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#i love dough can you tell
applefan28 · 2 years
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Ok, So here's an interesting one for the headcannon thing, Dough :) I wanted to suggest it seen you seem to be a Dough liker! :D
YAAAAY YAY YIPPEEE DOUGH ENJOYERS HEY :D
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Sexuality Headcanon: This guy lives by like no labels, Dough isn’t all that connected to the such but if you had to label him, gay but in a very aromantic way where he does kinda forget he’s gay because being with someone intimately never crossed his mind nor was of importance in his life. Like sure, if Dough WERE to date he knows it’d be only a guy of sort because “yah, they’re cool” but overall he isn’t going out of his way to be in a relationship. He never caught onto it, and to be frank he kinda doesn’t care nowadays, he might find the occasional Man That Could Carry Him Bridal Style attractive but that’s about it (and it goes by pretty quick). Though i think also Dough, being his contrarian ironic self, would be like “nah im not gay im an ethical incel” or something if you’d ask him from the fact he’s into romance-focused telenovelas and novels.
Gender Headcanon: Much like how it is with sexuality, gender as well is done with no labels other than just “not cis”. The most you could say is probably agender or demiboy, but even then that’s too concrete of a way to pinpoint Dough’s gender (also wouldn’t care much for it anyways). Dough is just some “guy” but not in a cis way, also goes by both he/him and she/her with gender presentation remains as basic as wearing an ironic “my sister is lame” or “gamer” shirt with cargo shorts. I think also because she looks up to Bow and tries to be somewhat like her in some ways, would try to dabble in her clothing style only to not feel comfortable with them #autism. Though i can definitely see him wearing skirt with, yes, a mid early 2000's gamer shirt and really bad knee high socks. She would also enjoy the funny combo in wearing the first outfit using she/her and the second using he/him, gender is a joke to him anyways and is just kinda dumb. Bloke who does fuck all!!!
A ship I have with said character: None i can think of honestly, he’s not about the dating life.
A BROTP I have with said character: DOUGH AND APPLE ok yeah i know i talked about this on the Apple post but idc. My blog my posts.
I’ve talked about their potential dynamic on this post, but tldr; they’re weirdo kids with a longing sense of alienation who fulfill a sibling relationship in the others’ lives that weren’t provided or met in their own lives (Apple in a large family but not being given enough attention, Dough as an only child but with Bow now who doesn’t want him). In Dough's case, much like Apple on a more self-aware aspect, he sees himself in Apple and not only has that sorta need to make up for what he wished he had, but he doesn’t like seeing another feel the same she has. I’d imagine the first couple of months to year, Apple and Bow’s relationship still isn’t well mended. Apple feeling not welcomed along with feeling like a bother to Marshmallow, she’s gonna have a sense of being left out. She wanders about the mansion and with Bow at times taking Marsh’s attention, she’s kinda left on her own. I can see her striking up a convo to Dough out of not wanting to feel alone, and Dough, feeling pretty much the same, takes it up. She catches on quick on Apple’s intentions behind it and immediately Knows, to not have this girl feel sad and alone. From then on, they just click and talk to one another. Apple feeling like she’s got another person that likes her, and Dough not only feeling the same way for himself, but helping her feel more at ease at the mansion. I’m thinking he tells her about the shows and books he’s read (books taking a slight interest in Apple because she does wanna improve in her reading), their shared taste in oldhead dad music, having been internet kids sharing ideas and thoughts on forums, their love for animals as it was what kept them company growing up, dude they’re just neat as a duo. Dough is like an older bro to Apple, well one that went out their way to hang out with her at least, and he feels the same about Apple. It’s like they’re making up for that somewhat lonely childhood, with jam sessions and My Little Pony marathons, and of course the feelings talk.
They’re both closed up on how they feel most of the time but i think Dough is more willing to put his own feelings out there if he feels like he can trust someone for it. Pointing back to the Bow Takeover Event where he tells Apple she and Bow should get sibling counseling, reveals a lot about her allowing to be vulnerable enough to seek some form of help from another. So often is he all nonchalant and resigned to whatever, as much as that face he puts on is translucent it’s still a wall put up to avoid the uncomfortableness that is in showing your insecurities. I’d say this is further down where Apple and Bow are in better terms than where they were in the beginning, so Apple has an upper hand in being a communicator for the two, especially for Dough. Apple may not be easy with her own emotions, but she’s good at knowing if someone isn’t feeling Good, which she notices in Dough (and pays more mind to than Bow and Marsh). With Dough now having Someone to talk to, she confides in her own conflicts with Bow in particular and does want something to be done. I love the idea of Dough showing more than what he puts off, and doing so comfortably with another person. He’s been shafted to the background too much and she deserves to not only be seen for once but to be heard.
