm, half-hour? Forty? Within an hour.” Price: “Light showers are expected at 16:00.” Ghost: checks his watch. It's 13:00. “Within an hour?” Gaz: Takes an even slower inhale, not looking over at Price, “Forty-five, tops.”

Gaz is actually a pretty good dancer. His dad has a huge boxset of those zumba-pilates-dance-workout CDs(you know the ones with the legwarmers and the neon leotards) and he does a session every Tuesday and Thursday evening. He started having Kyle do them with him when Kyle was young to get his energy out and ‘keep healthy’. Say what you want but Gaz has a great sense of rhythm and is surprisingly flexible to this day.

Hates/Scared of millipedes, centipedes, caterpillars, silverfish, woodlouse, any long bug with many legs. They give him the heebie-jeebies, make his hair stand on end. He's fully aware it's not logical, but he HATES them. He forced himself to get past the ‘screaming and fleeing to high ground upon sight’ phase of his fear after he decided he was going to enlist, but they still freak him out.

Price found out, and after much teasing, he will get rid of the bugs for Gaz if he's around. (Does Captain Price now subtly scan for creepy crawlies in need of disposal as he's walking around, Yes. Yes he does.)

Thank You For Reading!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[jelzorz]

195a.

It starts on a Wednesday.

It's any other Wednesday. The on-campus coffee shop is emptier than usual because everyone's still away for the winter and the new semester won't start for a few weeks yet, but someone has to man the coffee machines while the undergrads are away and, well. Soren could use the extra cash.

It's a lot less glamorous than what he used to do. Going back to school had sounded like a good idea when he was working shit hours and too much overtime as a hospital physiotherapist, but now he's poor again, and he's still working shit hours and too much overtime. Now he serves coffee to stressed college students and exhausted academics while he fills his spare time with books about business and money and legal stuff that makes his brain hurt, and for what? The idea of his own clinic is so distant. So small. Some days it feels good to study, to start fresh. On others...

The smell of dark roast is clingy but Soren breathes it in sometimes just to stay awake.

The kitchen is warm today, stuffy and humid in spite of the January chill. Callum is making eyes at Rayla from the till while she busses tables in the dining area, and it's as disgusting as it is sweet because neither of them seem to understand that the obsession goes both ways. Ezran is humming to whatever hipster song is playing over the work speaker while he stacks the dishwasher, and Soren is dusting chocolate powder over someone's almond milk mocha when it begins.

"Opeli! We haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

Soren glances up and thinks his heart stutters a little. There's a woman at the counter. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright and kind and striking in a way that he knows he'll be up tonight thinking about their exact shade of blue. The hood of her coat is bunched up around her ears like she's only just now pushed it back, and there's still flakes of snow on her shoulders and in the caramel of her hair.

She is, in a word, beautiful, but a really old-world kind of beautiful; the regal, fairy-tale kind that might have had him wearing her favour into battle if she let him in a other life.

"Well enough," she's saying, adjusting the strap of her handbag. "Your father tells me you and Ezran are enjoying your time on campus."

Callum shrugs, but he grins as he answers. "There are good days and bad days. I think Rayla's signed up for your class next semester."

"Has she?" The woman—Opeli—chuckles. "I'll go easy on her, shall I?"

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"You took my class last semester," she laughs. "You tell me."

Callum has the decency to flush a little. "Not if you declare it, right?"

"So you were paying attention," she teases. "Don't worry. I won't quiz you any further. Just a latte with an extra shot of coffee please."

"Coming right up," says Callum. "Soren, did you get that?"

Too late, Soren realises he's been staring the whole time, and that the cup of coffee he's putting the final touches on has a whole extra layer of chocolate powder over the top. "Uh." He swears and dusts his hands. "Yup. One latte with an extra shot. Got it. Won't be a minute."

The woman gives him a look that definitely doesn't wither under and jerks her head at a table by the window. "I'll just be over there," she says. "Say hi to Ezran for me," she adds to Callum, who nods and slides her order receipt across the bench to Soren.

It's not that Soren believes in that kind of attraction at first sight. It's that he's had a bit of a dry spell since Corvus and this is the first time in ages that anyone's caught his eye. Opeli is—

Well. She's older than him, he's sure of that, but by how much, he can't be sure. There's just something about the pull of her smile and the lilt in her voice and the impish little light in her eyes that makes Soren want to talk to her, just to bear witness to all those things over and over again.

He finishes off the last order and then starts hers with a flourish, topping it off with his best latte art (a swan, as graceful and pretty as she) and when Rayla comes to take it, he shoos her away.

"Isn't your turn for a break?"

Rayla raises an eyebrow at him. "I've been here an hour."

"Oh," says Soren. "It's just that Callum's about to go on his and you usually go together—"

She flushes. "What are you implying, exactly?" she snaps, just a tad defensively. "I don't time my breaks with his. Why would I do that? Just because we go together downtimes—"

"Oh, my God, Rayla. I don't care. Do you wanna join him or not?"

Rayla presses her lips together, then scowls at him, red-faced, and slams the tray on the counter before she stalks away to find Callum anyway. Soren tries not to snort and sets the latte on it, pleased for the opportunity for a little privacy.

Opeli is tapping away on her laptop when he gets to her, and he sets the mug and the tarts on her table with a smile.

"One double shot latte for the lovely lady by the window," he says, throwing in a bow for good measure.

Opeli raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "Thank you," she says primly. "Is this how you bring over everyone's orders or am I simply lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one for making your acquaintance," he says, winking.

Opeli laughs and shakes her head, sardonic but charmed all the same. "Very smooth," she comments drily. "If a lot a cheesy."

"These are the jokes, take them or leave them." He grins, smarmy and stupid, and even if she's not interested, he likes the way she smiles, so he takes the win. "You know Callum and Ez?"

"I'm a family friend," she says. "And you are?"

"Soren, your friendly neighbourhood barista, at your service." He draws the chair across from her, and when she doesn't object, takes a seat. "You teach here?"

"A little," says Opeli. "Feels like I do admin more than I teach these days but haggling with the university about what is and isn't part of your job is part and parcel, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's so cool," says Soren—and he means it. "Well. Not the haggling part. Although, I totally get that. Before I came back, everything was a fight."

"Back?" she asks.

Soren shrugs. "Yeah, just doing some extra stuff, trying to stay relevant and develop professionally and all that." He waves her off. He shrinks a little when he spots Barius behind the counter, craning his head over the line and obviously trying to find his staff. "Listen, I uh—I gotta get back over there but um. I'd love to like. Have a proper talk. Sometime I'm not the one making the coffee. Would that—can I see you again sometime?"

She chuckles. "I'll be around," she says cryptically. "Thank you for the tarts. How much do I owe?"

"Oh." Soren twitches his lips. "It's on the house."

She blinks, then smiles, then sips her coffee. "Thank you," she says. "It was nice to meet you, Soren."

"Same to you. I'll um. See you around?"

Opeli hides her chuckle behind the rim of her mug. "Perhaps you will."

It's not the most straightforward answer, but it certainly doesn't feel like a rejection either. Soren grins to himself and slips the tray under his arm as he heads back to the counter.

Some days it feels good to start fresh. He thinks this might be one of them.