#i’m not picky and i have a sweet tooth so!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

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Sweet Tooth

summary: the motions of patrick zweig, sleeping around for a place to stay, finding culinary genius! reader who owns a bakery- and things don’t go as planned, but he couldn’t end up more grateful for it.

warnings: cutesy. unsuspected feelings. lots of flirting. player/dirtbag turned boyfriend! patrick <333 kissinggg. smut! fingering, mentions of oral. sex. the L word. lots of fluff, and a very sweet ending.

- Patrick is not the kind of guy who denies himself a dessert. He’s not one of those sports guys obsessed with macros and calories. He knows moderation, he knows he’s an active guy who can afford to get himself something. He’s in his car, still living in it, when he passes a new bakery. He’s just spent money on food and gas, so he’s not able to head in, but it looks like a cute little place and he promises to check it out when he has the spare cash.

- he’s still whoring himself out for a place to stay. he can’t afford not to. he’s spending time on tinder, swiping as he lays himself down in the back seat. something is up with the settings, he’s getting older women. like older older. geriatric, almost. they’re probably established and have houses, but he does have some standards. he goes to the age settings and sets it back. or somewhat close to it. he’s including 18-up. he sits up a little frustrated, looking at these 18 year old girls and swiping to maybe find someone with a better age. there’s 23, 22, 27… 27 wasn’t so bad.

- it’s you. and you’re pretty. the kind of pretty patrick knows that he doesn’t deserve, but when he swipes a yes on you, you’ve already swiped yes on him as well. it’s a match. he takes that and shuts off his phone, going to sleep.

- he wakes up to a text on tinder from you, it’s recent, he woke up two minutes after you first texted. it’s only ‘hiii’. he sits up, texts you back. you’re not far at all, he’s got a date with you tonight at some local italian bar.

- he’s wearing a sweater when he meets you at the bar. his best one. usually he’s not too picky about it but you’re prettier than his usual exploit. so why not enjoy it? he looks friendly, approaching you with a smile and his hand extended, freshly out of his jean pocket. you’re prettier in person, he notes, shaking your hand, letting it linger just a half-second extra in yours.

- you’re in something pretty, but casual. tall boots, a sweater that hangs off your shoulder, and a little skirt that wasn’t all that little. modest, something he isn’t used to. the most modest women he’d dated had been the shameless dates that he desperately asked for, the poor women sometimes coming straight from work. you have a winning smile and your hand is soft and he sits next to you at the bar, exchanging his name for yours properly.

- “so you play tennis professionally?” you ask, leaning on your hand. you’re smiling at him and you are so sweet. “are you any good?”

“i’d say so.” he grins. “might be.”

“you could be sooo bad at tennis and you’d still be better than me,” you tell him. “anything that stands out in your career? i’m so curious.”

he tsked, looking at his drink in front of him. you were interested in him, wanted to talk about him. the ego boost he needed. “won the junior us open a few years back.” he said. it wasn’t that impressive but tell it to someone who doesn’t know tennis and it sounds like a feat.

“how long ago were you considered junior?” you smiled a little slyly. he’s never been caught on that before. “how old did you say you were.”

he smirked, just a little stuck. “thirty-five.”

“so a while ago.” you smiled. “i don’t know anything about tennis, i’ll keep pretending for you.” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink with a cute little grin. you were a little bit spicy along with the sweet, he could get behind that. literally.

- he’s talking to you and you’re swirling your drink around with a sly little smile and you’re cute in a way where he’s just a little curious about your character. you’re more than one-sided and it’s intriguing but he doesn’t want it to get so far. he’s here to fuck you at your place, stay over, and leave with his shoes in his hand in the morning. he makes small talk, his face close to yours, the banter enticing and sexy but still somewhat tame. you had a personality, a good one, one he liked. sometimes it was just a little too easy and you weren’t. you were more of a riddle, something he wanted to figure out.

- you had a twinkle in your eye. flirting came naturally to you, you were almost at his level. the conversation continued over forty-five minutes and two easy drinks.

- the bar food you ordered comes in a really badly plated, ugly little container with the food attached to the tissue. you pick up a piece, looking at it. “we’re not eating this.” you say, finishing your drink. “c’mon.” and you hop off the bar stool.

patrick looks at you, looks at the food in front of the two of you. he was hungry, this was how he was getting his food for today. he’d eat it… “hm?”

“come with me.” you said, putting down the money for his drink and yours. he had just scrapped together just enough to pay for your drinks, but he didn’t stop you. “we aren’t eating bar food.”

this hasn’t ever happened to him. he stood up, looking at you just a little confused, but a sly smirk resting on his lips. you were leaving with him already- what did that mean? “where are we going?” he’d been here for about an hour and you were getting him to leave with you, he thought you weren’t easy.

“you’ll see. come on, come on, you’re so slow,” you giggled, leading him out and onto the street. “mmm, i know what you’re thinking.”

“yeah?”

“she’s easy.” you said. “she’s easy and she’s leaving with me.”

he chuckled, “i wasn’t.” he was. he walked beside you on the traffic side of the sidewalk. it wasn’t his usual conquest, but he’d take it.

“i am not easy, however, things come easily to me.” you grinned. he rubbed his chin just a little, looking at you as you walked. it was late, but you lead him into one of the little asian supermarkets that were somehow open 24/7. “like guessing. you’re a steak guy, hm?”

“might be…” he nodded, looking around. you knew exactly where you were going, it seemed, the way you walked so quickly that he didn’t have time to see anything up close before you were in the meat section. “why?”

“peppercorn?”

“yeah.” it had been a good few years since he’d had steak. he had his hands in his pocket as you picked up the packaged meat and put it into one of the thin little plastic bags. you spun away from the meat section and over to the vegetables. you picked up a pack of mushrooms and two zucchini.

“you like vegetables?”

“what’s the green one?”

“zucchini.” you smiled. “oh my god, you’ve never had it. perfect.”

he was so lost, just following you. he wasn’t going to leave but this was definitely weird. you were cute, bounding around in your sweater, grabbing a few other things. a clove of garlic and some other little bottle of something.

- you check out at the counter and it’s more money than he’s seen in two years. you’re not rich, he knows that, he would have known it. he’s still just so lost and you turn to him as you walk out of the store. “bored yet?” you asked.

“not at all,” he nods. “can i ask about this?”

“yes, you can ask about it.” you tell him.

“you usually take your dates grocery shopping?”

“that’s not asking about it,” you reply, with a smile, turning at the corner. he’s following you, a grin on his own face. you’re cheeky. and your sweater is falling further down your shoulder. he takes a bag to help you carry it. the things he does for a place to stay… “and no, not usually.”

he chuckles, “so…”

“so you’re lucky i hate bar food.”

he laughs, quietly muttering, ‘what the fuck’. but he’s glad, he’s into it. you’re different.

- you continue to lead him and you stop outside the bakery he noted just yesterday. shiny, new, and you have keys. you have the keys. you work here. “you coming?” you ask him. you’re holding the door open for him. he takes the door from you and you slink inside, walking around to turn the lights on. the blinds are shut and the lighting is pretty. fairy lights on the wall, wall lamps, all yellow and pretty.

“you work here?”

“something like that,” you smile, bringing the food back into the kitchen. he follows, looking over everything. “i might own it…”

“might?”

“maybe…” you smile. he’s a little taken aback by that, but it’s occurring to him he didn’t ask what you do. you’re a baker.

he grins, sliding around you as you bend to grab things from the cupboards. a cutting board, a knife, and you start running the big sink in the corner. he watches you quietly as you tie your hair up off your neck and pull your sweater off over your head. you have a pretty little tank top underneath, square neckline and thick straps. he’s never been so far away from a girl while she strips. you turn to him, “i don’t bite.” you grin. he notices how quiet he’s gone.

“no? i was counting on it.”

“yeah?” you say, unsheathing your chefs knife. he steps closer to you, smirk on his face. he’s a shameless guy, he’s not afraid of your rejection. but you grab a zucchini and press it against his chest. a long, thick, suggestive vegetable, but you kindly, and slowly, with a seductive tone to your voice and looking up at him through your eyelashes… tell him to help you cut it up.

- you’re cooking for him, he figures out. you’re cooking food. real food, just on a whim. it’s kind of you to a point that he feels just the slightest bit bad about what his intentions are. “you do this for every guy? steak and vegetables?”

“you’re just the odd lucky one.” you tell him, adding the vegetables to the pan. the meat is done. “food, real food is so important. taste is important as well as the sanitization process- it’s so easy to get food poisoning from a bar. here, less likely.“

“good to know.” he said, his back against the counter next to you, watching you cook. it smelled amazing. “i appreciate it.” he was genuine. not only did you save him from potential food poisoning, but you saved him from being hungry tonight. “thanks.”

“i am sorry it’s not a cheap bar date, if that’s really what you’re into.”

“i don’t usually get dragged to bakeries at 10pm, it’s a good change.”

you stir the vegetables around, “so you date a lot?”

“i wouldn’t say a lot…” he says. “enough.”

- you talk to him about that. you ask if he’s dating to date or dating for potential and he just smiles. how can he tell the woman making him dinner from scratch that he’s not looking for anything serious?

- you nod, deducting his answer from his lack of answer. you’re cleaning as you go and you plate up the food all perfect and pretty and hand it to him. you clean the last dish and put everything back. “i really hope you like it or i just yanked you away from perfectly bad bar food.”

“i’m going to like it. thank you, this is amazing.” he tells you. he drops the sly act, he can’t keep it up over the fact you made him food. real food. good food. he’s been starving. he could kiss you right now. he probably would have, shamelessly, if there wasn’t a plate between the two of you. he decides against it.

- you sit down with him at one of the cafe tables, watching him eat the first bite. then the second with hardly enough time between. it’s delicious, he makes a mental note to put effort in when he fucks you later. you giggle just a little, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“m’sorry-it’s good,” he says, mouth full. it’s a turn off, but for a cook and a baker, its one of the best things. you lean your cheek on your hand again, it kind of smushes your face and patrick’s only thoughts are that the steak is good and that you’re pretty. pretty is different than gorgeous. you’re gorgeous too, of course, but you’re pretty because you’re cute. you’re cute. and it’s weird to think so. when you were down to meet him so quickly, on such short notice, he thought this would be something fast. he tells himself that he’s only feeling differently because this date is taking longer than his usual. by now he’s usually inside of whoever he’s gone out with.

- his lack of table manners is something you can afford to not mind. he’s tall, he’s got nice curls, a nice beard, a good nose, and a gorgeous grin. he’s asking you questions about your bakery and it’s surprising to him too when he realizes he’s been actually listening. the conversation at hand is engaging and he’s into it probably as much as he’s into you.

- “so the tennis thing, you still do that? like all the time?” you asked him, twirling your fork between your fingers.

“all the time.” he nodded back. “not as much as i used to when i was on tour. it’s good though. i get by on challengers.”

“they pay you?” he nods back and takes another bite of his food. “how much usually? is that rude?”

he grins, you’re polite. “not rude-mm- depends on the challenger. sometimes hundreds or around a thousand if you win the whole thing.”

“yeah? that’s not bad. some pocket money,” you smiled, taking another bite. for patrick, it wasn’t pocket money, it was all his money. “i wish baking brought you places. i would love to travel but i spent almost all i had to stay still. to get this place- and to get all the things to go in it.”

“it looks great,” he replied, nodding. “is it doing well so far?” who was he? invested in you? your life? your success? he was almost done with his meal.

“it is.” you smiled. you were pretty, grinning so wide over your passion. “it’s a lot of work, this is the only night i’ve had off in a while. i am usually… in bed by now. i have early starts. i’m a grandma, i know.”

he grinned, “i don’t mind.”

- dinner ends and patrick doesn’t let you get the dishes. you follow him back into the kitchen and you let him wash the dishes while you rinse, then sanitize, then dry. drying his hands, he squeezed past you, hands on your waist as he passes you. you turn around, just a little jumpy. you’re jumpy. something possesses him to say sorry. and mean it. “no, it’s okay, i just…” he’s not imagining the pink in your cheeks. god you’re so cute, it’s disturbing some part of him he didn’t know was active. you cover your mouth and turn back to the dishes, stacking them neatly.

- patrick is honestly ready to leave. he could go, he’d sleep in his car, it was fine. but walking out on you felt wrong. after that meal… you’re in the fridge, looking around on your tiptoes. “i was so sure i had something chocolate in here. it’s not on this shelf… it’s not on…” he comes into the fridge behind you, met by the cold air. he reaches above you.

“this it?” he asks, gesturing to the row of chocolate desserts. you nod. he advances, moving the closest he’s been to you- his cologne, a little bit musky and a hint of cigarettes hits your nose. usually you wouldn’t allow heavy scents near your food, but he smelled so good maybe it slipped your mind.

- he eats like a starved man. he really does. he’s so grateful, beyond, to have something so good for free. to him, you’re an angel sent to cure his hunger. you clean up for the last time.

“do you want to come up for coffee?” you ask him.

“come up?”

“my apartment is upstairs,” you smile and it’s kind and its not laced with any sort of lust the way most women ask for him to come over to theirs. “come up? i have beer if that’s more your speed.”

he grins, leaning toward you. he’s taller than you by a good bit. and he’s gorgeous. and your heart skips. “if you’re offering.”

“i just might be.” you twist from side to side. he’s so smitten by you. you’re hot but you’re kind and you’re sexy as hell and you know that, but you don’t act like you know it.

- you bring him upstairs and he’s looking over everything you have in your dimly lit, yellowy apartment. you have a lot of things to observe, but you beckon him to the couch while you get him a beer from your fridge. you’re not drinking anything. you just sit next to him on your knees, leaning against the back of your couch. he thanks you. he means it.

“it’s a nice place.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “you own it? or do you rent?”

“i own it. i’ve been working since i was young and my parents hardly ever let me spend a penny.” you tell him. he’s impressed. more than. “it smells like brownies permanently, i think.”

he smiles, watching you look around. his eyes fall on your lips, on your body. “mm no, smells like you.” he states, eyes falling on the little painting of a cake on the wall.

you giggle, “me? my perfume?”

“mmm no.” he said. “you smell good.”

“thank you,” you grinned. “so do you.”

he chuckled against the lip of his beer bottle, dimples showing. “so you really don’t cook for all your dates?”

“i never have before, no.” you say, hiding half your face as if you’re shy. “i’m sorry if it was a bit much. or forward of me. i’m just so against bar food, it’s a culinary disgrace and i just… i like my kitchen. and i love to cook.”

“i’m not complaining,” he replied. he set his beer down.

- you got to talking about food and he told you all about the phase he had where he’d get taco bell every tuesday. you’re not a fast food person. he knows that. but you’re laughing in disgust when he tells you the things he used to get and it feels oddly worth it. he’s inching closer to you in conversation, leaning in more every minute. and you’re talking very closely and all of your expressions are so beautiful. more than pretty or cute or gorgeous, you are beautiful.

- your hands are resting on his knee. both of them, overlapping each other. he’s smirking at you, the sly remark you just made with the most innocent eyes. it’s getting later into the night, it’s almost 1am. the date is going on a lot longer than he thought. you were probably going to make him leave soon. he hasn’t even kissed you. he could have to shut you up. you talked a lot but you were very passionate and you also dove into a lot about him. he could have shut you up. he wasn’t against kissing spontaneously to get what he wanted but he was listening to you… he wanted to hear what you had to say.

- the night continued and you had your head rested against the back of the couch, listening to him talk about tennis. when he stopped, you’d ask another question about gameplay so he’d keep talking and you just listened. and he was enjoying it. more than anything he’d enjoyed in a long while. and as you continued to get tired, so does he. he wants to kiss you, he tells himself he will, he’ll definitely kiss you when you finish your sentence and no. you both, tired, slowly fall asleep. it’s a mistake that he passed on coffee for beer.

- it’s the most connection he’s had with anyone in a while. the way you spoke to him was different, was fun, was filled with your personality and your sweetness. your head fell on his chest and you slept the night on the couch like that. at least it wasn’t his car.

- he wakes up first to the girl who he didn’t fuck or even kiss laying on his chest. it’s a trap is the first thought in his head. how did he get to stay over without fucking you? some loophole. he ignores the fact he was too invested in you as a person to do anything. though he wished he did, you’re perfect.

- you wake up and you sit up like nothing happened. “fuck.” you sigh, rubbing your eye. “fell asleep.” you smile. “hi.”

“hey,” he replied and he’s unable to stop the smile he has in response. “i think i’ll take that coffee now if you’re offering.”