Also when Apple brings animals to the mansion making a little farm, Dough has the privilege in naming them all like cheeseburger, ketchup, salsa, mayonesa, honestly just food names especially in spanish (half mexican swagger). Dough also gets her own chicken, horse, and his favourite, a highland cow (how Apple found + brought these is anyone’s guess).
A NOTP I have with said character: Bow because well, they’re alleged siblings. Other than that, just about any other girl in the show honestly.
A random headcanon: HOMESTUCK FAN DOUGH OH MY GOD honestly i dont have anything to back as to why but i just think it’d be mad funny if Dough had been into homestuck since the beginning (internet kid like Apple). He made a trollsona, fan trolls/kids, part of the mspa forums, made amvs, etc. I wanna say her interest in romance/relationship focused media and speculation in media started as a kid when watching telenovelas with his widowed dad, but for sure was taken more into an actual interest with homestuck once Act 5 hit with it’s quadrants and Karkat being the one to be all about that sorta stuff. Dough enjoys analyzing and speculating bonds and relationships between one another, it gets her thinking and being able to understand the world around. Not to mention the drama he LOVES both eavesdropping in and maybe partaking in a little gossip (he was massively annoying on the forums talking about pairings). I’d like to think one of her faves were Gamzee, which is how she got into ICP LOL, also greatly enjoyed Caliborn’s antics later on. Also i remember seeing a John Egbert fancam to MSI’s “Tornado” on twitter and thought “Dough would SO make this”. He’s a homestuck veteran, has witnessed the horrors of it all, could recite the fan songs and Octopimp homestuck comic dubs, Dough’s a homestuck </3. Oh, and as for his thoughts on Homestuck^2 and the Epilogues, he doesn’t like them at all but will be a bastard and play devil’s advocate about how good it is for it subverting fan’s image of the franchise :^)
SORRY another headcanon because i just remembered it but because there’s that one clip of Dough singing the Adventure Time intro, she enjoys watching cartoons and would wanna do cartoon night at the hotel.
General Opinion over said character: I love Dough, he’s just this annoying weird guy that hides a lot of his genuine emotions behind a flimsy facade of contrarianism and irony. She deserves all the love she gets from the 5 other Dough enjoyers ive seen, and im glad he’s a part of the purgatory mansion family :) If you hate on my boy there will be trouble, blockhead.
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gingacd · 1 year
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had an idea for an au thingie for tf2 guys where Soldier works in a bakery after tf2. I think he’s the sort of fellow who just puts his heart into any job he’s asked to do so he’d obviously be a great baker (and teleport so much bread)
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seventh-fantasy · 7 months
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“乖!等我买了房子就娶你!”
我可能遇到了救星 HI VENUS EP. 21: 把院长玩弄于股掌!( • ̀ω•́ )✧
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tiredofthehumanlife · 6 months
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JK guys turns out I actually don't need to cut off all my friends and never speak to anyone ever again I was just ovulating sorry bout that one I'm pretty sure I won't try to block everyone again this time next month
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luveline · 1 month
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i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's just miserable that no one remembered his birthday at work but when he gets home his roommate just welcomes him with the most thoughtful gift and a warm hug PLEASE
thank you for requesting! <3 fem!reader
The lights are off. The air conditioning blows a shade too cold. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and acknowledges that, despite his awful, aching day, it’s nice to be home. 
The living room is clean where it hadn’t been this morning when he left. If he had to clean it by himself, he’d die. It must’ve taken a good hour or longer, even the floor shines sparkling clean. 
“Hey?” he asks into the open air, wondering where you are. 
“Spencer!” you yelp from the kitchen, “Hey, what took you so long? It’s almost seven!” 
He sighs to himself with a great dash of self-pity. “I know. Had to stay and finish something. You cleaned?” 
“I had to! Quick, come in here, I need your help with something.” 
He doesn’t want to help, he wants to lay down in bed. Spencer wonders how a normal person, a normal boy, would feel after a day like today. He wonders if Morgan would go home and lay in bed and cry. He wonders if it could ever be possible for everyone to forget Morgan’s birthday. 
Spencer hangs his jacket on the rack and puts his bag by the shoes. He’s tempted to go to bed and pretend he hasn’t heard you, but he supposes he shouldn’t. He’d sort of been hoping you’d text him happy birthday, and but that never happened. He doesn’t think anybody in the world besides his mom knows what day it is today, and Spencer had to remind her, so. 
“Spence,” you say, your smile of a calibre he’s never witnessed, standing in front of the kitchen island with your hands behind your back, “I hope you know I’ve been waiting two whole hours for you to get back. Actually, I’ve been waiting all day, but you can’t be blamed for working. Okay. Are you ready?” 
