#bitchenkitchen

Metal clenched tightly around his wrists ⎯⎯⎯ restraining his belligerence and fiercely twisting his arms behind his back. It was a testament of his upheaval and resistance. 

Memories could not be found in these walls. The beast neither had acquaintanceship with the monoliths scattered around this freight train of a city nor did he kennel much familiarity with the language rolling off his tongue. 

There were a few scattered words, here and there, and they  brought about some nostalgia, along with the echoes of the euphoric feeling of sand giving away under his weight.

Ears suddenly picked up a distant gait and he narrowed his eyes, waiting for the first sight of movement. It had snapped him out of his stupor and plunged him into the reality of the miry stone pressed against his feet.

“♦"   for   the   first   word   my   chara   thinks   of   you.  /  @bitchenkitchen

He wasn’t familiar with their social pyramid. Whether they were inherently slotted into a caste system or if he was here out of his own free will was unbeknownst to him.

Either way, he saw him in the kitchen. Always saw him in the kitchen when he ventured in there to satiate the storm of hunger. He remembered a time when he fed him a pastry he didn’t know the name to, but just knew it was so damn good. 

Omega didn’t know if the little guy made it just for him or if he saved it for him, but he appreciated it. Because⎯⎯⎯get him through the stomach and they’ll have his heart.  

Get his heart, even if just a smudge, and they’ll have a wall of protection. A shield. An unrelenting and formidable shield.

It was the gesture that he noticed. It was a gesture he admired. 

🍫   quietly   hand   over   a   treat  /  food   item  |  @bitchenkitchen​

It was, pardon his French, fancy as hell. He had bore witness to these in pretentious Instagram posts under the guise of vision bleaching filters, ignorant of their complexities, but lingered on their resemblance to cupcakes crowned in plastic cups. 

This one was the fanciest he had seen. Fancier than the sight of it sitting before him. Two visually disconnected entities adjoined because an orchestra of growls resonated from the depths of his intestines⎯⎯⎯

⎯⎯and the other, the cupcake look alike, wafted with a sweet aroma like a bitch in heat 

The closest thing Omega could define as fancy was his gaudy language. “Ain’t you the big leagues? Going all out for me? I betcha it tastes delicious as it looks.”

…just waiting for food network to call me 😘