“was just about to ask,” you grinned. you got up, your hair just a little messy, and hopped over to the kitchen to make the coffee. like you didn’t spend a night on a stranger’s chest. like you didn’t just wake up on top of him. he liked that about you. “do you take cream, milk, sugar?”

patrick got up from the couch, walked over to you. “black.” he said. “hey- about that-“

“don’t worry about it.” you smile. “it got so late, i don’t even remember falling asleep.”

he wouldn’t have apologized but something about sleeping over without fucking you just felt selfish and unfair. like he didn’t pay for it. and he felt even more that way because not only had you fed him, but you had cooked for him. his way of thinking was fucked but it was how it was. “you’re sweet.” you said.

“hm?”

“you’re sweet. you care too much, though.” you tell him. nobody has ever said those words to him in his life. he grins. “sense of adventure. sleeping on a stranger’s couch by accident and the cause being passionate conversation.”

“it’s definitely something,” he takes the coffee from you. “thanks.” how is he supposed to leave now? coffee in hand.

“and i know you’re not looking for anything serious, so don’t read too much into it. i’ll do that for you.” you were so cheeky and he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you took down your hair, letting it fall. he should have fucked you…

- you talk as you make breakfast. you don’t mention that you’re doing so, but you are and he won’t stop you. he should be on his way, but you’re talking to him and he’s listening and he just can’t bring himself to make up an excuse to go. you’re as sweet as the things you make and it’s hard to ignore the fact that you are different. maybe it’s the fact he’s not currently clouded by lust, the need to have you in that way isn’t very forefront, seeing as he had a place to stay without it.

- “waffles or pancakes? because every time i ask this, i get someone’s bullshit answer. there’s a very real answer to this.”

“really? and what if i’m wrong?”

“then no food.” you say, pointing at him with your spatula. “okay go.”

“waffles.” he says.

“mmm nope.” you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “you’re a victim of the syrup puddle delusion. pancakes are sooo much better, they are so absorbent. it’s the only way to go. especially with chocolate chip.” and the conversation is dumb. but you’re young, he can’t expect you to be all serious. it’s new and it’s fresh and it’s fun. you’re fun.

- noon hits and he’s helping you clean. “i’m sorry if i’ve held you hostage,” you tell him, setting aside the freshly cleaned plates. “hope you know you were free to go hours ago.”

“i knew, i knew,” he chuckled. “it’s not every day a professional wants to hold you hostage and cook for you.”

“so you just want me for my cooking. typical. typical,” you tease. “here i thought you were different.”

“the cooking is a bonus. not that your food isn’t amazing, it is. really fucking good. it’s also not often i like who’s cooking it.”

“oh my god you like me? really?” you tease him. it’s cute.

“shhh, okay,” he nods. he’s not a liar. “yeah. i think so.”

“crazy.” you whisper, dragging your hand over his arm and back as you walk past him, smiling. you’re different, you’re doing things that are making him feel things deeper than he probably should. he tells himself it’s just because it’s longer than he thought- but he did wake up with his arms around you… that’s something he’s never done with any woman he’s ever slept with, intentional or not. but he also didn’t sleep with you, sleep with you.

- he says goodbye around 1pm. he’s overstayed for sure but you don’t show any signs of it. and the conversation was never boring. it was a lot of talking and as he stood at the exit of the bakery, people trying to brush by him to get in (other staff were working obviously), he couldn’t even get the chance to kiss you goodbye. not even that. though as he walked back to his car, he found that he really had wanted to.

- he’s back on tinder later. a place to stay is a place to stay. he’s got a process and he’s safe, he didn’t sleep with you. he’s scrolling, but suddenly he’s extra picky. it’s weird. all these ideal matches, women he’d be fine with are suddenly just not it. you’re not out of his mind, but that’s fine, another woman would erase you. no problem. if only he could pick one, find one… if all else fails he’d go to a bar and find one there.

- he doesn’t. he gives up. he sleeps in his car. and he’s thinking about you. how you brought him back to your business, cooked a whole meal for him, a nice meal, an expensive one, let him sleep over, and made you breakfast and you let him slip out the door. was that casual for you? he couldn’t help but to think about it, about you. about how the closest he got to you was while you were both asleep. it was an occurrence that just… didn’t happen in the day to day. he fell asleep before he could do anything, that was rare, that was comfortable, that was… strange. and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. a day passes in between.

- he’s unsurprised when you message again a day later, but glad. the sun is setting, he has to move his phone to avoid the orange glare.

y: hey :)

p: hi, how are you?

y: i’m good, how are you?

p: the same.

y: what are you up to?

p: not much. just finished at the court.

he lied, of course. he had to come across as busy, that’s just how it was when girls called back. too busy.

y: ooh fun.

y: any chance you want to swing by? i baked something new and i need a test audience.

how could he say no? free food was free food… he climbed into the front seat and put his keys in the ignition. and he was going to see you again.

- he came in, different jeans, different shirt. a t-shirt this time, black. biceps and forearms on display. your bakery is busy and smells like fresh bread and chocolate and there you are, smiling, gorgeous, helping a little girl hold the baked goods for her mom, teaching her to hold the bag ‘nice and straight’. he catches your eye, wandering in, looking at the atmosphere when it’s full of people. “patrick, hi,” you smile, coming out from behind the counter.

he once again can’t help but grin back at you. “hey. wow. it’s busy.”

“it is, it is, but we close in an hour, so it’ll die down. i didn’t think you’d be here now, i mean, i texted like ten minutes ago…”

it dawns on him that he just launched into action at your call. well, fuck. that didn’t look so good for him. he chuckled to himself, a little embarrassed. “i might have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“for me,” you grin, teasing.” no, i get it, who doesn’t?”

he chuckles, “uh-huh, okay, yeah- i wouldn’t know.”

“thought so,” you say, and you take his hand, leading him into the back, where your little chefs are doing their last tasks, cleaning up for the day. “m’kay, come here. try this.” you pick up a fork grab him a bite and you’re driving it to his mouth. he’s got no choice but to eat it. he does, laughing at how you just force fed him something, but his expression changes as how good it is. “it’s good?”

he speaks with his mouth still full- “it’s so good, what the fuck?”

you grin. it’s the first of many times he’s going to be force fed new items, he just doesn’t know that just yet. “you like it? really?”

“mmm- really, yeah. what is that?”

“it’s cinnamon and chocolate with a vanilla base to mimic simple pastry. its got a bit of a fudge to the chocolate and the cinnamon is freshly ground. it’s a cupcake inspired by a churro.” you jump up and down just a little. he could kiss you for this.

“can i buy this off you right now?”

“bold to think you can buy anything off of me.” you scoff, picking up one of the tray. you grab the icing spatula and quickly spread the light brown icing over it and reach over to a little dark brown bottle. you drizzle the dark liquid over it and sprinkle something on top and hand it to him.

“i’ve got ten dollars in my pocket,”

“thought you were just happy to see me,” you mock-sighed, then smiled. “no way i’m letting you pay, that’s crazy. you’re my tester.”

he rolled his eyes a little, smiling back. “just might be over this cupcake.”

“really?” you stepped a little closer, cupcake in hand, looking up at him. you were sexy, and you made it look innocent- it was bad, it was really bad, there were too many people here to do what he wanted to do. he twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to smile too much. “we close in thirty.”

“thought you said an hour?”

“thirty.” you replied, grabbing the oven gloves and taking a few final things out, beginning to wrap things. “i’ll be up in twenty if you want to go up? grab anything in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

you really did lure him back to you with food. he grinned to himself, nodding and heading upstairs they way he knew how from last time.

- he does help himself to the cucumber in your fridge. he figures you’ll miss it least and it’ll tide him over. it’s weird being in someone’s apartment without them. especially after only knowing them a few hours. but it’s worth it, you come with free food and a place to potentially stay. he tells himself that, anyway. he’s using you. or so he tells himself.

- he takes the time to walk around your apartment, seeing more than just the living room couch. you aren’t the most neat person ever, but you keep your things where they need to be. he peeks into your room, looking at the curtains that drape the windows, the big bed, the bedside table with so many things on it. soon enough you’re upstairs, he’s on your couch again. you open the door and the scent of the bakery downstairs floods your apartment. he’s almost sane about the way you take your hair down and unbutton your cardigan. he’s pretending like you aren’t hot. and when you sit on the couch next to him you sit closely. “hi.”

“hey.”

“do you drink wine? red wine?”

“only if i’m not drinking it alone.”

you laugh, “it’s more for me than for you. i need it after today.”

“fair.” he followed you with his eyes as you climbed over the back of the couch and into the kitchen, reaching for the wine bottle. “so it was a busy day. i knew you’d get customers, but that was wild.”

“very,” you screwed the bottle open and got two glasses and you filled them up generously. “we had a little girl come in and she dropped her dad’s entire order and he asked that we make him more for free. i had to explain that we couldn’t do that- it was around $200 wasted on the floor. he was sooo angry.”

patrick met you in the kitchen and you handed him a glass of wine. “so what did you end up doing?”

“i kicked him out.” you said, drinking the wine. “i don’t like disrespectful people- he demanded i make more, even after i offered a different cake.”

“good for you.” patrick nodded. “i wouldn’t take that either. guy wouldn’t even take the cake you offered?”

you finished your generous glass. he wouldn’t judge. “no. which is crazy considering the cake matched his fucking price- god it makes me so mad. he wouldn’t even take what i, myself, spent time and money on.”

patrick enjoyed your passion. “if it would make you feel better, i probably would have eaten the ruined product.”

“should i have called on you earlier for clean up? maybe then it wouldn’t have felt so much like a waste.” you laughed. “i actually wasn’t sure if i should at all.- sorry, the wine- that was weird of me to say.”

he shook his head, “not weird. it’s fair. i don’t usually text post-date.”

“mmm. it didn’t go well enough? holy fuck- i am so sorry, i should not chug wine.”

he laughed, stepping just a little closer. “no it’s just… hm.” he stopped himself. “it was actually one of the best dates i’ve been on in a while.”

“you waited for me to call on you again? like a girl?”

“no, i just.. i don’t usually go on second dates.”

“oh.” you nodded, pouring yourself more wine and topping his off. “but you showed up.”

“maybe i’m just here for the wine and baked goods.”

you lean your back against the counter but somehow you’re closer to him. maybe he took a step forward. either way… “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone about your soft spot for me.”

he smirked, “who said anything about a soft spot?”

you lean just a little more toward him. “don’t tell me i actually lured you back here with food. i think you like me.”

“yeah? guess i need a better poker face then, hm?”

you sipped again, “or… you could admit that you like my company. or me. either one. both.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, fun. you’re looking for fun.” you nod, setting your glass on the counter and hopping up on it. patrick takes the extra space that you used to stand in and he’s still taller than you sitting on the counter. he smells good like he did the other day, cologne and cigarettes and to him. you note the biceps and you didn’t get to see when he wore a sweater the other night. they’re nice… he looks over you still, close to you. “nothing more than fun?”

“maybe a little more than fun.”

“oh? and it’s not the wine?”

“no, it’s not the wine,” he scratches the back of his head.

“soooo…?”

“might be you.”

you giggled, cheering just a little. “oh my god, he admits it. this is crazy, should i bake a cake? what do i win, a third date?”

“you’re ambitious,” he grins, stepping closer to you. his body is between your knees, he’s looking down at you. your heart picks up pace.

“tell me to my face you don’t ever want to see me again.”

“i can’t do that.”

“thought so.”

- he leans forward the same way you tilt your head up. he’s got that sick little smirk on his lips and his eyes fall from your eyes to your lips.

“so third date?”

“maybe,” he’s getting closer. his body is as close to yours as it can be without being completely pressed against. your legs are on either side of his hips, it’s suggestive, it’s sexy, and you are smiling like you’re proud of yourself for something. he taps under your chin, “fine.”

you smile wider, eyes meeting his lips as well. you’re no better than him. especially after that chin tap. he could rush into this, kiss you hard, but there’s something about the slowness that is enticing and hot. your eyelids and his both close just slightly, half-lidded, his nose brushes yours, your wine glass is heard being set back down on the counter. his scent mixed with the wine on his breath is intoxicating in itself.

- the phone rings. loud. it’s loud and it’s startling and it ruins everything. usually he wouldn’t give up at something like that but it’s… you. and it was ruined. he could have kissed you and he didn’t because it wasn’t perfect. which was strange. because usually he wouldn’t give that much of a fuck. he backed away and you looked at him apologetically, slipping off the counter, your hand trailing down his arm as you did, before getting the phone. it’s one of your product suppliers calling because he thought you were still open. you laugh, apologizing to the supplier.

- patrick feels like he should leave. usually it’s so cut and dry, he goes on the date, he goes back, he fucks, he leaves. it’s a simple process and it works. but you are you and you’re different and he hasn’t even kissed you and he’s standing in your kitchen waiting for you to finish on the phone after a near-first kiss. now the regular him in his regular pattern wouldn’t count any kiss with a number but you’ve got some grip on him that he can’t deny. even got him to say yes to a third date. his hand in his pocket. who is he to deny himself anything?

- he feels like a horny teenager with a girl whose parents are in the driveway. it’s not the time for a kiss, he’s listening to your conversation and it seems like there’s a calculating issue.

- he’s standing, red wine glass in hand. he’s looking over the ladybug magnets on your fridge. he takes a sip, then places the glass on the counter. he hears the click of the phone back on it’s base and turns to look at you, “where were we?” you ask, hopping back over to him and pulling him in by his shirt. he didn’t see that coming, but gladly, his lips are on yours. it’s a strong kiss, he’s pressed against you, bent just a little because he’s too tall. your hands holding his face, your hips connecting with his. he grabs your waist, keeping you there. his hands are strong and guiding and they are surprisingly still. and it’s a kiss. a long kiss. surprisingly long to patrick who is used to a multitude of messy kisses in the heat of a moment. this moment is heated differently. and the kiss is long and hard with gentle breaks between for breaths and it’s just… nice. he tastes the way he smells and apparently so do you. unsurprisingly sweet with the taste of wine.

- you pull away first. not him. you. he would keep kissing you if you didn’t stop. his lips stay parted and you hover over them a second longer before you pull away entirely. “so about that third date… i think we should-“

- he sits with you on the couch again and he asks you about you. your bakery stories. your culinary school stories. and he’s laughing and so are you and the bottle of wine is done for and you haven’t even kissed again. he wants to kiss you. he’s staring at your lips and he wants to kiss you again. he can’t stop thinking about how it felt. who knew a kiss without sex was still so fucking good? he hadn’t kissed anyone like since- well since Tashi, but Tashi wasn’t ever feeling the same way on the other end of things but you so were. you were and this made for probably one of his top five kisses. top three. top two.

- the third date is at a restaurant you deem ‘good’ and when dinner is over, he walks you back to your apartment above the bakery and you kiss him at the door. another good kiss. shorter than the first. it’s somehow only your second kiss and he’s known you for about a week. but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know all of the things about you. soon enough you have plans to see each other again.

- it’s over lava cake now. you tried two different recipes and you need him to try both and he’s completely down. you sit on the counter and you make him open his mouth to give him the bites you’ve perfectly prepared with the side of fresh strawberries and it’s erotic, somehow, the way your thumb moves over his lower lip to remove the excess chocolate. not only that, but you put your thumb in your own mouth. you’re teasing him. you’re evil, he deducts.

“better or worse than the first?”

“shuttt uppp,” he drags it out as he kisses you. what is known to him as the third kiss between you. kissing you with no intention of bringing you to your bed is something addictive. maybe it’s just you. the way you kiss him. your hand travels up the back of his neck and into his hair and you’re grinning when you part for air, his hands are on your waist and he’s pressed against you. it’s hard to stop kissing you. he finds it every time. you taste like chocolate and strawberries.

- you kiss him, letting his hand slide up the back of your shirt, his warm hands on your skin. you pull away, “you want to go upstairs?” you breathe.

“i still have to compare the two.”

“there’s better things upstairs to eat, i promise,” you grin. “was that so bad.”

“that was not so bad but from you i think it might be.”

“oh i knew it, but i had to make the joke at some point.” you smile and he smiles back at you before kissing you again. and he just kisses you. over and over and over. and he never even goes upstairs that night.

- he gets to kiss you more often. you see him more often. he’s over at yours or you go to a park and it’s just nice. the consistency is surprisingly nice and he doesn’t even mind sleeping in his car, he’s got something good going. he hasn’t had sex in a while but it’s worth it, really worth it. he didn’t want to ditch the lifestyle but it was you and you were smart and kind and a little bit mean in a sexy way and he was only getting older. he deleted tinder.