“Am I ready? What did you want help with?” 
You step to the side, grinning, the sleeves of your nice blouse like big, soft petals around your wrists and against your thighs. “Tada!” you say, guiding his attention to the silver platter on the countertop, a chocolate cake at centre stage and stuck with candles, flames aglow. “I rushed to light them when I heard the door,” you tell him, and he can hear your breathlessness now, your excitement for him evident. “A lot of candles, you’re getting old! Too old for chocolate sprinkle. I should’ve got you something sophisticated.” 
“You got me a cake?” 
“It’s your birthday,” you say happily. “Happy birthday, Spencer. I got you some presents, too, but the cake is the best, it’s from the Leaven. How fancy is that?” 
“Will you sing?” he asks. 
He doesn’t know why he asks. He’s mostly kidding, but you smile shyly and beckon him toward you. “I’ll sing. Come stand over here.” 
You sing him happy birthday, and he blows out his candles, only ten candles altogether but enough to feel like a kid as the heat kisses his chin. 
“Okay, and I got you this,” you say, finally pulling both hands from behind your back, seemingly eager to move the focus from your performance.
It’s a bundle about as thick as an average novel. He knows it’ll be books before he opens it, because you know him, and it’s in your nature to give him your everything. 
He doesn’t look at them. He takes the package blindly and shoves it onto the counter, wrapping you in a hug so hard it makes your back click. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go. You don’t make him. “Sorry, I just– I–” You’re the only one who remembered. “Thank you for the cake.” 
You hug him not quite as hard, but tight. “Hey, it’s okay. I love you, you’re my best friend ever, you can pop me like a roll of dough any day of the week.” You might be exaggerating. Spencer doesn’t know. “But especially today, you know. You can have anything you want.” 
Spencer should let go. Anything you want, you’d said. He hugs you until he’s sure you’re sick of him, your thumb pressing little circles into his shoulder, his arms tucked up under your armpits and around your back. “Thanks,” you murmur.
“What?” he asks. “For what?” 
“For such a good hug. And being a great roommate. And for not complaining about the candles.” 
“The candles are perfect.” 
You lean back in his arms. “Thank you. Now what do you want first, cake or dinner?” 
Spencer really wants another hug. “Um. Cake?” 
“Good choice, handsome.”
His cheeks are pink by the time he gets a slice, but it’s the best birthday cake he’s ever had.
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buckyalpine · 2 months
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Bucky comfort. What I need like air right now is a sweet, chubby baker Bucky who notices his bunny is down. She doesn't say anything out of the ordinary when she comes to visit the bakery, kissing his soft scruffy cheek before taking a seat at the booth with a fresh Danish he made.
Cherry, because that's her favorite.
He can tell something is off when her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes and she's curled up in his hoodie quietly nibbling on the pastry instead of clinging onto him like she usually does.
He doesn't like it. Not one bit.
He loves when his girl hugs his thick waist tightly from behind while his works at the dough and rolls out croissants. Her little hands usually knead at the fluff around his belly. Instead she seems to be in her own world, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and pushing herself further into her seat to hide from the rest of world. You tell him you have to run a few errands and he doesn't miss your steamy eyes and small voice as you scurry off out of the bakery and it just adds to his worry.
Bucky was having none of that.
He lets Sam and Steve take over a couple of his orders, cleaning off and deciding to go straight home to you instead, he knows you don't actually have errands to do, he always makes sure to take care of them anyway. When he arrives back home, he isn't surprised to see your smaller form curled in a ball on the couch, eyes wide, surprised to see him.
"Bucky?" the quiver in your voice gives away that you'd been crying moments earlier.
"C'mere baby bunny" Bucky cooed, scooping you up in his beefy arms, and cradling your body to his, holding you to his chest while you nuzzle into his neck. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that little head of yours" He whispered against your hair, stroking it while you pull back, giving him a shrug. He knows you don't always want to talk about it but he's going to do what he can to make you feel better
"I'm not sure" You say with a sigh, your mind still running around a thousand miles a minute. Nothing particularly bad happened but one thought led to another; questioning if you were happy with your job, if you were happy with where you were in life, if you were someone Bucky would actually even want to be with, someone so sweet and loving and handsome like him, all your friends seemed to have found their footing and you were still here so unsure-
"Shhh" he kissed your forehead as if he could hear your insecurities screaming at you from inside your head. "What do you need sweet girl" His lips brush against the top of your head, breathing in your soft scent of peach body wash and vanilla lotion. He has you perfectly tucked into his much larger form, as if he were trying to protect his baby bunny from the rest of the world.
