Big Spoon Cuddling Novels & Stories

Just set everything down on the small table, pulled up the other chair, and sat directly in front of me. He stirred the spoon through the broth, blew on it once, and held it out toward my mouth. I just stared at him. The spoon hovered inches from my face, the steam rising between us. I kept staring. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. “Is this some kind of weird fetish?” I finally asked, my voice cracky and dripping with exhaustion and sarcasm. “Tying women up and spoon-feeding them like toddlers? Because if it is, you can go fuck yourself. I’m no longer playing along with whatever sick game this is.”

Suddenly, a loud voice shouted out from the middle of the amused crowd, "Wait, a spoon?!" "Yes, a spoon!" Lucy yelled back, tossing her head back as she scoffed in absolute contempt. "I mean, what else do you really expect from a pathetic, worthless loser like her? Honestly, I don't even want to mention the disgusting part where she told me she usually stuffs raw hotdogs inside her private parts to get them wet before she takes them to the kitchen and fries them for breakfast!"

Shayan, focused on keeping the tea safe from spills and ensuring Ath didn't burn himself, carefully navigated the process. At one point, Ath's tiny hand managed to grab the edge of the spoon, and he pulled it towards him, trying to drink directly from it. Shayan gently took it back, wiping Ath's sticky fingers with a napkin, and continued to feed him. Ath's giggles filled the room as he playfully batted at the spoon, clearly enjoying the attention and the treat.

Naomi peered at me with a soft, wolf-kin warmth. "I had the omegas prepare your favorite—wild mushroom and cream broth. Cameron, fill your mate’s bowl. Don’t just sit there like a stone." My skin prickled. I reached for the ladle, but Cameron’s hand got there first. He took my bowl, his fingers brushing mine with a heat that felt like a brand, and filled it to the brim. As I stared at the steaming cream, my stomach did a violent somersault. The very scent made my throat tighten.

LUNA POV I couldn't believe it—I was spooning with Bryan. Or would I say cuddling? Whatever it was, I knew it was wrong. My first thought was to check if anyone saw us, especially Liam. How would I even explain that I was spooning with his friend? "Why did you shout like that?" Bryan asked, looking groggy like he still needed more sleep. why are you spooning or Will I say cuddling me? "How did I get into your arms?" I asked.

I suddenly felt an intense hunger when the aroma of the soup filled the room. He babbled while his tail wagged like a dog, holding a small bowl of tonic clumsily. "Guyon made soup for Mommy!" The bowl he was holding was placed on top of a wooden tray; there were traces of spilling on it. His hands were shaking despite his cute smile, so I couldn't stop smiling at his cute gestures.

“That’s all I ask. We’ll take it one step at a time.” A little hope flickered inside me. Later he asked playfully, “So… hugging and cuddling. Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?” My cheeks burned. “I know what it is, but I’ve never actually done it.” He smiled softly. “It’s comforting. Like a warm, safe hug.” I bit my lip. “I… I’d like to try.” “All right. Little spoon?” I winced. “I can’t. It’ll hurt on the pillow.”

Slowly, the hall returned to its rhythm: Spoons scraping bowls. Soft conversation. A child being hushed by an older woman. The clatter of a dropped cup. Life continues, even in the shadows. I lifted the spoon, hands trembling slightly, and tasted the broth. Warm. Savory. Real. And unexpectedly comforting. Jessa smiled when she saw my expression. “Told you. The little things.” She nudged my knee lightly under the table, a simple gesture that said: You’re not alone here. Not while I’m with you. And for the first time all morning -

“Can I be the big spoon?” I finally opened my eyes to look at him and saw the hopeful expression on his face. I nodded my head and rolled over. He scooted closer to me, letting his entire body mold to mine, all the way from our backs to our toes. Rhett always did that, and it’s why I enjoyed being the little spoon with him; it was almost like we became one. He placed his arm around me and held me close.

And Spaghetti had knocked over his bowl again, maybe protesting the lack of bone broth in his boiled chicken. I poured kibble, added some salmon, and slid each bowl into place. The sounds of crunching and licking filled the kitchen like some absurd soundtrack to my increasingly surreal life. The coffee machine clicked. The scent of caffeine and mild existential dread spread through the air. I grabbed my mug, poured, and— Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.