- he’s kissing you, “patrick- I have to- go back- downstairs,” he’s kissing you all he can to get you to stay. He slept over on the couch and you brought him coffee and a bakery croissant so he’s not letting you go. it’s a work day. he knows that. he pulls you onto the couch with him and you’re giggling, saying that you really need to get back to work, but his hand his gently squeezing your chest and sliding over your waist so you can spare a few minutes. you kiss like teenagers, a lot of touching but nothing too serious. patrick is a fan of the change of pace, of the anticipation, of you, so he’ll gladly kiss you until your lips are pink and puffy with no sexual gratification. it’s nice to be able to sleep over without that obligation.

- when you’re across from him at dinner, you ask him what you are. and his brain is telling him to say something fake, protect himself, protect the player motif, but his heart is so in it. he has a big heart and a lot to give and it’s been misplaced far too fucking often. so his brain decides to tell him to go with his heart and he asks if you want to call yourself his girlfriend. he hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tashi. and that was fucking ages ago. you are the first person able to crack him enough into something that could be serious. at first he thinks maybe you’re not into it, but you grin. “so that makes you my boyfriend…”

“yeah,” he nods, mouth pinched a little to avoid the pending grin. “that work for you?”

“i’ll have to check with my other two boyfriends, but i think it’ll be fine.”

- he chases you up the stairs to your apartment and kisses you against the door even with the threat of falling all the way back down all those steps. you manage to get the door open and you pull him inside before pulling away from the kiss and kicking off your shoes as you run from him. he chases you just a little, enough, you’re giggling as you throw your cardigan on the couch. patrick is opposite of you with the couch between so it could go either way so he jumps the couch, catching you and kissing you, picking you up, the billowy skirt you’re in sliding up your legs as they wrap around him. you kiss him, captured in his arms and he presses you to another wall, then another, and then he’s crawling over you in your bed. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone. he’s never had the intention to touch someone with such gentle hands. its always been rough, always lust-laced. not here, not how.

- and it isn’t even sex. it’s just touching, heavy petting. it’s your denial of it that makes him want you so much more as your hand moves up and down his length. he’s big, you note that, it kind of scares you a little in the ‘how is that supposed to fit’ kind of way, but it’s good. you’re good with your hands, it’s probably from all the dough-kneading you’ve had to do in your lifetime. he’s weak for you and you only. you really were taking this slowly and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. his hands slide over the skin of your waist, over your ass, coming back to your front, pushing aside your underwear, fingers that rub your clit and make you gasp. he’s experienced, you know that, but you kiss him and he tastes like smoke and you can forget it. besides, you know you’ve already won him over. his fingers slip inside of you and it’s dawns on him that you are probably one of the best things to happen to him in a while. aside from sex, the lack thereof is something so enticing, so fucking intoxicating, and the way you moan his name without him having to truly be inside of you, it’s so rewarding. he thinks he might just stay, as if he hasn’t already agreed to it.

- dating you comes with gaining a few pounds, that’s a no-brainer. you feed him well. how can he say no when everything you cook is so fucking good and there’s never a lack of dessert around? with tennis still in the picture he’s turning most of it into muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from getting just a little bit softer. he hasn’t slept in his car in three days, he’s in your bed and you’re laying on his chest, your hands tracing gently patterns on the skin of his stomach, tracing the hair down his abdomen to the v of his crotch and back up again. he’s not even thinking he’s glad to not be sleeping in his car, he’s contented with the fact you’re laying on him the way you are. and he’s only glad to not be in his car because you wouldn’t be there.

- “we never go to your place,�� you say to him, “hiding bodies there or something?”

patrick scratches the back of his neck, scrunching up his nose just a little. “uh… something like that. it’s not very finished.”

“when have i ever minded a mess?”

“mmm, never, but i don’t think you’d like it.”

you shook your head, “what if i kissed you? then would you let me come over?”

“you kiss me all the time, what currency is that passive?”

you roll your eyes, “oral.”

“also not hard to come by.”

“prove it.” he’s glad you give him something to do to drop the topic of his living situation.

- he’s coming to understand what a roux is and how to actually make food now that there’s so many ingredients around. you’re teaching him and he’s begging you to come to the court and try tennis, but you tell him you that these things are not comparable. he picks you up and puts you on the counter as always and kisses you into it. maybe his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt. “patrick. we have food in the oven that is almost done, focus.”

he kisses your neck. “will it burn?”

“if you don’t stop, it will.” you smile against his kisses, his hand creeping up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs. “patrick.” your tone is warning but you don’t mean it.

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his tongue delving between yours. his other hand is on your lower back, bringing you closer to the counter’s edge. he stops in his tracks.

“you’re not wearing anything under this?”

you smile against his lips, “mmm… nope.” and the kissing is only intensified. he pulls you closer and he tilts you back a little so his fingers can push inside of you. they curl perfectly, without sex he’s learned how to navigate you so well. you’re moaning and he’s taking it in like nothing he’s ever had before. this is domestic, this is perfect. he’s so into it, hard in his jeans. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted and you tease him with open legs and no underwear but you won’t let him fuck you.

- you really do want him to. so badly. god it’s almost a force of its own how badly you need him to. but the excuse this time is that the food is genuinely going to burn which is to your advantage because he picks up the pace at which his fingers are moving so that he can finish what he started before quickly and thoroughly washing his hands and taking the food out of the oven, you just breathe hard. he fixes your skirt so it once again drapes over your legs with a quick smile your way. god, he’s perfect.

- he’s enjoying himself in a way he didn’t know was possible. it brings him a strange joy when you introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend and they’re all impressed when they find out he’s a professional tennis player. “can’t be good for your sport to be fed eclairs all the time,” one of your guy friends joked with him. “you look good though, man. and she looks really happy.”

- it’s not like you wanted the sex to be special. no, you’re not a virgin. it’s not going to be magic. things already do feel pretty good if you’re honest but it’s getting to the point where you’re getting a little too horny to exist properly around each other. you’re adults, you’ve got all the time in the world to be romantic but as of lately it’s been feeling like there’s some magnetic, otherworldly force. patrick himself is slightly denying himself the pleasure because it feels so good to exist in that state of anticipation. you on the other hand, you’ve just been living to tease. you’re not easy, you don’t want to be easy, if you’re easy you turn into every other woman. you take pleasure in making him wait, pulling him close, touching him in ways that he won’t soon forget.

- he watches you at work. comes home from the court, showers and comes back downstairs and you’re busy in the kitchen. your employees have learned to work around you when you stop to kiss him. it’s been a few months of this. he loves how passionate you are about your work and if he’s lucky you’ll walk by his table, bring him coffee or a treat and sometimes you’ll make him try a few things, he never has the option to put it in his mouth himself. you do that little thing he loves, wiping his lip with your finger and taking whatever excess and putting it in your own mouth.

- he helps you close. he turns off all the ovens and he helps to wipe down and sweep. you’re in the kitchen with him alone now and you kiss him every single time he passes you. strong kisses, ones that mean something. paired with maybe a peck or two. every kiss longer than the next. his hands always on your waist, always holding you close against him. he presses you against the wall, you giggle as you shut the blinds with your free hand. “mmm- patrick.”

“yeah?”

“you want to go upstairs?”

“i’m busy,” he replies, kissing your neck. you sigh against him happily.

“patrick.”

“uh-huh?”

“upstairs,” you urge him, eyes meeting his between kisses. “i spend all day down here, upstairs…”

he’s clueless, used to what he’s used to, but he’ll do what you ask, following as you hold his hands up the stairs. “am i cooking tonight or do you still feel like it? i feel like i’ve really got that-“

you kiss him the moment you’re upstairs. it’s been a long day. he takes it happily, but it’s something more. the kisses connect and disconnect with more passion than to let this kiss have no intention. you’re grinning against his lips and he is once again backing you against the wall. his hand cradles behind your head and his tongue is in your mouth. he’s got his other hand on the back of your hip, sliding down over your ass. you hum into it, the breaths between short and pretty, your smiles mutual.

your hand slips up his chest, grabbing the collar of his sweater and using it to kiss him harder. your other hand creeps up the back of his neck. and then you start to pull his sweater up over his head.

- the difference isn’t much. but he gladly takes off his sweater and his shirt. it’s no different. except you push him backward, grinning. he takes it with a smile, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. you push him back to your bed where he falls onto it and you begin to crawl over him. his hands on your waist as he adjusts where he’s sitting, your hand slipping down into his pants. no belt today, you’re lucky. he groans a little breathily as your hand does what it does best. he’s a fan of skirts, hiking it up, you do the very opposite and pull it down, off, thrown somewhere into some void. he sits up, meeting you, cupping your face.

your hand slips back out and you grind against him instead, his kisses varying in length just to be able to breathe out the way he needs. you breathe in his air, humming as you kiss him. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

“take your pants off?”

he chuckles between kisses and lifts you gently just so he can undo his zipper and pull them off. you grin, sitting back against him, grinding just a little. the new friction is good, elicits a larger groan from him. “what do you want from me?” he mumbles.

“do i have to want something?”

“have to want something. whatever it is, it’s yours. i already offered to cook.”

you laugh, kissing him still, “patrick, love.”

“yeah?” you smirk, eyelashes fluttering. his hand slides up your bare hip. “oh, fuck.”

“yeah, about that,” you grin, kissing him again. he groans, his head tilting back as you kiss him harder. he takes it all. it’s you. it’s everything he wants.

- his hands shimmy your underwear down your legs and his fingers meet your clit in seconds. he’s into it, his fingers slip inside you. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“need you.” you mumble back. “please.”

your please is something he’s never gotten before. it’s all real and happening and he’s more than content with the ask. his boxers are off and he flips you onto your back. he’s not going to make you do the work the first time you have sex. he’s waited months to fuck you, he’s doing it himself and he’s doing it right. he knows you keep condoms in your top drawer, he reaches over, grabs one, and rips it open with his teeth. the wrapper flits to the floor.

- he’s big. you know this very well. you’ve thought about it, dreamt about it, fantasized with your hand between your thighs about it, but it’s real and it’s a threat. the thing is he’s not just long. around 7 inches maybe high 6 inches but he’s also thick in girth. you’re kissing and it’s rough but he takes the time to mumble, “is this okay?” he asks like you’re a virgin as his tip bumps your entrance- he pretends it’s not the hottest thing. he pretends you don’t make him weak. you tell him yes and you hold him a little extra close as he starts to push into you. it hurts- you haven’t had anyone inside of you like this in two years maybe. for him it’s been a little less, but it’s felt like forever. he’s never been discontented with your sexual activities but this just beats everything. you’re tight and respectfully, he goes slowly, both of you moaning and grasping for some semblance of reality. the wait is already deemed worth it, him burying his cock in you as far as it’ll go.

- he moves in and out slowly, but you’re not new to this. he soothes you, rubbing up your hip, your upper thigh, “taking it so well. so good. it’s okay?”

“mhm-“ you sigh, “fuck, oh my god.”

it’s more than satisfying. it’s more than he even thought it could be. “you feel so good, so perfect-.” his words make you moan and he takes it happily. he’s increasing his pace, getting harsher with his thrusts and you’re taking it all perfectly. it hurts but masking that under the pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely. “god, you’re-“ he groans into your mouth. so many months without, he could have lasted so much longer if it was in regular practice but you’re tight and you’re moaning in his ear, his name is falling off your lips. “gorgeous…”

“uh-huh,” you smile, kissing him as he fucks you into the mattress. that innocent smile on you that is so knowing, so fucking hot. it’s taking patrick all he can not to finish right then. sex with you is everything. everything. all-consuming, entirely satisfying

- forty minutes of completely sweaty, messy, perfect sex, he’s pulling out, and you’re breathing hard. “oh my god…” you say, rolling back onto your back. “i’ve been going without that?”

patrick smirks at the ceiling before rolling over, looking at you. he met you with the intention of sex with you but looking at you he couldn’t imagine that ever being true. there was no way it would have ever been as good as it just was if he’d pulled his moves all that time ago. it felt like forever. “going without?”

“i liked the tease,” you nod back, smiling just a little. “i’m hungry, are you hungry? i’ll make dinner in a few.”

he smiles at your need to feed him. “just a little.” and he begins to kiss down your bare chest, your stomach, between your thighs. “you’re so pretty, you know that?” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “prettiest.”

“i might…”

“so so pretty,” he kisses your opposite thigh. the shivers you had just felt return with a hot flush of goosebumps throughout your entire body. and his tongue works that same magic you know it to.

- you of course, make too much food after that. glowing with the high of sex and three great orgasms. patrick sits a little bit quiet. if he’d done this and been out the door he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be sitting at the table, listening to you weigh up and down about making brownies or cake. you’re so excited. you’re so happy. and he’s doing something good for once. he’s making someone happy and there’s no catch. he’s yours. if he’d fucked you and walked out, shoes in hand, he would have missed out on something so perfect. it’s something to think about .

- when you notice how quiet he is, you come and sit on his lap in the chair. “are you okay?” you ask, just a little concerned. after all, he is patrick and you did have a bit of worry that he’d finally have what he wants and go. that was irrational, you convinced yourself. but he’s so quiet. “dinner is almost done.”

“i’m okay,” he responds, hands slinking around your waist. “more than. i’m just… i’m really happy. i hope you are too.”

“i am really happy- what are you thinking?” you smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“thinking that-“ he turns your head toward his and kisses you, “-i should tell you that i’m happy.”

“just that?”

“just that.” and he’s more than contented with that and you. he wouldn’t have ever said so. he never pictured the sentence. ever.

- what’s another five pounds for the woman you’re probably in love with anyway? crisis, patrick zweig head over heels. crisis. it’s new. tashi was never love, tashi was lust and the idea of perfect. you. you are pretty. and you’re kind. and you’re feeding him a cookie with other cookies baked into it and asking if it’s better than the cinnamon one. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you.

- he moves in. you’re glad to have him, especially after he confesses about his car. there’s a small argument but it’s just because this whole time you were banishing him to sleeping in his car!!! how could he let you do that to him, poor baby. he’s not a poor baby, he’s a grown man, but he enjoys being kissed all over his face. you smell like chocolate and vanilla from the cakes of the day.

- he fucks you on the floor of your bakery, shutters closed, open sign turned off, the place dark, he’s fucking you on the floor. “god, you feel so good.” he groans. “so perfect.”

you hum in agreement, “fuck, patrick, god-“ and to think just ten minutes ago, you were making him try cake fillings for a wedding cake. you tasted like strawberry filling and he tasted like lemon and he could fuck you forever, he swears. floor or not. had to be some sort of health code violation. who was he to complain?

“fuck-“ he obeys, he goes harder. you moan and it slips from your lips. “fuck, i love you.”

- you both hear it. you grab his face and you kiss him so hard that his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen. he doesn’t falter, he fucks you harder the way you wanted and even adds his hand between you to play with your clit. you finish with him and you don’t let him pull out before you kiss him again, a second hard kiss, completely pressing him against you in all forms. “i love you too. a lot actually. more than you know.” you’ve been waiting to say it. “more than most… things.”

you’re naked and he’s still inside you and it’s a little oddly timed. he cant take back what he said. nor can he deny he means it. “more than chocolate cake?”

“woahhh too far, know your limits. that’s like asking you if you love me more than a tennis ball.”

he laughs, he laughs really hard, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “i think i love you a bit more than a tennis ball, what the fuck. a tennis ball?”

“you love tennis,” you giggle, holding his face in your hands. “why not a tennis ball?”

he keeps laughing, “it’s a ball.”

“tennis ball. you love tennis. makes sense to me.”

“over chocolate cake?”

you laugh with him, covering your face. but he moves your hands and kisses you again. a long, meaningful, and always perfect.

- he loves sleeping next to you more than most things. his favourite thing is probably the way you look in the morning before coffee. he keeps the curtains open when the sun sets so he gets to watch the golden light on your face. you kiss him every chance you get, no matter what, and he’s in love with it. and you. all of you. the sex is never boring, you taste like something sweet every time. he’s getting good at baking simple things like cupcakes and cookies and he can say he makes a decent mac and cheese because of you. he gets a job thanks to you and your connections and it’s a good job. he comes home to you, wakes up to you. and all this because some bar food wasn’t up to par.

- he finally gets you on the court and you’re terrible. it’s his turn to laugh at you, the way you do when he somehow turns batter into a thick dough. somehow you manage to hit balls backward. “it’s a good thing we’re in a long-term relationship and you love me, right?”

“hmmm… maybe not so long-term,” he jokes, dropping his racket and coming to kiss you.

- the thing about patrick is that after trying this, having this, in theory, he never wanted it again. it was messy. all he knew. messy. sex was easy and simple and was messy in the best way. he thought maybe it was his lack of faith that it could ever be like this. so he never stopped being happy with you. why would he? every fight was talked out, mature, you didn’t fight back to be petty and you didn’t give him the silent treatment for revenge. you sure as hell didn’t leave him for his best friend. you were everything right. and he thought this was all bullshit- finding that person. the right person. how could he look at you, the person who changed his life around and saved him from living in his car and not think that you were one hundred percent, without a doubt, perfect for him. you were you. and you were never sure if one baked good was better than another and he knew, watching you stirring a bowl of something with a bit of flour on your upper cheek and in your hair, that this was where he was meant to be.