"Cuddles?" You cling onto him, sighing contently when he shifts so he can wrap you up in his arms while you bury your face into his chest. Everything about him is so comforting, if you could find a way to burrow yourself into him, you would. Your wiggling and shifting to get even closer makes Bucky chuckle, cooing at the whine you let out when he pulls away.
"Not going anywhere bunny, just getting us more comfortable" You're not sure how he does it but with minimal effort and movement he's helped you strip off all your clothes along with his, tossing the fluffy throw to cover you both up. You love feeling his bare skin against yours, practically purring now that you can feel every bit of him.
The rumble of your stomach doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky and he makes sure to wrap you up in a blanket burrito before getting up and padding over to the kitchen.
"Where are you going now" You pout and he cups your face with the gentlest touch.
"You're hungry bub, I'm just getting a snacky" and with that he walks off, grinning at the giggle you let out watching his perfectly perky ass saunter off.
"Yummyy" You wiggle happily from under your blanket at both the sight of you very pretty, very naked boyfriend carrying in a plate of more Danishes and a bunch of other pastries and fruit he grabbed on the way out when he left the bakery.
Bucky adores seeing you like this, setting down the snacks so he can hold you again when you give him grabby arms. He doesn't let you lift a fingers, feeding you another Danish, kissing the crumbs that clung onto your lips. He runs you a bath next. His bunny doesn't feel like moving much so he's happy to carry you there while you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear.
By the end of the night he loves seeing the light return to your eyes, your soft giggles when he has you perched on the bathroom counter doing your skin care routine with him.
"Keep your little paws to yourself, doll" Bucky swats away your hands when you reach for the lotion, taking over the job for himself. He's more than happy to massage up and down your calves to your thighs. He massages all the knots out of your back and shoulders before carrying you off to bed again for more cuddles and kisses.
Anyway, this was sitting in the drafts for weeds and it's still what I need rn.
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hanaonesflower · 2 months
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“let me do this for you.”
“let me get that for you.”
“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.
"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"
"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."
you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.
you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.
"this is getting out of control, kento."
"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."
nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.
so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.
"kento! what happened?!"
"nothing to worry about my l-"
"enough! tell me, now."
your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.
"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."
"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."
"it's not that bad."
you glare.
"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."
"I bet it does."
you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.
there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.
"you haven't been yourself lately."
silence.
"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."
kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.
a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.
"that's really how you feel?"
"have I been absent to you, y/n?"
you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.
"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."
"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.
"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."
"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."
truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"
"is it working?"
he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.
"I think it's very kind of you."
he sighs.
"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."
"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."
“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.
“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.
“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.
“then can i say that i love you, too?”
“that, you can.”
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧
note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)
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herozdiary · 2 months
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Milk and cookies
Francis x reader
This diary entry contains…Mentions of baking|Baker reader|Francis being a cutie pie|established relationship|Short little idea i had sitting in the back of my mind|Francis being good at baking|Mlikman x baker is such a cute trope idea lowkey|i should make longer writings
A/N:WOWOWO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE FIRST FRANCIS WRITING🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
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“Milk…butter…sugar..blah blah blah” Francis had muttered to himself as he went over the recipe list. He wanted to make cookies too take his mind off of things going on.
The both of you were like the baker and the milkman duo. People loved seeing you too together because of how cute you are. It was a fresh breathe of air to see a happy couple in these times. With dopplegangers roaming around the area.
You became familiar with the new door guard. They always greeted you with a smile as they went over your paperwork before allowing you in. " You know, It's something about you that just tells me it's the real you. " The doorman said before shrugging. You smiled at them before venturing up to your shared apartment with francis.
Today you didn't do much at the bakery. you only sold a couple of things you made earlier that week but it was a slow day. You pulled out your keys as just pushed them into the keyhole. pushing the door open and closing it after walking in, The smell of fresh baked cookies hit your nose. You smiled as you slipped off your shoes.
you poked your head into the kitchen to find francis looking over a baking tray with cookies spread out across them. He seemed to be whispering something to himself as he poked at one before hissing slightly.
" This is why we let things cool off before we touch them!" You said as you rushed over. Francis turned away slightly as you took his hand into yours before looking over it. "Well it seems nothing bad happened" You say while blowing on it and kissing his finger.
" I wanted to try and make something to take my mind off of things going on now." He said while looking at the tray. "Maybe you should leave that to me." You say while looking over the cookies before smiling and nodding. "But you did a good job! Did you buy the dough at the store or something?" You asked.
"Nope. Made them by scratch. I saw you had some recipes laying around so i followed them" He admitted. You smiled as you placed a small kiss on his cheek.
"Im proud of you! You did it the exact way i do" You say as you grab one. You take a bite before smiling some more. "Taste the same way." You say as you finish it off. Francis smiled as he felt proud from the praise.