- he had that same thought a few years later when you told him you were pregnant.

- and then later, when you’re retired. you turn to baking scones. patrick’s rackets on the wall, trophies, and you, in the kitchen, asking him if he likes the blueberry with cream scone better than the raspberry earl grey scone. he’s still got his sweet tooth.

taglist: @lalalandofive @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @reallycreativeusername @swetearss @romnticist @colorful-teaparty @senseofnewness

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig fluff #challengers x reader #tinytennisskirt #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig challengers #patrick x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig blurb #patrick zweig fic

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six-eyed-samurai · 5 months ago

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SUMMARY: For the life of him, Upper Moon Six cannot figure out why he can't bring himself to kill you. It kills him inside to even think about it. A/N: Had this in my drafts for god knows how long, it's finally out LMAO. WARNINGS: Fem reader, one dead man, couple of swears...and that's about it I think

Sometimes Gyutaro really wished Daki wasn’t so picky about who she ate.

It was a particularly low time recently. The District hadn’t received much new members and most of the people Daki had deemed beautiful enough to eat were gone, throwing a whole tantrum about how she’d rather starve than consume such hideousness. They argued, he threatened her, she screamed back, but in the end he relented and continued in his search to find a meal for them both.

He wasn’t picky and could’ve eaten any time he wanted, he grumbled to himself as he hunkered down on the balcony of one of the numerous rooms in the brothel, surveying the blinding lights of the District and spitting at the arrogant men and haughty women down below. But of course he had to just feel bad about being full while his sister went hungry so Gyutaro decided to stave off eating until she did.

If there weren’t any beautiful people, he hoped Daki would be fine with someone pretty. Or at least decently average. And what luck, he had found none.

Well, lies. Gyutaro wondered how Daki never noticed her before and prayed that she never would. Perhaps it was because she was such a quiet, obedient thing that spent most of her time serving the mistress so that probably explained it. Not beautiful enough to attract the attention of clients, but pretty enough to have gotten Upper Six’s interest.

He stalked her around for a few days to figure out the best time to strike and eat her at the beginning. Sometimes she’d accidentally catch on, see that shadow hunkering behind her, but he made sure to always stay out of her sight.

Gyutaro learnt a lot of things about her that way. She liked food that wasn’t too sweet and disliked a certain type of fish. She liked to go take a walk occasionally alone, far away from the brothel. Her favorite color, the jewelry on the other girls she’d eye, when she fell asleep.

She liked ugly things too. That scrawny, flea-bitten cat from the garbage. The gap-toothed, abandoned children of the streets who flocked to her and begged for breadcrumbs. She didn’t seem to mind the out-of-fashion, worn clothes handed to her by the other girls of the house.

He’d like to think she’d like Gyutaro too.

Of course he knew it was wrong. She was food, not someone he should be thinking about constantly, whether he be out hunting for other prey or remaining dormant within Daki. She’d run screaming in the other direction if she so much as caught a glimpse of him.

Gyutaro wasn’t even sure when he had started getting the weird symptoms from watching her. He had originally thought she must be a demon herself, using her Blood Art to make him think about her 24/7, 365, make his palms sweaty and have his heart rate accelerate around her, have the persistent urges to keep following her around for no reason except to just bask in that sunlight of hers.

Probably some time after she nearly came close to realizing he was there, Gyutaro concluded. She was out with the oiran as one of her attendants that night and out of habit he had shadowed them, ducking out of sight amongst the crowds and running into an abandoned alley after nearly getting caught. The stupid cat had suddenly rushed in as well, something in its jaws, and her hot on its heels.

She had slammed into him, both falling over. Gyutaro would’ve snarled and promptly killed the person if it had been anyone else, but seeing her surprised, flustered face bathed in yellow glow momentarily froze him. She was looking at him. She was hovering above him.

He waited for the screaming.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?!”

Shock left him dumb, instinct caused him to grunt in reply and quickly turn away lest she caught a glimpse of how demonically ugly he was. The cat screeched from somewhere in the back but he could barely hear it over the rush in his ears as her sweet, sweet, gentle, soft hand grabbed his and helped him up, exclaiming apologies again and again.

Then he fell, probably, and could never not think about her again.

Gyutaro abruptly growled and fled in frustration at the weird, disgusting feelings welling up inside of him. Ugly, ugly, ugly, he hated himself, he hated her, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing her, he wanted her so badly not to see him like everyone did, like she did that night, just another person-

But hey, even demons could dream, right? Gyutaro was guilty for the deaths and injuries for hundreds of humans even when he was one himself, but the sin of fantasizing what it’d be like to even be shown an ounce of affection from her, have her for himself (what was it that humans did, hold hands? Each other? He watched her pet the cat; would she pet and play with his hair like that?) made him feel a thousand times guiltier.

A horrible feeling. Like somebody had stabbed him and was twisting the Nichirin blade around in his innards. Obviously this feeling could be fixed if he ate you, got rid of you, right? …even if he couldn’t fathom eating you himself, Daki could, right? God, never mind, he never felt so…what was this feeling at the thought? So for now he just hoped that no one would notice her. Not Daki, she’d become her next meal. Not a client, they were fouler than him.

How dare they dirty your presence anyway? Who cared if they were handsome, rich, well off, of excellent lineage and all that bullshit? The fact they even thought of touching your, harassing you, having you was enough for Gyutaro to lose his mind and go crazy on a killing spree of all those suitors. If he couldn’t have you, and he knew that, they couldn’t either, and they better know that.

Daki, however…she seemed to be picking up on something off about her older brother’s behavior - he had never ignored her complaints about their stash of food running low soon before, never brushed it off with a yell and assurances he’d find more victims and not do so. Confused and indignant was how she had felt and what caused her to spy a little on Gyutaro and eventually how he was just spending his time watching some stupid girl with something sparking in his gaze she wasn’t sure what to feel about. She settled on disliking and being suspicious of it, finally confronting him about it one night.

“Onii-chan, can you just kill her and be done with it already?! You’ve been following her for more than a week now, how long more do you need to kill her?!”

“Shut up! Be grateful I’m even hunting for you.”

Daki huffed and continued yelling about something to do with being too busy with Oiran duties but Gyutaro zoned out completely, glaring upwards. He should be killing her by now. Eating her. Digesting her.

Why am I not doing that? He silently demanded.

In truth he didn’t know either. Didn’t know why he so easily gave into the slightest stupidest excuse to stalk his prey some more. Didn’t know why he thought about killing the people around her more than her herself. Didn’t know why he was decapitating the head of a man who called her slurs the other day instead of her head.

“FINE, I’LL GO KILL HER TONIGHT!”

He slammed the doors for emphasis, muttering profanities he didn’t actually mean about his precious sister as he stalked around the house and to her room. Maybe if Gyutaro killed her he’d stop feeling so ill all the time. “Ill” being used loosely, since…oh God, he liked the feeling, didn’t he?

Gyutaro slammed a fist against the wall. He’d eat her and be done with it.

But when he got to her room he could see not one but two shadows moving about inside, hear murmuring voices and smell a foreign scent…a man’s, tainted by alcohol. Gyutaro couldn’t help it, he wound up eavesdropping in a jealous rage at whoever managed to get close to her.

“You’re a - hic - pretty girl, I’m sure you don’t wanna - hic - be stuck here anymore, ne?”

“Sir, please get out, I never invited you to my room and I’m not working right now-”

“So what? You gonna - hic - do something?” Gyutaro’s nails dug into the wood as he saw a silhouette of a hand grabbing at her arm and yanking her to him.

“I’ll call the mistress if you do anything!”

“Haha, if you can get her to - hic - listen to you, I’ll let you go! I’m already offering - hic - a lot of money for your marriage contract!” The man just about threw her to the door, roughly letting go of her arm as he laughed drunkenly. Gyutaro had barely any time to hide himself in the shadows before the doors were flung open and she raced away.

Marriage? With this pathetic excuse of a-

The next thing Gyutaro knew after awakening from the bloodthirsty, furious craze of very messily murdering the man - the bastard had dared taint such a goddess! Not even Gyutaro had dare done that, too terrified she’d run from the demon that he was and he wouldn’t even be able to catch sight of her anymore - was him standing above the corpse, one sickle buried in the mutilated head…

…while two yellow eyes slowly looked back to see her standing still by the doorway.

His hands curled into fists and he fell to his knees. It was over, wasn’t it? Gyutaro would really have to kill her now, after she’d inevitably shatter his black, rotted heart into a million pieces for slaughtering someone much worse than him. Daki would not be happy at being forced to kill the whole House because he was seen either.

She…fell to her knees as well? Smiling and crying?

“I knew it! I knew you were always there-”

“NEHHH?” Gyutaro reared back, stunned. “You’re supposed to scream! Am I not ugly to you?! Say something else, you stupid human! What do you mean you know?!”

“I knew you were there,” she repeated. “Someone was always following me…you were the one who killed all those…men and left those stolen items from the other oiran for me, weren’t you? I just wondered when you’d show up…I was so, so afraid when the mistress told me I was going to be married off…I prayed and prayed you’d save me again.”

“What? No, NO!” In a flash he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, breathing erratically as his hand gripped his sickle tight enough to crush rocks. “I’m not - I’m not saving you! You’re not supposed to be like this! I’m a disgusting demon, you stupid dunce, I’m ugly-”

“I don’t think you are.”

Gyutaro searched her face frantically for any indication she was bullshitting him. This was everything he wanted and nothing he understood. His fingers tightened their hold. She had to be lying.

She wasn’t. Her lips curved up gently and a fang poked out. “I think you’re like me.”

#Sunny's works #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x you #gyutaro shabana x reader #gyutaro shabana x y/n #gyutaro shabana x you #gyutaro x fem reader #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 days ago

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Never Let You Go

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Sam Wilson

Summary: you run into an old face as you try to build a new life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Richard, hi,” you approach the table on the cafe patio. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Oh, don’t fret, I’m always impeccably early,” he stands to greet you and offers his hand, “so good to finally meet in person.”

“Yes, finally,” you smile. “I really appreciate you coming all the way down here.”

“I’m of a mind to try new things,” he says. “Especially local places. They put a touch more care into their food.”

“Have you ordered? They have a great curried egg salad.” You suggest as you claim the seat across from him. He sits as well.

“Just a coffee,” he says.

“Sounds great,” you reply. “Could use one as well but if you’d rather just get to business--”

“Go on, I can wait,” he assures as he checks his watch. “Our meeting is still ten minutes away, technically.”

“I’ll be quick,” you get up with the promise.

You head for the door and dip through to join the queue. You’ve been looking forward to the snickerdoodle latte all day and yet Richard spoiled that by being even earlier than you. It’s a good sign at least. It means you’ll probably get the commission.

You wait your turn patiently. You sway back and forth. You greedily ogle the desserts in the case, your restraint at battle with your sweet tooth. Your eyes are drawn to the paper taped to the glass. ‘Under New Management. Fun changes coming soon!’

You come here a couple times a week and you had no idea. You suppose you didn’t ask. You’re always in autopilot; you get in, get your coffee, and go.

Your turn comes and you step up to order your latte. The snickerdoodle is discontinued. Oh. You get the vanilla bean instead. No use being picky, much more important things to tend to.

As you pay, a familiar tone catches your ear. It can’t be. The timbre flows through the open door to the back. You take your coffee and go.

It’s all in your head. You’re not paranoid, just a little... cautious? It’s been months. You’re in a new neighbourhood, you cut all your former clients, well, the ones he didn’t chase away, and you have a new favourite coffee shop. Things are looking up.

You take your order and return to the table. Richard looks up, smiling over his cup.

“The coffee is great. I understand they have a new supplier,” he says. “I was chatting with the new owner, he said it’s hand-roasted.”

“Oh, wow,” you smile. “I didn’t even know it was sold,” you push your shoulders up and set your cup on the table. “Did you want to see my mock-ups?”

“I certainly would,” he says.

You bring your bag into your lap and slide out your tablet. You flip back the case and scroll through your folders. You open his file and turn the screen towards him.

“You can look through,” you say. “I used the pictures you sent me and I applied the changes digitally. I even have an invoice with an inventory of paints, flooring, fixtures. The furniture is separate for ease. And if there’s anything you want to switch out or change or keep, we can do that as well.”

“Ah,” he takes the tablet. He drags his thumb across. You watch him as he focuses on the screen. “A talented editor too.”

You turn your head. You don’t want to pressure him. It’s normal for clients to have feedback. You had your initial consultation online and you got his general ideas but it’s different when you can see it.

“Did you have any alternates? I think this dove grey is immaculate but I’m curious. If we could do around the fireplace in a different colour perhaps?”

“Oh, I could do something else. I did have another idea for that but it was entirely different. Rustic. The brick was red clay and the walls hardwood.”

“Interesting, you have that?” He wonders.

“Sure, it’s in my drafts.” you reach across.

You take it back and shuffle through to your drafts. You return it to him and he clucks. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he remarks. You wince. “I’ve now brought myself to stalemate. I’m not sure which on I prefer.”

“Oh,” you chuckle in relief, “well, it’s easier when you see swatches and materials. That could be the deciding factor.”

“Probably best,” he agrees.

He gives you back the tablet and you return it to the other file. You offer it again and he continues to browse. He hums and lowers it again.

“I know one thing for sure. You’re hired,” he grins. “When can we begin?”

“As soon as you like,” you try to repress your excitement. Admittedly it’s been difficult since your break-up. Relocating destroyed much of your existing client-base.

“Wonderful,” he says. “Not to rush out but it is such a nice day and I think we are agreed. If you don’t mind, could you forward those images? I could offer more specific notes?”

“Sounds good,” you take the tablet. “Thank you so much.”

“Not at all,” he stands and grabs his cup, draining what’s left in the porcelain before setting it back down. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too,” you smile.

He leaves and you watch after him. You’re ecstatic. You don’t have to dig any further into your savings.

You sit back and grab your cup. You haven’t even tried the latte. It's not bad. Not the sort of vanilla that’s too sweet.

“Is it good?” The voice startles you. Not only because it’s unexpected, but because it’s familiar. The same one you were sure you didn’t hear inside. There’s no way... “I changed the recipe. Upgraded the machines...”

You look up and put the cup down. You gape at Sam as he steps closer and puts his fingertips on the wooden tabletop. “Lot of changes, huh, honey?”

You gulp. “What?”

“It’s a cute place but the management was a disaster. Tanking. But I made an investment--”

“Sam,” you croak, “how...”

“You blocked my number, yeah, I know.” He smirks.

You blink. You know better than to argue. Disengage. You put your tablet in your bag and stand, abandoning the latte you’d looked forward to all day.

He as quick as ever. He catches your wrist over the chair. You tug and look around, “Sam,” you hiss.

“Shh,” he hushes you. “You know what happens when you make a scene.”

He calmly sits and draws you closer. You try to resist but he’s too strong. You peer around. No one else seems to notice the tense encounter. If you cry out now, it will be just like that night you broke up with him. For the fourth time.

He forces you down, onto his lap. Now that might catch a few glances. You shift and lean away from him, your hip pressing into the table.

“Let me go,” you plead.

“So, you moved on quick.”

You wince. It’s been almost a year.

“New place, new coffee, new... man,” he grits the last word.

“He was a client.”

“Oh, I know how you are with your clients,” he sneers. “All bubbly. You were never like that with me, baby.”

“I tried. Sam, you know it’s over.”

“I never agreed to that,” he snarls.

“Sam,” you warn in a flat tone. “Let go or I will scream.”

“You changed a lot,” he ignores the threat. “Your mom didn’t though. She’s still in the brownstone.”

“Sam,” you repeat.

“I really did miss hearing you say my name.”

Your eyes wet with helplessness. How did it come to this? How did that charming, funny man you met all those years ago turn into this? You mourn what you thought he was more than the relationship.

“You should finish your coffee,” he leans forward, crushing you against the table as he grabs your cup. “Go on.”

You stiffen as he lifts the cup to your lips. You sip as you feel him watching. He snickers and pulls it away. He presses against you again to put it down.

He tuts as he sits back, “ah, you got something...” he wipes your lip with his thumb and purrs.

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper.

“Because you’re mine,” he growls and runs his hand up your back, gripping the back of your neck, “you better not forget that again.”

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #drabble #au #one shot #mcu #marvel #falcon #captain america #avengers

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samaraannhan20 · 10 months ago

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Spencer Reid Imagine: You Have an Audience

A/N: I tried to make this timeline accurate, but after a while I realized it wasn’t and I didn’t want to change it, so just know that this does not necessarily fit the timeline of the show. In my head I was envisioning season 8 Spencer.

“Hey hun?” I call out from the bathroom where I am standing in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Spencer is right out the door in the bedroom, and I hear him close his book and get up to come walk to where I am. When he reaches the doorway he stops.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I don’t have work on Friday. I could bring you lunch that day,” I tell him, turning to him as I put moisturizer on.

“You want to risk your dad finding out if you come in?” he asks, with concern written on his face.

“I swear he said something about not being at work the other day,” I say, pausing and grabbing my tooth brush while thinking back on my conversations with my dad the last few days. He kisses the top of my head and then goes back to the bed to lay down and read his book. As I stand there scrubbing my teeth I realize what he had said.

“Mhe faid bhe las la pate hat ay!” I exclaim, rushing into the bedroom with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth. Spencer drops his book and laughs as he looks at me standing there looking like a madman.

“What?” he asks when he stops laughing. I hold my finger up and walk into the bathroom, rinse my mouth out, shut off the light, and go lay down in the bed. I curl up next to Spencer before repeating my sentence.

“He said he has a date with Krystall that day at lunch, so he shouldn’t be in the office when I bring you lunch. But I can call Penny tomorrow to double check,” I say, before closing his book and taking it from him, tossing it onto my night stand. “Let’s go to bed though. I have a full day tomorrow, after having parent-teacher conferences at the beginning of the week.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

I shove a bite of leftovers in my mouth as I pick up the phone and call Penny

“Hey Pen!” I say as Penny picks up the call.

“Hey little Rossi! What’s up?”

“Do you know if my dad is going to be at the BAU during lunch tomorrow? I was wanting to bring Spence lunch because I don’t have school, but I want to make sure my dad won’t be there.”

“Y/N! You guys still haven’t told him?” she questions.

“No. We decided the other day that we were going to tell him after our six months next week. We never doubted that we would stay together, but we wanted to be able to show it was serious before we told him. Because if we had just gotten together when we told him… well,.”

“He’d lose his cool and make you break up. Right,” she replies with a small chuckle.

“Yeah. So, he told me he would be on a date at lunch tomorrow, but before I commit to bringing Spence lunch I want to make sure he will actually be gone. And not only do you know everything, but I know he has to fill out a thing saying he’s going to be out. Which I still think is weird since it’s just lunch, but I guess it makes sense if there’s a chance he won’t be back before his lunch break is over.”

“Y/N you just rambled so hard. Let me look real quick sweet pea,” she says, and I hear her start typing away. “Yep,” she says after a second. “Looks like he will be gone for lunch tomorrow. You should be good to go.”

“Awesome, thanks Pen! Do you want a dessert or anything when I come in?”

“You know I do. Just bring me something from wherever you wind up getting takeout. I’m not picky about my desserts,” she says with a small laugh.

“Great. Thanks again Penny! I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay! I’ll send an email downstairs warning them that you are coming. Bye!” she responds, and I say thanks and bye and then hang up the phone.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“I overheard your dad asking Penny why you were coming in at lunch tomorrow,” Spencer says to me as we sit at my kitchen table eating dinner later that night.

“Oh crap,” I say around my bite of crab rangoon. “What did she say?” I respond after finishing chewing.

“She said you were bringing her lunch and hanging out for a bit. At which point he told her to keep you there until he got back from lunch with Krystall because he hasn’t seen you in a few weeks,” he says, shooting me a look that says more than his words did.

“I know. It is bad for me to not see him for so long, but I knew that if I saw him in person he would ask me why I seem so happy and I would immediately spill about our entire relationship because I have no backbone,” I tell him, standing up and taking my half full plate over to the counter and grabbing the saran wrap , wrapping my leftovers up.

“You’re done already?” he asks from where I left him at the table, and I don’t say anything, just nodding and then walking over to the couch and sitting down, grabbing my kindle and turning it on. I sit there silently, not even reading, just staring off into space with tears slowly falling down my face.

I hear Spencer stand up and push his chair in a few minutes later, and then I hear him walk over to me. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He walks around the couch, setting something down on the side table before lifting my feet up and resting them on his lap as he sits down.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking my kindle out of my hands and setting it next to whatever he had placed on the table, and then pulling me even closer to him by my legs.

“I feel so guilty for keeping so many secrets from him. I mean he didn’t even really know my half sister, and yet they’ve formed a relationship like ours is. Or I guess used to be. When I was a kid and my mom decided she didn’t want me around anymore and sent me to live with him we built such a great relationship. And throughout high school it stayed great. And then I moved out for college and we spent less time together, and he got back together with Krystall, and I had moments where I felt her daughter and Joy were replacing me.

“Which I told him about and we fixed it and things were great again. I graduated, got a teaching job nearby, and we were great. I would spend so many nights having dinner with him, or with him and Krystall. I would go with him to visit Joy. He knew everything there was to know about me, I told him everything,” I say, wiping a tear off my face as I finish my speech.

“And then you got together with me,” Spencer says quietly. I nod, allowing another tear to fall down my face, wiping it off and then I reach out and grab Spencer’s hand.

“I don’t want you to think I regret you. Because that is the last thing I am thinking or feeling. However, I am having extended amounts of anxiety about him finding out before we tell him. I don’t think that he won’t approve, because he knows how amazing you are, you’ve been friends for so long. He sees you as a son already, and not just because you’re with his kid and probably going to be family one day,” I say, the last sentence slipping out of my mouth so easily. I knew the comment wouldn’t bother Spencer, because even though we have only been together for a little less than six months we have had the conversation already, and we both feel that we are it for each other. “But the reality we have to think about is the fact that we do have a sizable age difference, which he is not going to just let go. And he’s not going to be happy we kept it a secret for three months. And he probably won’t be happy about…” and before I can finish the last sentence Spencer cuts me off.

“Okay listen. First of all, in the long run, I’m only eight years older than you. Which isn’t bad. It just seems longer because I graduated from everything so early. And because when we met I was working with your dad and you were still in college. Yes, I’m 32 to your 24, but you have more dating experience than I do, because you went to college in your late teens and early twenties, not when you were 12. And as for the keeping it a secret for three months, I think over time he will understand why we did that. I mean he kept getting back together with Krystall from you for a good amount of time. How long was it again?”

“Like almost a year,” I say with a small laugh.

“Exactly my point. He’ll get over it,” he says, and takes my hand, pressing a small kiss to the top of it. “Now, if you’re done freaking out, I brought your food over for you. I know you weren’t actually done, that you were just anxious,” he says, reaching over to the side table, grabbing the plate and handing it to me. As I take the plate from him I lean forward pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you. And I appreciate you so much. I wouldn’t want anyone else to know me so well,” I tell him, before pulling away and immediately popping a bite of food into my mouth.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Y/N, I didn’t realize you were coming in for lunch today,” Aaron says as I carry the to-go bag full of food over to the kitchenette in the BAU.

“Yeah, I had the day off,” I say with a small smile as I put things down.

“Well, I’m assuming it’s for Penny, since your dad is out for lunch with Krystall today,” he says with a knowing smile on his face.

“Oh man. You know everything don’t you,” I say with a groan, sitting down at the table in the small kitchen area.

“Yeah. Turns out I am pretty good at my job,” he responds with a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dad anything until you and Spencer decide to. Also, I know my opinion isn’t really the one that matters, but I think you and Spencer are a good match,” he says, patting my shoulder before walking away. I put my face in my hands and groan, before getting up and walking over to Spencer’s desk. I sit down in his chair and spin around in it, glancing around the rest of the room. Before too long I hear voices begin to drift into the room.

“Wow it smells good in here,” I hear Derek say as he walks in the room. He spots me before Spencer does, and I watch as a mischievous smile comes over his face. “Hey baby, come to bring me lunch?” he says, walking over to me and picking me up from Spencer’s chair, spinning me around before setting me on the floor and placing a loud kiss on my cheek.

“In your dreams Morgan,” I say with a laugh, walking around him to Spencer. I fling myself at him as soon as I get close enough. “Hey babe,” I say, stretching my face up to his for a quick kiss. He mumbles a hello, and I unwrap myself from him and take his hand, dragging him over to the table. “I got Italian. I was craving some chicken alfredo,” I tell him as I sit down next to him and start pulling the food out of the bag. He chuckles and helps me unload the bag, before sitting down next to me.

We sit and eat our food together, making small talk, and talking to his coworkers everytime they come up to the table we’re sitting at.

“Hey teacher lady,” Penny says to me as she sits down next to me with her lunch in her hands.

“Hey Pen,” I say, leaning over and giving her a hug. “So you told my dad I was bringing you lunch?” I ask with a small smile.

“It seemed like the best answer. Unless you wanted me to out your relationship,” she says with a shrug and a sly smile.

“Thanks Pen. Always thinking on the fly.” She shrugs again and digs into her lunch. I hand her the dessert I got her and she thanks me with a small smile. “Did he tell you when he would be back?” I ask her after a minute or two of the three of us eating in silence.

“No. Sometimes it's a longer lunch and sometimes it’s shorter. Depends on when Krystall has plans next.” I nod in understanding, and then turn my attention to Spencer.

“Do we have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Not any specific ones. It’s Friday though so I thought I could order some type of take-out for us and we could watch a movie,” he says and I nod.

“Ooh can we rent that new rom-com? I know they aren’t your favorite but I’m in the mood for one. We can watch that and then a foreign film for you,” I say, hoping the foreign film will get him to say yes.

“We don’t also have to watch a foreign film,” he says with a small laugh and shake of his head. “We can watch that new movie. I don’t have a problem with it,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. I look up at him and smile, before pulling him closer and placing a kiss on his lips.

“Aww, you guys sicken me,” Penny says in a baby voice, and I laugh, flipping her the bird and then kissing Spencer again. “Um, Y/N,” she says when I pull away from Spencer again, and I turn and look at her, not even registering the nervousness on her face.

“What Penny?” I ask with a small smile on my face, my smile growing bigger when Spencer pulls my chair closer to his and wraps his arm around me. “You have an audience,” she says in a whisper, pointing behind us. I sit up straight and glance at Spencer, grabbing his hand in mine, before hearing the tell-tale clearing of my father’s throat.

“I am not turning around,” I whisper, my hands starting to shake as I realize who exactly is standing in the doorway of the BAU. “He can’t do anything if I don’t even turn and look at him,” I say even quieter than before. Spencer squeezes my hand, looking down at his food, and Penny’s eyes keep darting from him to me and then back again, with a dart of her eyes to my dad every few seconds. We sit there in awkward silence, me refusing to move, for what feels like a century.

“There’s no case today, and my paperwork is all done. We could do this stand off all day long,” I hear from my father after probably a minute has passed. “Or, you could stand up and walk with me to my office.” I flinch, looking over at Spencer, and then at Penny. Penny scrambles to gather her food, and walks with her head down past my father, mumbling a small good luck to me as she leaves. Spencer squeezes my hand, and I nod my head in defeat, standing up. Spencer stands up with me, pulling me into a hug.

“Nothing he says matters,” he whispers to me as we hug. “I love you and you love me and that is what matters. Nothing else,” he says, and then places a kiss on the top of my head and lets me go. I nod again, and then turn my body and stiffly begin to walk to my father’s office. I hear him begin to follow me, but not before I hear what he says to Spencer.

“You’re next. My office in twenty minutes,” he says, and I can’t even bring myself to look over my shoulder at Spencer, instead choosing to continue walking to my father’s office.

As I enter my father’s office I immediately sink into the couch he has sitting on one wall, covering my face with my hands. It isn’t long before he walks in, and I hear him turn one of the chairs sitting at his desk to look at me. He sits down silently, not saying a word for at least two minutes. After what feels like a century of sitting in silence, he finally speaks up.

“I’m not mad. I know you think I am, but I’m not,” he says, and I let my hands drop from my face, looking at him.

“What?” I ask, shock evident in my voice.

“I mean I was mad a month ago when I figured it out, but I’m not mad anymore,” he says, a small smile coming across his face.

“A month?” I whisper, confusion written across my face as I try to figure out how he knew a month ago.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think. A little over a month ago I drove over to your apartment because it had been awhile since we spent any time together, so I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner together. When I pulled up to your building, I saw Spencer’s car outside. At first I thought it was a coincidence, that maybe he was seeing someone else in your building, so I parked and headed in. Your doorman let me in because he knew I was your dad,” he said, and I immediately remembered which night he was talking about, because Mark had told me he had sent my dad up, but because I never heard him knock I chalked it up to Mark getting mixed up over which tenant’s dad went up.

“So I went up to your apartment. When I got there, I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I stood in the hallway and waited, but I could hear you talking to someone. Being the profiler that I am, I leaned on your door and listened to the voices, trying to make sure you weren’t in trouble, because you hadn’t told me you were dating any one person, or even that you were going on dates. And then I heard him,” he says, and I immediately remember what he had heard.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Flashback:

“What are you going to tell your dad when you’re out of town next weekend?” Spencer asked me as I stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables. I pause my cutting, thinking I heard a knock at the door, but then determine it was just my knife hitting the cutting board and start up again.

“That I’m going on a trip with a few of my fellow teachers at work. But I also will only have to tell him if you guys don’t get called on a case. If you do it won’t matter because I won’t be going anywhere,” I tell him with a shrug.

“I mean you could still go,” Spencer says, and I stop what I’m doing to turn and look at him.

“For one, I’m not going on a couples trip to a spa without you. And for two, you’re a profiler. You should know how dangerous it is for women to travel on their own,” I tell him, crossing over to him.

“I know, but I still think you deserve a weekend away. I know the stress of not telling your dad has been weighing on you. You need a weekend at a spa.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be fun without the man I love,” I say, and stretch up to place a kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he says in response, and then pulls me in again. When we pull away again he smirks at me. “How hungry are you?” he asks, and I laugh and take his hand, dragging him into my bedroom. Neither of us noticed the shadow of feet under the door as we walked by it.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“You heard us talking about the spa trip,” I whisper looking at the ceiling as I calculate just how much he may have heard.

“Yeah. I finally decided it was time to stop eavesdropping when I heard you walk towards your room. I went down to the lobby, waved bye to your doorman, and left. I was pretty angry so I didn’t text you or call you to let you know I had been by. I went home, and told Krystall everything that I had heard. I wanted to get right back in my car and go over to your apartment and yell at you, but she talked me out of it. She reminded me that you would tell me when you were ready. I expected it to be within the next week, but then you still didn’t, and before I knew it it was past the time where it would be acceptable for me to bring up the fact that I knew. So I decided to wait until you were ready to let me know,” he says, and the way he sits back after he finishes shows me that he’s done.

“We were going to tell you next week. Next week is our six month anniversary, and we were waiting to tell you until after that,” I say, looking at him to see his reaction to knowing just how long we had been hiding this from him. He doesn’t show much of one, so I continue. “I wanted to be able to prove that we were serious about each other before I told you. I knew you would wind up thinking it was just a fling and it would change your work relationship with him if you knew before it had been a while.”

“Honey, from the moment I realized something had changed about you, I knew whatever it was was either a forever kind of thing or something that was going to put you in the hospital if it ended. I never would have thought it was just a fling between the two of you,” he says, standing up and coming to sit next to me on the couch. I scoot over and wrap my arms around him.

“I just didn’t want you to be disappointed,” I tell him, tears welling up in my eyes as he wraps his arms around me.

“I never would be,” he whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead. We sit together in silence for a few minutes, before a knock comes from the door, and the door pushes open less than ten seconds later.

“Sir, I love your daughter,” Spencer says as he steps foot in the room and closes the door behind him, not looking at the two of us as he does so. I laugh a watery laugh, and my dad kisses me on the forehead once more before pulling back and standing up.

“I know you do,” he says as he walks over to where Spencer is standing. Spencer looks at him confused, and then looks at me and sees the tears falling down my face. He moves to walk over to me, but I hold my hand up and motion towards my dad.

“Rossi, I don’t know what she has told you so far, but I want you to know that I love her more than anything, and I plan to one day marry her,” Spencer says, looking at my dad. My dad chuckles at Spencer and holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the family then Reid.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

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slaughter-kin · 9 months ago

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simon ‘ghost’ riley headcanons 💀

SFW but some are suggestive so MINORS DNI

heart banner by cafekitsune

• lives in an apartment that is just plainly decorated since he isn’t there much

• major sweet tooth

• light sleeper

• such a genuine partner

• it would take A LOT to get this man’s walls down and start a relationship but once you do he is such a good partner. he may not always know how to deal with his feelings but he never makes you feel unloved or cared for i love him

• wears the balaclava for a couple of days when he gets home because he is so used to having it on constantly

• watches nature documentaries and sometimes talks to price about them

• very picky about his tea

• has ten pairs of the exact same jeans and shirts

• would put a tracking device in your phone

• never had a relationship but when he was younger had a lot of hook ups

• king of after care

• always checking in “are you sure i didn’t go too hard on you lovie?”