"Thanks...But i think you always make them better" Francis said while leaning on the counter. "I think they taste the same. But you know...i thought you would bring some milk out that we can dunk the cookies in."You say as you open the fridge to a bottle of milk.
"I forget that milk and cookies go together"Francis muttered as he watched you pour two glasses of milk.You grabbed a plate and began to plate the cookies before placing them onto the kitchen counter.
"When you think about it, we go together like milk and cookies" You joked as you dip a cookie into your cup of milk. Francis rolled his eyes before chuckling at your joke. "Because of our jobs?" He asked as he picked up one of the cookies and took a small nibble out of it.
the rest of the afternoon was filled with the both of you finishing off the plate and having a milk drinking contest. Of course Francis won since he spent most of his days drinking cold bottles of milk.
But at the end of the day, The two of you went together like milk and cookies.
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bwere · 12 days
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WHY DIDNT YOU CALL? W/ TOJI FUSHIGURU
you ignored his messages, and werent even home the time you said you’d be
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content: 710+ wc — smut, two l!nks, little angst, lil bit of humiliation, raw dogging, mdni + not proofread, request always open
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TOJI FUSHIGURO has only a little more patience when it comes to you than he does with anyone else. He loves you of course—but sometimes he just wants to ruin whatever idea in your pretty little head that makes you think, you can make him wait whenever you please and get away with it scotch free.
He waited all day for you, sent texts, left voicemails, missed calls, and even let you know when he clocked in for work and when he got off. 
He was fine with you going out with your friends—but when you give him an estimated time of when you’ll be home he expects you home in the same timeframe no less. 
With each passing hour toji was getting more impatient as he watched the delivered prompt stay that of stone.
You on the other hand paid no mind to his messages, giving a little heart or thumbs up here and there and going on with your outing. Thinking he wouldn’t mind since he understood your situation.
But boy were you wrong.
You left him on-read for five hours—and sure he knew you were probably fine, but it made him irked, knowing you were looking pretty around your little friends but ignoring his messages. Not only that but you gave him a time and yet you still kept him waiting? As if he didn’t matter more than your friends.
So when you came home that night and found him waiting for you in the kitchen, you knew he was fuming. 
“You think that shits funny huh? leavin’ me on read like i’m one of your fuckin’ friends?” toji seethes, his coarse palms fusing into the meat of your hips. Kneading the skin around his fingers like dough. 
His fingers pressurize your skin till it’s sore. Your poor abdomen only being given relief when he repositions his fingers—just to get a better grip and fuck harder into you than just moments ago as if you were a mere silicone fleshlight.
“H-hah—mgmhn-n..nough!” you pant out as he digs into you so good it makes your spine shiver, so good you can barely catch on to your voice, before he takes your strength away with another deep stroke.
He has your face drowning in your shared bedding, drool streaming from your lips and chasing down your chin, all to be soaked up by the silk imposed under your face. 
With your body deep in the mattress, his hands hold you in place as he thrusts into you so precisely, every movement grabbing another moan from your throat.
“C’mon ya feelin’ ngh- that good huh? Don’t even know how to say no,” toji mocks, earning nothing in response but a plethora of raspy whimpers of sorries from you. “Lemme make ya’ remember then, doll”
“Mmmfhg! m’ sorry mngh toji p-please i won’ do it again!” you cry, as you’ve barely been able to do anything but lay there beg after beg, struggling to take it.
“Yeah? go on, tell me what you won’t do ma’” the baritone in tojis voice resonating throughout the walls of your shared room.
TOJI FUSHIGURO slows down the pace of his thrusts till the tip of his cock rests just outside your gaping pussy.
And as your lips part—oh so desperately trying to gain some sense; before you can even convince him to let you sound a word out, before you can even think about what you’re going to say—he leans his weight forward to hook your wrists around each other, and in the same motion pulling you back against his chest as he sinks his hard cock deep in you as if he never was out of you to begin with. 
Unhesitatingly pounding into you once more—occupying your warm insides with rough submission. Allowing you no support to hold on to while he uses you relentlessly. 
“Uhngm—! ts’-too muh-ch toji..!“ It’s exasperating—how his dick could steal your ability to speak. Rob you of your dignity, and make you only familiar with how to say his name.
He knows how to fuck you so perfectly your cunt only feens for the thick veiny cock—the same one now violating your insides. 
“Yer capable of makin’ excuses but mmmh—can’t answer my calls back huh? Do I needa’ get you a beeper?”
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2hightocare · 7 months
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WHAT YOU NEED ✷
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Synopsis: Jungkook and you try getting into the Christmas spirit, but you end up getting fucked up against the kitchen counter.
Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader
Genre: established relationship au!