• LOVES to stargaze

• is very awkward around kids but they love him

• hates going out, prefers home dates

• doesn’t drink at all

• hates getting facial hair since it scratches against his balaclava

• i just don’t see him as someone who would be into rough sex. with his past and his job, the last thing he would want to do is hurt this partner (even if it is consensual)

• has scars all over his body

• got majority of his tattoos when he was younger

• hates the feeling for sherpa

• extremely protective

• does not move much in his sleep– which is terrifying sometimes

• favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla

• the worst texter ever

“si im thinking about take away for dinner tonight. what do you want?”

“ 👍”

“that’s not an answer what do you want?”

“ 👍”

this is my 300 followers special for all my COD peeps! i love y’all so much and have made me feel so welcome posting my horny content! again i’m still newer at writing so any feedback would be appreciated!

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #call of duty hc #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw3 #call of duty headcanons #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year ago

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I just saw this vid of a soon to be wed couple trying to decide on their wedding cake flavor with this ‘wedding cake tasting’ box that had a large variety with small bites of cake for each of them & I thought this would be such a cute concept with leon!! 💗

-Leon Kennedy x reader

{You and Leon taste test some cake for your wedding}

Ack! This is just too cute!! Hope you enjoy my lovely! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Leon had the biggest sweet tooth ever, even if he’d never admit it to anyone, you knew. He was the one to always pile the shopping trolly with sweets and cakes, even if you didn’t need them, in fact, you were certain that he prioritised sweets over anything else.

It’s for that exact reason that you don’t let him food shop by himself, you made that mistake once and he returned with snacks only.

“Oh!- try this one” you giggle, reading the ‘carrot cake’ label, and Leon already knows exactly what you’re trying to do. He can see your eyes gleam with mischief.

“Absolutely not,” he says, waving your hand away with his own. “Do you want our guests to be miserable?” He asks, grimacing slightly as you take a bite of the cake.

You shrug, your hand covering your mouth as you let out a laugh watching the way his face contorts with disgust.

“It’s not that bad- it doesn’t taste like carrots” You try and reason with him but to no avail, he’s adamant that carrot cake is just not for him.

In all honesty, Leon doesn’t care about the flavour of cake, as long as it puts a smile on your face and you’re happy then nothing else matters, as long as he gets to call you ‘Mr/s Kennedy’ for the rest of his life then he doesn’t care about the smaller things.

You turn to him, “Can I have a kiss?” You ask, smiling sweetly and he scoffs at you. His hand cupping your jaw gently.

“I’m not tasting the carrot cake,” he says, watching the way you fight the smile that pushes against your lips as you try to frown. Failing horribly.

He kisses the tip of your nose before going to try some of the lemon cake, nodding his head in immediate approval.

“It makes no sense I hope you know that. You’ve never tried it, you might really like it. Then you’ll be like ‘Aw damn why haven’t I tried this before it’s so good’” you tell him, watching as he side-eyes you and the carrot cake.

You can help but giggle at his behaviour. It’s not like he was a picky eater, he was willing to try something new now and then, so it baffles you that he’s being so stubborn over some cake, that is arguably not that bad.

“It’s simple really baby, fruit doesn’t belong on pizza and vegetables don’t belong in cake,” he tells you, and roll your eyes.

“Well you have tomatoes on pizza and that's a fruit” you inform him. And you can tell by the look in his eyes you’ve stumped him, perhaps that’s why he decides to smudge frosting all over your cheek. Sore loser.

You squeal pushing him away as he tries to attack you with more chocolate frosting, your hands wrapping around his wrists as you try to warn him off, whisper shouting at him to ‘behave himself’

He gives in eventually, and you sigh in relief as he sits back down wiping his hands with the napkins he’s hogging, “Oh sweetheart, you messy pup” he smiles at you as you roll your eyes, “You’ve got a little something” he laughs, motioning to your cheek.

You go and grab a napkin but he’s quick to pull them away from your reach. “You’ve had enough sugar for one day,” you tell him, wanting to so desperately wipe that shit-eating grin off his stupidly handsome face.

“Well, can I get just a little more?” He asks, hands against your hips as he pulls you closer to him. Your hands against his shoulders as he leans closer to you. His wet tongue licking a stripe against your cheek, collecting the chocolate frosting from your skin.

You immediately try to push him away, groaning out in disgust as you grimace at the feeling. “Delicious” he whispers finally letting you go as you grab a napkin or two wiping his spit off your cheek.

“God Leon you’re so gross” you whisper, grabbing a piece of carrot cake from behind you.

He rambles on about how you ‘love it’ and before he can even realise what you're doing you shove the slice of cake in his mouth, laughing at the shock that paints his face as he eats it, and Leon slowly comes to the conclusion that he might just like carrot cake.

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followthechick · 7 months ago

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Random headcanons on the Weston boys

Okay since Weston anime is out, I’ll be sharing some headcanons I’ve collected during 10+ years of being obsessed with this saga and its characters.

I’ve been so invested into these headcanons that I consider them to be canon at this point. Anyway please don’t be mad if they don’t match your personal headcanon, it’s still my own interpretation and silly ideas about characters that don’t belong to me so anyone can disagree.

First I’m gonna write down the ones that involve more than one character, then I’ll be more specific and list them by character.

Brace yourselves for a pile of totally self-indulging blabbering.

Lawrence and Edgar are canonically childhood friends (Yana confirmed it), I like to think they grew up together thanks to their mothers being best friends with each other.

While Lawrence and Edgar already knew each other since birth, they met Herman and Gregory during their first year at Weston.

Because of the rivalry, friendship between students from different dorms has always been rather frowned upon, so the boys decided to put all their efforts in becoming the best students of their respective dorm to one day become Prefects and be free to meet and be friends without being judged by other students.

To freely chat and keep in contact prior to becoming P4, they secretly exchanged letters hidden among the library’s textbooks.

While we know Lawrence has 7 sisters, Edgar and Herman don’t have any sibling, while Gregory has an older brother. He’s doesn’t talk about him often as they’re not very close and don’t get along well.

Gregory met Cheslock while he was at his 3rd year (Cheslock is one year younger). They often spent their free time in their dorm’s common room, Cheslock would practice violin and Gregory would silently sit near him while drawing. One day he made a portrait of Cheslock and left it near him as a gift with the encouraging inscription “Keep playing”. The next day Cheslock asked him if he had any request for him on what to play, and that’s how they started talking to each other.

Headcanons by single character

Edgar:

His zodiacal sign is sagittarius

He has a sweet tooth and would live on sweet food alone

His maternal grandmother is french

His noble title comes from his mother, who is a Viscountess and older sister to Viscount of Druitt

He’s either pan or gay

Lawrence:

His zodiacal sign is capricorn

He’s ambidextrous (he usually writes with his right hand but is more comfortable doing other activities with his left one)

His sisters’ names are: Isabel (6 years older than him), Deborah (4 years older than him), Madelyn (2 years older than him), Adela (the only one to have a canonical name, 5 years younger than him), Rebecca (the one who has a crush on Edgar, 7 years younger than him), Rosalind and Amelia (identical twins, 9 years younger than him)

His father is a banker

Pretty sure he’s either ace or gay

Herman:

His zodiacal sign is libra (though I feel like aries might suit him better)

He took after his mother the most

He’s notoriously good at many sports, but he’s not very good at dancing (he’s not graceful enough for that kind of activity)

He’s good at cooking

He’s either a straight ally or a disaster bi

Gregory:

His zodiacal sign is cancer (mayhap also aquarius could suit him tho)

He used to wear charcoal and inks as make-up in his early years at Weston

His father is a politician

He’s kind of a picky eater and doesn’t like meat and seafood

He’s 100000% ace-spec

Cheslock:

His zodiacal sign is scorpio

His iconic “scar” is actually make-up, though beneath it he does have a smaller scar on his left eyelid, which is the result of a quarrel with his sister when they were kids

His father is a surgeon

His full name is Victor Theodore, which he hates

Pretty sure he’s bi

I might add more in the future, though I don’t have many headcanons for other characters but who knows.

Also I’m up for asks to chit chat about what I’ve shared, or for other headcanons o/

#text post #headcanons #kuroshitsuji #black butler #weston college arc #edgar redmond #lawrence bluewer #herman greenhill #gregory violet #cheslock

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awesomerextyphoon · 5 months ago

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Change of View

Summary: You got fired, but one grocery run changed things.

Pairing: Slight Sam Wilson x Black Female Reader

Rating: 16+/Teen

Word Count: 697

A/N: I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. I had to deal with some things.

Back to Masterlist

“Hey, sis. So, I got fired. Again. Please call me when you have the chance. Thanks.” You pressed send hoping she would actually call you back soon for once.

You just had to forget your umbrella in the office that night and catch your boss cheating on his pregnant wife with your ‘hot’ coworker.

Now you’re the one paying.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered trudging your willful feet past the crosswalk.

This was the 3rd job in eight months! You were an avid saver, but still!

Why did this shit always happen to you?!

The gentle stream of raindrops did well to conceal your attempts of not bawling as you made your way to the metro.

You decided to buck up and make some homemade ice cream tonight. You needed today to end on a better note.

–––––––

Walking down the aisle bleary-eyed, you were lost to the outside world. Until you bumped into a wall of muscle in the middle of the aisle.

“Ow! I’m so sorry!” You rubbed your forehead in embarrassment.

The man reached out his hand, “No, it’s okay! Are you alright?”

Taking his hand, you got up and dusted yourself off, “Yeah, I’m fine-“ you gasped stopping dead in your tracks to see Sam Wilson, Captain America, staring back at you with concern.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

You forgot to talk. You forgot to move. You just stood there staring and gaping like a deer caught in headlights.

“Um, you can close your mouth now.”

“Shit!” You swore under your breath hoping he wouldn’t think you a dumbass.

You had to make up for lost ground, “I didn’t know I would walk into Captain America. I should’ve worn better makeup.”

“Heh. I’m hardly worth the trouble.” Sam chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck.

“You were a little taken aback by his easy-going nature

“So, what brought on these tears?” Sam asked noting your puffy eyes and slouchy shoulders.

“I got fired for almost outing a cheater. I came here to get ingredients for homemade ice cream.”

“Sorry about your job,” Sam consoled before his slyly suave smirk, “But, homemade ice cream sounds like a good time.”

“Well, I got a sweet tooth and I’m a picky eater so this comes with the territory.” You admitted now being used to seeing such a person. Your eyes widened at his somewhat hidden weariness through the bags under his eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“I just got back from a long mission and the press keeps hounding me comparing me to Steve and whatnot.”

“It’s hard sometimes, you know?” He murmured.

Even Captain America can have a bad day.

Maybe a cookie will help.

“Um,” you reached into your handbag, “I have a cookie if you want it. I was gonna save it for later, but looks like you need it more than I do.” Handing the hero a large glazed cookie.

“It’s Lemon Ricotta.” You blurted worried he might think it poison.

“Thanks.” Sam accepted the cookie, but not before his hand whispered against yours.

He cautiously took a bite before moaning deeply, “Damn!”

You were surprised no one came over, he was so loud.

“This is one of the best cookies I’ve ever had!” Sam praised.

“C’mon, it’s not that good.” You deflected shifting your eyes to the floor.

“Seriously! I’ve had one $200 cookie Stark has at his lavish parties and it couldn’t hold a candle to this!”

Your face brightened at the compliment, “Thanks! It’s one of my favorite recipes.”

“I’ll bet,” Sam concurred after finishing the cookie.

His eyes lit up for a moment before grabbing a pen and paper, “Hey, if you’re looking for a new job, I know a former colleague who's looking for an apprentice.” Scribbling a contact and then offering to you, “The pay is amazing!”

“Just say Sam Wilson referred you.” He winked.

You took the paper and placed it into your handbag without (somehow) blustering.

Sam turned to leave, happy you would at least consider, “Have a good one.”

“Thanks again!”

“Good luck.”

With a confident breath, you resumed shopping. You had a good feeling that things were finally looking up.

#sam wilson appreciation #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #captain america drabble #captain america #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x black reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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soralymystaken · 10 months ago

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My headcanons on the ninja’s favorite foods / diets because I am so normal about these characters.

Cole - Cake. I don’t think I have to explain this. It couldn’t be more canon lmao. If I had to pick a particular cake as his favorite, he’s definitely one of those people who adores chocolate lava cakes. I think that and red velvet are is favorites. I also feel like he has a very high spice tolerance.

Zane - In my headcanon, nindroid!zane does not need to eat, so he doesn’t really have a favorite food. For human!zane, I feel like he would have very expensive taste. I think my pick for his favorite would be lobster. No reason why, just my thoughts.

Jay - Jay was easily the hardest to pick. I faintly remember him saying he liked Chen’s Noodles, so I could pick something like ramen as his favorite food, but while I think that fits, I think all of the ninja really like Chen’s Noodles. The food that comes to find for me, although it has 0 basis in canon, is burritos. I feel like he loves the amount of food there is, the fact that it is “easy to eat,” and the fact that “there are so many different configurations that it’s practically a different food every time.” Oh, and dino nuggets. No explanation needed.

Nya - Nya loves sushi, and you can fight me on that fact. While this makes things kind of hard as Jay is kind of scared of the concept of eating raw food, Jay still will eat it with her and Nya is still obsessed. Also enjoys mac and cheese when no one is looking lol.

Kai - Okay, this section is gonna have a lot of angst and I’m not apologizing for that. Kai and Nya never had much to eat, but Kai always made sure Nya had food on the table. In fact, one year on Nya’s birthday, he surprised her with by going with her to get (albeit cheap) sushi. He claimed he felt sick, though, so he didn’t eat any. In reality, though, he had only saved enough for Nya, and seeing her happy was a million times better than the food itself. As for his personal taste, Kai isn’t very picky when it comes to food. Growing up, almost everything he ate was rice, as that was what was grown where he lived. This has led him to really disliking rice, due to its unsavory memories. One of Kai’s favorite foods, funny enough, is pizza. This is primarily due to, when Kai had some extra money and Nya was unfed, he would order himself a pizza as a treat. This basically never happened as Kai always felt guilty spending money on himself when it could have gone to Nya, but it’s led to pizza being very important to Kai now that he has enough money to afford it.

Lloyd - I have a lot of thoughts on Lloyd. Firstly, as proven by canon, Lloyd has a major sweet tooth. I wouldn’t give candy as his favorite food since I feel it is too broad, and I don’t have a specific candy to give him because he likes all candy equally. I also feel like he quite likes junk food. Similarly to Kai, Darkley’s didn’t have a ton of food options, so fast food was the cheapest and easiest option for Lloyd. However, unlike Kai, he still finds comforts in the foods he ate as a child. Finally, when I was drafting ideas for this post, for some reason I had Lloyd’s as green bean casserole, and I have no logical explanation for this, but I cant unsee it. My explanation I’m giving is, whenever there was a potluck/bring your own food type events, he always brought really bad green bean casserole just to annoy people and still has some fondness for it because of that. Oh, and dino nuggets for him too. Again, no explanation needed.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #ninjago headcanons

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prof-peach · 11 months ago

Note

I’m awfully sorry to be profiting off your misfortune, but as someone with a lot of tactile affection to give, I’ve always struggled with good ways to show my partner Magcargo (his name is Cornelius!) how loved he is and how happy he makes all of us! I keep his blowhole clear of debris and scrape the sides of his foot clean from hardened lava when it creeps up too high, and he seems happy enough, but tales of your woes keeping the Slugma out of your garden has also given me a whole host of new flavors for him to try, and it’s great to have ways to put in the effort and show him he’s appreciated! (And if it’s not uncouth to ask… are there maybe any specific plants you notice the intrusive Slugma like best? No grass-type Pokémon being harmed, of course!)

Oh I don’t mind, every Pokemon has its place, though many feed on plants, specially the ones I’m trying to grow, it’s never a cause for long lasting anger.

The slugma line are actually a real fun little duo, I got no qualms with them even if they chew through my seedlings.

For ease I can suggest fruit and veg that they seem to prefer, seeing as sourcing specific plant matter year round is not always so simple.

Most are not picky eaters, their nature makes them very resourceful and adaptive, and often their high body temperature means they aren’t so focused on taste, more texture.

My poor vegetable patch gets ravaged by them, but they noticeably go for the really leafy greens or higher water content plants, so cucumbers, cabbage, lettuce for sure, they aren’t adverse to the brassicas, so broccoli and kale and the likes. Mushrooms also seem to go down well, though they can be a hit or miss overall. Worth a try though. If your buddy has a sweet tooth try strawberries, never met a Magcargo that doesn’t like em, like a built in love the whole species shares. It’s kind of a weird little thing they all have in common.

Dandelion greens and hosta leaves also go down a treat but are very seasonal. I personally like to grow pea shoots for salads, but they sprout so fast and grow in all seasons, so having a few trays of them growing is a winner. If you have a small space, a window ledge is plenty to grow your own for your buddy. Takes no time for them to get going, and you and your Pokemon can enjoy them together. They only need to sprout so you don’t have to think about feeding them or doing more than putting them in all of a 3-4cm layer of dirt and watering them now and then. Super easy!

But seriously, cucumbers. I hate to admit it but last year I had to buy a few, they wiped my whole crop out almost.

#prof.peach #pokemon #peach talks #magcargo

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crguang · 9 days ago

Note

fav hcs about kafka and black swan?

sfw? let me think… off the top of my head:

kafka not being able to cook is a favorite of mine idk why. the idea of her being terrible in the kitchen while having a picky palate is funny. at most, she can grill and boil things and make simple dishes but she can’t replicate the meals she prefers to eat and that’s just funny to me

she loves jazz. this one just makes sense to me i feel like she can listen to almost anything but if she were to control the aux some jazz would be in her playlist

she knows flower language and a bunch of pager codes

can tie a knot with her tongue

prefers calling over texting because she lowkey loves to talk. if you text her she might not answer but if you call the chances of her picking up are higher

has the habit of moving her index finger around or in circles when she’s lost in thought, like she’s conducting an orchestra

most of her favorite coats are custom made/designed

takes a whole day when she’s shopping because she’s super picky. still ends up with five bags worth of clothes and is always on the lookout for new ones no matter where she is. speaking off, everyone knows her pin cause they need to be on the lookout too (she has multiple credit cards. keeps track of each one)

her favorite lipstick color is peach with a little pink in it

gets quiet when she’s disappointed, sad or annoyed. tho she’ll also petulantly whines and tsks when she’s annoyed (my big baby)

not a words of affirmation girlie if you can’t handle her only telling you she loves you four times in a lifetime just end things😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 master at deflection, if you ask her if she loves you she’ll say shit like “isn’t it obvious?” “what do you think?” girl

SWEET TOOTH. IDC IDC she never says no to cake DIRECT FIREFLY QUOTE. she loves her lollipops

spine tattoo yup… a rose’s stem with thorns ive seen it personally

for swan let’s see…

somewhere on some planet she’s immortalized in art and doesn’t know it. for the amount of times she appears to people in reality or in dreams, i just know there’s an artist who had to draw/paint/sculpt this spirit they swear was tangible one second and disappeared the next

swan is very easy to remember because she stands out a lot by both her looks and her behaviour. people may not know that she’s a memokeeper, but she’s in a lot of people’s memories regardless

i don’t think her being a little stalker is a hc but i’m adding on to it so it kinda is… it’s one of my favorite things about her it’s just so funny to describe it that way 😭 all memokeepers are stalkers by default but swan is a very curious soul, she gets invested and ends up having to reveal herself because she just has to have an interaction with whoever she’s interested in

unlike most memokeepers, swan doesn’t discriminate in terms of what memory holds value. she sees value in everything. she’s more drawn by the feelings attached to memories than the memories themselves sometimes. a moment of quietude where nothing is said, all is still and everything is felt? so nice. she extracts it

she can call her s/o every pet name under the sun and somehow not be cringe about it. it’s a super power. maybe it’s because she’s so sexy and that voice is so sultry that if she called me some shit like “baby cakes” i’d giggle

some of her favorite moments are when her s/o is just about to fall asleep. i feel like she’d love to be the reason they get a good night’s rest and it’s story time (she loves telling stories)

a gift giverrr, since she sees value in all discarded and overlooked things it’s not rare for her to bring back objects that “have witnessed a lot” and that she thinks her s/o would like

fav cuddle position is being on the bottom with her s/o on top of her

she is soooo calm. so zen. so good at dealing with stressful people and stressful situations. not above giving her s/on a nice massage either but thats just an excuse to get her hands on them

doesn’t feel thirst or hunger but she does have a favorite drink. i dont know what it is but i know she has one ok. she was drinking a little too often with acheron

might indulge you if you ask her to show you her memokeeper tricks. mostly the stuff about her getting into tvs and billboards and paintings

loves to dance even if it’s just twirling her s/o around in the living room

smells like incense or specific candles

she lovesss touch and physical contact. always touching her s/o in some way. when they’re alone she takes off her gloves for it

i cant think of any more but i probably have a thousand that i write in unconsciously honestly

#sat answers

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dyinglikenarcissus · 1 year ago

Text

Stripped Naked

Part III

Warnings: 18+ only! Contains: Virgin reader, stripping, alcohol, vaginal intercourse, a couple consenting adults having a good time. It’s pretty vanilla but sometimes all you want is vanilla

He wanted you to come over after your third date but you weren’t ready yet. You knew what ‘coming over for dinner’ meant. It took two months to finally work up the courage to ask Steve to ask you over for dinner again. It was so backwards and silly. And you just weren’t quite ready.

And he respected that.

He kept your dates public and always made sure you were comfortable. He was so respectful it was almost unbelievable.

It took you almost an hour to plan out your text message only for Steve to call you in the middle of writing it and force you to stutter through your speech.

“You are so fucking adorable,” Steve sighs through the phone after you tell him your date idea.

“Should I, um, bring like an, uh, over…night…bag?” You draw out the question as long as possible fearing how ridiculous you sound.

“I don’t know. Do you plan on staying the night?” You can hear the smile in his voice and your face heats the more you think about it.

“Do you want me to?” You whisper.

“I would love for you to stay the night.” There’s such a heavy emphasis on the word ‘love’ that your heart skips a beat.

You suppress a whine at his heated words. “Okay! See you Saturday! Bye!” You rush and toss the phone at your bed. You hear his chuckle because you were too dumb to actually hang up the phone and a muffled, “See ya, sunshine,” before your phone beeps.

You’re so nervous and excited, you have your bag packed by Wednesday.

He was going to have Bucky cook but you thought it would be more fun to cook together. “I don’t know what we have, sunshine,” Steve sighs as you walk together through the grocery store aisles.

“You have to have salt. Bucky’s a chef.”

“You should call him and ask,” the blond suggests while pushing the cart.

“Do you go in your kitchen at all?”

“I go in there to get drinks. I know we have beer, and bourbon, and whiskey, and those limearita things which we need more of. Oh! And there’s water in the door.”

“Oh my gosh,” you giggle as he continues to list all the alcohol in his home. You wind your way around the grocery store and learn far more than you have on any date. Steve has a huge sweet tooth. He wanted every ice cream tub and candy bar he saw but settled on a cherry pie you could share. He’d stand there and read the labels on all of them to convince himself he didn’t need it. “I could have like five protein shakes or this one ice cream bar,” he’d mumble and put it back on the shelf.

He was also extremely picky which was shocking for an adult. “I don’t like brussel sprouts,” he frowned when you read it off on the ingredients list.

“We can have some other vegetable. Green beans?”

“No.”

“Carrots?”

“No”

“Broccoli?”

He paused and thought. “Nah.”

“What do you like?”

He thinks again for a moment, leaning his tall body over the basket handle. He looks like a giant buff child after saying no to every vegetable you could think of off of the top of your head. “Bucky makes a zucchini pasta that I like.”

“Zucchini then,” you smile.

“You don’t come to the grocery store often, do you?” You ask when he comments about how many types of bacon there are.

“Nah, Sam and Bucky do the grocery shopping. I deal with the cleaning and the fixing and the house work. Target and Home Depot are more my speed,” Steve sighs and slips his hand in your back pocket while you wait for the deli man. “I’m good with my hands,” he says as he squeezes your ass and you practically jump out of your skin. He just laughs and thanks the deli man for you before tugging you away.

You weren’t sure what to expect from the home of three bachelors but it certainly wasn’t this.

“You’re sure this is your house?” You whisper as he pulls into the circular driveway.

“I’ve got two roommates with actual jobs. I’m taking full advantage of it,” Steve grins as he backs into the garage attached to an enormous mansion. You notice his bike next to another more classic one. It must be Bucky’s but otherwise the garage is empty. Steve promised Sam and Bucky would be out for the evening leaving the house to just the two of you. You were a little embarrassed by the thought of other people being in the house while the two of you…

Your face heats just thinking about it.

Steve only lets you carry his pie while he leads you into the house with the rest of the groceries. You’re a little glad he did because you’re in awe the second you step through the back door. And it just leads into the kitchen. The chef’s kitchen. With a giant fridge and freezer, a double gas stove, four ovens, and one of those countertop sinks like the Kardashians have!

You almost drop the pie.

“You need a tour,” Steve laughs as he takes his precious dessert from your hands. He links your hand with his and leads you into a dining room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a beautiful rose garden. There’s a game room, a theater, an infinity pool. The gym even has a stripper pole.

“Why do you ever leave your house?” You question looking up at the enormous chandelier in the entry way.

“Gotta pay the mortgage somehow. I made that, by the way,” he sighs gesturing to the light fixture you were in awe of.

“No!” You hiss.

“Yup. I was going through a sculpture phase. Sam convinced me to go with it and Bucky told me to just make sure it’s functional. So, that’s what happened.”

“Wow,” you whisper walking around in a circle to get a full view of it. “It’s beautiful.”

“The whole thing is recycled plastic. All of the ‘crystals’ were 3D printed and chained together with hot glue. The rods are cut up PVC. All a facade,” he sighs leaning against the table at the center of the entry way.

“Is there a story behind it?” You ask noticing his melancholy attitude toward the piece.

“I went through a bad breakup. She was very beautiful on the outside but completely fake on the inside. Making that was how I got over it.”

“Oh,” you whisper wanting to know more but knowing better than to ask too much about exes. But there’s something you have to ask. “Do you miss her?”

He sighs as you step in front of him, the points of your flats meeting his loafers. “I think part of me always will but I think I’m worth so much more than a pretty face.”

“You are,” you smile. “If she couldn’t see that, I don’t think she really knew you.” He instantly lights back up, smiling down at you before pulling you closer. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, then the very corner of you mouth.

And then you meet his lips. Your hands travel up to his face, cupping it as you pull him that much closer. He groans into your mouth and you feel something stir in your core. Steve’s hands find the backs of your thighs and lifts you to wrap your leg around his trim hips. His lips leave yours to travel down to your jaw before he buries his face in your neck. He teeth nip at your throat and you whine his name not knowing what to do and feeling so much all at once.

“What do you want, sunshine?” Steve husks into your skin.

“You. Make me yours.” He growls. Actually growls. And your need for friction overrides your brain as you grind against his hips.

“Want that. I want all of you,” he swears, placing opened mouth kisses over your pulse and sucking the blood to the surface of your skin. “But we have to make dinner first.” You cry out softly and he chuckles before carrying you back to the kitchen. “Get to work, woman!” He laughs and spanks you softly after placing you back on you feet.

“Is this how you treat Bucky?” You laugh and start unpacking the groceries.

“I spank him harder,” Steve smirks and helps you find some cooking equipment. Cooking is fun and extremely stressful as Steve practically wraps himself around you while you attempt to pan fry two salmon fillets and roast vegetables. He doesn’t even let go when the oil in the pan starts popping.

That’s real love.

You do the same thing to him while he cleans up: standing on his feet and latching onto him like a koala. He seems to love it, stealing kisses every chance he gets.

“Alright you. Time for bed,” Steve announces after drying his hands. He puts you over his shoulder and totes you upstairs like you weigh nothing.

“This is my room,” he announces opening a set of double doors.

“Wow! I love how everything is upside down,” you giggle.

“She’s got jokes when it’s just the two of us,” he observes before dropping you on the bed. You bounce once before getting a good look around the space.

It’s sparse. White walls and leather furniture. There’s a drawing above the bed of Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha. They’re all laughing and hugging and it makes you smile. “Who’s that?” You ask seeing a half finished portrait on a large canvas near the window.

“Sam’s sister. Bucky’s got a huge crush on her and he asked me to paint it for her. I’m having trouble finishing it.”

“A crush?” You laugh. It sounds so juvenile when the man is, like, thirty.

“He used to be such a lady killer now he has a break down just thinking about asking a girl out. The military changes you,” he sighs.

“How did it change you?” You wonder.

“I used to be 5’7” and 110 pounds soaking wet.” You give the giant man a dubious look. He just tugs out his phone and scrolls for a moment before showing you a photo. “Used to stand on a fucking box to reach Bucky’s height.”

“Did they experiment on you or something?” You guess taking his phone to enlarge the picture of him in an enormous suit and Bucky in his army greens.

“What do you think they do in the military?” Steve laughs and swipes through some picture for you. “I just hit puberty late and basic training did the rest.”

“Wow,” you breathe watching the progress photos. “I need to join the army.”

“Nah, you’re perfect,” Steve quickly denies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You just give him a coy look and stand up to inspect the painting more closely. He really is an amazing artist. “Why can’t you finish it?”

“My inspiration is focused on something else,” Steve mutters and picks up a sketch book on his bed side table. He opens it to a marked page and hands it to you.

It’s the selfie he took with you at hero training. But it’s not? “You drew this, huh? It’s amazing,” you sigh in awe.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I made it…bigger?”

“No, of course not.” He inhales sharply before opening a door and pulling out another large canvas.

“Don’t get mad.” He prefaces before showing you the art on the other side.

You gasp. It’s the drawing blown up and painted in neon colors. “That’s me?”

“Yeah,” he says tentatively.

“You made me blue like an Avatar! I love it!” You cry happily.

“You really like it?” Steve asks sheepishly.

“Stevie! I love it! It’s amazing! How did you pick the colors? It’s like it’s normal if you don’t think too hard about it.”

“I made a personalized color wheel every regular color corresponds to neon color so the theory still makes since. It’s like a negative but I picked my own opposite colors.” He excitedly explains all the details in depth to you and you just can’t believe someone would take the time to draw you let alone make up a color theory revolving around you. No one’s ever…cared that much.

You stand on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, stopping any further words. When you pull away, all you whisper is a soft “thank you”.

“You’re welcome,” Steve exhales.

You both stare at each other for a moment and that feeling in your core starts to go haywire again.

Steve turns to lean the painting against the wall before spinning back on you. “Can I just…?” He presses a kiss to your lips without even finishing his question. Whatever it was, you would’ve said yes. You tangle your fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. So soft and fluffy and “eek!” You trill as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs.

“Want you in my bed,” he mutters without ever breaking the kiss. You just nod, a soft whine escaping you when one of his big hands gropes your ass.

You suddenly feel your back meet the plush duvet and it all feels so real. The way his hand travels up your skirt and feel of his jeans rubbing against the insides of your thighs.

It’s a little too much.

“Wait!” You cry, breaking away from him.

He immediately stops And pulls away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I-I just…can I use your restroom?”

“Of course, sunshine,” he smiles and points to a closed do before rolling off of you.

You sprint towards the door and double back to grab your duffel bag before closing it firmly behind you. You don’t even turn on the light. You’re too nervous.

You hold your face squeezing your cheeks between your palms to try to calm yourself. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s Steve. It’s just Steve. The man you’ve grown to love and trust.

He won’t hurt you.

All of the apprehension is in your head.

You heard him. He thinks you’re perfect. He’s perfect. You just need to make it through this first time.

You take a deep breath and rifle through the clothes you brought before finding the bright yellow garment.

You can do this.

You had so much confidence when you bought it but putting it on for the man you bought it for is the true test of strength.

You return to the room to find Steve lounging across his bed. His face instantly lights up when he sees you attempting to hide behind your bag.

“My sunshine girl!” He grins and beckons you back to the bed. “Don’t try to hide that gorgeous body from me. Come here.” You take a shaky breath and put down your bag before approaching the bed. “Beautiful,” he sighs getting an unobstructed view of your body wrapped in a strappy yellow lingerie set you got for him. He takes your hand and makes you twirl for him. “I’ve got to see you on a pole. Come on.” He’s off the bed in an instant and tugging you toward the door.

“What? Where…?” You gape attempting to slow him down.

“The gym,” he laughs and pulls you again.

“Oh no! I’m not leaving this room in this.”

“There’s no one here. Come on.” You let out a soft whimper but you follow him anyway. “Here.” He tugs off his shirt and hands it to you knowing you’re uncomfortable with the idea. It’s still so warm as you slip in on and follow a little more confidently.