Warnings: smut, size kink, light spanking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t b dumb nd wear condom.) fluff, cussing, Jungkook has a dirty mouth. a kms joke, hair pulling and choking
Word count: 2.3k
A/n: let’s not sayyyy.. when i say i was giggling and kicking my feet i am not fucking lying! (Jk had me on a chokehold istg😒) they flagged my shit… um
Is it barely November 1st? Yes.
Are you putting the Christmas tree up already? Fuck yeah.
Jungkook would clown you for your love for Christmas, and honestly, you didn't care because you loved everything about it. The decorations, the new flavored coffee menu’s, the gifts underneath the tree, and the cold. You loved wearing beanies, scarves, and thick hoodies. Something about this holiday takes you back to your childhood—the way you would gather with your siblings and parents in the kitchen, making sugar cookies to put under the tree for Santa.
Were you heartbroken when your parents told you they were Santa? Yes. You felt betrayed after they lied to you for thirteen years of your life. When you shared your story with Jungkook, he burst out laughing, sharing that he found out at age nine after catching his parents in the act, making you want to cry for him.
Now here you both were at 10:40 pm assembling the Christmas tree. Jungkook's mom gifted you both, which is much bigger than yours from last year.
“Oh my fuck—this is too big, baby." Jungkook admires the height of the tree with his hands rested on both sides of his hips. Your excitement rises at how many possible ways you both could decorate it.
"Well, I can tell you hate it,” your boyfriend jokes as his hands wrap around your bare waist from behind. “Your hands are cold,” you flinch. Your hands wrap around his, trying to pass him your warmth.
“And if we decorate it with tiny dicks?” You crack your neck upward to see his reaction. “I mean, go for it, baby."
You swat his chest as he burst into a fit of laughter. “You swear you’re so funny, huh?” You look at him with a serious face, your mouth twitching from trying to hold in the big smile that wants to come out.
Jungkook just shakes his head. “Wanna decorate today with last year's decorations, or we can wait till tomorrow and buy new ones, and instead we can bake Christmas cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.
Anyone in their right mind would be thinking we’re crazy for already baking Christmas cookies when December is in a whole month. But you both didn’t care.
“We should’ve gotten pre-made cookie dough.” Your eyes look around at the marble counter in front of you, filled with all the ingredients your mother-in-law told you to use. “On god.” Jungkook stands beside you. “You know what? Let me call my mom. We need a tutorial, I'm afraid.” You giggle as he pulls out his phone, opening up FaceTime.
The phone rings three times before the camera fills up with your mother-in-law smiling sweetly. "Hi, my babies!” She says first, Your face lights up. “Hi,” you wave a hand to the camera. “Hi mom!”
“You guys look adorable,” she motions to your guys matching pink hello kitty pajamas. “Y/n bought them; I had no choice,” he lied, knowing damn well he wanted to match first. “Sureee.” You rolled your eyes at him.
The call continued as Jungkook's mom gave you guys simple instructions like beating the sugar and butter with a whisk, which Jungkook took over because your hand started to hurt, and gradually adding flour to the mixture, which ended with both of you guys covered in white flour because Jungkook turned the mixer too fast. After wishing your goodbyes, you both slightly shake off the flour, and you put the dough in the refrigerator. Apparently, you have to let it be firm.
“So now we have two hours to wait. I say we fuck.” Jungkook slaps your ass, making you squeal. “You’re horny??” Your hands make their way to his hair, slightly pulling. "Hm, maybe,” he whispers into your mouth, and he gives you a slow, wet kiss. “I’m still sore from earlier." I mumble in between kisses. “Was I too rough?” His rough hands massage your ass. You shrug your shoulders in his embrace.
“Christmas movie, then?” He asks, “I’m so down."
….
“Shit takes like ass,” you say, finishing up the cookie.
Your boyfriend looks around for the long-gone cookie. “I don't know; let’s ask the audience.” He looks around for the invisible camera. “Bitch!” You swat his arm, and he burst out laughing, holding on to his stomach.
“You literally ate that shit up.” His head is thrown back, and the most beautiful laugh roars out of him. “I will kill myself genuinely.” You chuckle while trying another cookie without the frosting you guys tried making from a tutorial on Google.
“The frosting is ass, cause this is a bomb,” you stuff your mouth with the remaining of the cookie humming at the taste. “Am I weird cause I fuck with the frosting?" He dips his pinky nto the bowl where the white frosting is before sucking it off. “Never mind actual shit." His nose scrunches in disgust, and his tongue sticks out, making you giggle.
"No, seriously, why is it so bad?” Jungkook takes a sip of the milk he had served not so long ago. “I have no clue, baby, but the sugar cookie itself slaps." You take your half eaten cookie up to your boyfriend's mouth and say, "Open, ahh." He immediately follows commands and opens before you shove his mouth with the golden cookie. “Mhm,” Jungkook's face scrunches as he bobs his head up and down, savoring the heart-shaped cookie.