Steve takes an experimental spin on the pole before holding out an arm for you. You happily fall into his embrace and his kiss.

His very shirtless embrace.

You place a hand on his toned stomach. So many muscles. You let out a satisfied hum as your hand roams up to his large pec. He let out a growl and nips at your bottom lip.

A feeling flutters through your stomach and heads straight for your core.

Steve grips your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. “Show me your moves, sunshine.” Steve places your hand on the pole below his.

“Right now?” You laugh nervously.

“Yup. Right now,” he grins and steps away from you to take a seat on one of the benches. “The t-shirt really makes it.” You giggle and toy with the hem of his shirt before gripping the pole a little more confidently.

“What are you dancing to?” He asks tugging his phone from his pocket.

“You pick,” you smile and do an experimental twirl for him.

“You don’t even need music,” Steve chuckles and plays some surprisingly soft big band music. You weren’t expecting this.

You hum softly as you contemplate the song before doing one of the five moves you know.

“Perfect,” Steve cheers as you successfully spin down the pole hanging on by just your legs. “You know, it helps if you have more skin contact.” You roll your eyes and finally remove Steve’s shirt. “Fucking beautiful,” he sighs as you continue your dance.

“You really think so?” You ask making a jump at the pole.

“I know so,” Steve sighs and stands to join you. “Come here.” He pulls you into a kiss, his hand holding you by the bare small of your back. You feel it slowly inch up but you’re so lost in his lips and body that you don’t notice him unhook your bra until you feel the material loosen around your chest. You let out a soft gasp and attempt to catch it but Steve grips one of your hands. “I want to see you. All of you.” You stare back into his deep blue eyes before finally giving him a small nod. The bra falls to the floor and his hand runs up your side, his thumb tracing the crease of your breast making you shutter. “Can I touch you here?” You quickly nod again wanting for more of that feeling but he grips your chin and directs your gaze back to his. “Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes, please, Stevie,” you whisper.

“Please what?” He smirks still holding your face and caressing the skin just shy of your nipple so you can barely think.

“Please, touch me!” You finally whine. “My breast. My ass. Everywhere. Please!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve grins and finally connects with your pebbled nipple making you moan his name. “I love when you say my name like that,” he groans and bites your bottom lip.

“Stevie,” you whine in response, wiggling against his roaming touch.

Then one long strong finger slips just between your clothed folds and you practically crumple at the feeling.

“Like that?”

“Mmmhmm,” you moan squeezing your eyes shut as he adds a little more pressure to your clit.

“You know what I’m gonna ask,” Steve goads as that sinful finger makes a lazy circle around the bundle of nerves.

“Please, play with my pussy. It yours. All yours,” you husk leaning back against the hard metal pole to support yourself.

“Such a fast learner,” Steve chuckles but removed his hand from your core. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I just need you to trust me.”

“I trust you,” you agree instantly.

“Such a good girl,” he sighs and hooks his fingers into the band of your panties to shimmy them down your thighs and to the floor. “Such a beautiful, perfect girl,” he mutters as his kisses trail lower to you neck and collar bone. He nips at the thin flesh there making you shutter before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Steve! Please! Ohhhh!” You cry as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh. You hips make waves against nothing as you grip his shoulder and the pole behind you.

“Do you need some attention down here?” Steve asks running his fingers along your folds. You nod still unable to open your eyes. “Look at me,” he orders and you reluctantly focus on him. He’s on his knees now in front of you, his beautiful face level with your chest as you watch him. You caress his cheek and he turns to press a kiss into your palm.

“Let me make you feel good.” You nod and he lifts one of your thighs just to toss it over his shoulders and dive face first into your pussy. You almost scream at the feeling. He skillful tongue makes loops around your clit and you’re forced to grip his hair for balance. His fingers squeeze into your ass, forcing you closer as his mouth delves deeper into your folds.

Steve’s nose bumps your clit as his tongue wiggles into you and your knees give out completely.

But he’s so strong. He just holds you there. And oh god! You just hump against his face as he pulls something out of you that your vibrator never could. You let out a soft whine as your climax hits and practically smoother him in your core but he keeps going and you feel it getting higher and faster and tighter and-

“Eeek!” You scream as squirt right into his waiting mouth. Your breaths are shallow as you ride out your orgasm on his face, his tongue keeping pressure on your clit until you’ve had enough.

You’re mortified. You’re body’s never done that before. You slowly release the death grip you have on Steve’s scalp only to find him grinning up a you.

“Fuck. I’ve never gotten anyone to do that before,” he chuckles and presses kisses to you mound and hips.

“What?” You try to process what just happened while he showers you in affection.

“You just came, sunshine. And it was glorious.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head quickly as Steve stands back up showing off his soaked face. “That’s all me, huh?” You ask, running your fingers over his wet chin.

“All you. And you taste amazing.” Your face heats but you don’t have time to feel embarrassed as Steve tugs you from the gym. “I can’t let your first time be on the gym floor. We gotta do this right,” he insists as leads you through the halls completely naked. But it doesn’t bother you at all in your dazed state. You just nod and let him take you where ever he wants.

Then Steve’s bedroom door clicks shut behind you and a little part of you wakes up.

It’s really about to happen.

Steve brings the hand he was just holding to his lips before placing it at the crotch of his jeans.

“You feel that, sunshine?” You gasp at how big he is. You grip his confined cock slightly and he lets out a soft hiss. “You feel what you’re doing to me?”

“So big,” you mutter.

“All for you.”

You remove your hand from his crotch and undo his jeans shakily. You look up at Steve to find him watching you intently. “It’ll fit?” You ask making him smile.

“I’ll make sure it fits,” he assures you and presses his jeans and underwear down his hips. He’s built like a god. Thick muscular thighs and a red cock that drips precum like a broken faucet once it’s exposed.

You shutter slightly but let him guide you to the bed. “Lay down,” Steve mutters, following you on top of you while pressing kisses to your lips. That’s all you can focus on. The way his lips make your stomach do somersaults and your core flutter. You completely forget how nervous you were just a few minutes ago.

He makes you feel so comfortable as his hand strokes your arm and hip softly.

“I’ve been told that it stings a little your first time,” Steve mutters, pulling away a little to watch you. “I obviously don’t have much experience with that but I don’t want to hurt you,” he trails.

“You’ve been perfect so far,” you assure the blond, pressing your body up to kiss him. “I trust you.”

He nods and presses one of your thighs to your chest. He takes in a shaky breath. “God, this pussy is fucking beautiful. Do I need a condom?”

You shake your head with a small smile. “IUD.”

“Last chance to say no.”

“Stevie. Please, fuck me,” you beg just wanting to get past the pain and trusting he’ll bring you pleasure.

“Alright. Okay. Deep breath.” You nod and inhale just for him to press into you as you start to exhale. You let out a soft cry as he slowly fills you.

This was something you’ve never experienced before. You felt so full and tight and then it got to the point where it burned. You hiss as Steve pulls you a little tighter to him.

“Relax. You’re squeezing the shit out of me.” Steve instructs and you attempt to take a deep breath.

You gasp as he rocks into you, inserting just a little more at a time. “Almost there,” he mutters. “You’re doing so good for me, sunshine.” You feel so full as he finally bottoms out leaving you whimpering into his neck.

Steve pauses deep inside of you, letting you adjust to his girth.

He’s so heavy.

Your breaths come out shakily as he pulls away. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“N-No,” you whisper. “You’re just really…really big.”

He chuckles at your words. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Let me know when I can move.” Steve presses his lips against your temple before trailing them down to your jaw. You smile at the affection and attention, preening as he whispers sweet nothings into your neck.

“You feel amazing, sunshine. Made for me.”

You whimper and wiggle under his hold not sure what you want but you feel restless now. With him deep inside you, stretched to your max, his touch and words sending butterflies around your stomach and to your core with every breath. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

“Stevie, I think I’m ready,” you whisper.

His voice starts with a soft hum against your skin. “You sure?” You nod and he quickly pulls away and lifts a skeptical brow at you.

You can’t even laugh, you’re so full but you still smile up at him. “Stevie, I want you to fuck me the way you’ve been threatening to since I met you. That’s an order,” you state confidently.

He grins down at you and wordlessly grips the calf of your leg folded against you, pressing into you a little further.

You’re pretty sure you’ve lost your breath.

You let out soft squeaks with each of his deep thrusts until you feel like you might pass out.

“Hey,” Steve breathes, slowing down to a soft wave. “Are you breathing?”

You gasp and laugh in embarrassment before taking a deliberate breath. “I think I forgot how to for a minute.”

Steve tosses his head back in laughter. “Did I take your breath away, sunshine?”

“Give it back, Stevie,” you demand playfully.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it,” he grins and presses a kiss to you lips, then another, and another. Steve tosses your bent leg over his shoulder giving you much more breathing room as he goes back to fucking you.

His thrust are deliberate, like he’s searching for something; never hitting the same spot twice. You start to ask what he’s looking for until it hits you like fright train.

“Fuck!” You groan, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes. Your eyes squeeze shut as everything sparks in your body at once.

Your vibrator has never done this. You can’t help but whine as he rails into that spot over and over.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Squeezing the shit out of me,” Steve moans as he grips your thigh. You can barely feel it. Every nerve ending is firing on all cylinders. You start to feel like you can’t catch your breath but your lungs are completely full.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you cry repeatedly.

“Let go for me. Fuck,” he groans. “Come on!” He barks and you almost cum on sight. Your breath hitches as stars light the darkness behind your eye lids. You feel like you’re gasping for air as you body wracks against Steve’s. Somewhere you start to feel kisses against your neck and jaw as you catch your breath. Your fingers trace the back of Steve’s shoulders as you start to return his kisses. “There you are,” you can hear the smile in his voice as you slowly open your eyes to meet his ocean gaze. “You okay?” You nod. You think all you can do is nod. He strokes your cheek and starts to pull out of you.

“Was that it?” You ask a little disappointed that it’s over.

“You aren’t satisfied with that?” Steve smiles stroking at your now empty but so sensitive core.

“I-I am! That felt amazing! But I thought it would be…longer?” You question, not exactly sure what you wanted it to be. It was good, really good! But it didn’t seem finished.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far,” Steve laughs and leans back on his heels to watch your prone form. “But I’m not done with you. Turn over,” he commands. You quickly scramble onto your stomach and wait for further instructions. Steve just chuckles behind you. “I didn’t think you were that green. On your hands and knees.”

“Oh,” you squeak and quickly follow directions.

“God, this ass,” Steve groans as he spanks you softly before squeezing the fatty flesh with both hands. “I’m gonna get a little rougher with you, alright. You let me know if you need a breather.”

You nod before remembering yourself and give and affirming “okay”.

Steve manipulates your body, spreading your knees and pulling back your hips until he has you in a bizarre yoga position.

“Comfortable?”

“Not really,” you admit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“You won’t care in a minute,” Steve laughs and grips your hips. “Let me know if you need a break.” You nod and he slips back inside of you and you both let out soft groans.

This feels different. This feels deeper and there’s more friction and you feel more grounded and “Ugh!” You can’t help the noises that escape you as he finds that spot again but it’s so much more intense as he drives right into it over, and over, and over.

Your breaths come in short gasps and soon your arms can’t hold you up anymore. You fall onto you elbows smoothing your face in the pillows below you. Your cries and moans are muffled while Steve sets a punishing pace inside you.

You’ve cum at least once like this but you can’t tell anymore after that. They all seem to blend in as Steve fucks you into the bed. Moisture drips down your thighs as the noises your slapping skin gets wetter.

“Fuck! You came like a faucet, baby,” Steve moans. Your core clinches at his words making him groan and spank you again. “Let’s see if you have another one in you.” Steve grips your shoulders and pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest.

“Oh fuck,” you whine. This new position just gives him more leverage as he attempts to destroy your insides.

“Yeah. That’s it,” Steve groans, pressing his lips to your throat as he tugs your head back by your braids. “Fuck, I’m close. Give me one more.” And with all that he’s doing inside you, he presses his fingers to you swollen, sensitive clit and rubs tight circles over it. You let out a hoarse scream as you cum again but Steve doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to work and his dick continues to stir you up until you let out a soft shout and you feel something so satisfying empty from your core just in time for Steve to fill you up again.

“Shit,” Steve groans as he paints your insides in hot sticky cum just as you paint his bed in your own. “Fuck,” he pants when you feel his cock jerk inside you and release a little more.

He collapses back on his heels dragging you down with him as he catches his breath. You pant as you lean back against him. You never felt so raw and vulnerable in your life.

You can’t wait to feel like this again.

Your eyes finally slide open to see the trail of drops left on Steve’s comforter from your release.

“Fuck, sunshine. Look at that masterpiece,” Steve sighs referring your cum.

“Steve,” you shy away, attempting to hide your face but you’ve already opened everything to him. What was the sense in hiding now?

Steve presses a kiss to your cheeks as his hands wrap around your waist. He holds you so close and you feel so good in his arms, you start to relax and instantly feel his cum start to drip from you and onto him and the bed.

“I’m definitely going to have to wash this,” Steve laughs. “Totally worth it.”

You smile and look back to press a kiss to his lips, tangling your fingers behind his head to pull him closer.

“I love you,” you whisper softly against his lips.

“It was that good?” Steve asks with a soft smile as his fingers tickle your sides.

“It was that good,” you confirm confidently.

Steve hums in satisfaction and presses another kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he sighs into your skin making you shiver.

Steve lets out a soft groan as he slips from inside you making you whine softly from the loss. “How are you feeling?” He asks, rubbing your shoulders. “Satisfied? Was that enough? If not, give me a couple minutes and we can do it again,” he grins making you giggle.

“I don’t think I can take anymore,” you whisper. “Am I supposed to be this sore?”

“Again, I don’t have any experience on your end of it but I think so.” He finds a dry spot on the bed to lay down and watch you still sitting back in the position he left you in. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he sighs. You just shake your head and glance over his naked body.

“You’re gorgeous,” you admit looking at all those muscles as he lounges across his bed.

He just smirks at you a reaches for your hand. He pulls you to him and you pick around the wet spots to lay against his chest.

“So, you’re not a virgin anymore. How’s it feel?”

You giggle, snuggling into his side before answering. “Um…I feel the same?”

“You’re telling me virginity is a social construct meant to keep women from exploring their sexuality?” He gasps making you giggle again.

“I guess so,” you agree, your fingers tracing shapes around his abs.

“Thank you for sharing your first time with me,” Steve sighs.

“Thank you for being an amazing partner,” you smile.

“Next time, you’re on top,” Steve declares and moves to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“Gotta clean my girl up. Unless you want my dried cum all over you. I’m not complaining. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Oh,” you squeak at his sudden possessiveness.

“Too much?” He smiles pressing a kiss to your head.

“No, I like it,” you whisper and lay back against the pillows.

“So, I can keep you locked up here? You can be my little sex prisoner?” Steve jokes as he walks off.

“Depends,” you muse and stretch only to curl back into the pillows.

“On what, my little sunshine?” Steve asks returning with a damp towel. “Open up,” he requests pointing at your legs.

You wince slightly at his touch. You didn’t realize how raw you truly felt. He glances up at you after tossing the towel on the floor to focus in you. You give him a coy smile. “Depends on if you’ll strip for me.”

“Oh, honey. Name the time and place,” Steve coos nuzzling his nose against your as you pull him into an embrace. “On one condition: you’ll strip with me.” Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head which he counters with an adamant nod. “It’ll be so much fun! Couples routine! I’ll have my choreographer make us something.”

“Steve! I can’t-no!”

“Yes! What was all that about trusting me? It doesn’t have to be for a paying crowd. It can be just for us,” he mutters against your lips. “It would be so hot.”

“It can be just for us?”

He nods, kissing your nose. “Just for us. And maybe Nat. And Sam and Bucky have to see it of course. And my choreographer, of course. And Carol! She’s trying to replace me and I need to assert my dominance.”

You giggle at his enthusiasm. “Stevie, no one can replace you. But this is starting to sound like a lot of people…”

“Sunshine, you haven’t met Carol. She’s blond, she’s tall, she was in the air force. Her stage name is Captain Marvel. She’s coming for my entire brand! And I want to show you off. I want people to know you’re mine,” he trails.

You watch him for a moment and try to look at it from his perspective. Dancing was a huge part of his life. He wanted you to be part of your life.

You think you can put your insecurities aside for one evening. For him.

You take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”

“Really?” Steve grins excitedly.

“Yeah! Really,” you giggle. “Let’s do it. Show Carol there’s only one Captain America.”

Steve presses a deep kiss against your lips. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

Part II | Master List

#steve rogers fic #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader

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