“Probably the best cookie I had in a while, not gonna lie,” he states, taking a bite of the gingerman's head.
“Do we have cinnamon?” You make your way to the drawer where you keep all the spices. “ Found it,” you make your way back to the cookie before sprinkling some on your and Jungkook's cookies before taking a huge bite. “Oh my fuck," you moan.
"Oh, my fuck indeed.” Jungkook shoves the remaining cookie into his mouth, moaning at how it melted in his mouth. "Think, I just saw stars.” You say this while he side-eyes you. “Haha no.” He says that before picking you up on the counter, he settles in between your legs.
“Horny still?” You ask again, "Yes, very, I’ll be a gentle promise.” He leaves open-mouth kisses on your neck before slowly sucking.
“No marks.” You moan, your fingers slightly tugging on his hair and making him groan. “Scarf season, princess.” He looks up with a smirk on his face, then continues his actions, sucking and licking your soft spot. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet. Jungkook slowly grinds into your clothed pussy causing you to slip out a throaty moan. “Fuck—“ you throw your head back, your legs caging him closer to where you most need him. “I need you to lose the clothes and fuck me.” Jungkook chuckles at your demanding tone.
“Yeah? Want my cock already?” His hands rub on your thighs. You nod your head, looking down at the imprint of his now-hard cock. You reach for it, but Jungkook slaps your hand away, making you pout. “Patience princess,” Jungkook's hands tug on the band of your pajamas, pulling them down and taking your underwear along with it.
You squeal as your bare ass feels the cold counter top, and your boyfriend laughs before throwing the clothes somewhere on the ground.
Your pussy clenches over nothing, and you go to press your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, only for Jungkook to hold them wide open. He pulls his hard cock out of his pants, giving himself two pumps before slapping it on your wet center. Your gaze fixated on his dick on your pussy, your lips between your teeth moaning slightly when your boyfriend gives it another slap with his dick.
“So wet for me, baby,” he says, giving it another slap. "C'mere," Jungkook's picks you off the counter from your arms, “bend over. ” He orders.
You quickly follow his command, your juices dripping down your legs from how wet you were already. Jungkook spreads open your legs some more before making his way in between them, giving your ass a slap. “Fuck—“ you clench your thighs together as he soothes the red mark he just left. “Fuck, when are you going to let me fuck this ass.” Your boyfriend asks you, giving you another spank, making you squeak.
“Never,” you moan, making him chuckle under his breath. “Worth the try.” He jokes before sinking down into you, both moaning at the feeling. You felt so full. Jungkook is so big, stretching your pussy deliciously. “So big shit," you moan, your cheek pressed against the counter as he fills you up to the hilt. “You can take it, baby,” Jungkook says between gritted teeth. He felt you clenching around him, having him on the verge of coming right there in an instant.
“Always so good for me, baby. Want me to fuck you so good, huh?” He whispers into your ear, and you clench around him, earning you another spank, ripping a loud moan out of you. “Fuck me," you stutter over the pleasure your lower belly is feeling. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Jungkook says before pulling his cock out, just leaving the tip in before slamming into you. Your mouth hangs open as he repeats the movements over and over again. “Fuck just like that,” you grip to the edge of the counter, your eyes close immediately, as his rough hands compare to your smooth skin, hold tightly to the sides of your hips, pounding into you from behind.
“This cunt is mine, right?” Jungkook groans, sliding his cock in and out of your walls. You could only reply with a loud moan. But that’s not enough for Jungkook; your boyfriend wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you upward and arching your back in the process. “Use your words, princess.” He orders in your ear, his movements never halting.
"Fuck—your pussy! Only yours,” you spit out whatever words you could make a sentence out of. “Fucking you dumb, huh?” He lets go of your hair and moves his hand around your neck, adorning it like a necklace and applying some pressure. "Mhmm,” you moan, trying to open your eyes but shutting close after Jungkook slams into you again.
The room fills with the wet clapping sounds, groans, and moans that keep spilling out of your guys mouths. Your fingers find your sensitive clit, applying pressure and drawing small circles. "Fuck—I'm gonna come!” Your legs shake beneath Jungkook, and his arm wraps around your waist in case your legs give out on you.
“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” He slaps your hand away from your clit replacing it with his. Your back arches against him, and his cock continues hitting your g-spot repeatedly, sending you over the edge.
“Oh fuc—“ Your words are cut short when the pleasure in your belly finally snaps, and Jungkook's fingers furiously move on your pussy, making you scream into your hand. Wetness pools on your feet, dripping down your legs. “Fuck so hot when you squirt,” Jungkook continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation has you shaking underneath him. “Too much fu-fuck,” you head drops to the counter. You clench, sending Jungkook over the edge.
“Coming,” your boyfriend's head drops to your shoulder, his movements becoming sloppy, springs of cum shooting inside you, moaning at the feeling.
His movements come to a halt, his mind foggy, his cock throbbing when he pulls out, making you whine, feeling empty.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he sees his cum dripping out of your hole. Without a second thought, he shoves it back in with his index finger. “Aw shit,” you moan at the sensitivity.
He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “You were so good for me, baby.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your back, breathing heavily. You are trying to catch your breath, and your legs feel like jelly, not being able to move from your current position.
“Mhm,” you hum softly, your eyes closing. "Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” Jungkook smiles at you, picking you up in bridal style, making you to squeal.
"How the fuck can you be so cute after just getting railed?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face as you try to snuggle into his chest. “You play too much,” you mumble.
Jungkook lays you down on the bed before disappearing into your guys bathroom; a couple minutes later, coming out changed and with a warm rag in hand, “here, baby open,” he coos motioning to your legs. You do as he says. He slowly cleans and wipes your center, making you moan from oversensitivity. “Almost done,” he says before giving a last swipe and throwing the rag somewhere in the room.
“Do you want a pill, baby?” He asks against your cheek, to which you nod. He stands up, walking to your side of the closet and getting you something comfy to wear. “Here. Be right back.” Jungkook leaves the clothes next to you and leaves the room.
As you change into your clothes, Jungkook waltz’s in with an ibuprofen and a glass of water on his other hand. “Here,” he says, waiting for you to poke your head out of his hoodie before handing you the small pill.
You swallow the pill without any complaints before dropping down on the bed. “So tired.” Your eyes close before you even hit the pillow, making him chuckle. “Worn you out, huh?” He teases before dropping beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. You immediately cuddle up to his side, feeding off the warmth he radiates. Your leg is over his torso, and your hand is on his chest.
“I love you, princess.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you; now let’s go, mimi’s." You kiss his clothed chest, hoping he can still feel the kiss.
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beomnoullistheorem · 20 days
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THIGH OBSESSION
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Boyfriend!Soobin × girlfriend!Reader
hi emmie, I couldn't post on your answer so I'm making it a post. @soobabby hope you like it <3
cw// MDNI! consensual sex, oral sex (female receiving) Unprotected sex, thigh kink on peak, little edging, whiny-dom!soobin, sub!reader soobin is "thigh drunk" (oma what-). dacrvphilia. degradation at the end.
wc — 1.0k ( I'm telling you, drabbles, never drabble for me. )
thoughts are open, any thoughts, soft or hard, if you want to, you can send me, I'll write a drabble on it ( if and only if it adheres to my guidelines )
Soobin's tongue is toying with your pussy, and then it's licking your clit, clenching your walls around nothing as he is teasing you. he's grabbing your thighs as though he held a dough, his fingers pressing in your plush thighs, as he separates and plants chaste kisses at your thighs, adoring the sight of your spread legs blessing your pussy all to his mouth. he trails his kisses to your pussy, absolutely laying ticklish wet kisses which elicit goosebumps around your inner thighs and arch you, his slightest ministrations leaving you desperate and breathless, your red face screwing up.
he french-kisses your pussy and bud, driving you absolutely near your orgasm and then when he feels you clench around his prodding tongue, he stops, to not let you cum, cause he loves it when you beg, watch your pussy clenching around nothing to have him inside, and he praises it for being so heavenly delicious and obedient cause no matter what you obey him. His tongue is again licking your clit as though it is a popsicle; he squeezes the flesh on your thighs.
“Your pussy... fuck it tastes so good.” his deep voice's vibrations laying tickles at your clit, trembling you from every nook and crevice of your body, soobin then plays with your thighs which tremble kneading and massaging as he changes your positions, making you stand and close your legs, spoon your ass onto his hips, as he places his hard cock between your thighs, nesting it between their warmth and wetting it with your dripping slick. damn isn't that all too hot, your thighs and your pussy warming his cock and he is laying wet kisses from your earlobe to the span of your neck as he keeps on pulling you on to him and his hands hold your waist, securing your failing composure, which barely holds any strength from the n times he has been making you cum, but he can't let go, your thighs feel so so so good and oh god he doesn't wanna let go, he just keeps standing like that and kisses on your sweet spot on your neck, "baby, they're so warm..."
"Your thighs... fuck they're so good." He absolutely loves how he can feel wetness on your cheeks by your tears from the way he's been edging your for hours and now his cock is right under your dripping pussy, he can slide it in. so close is it to your pussy, but so not for it, as he begins thrusting, his cock gliding in between your thighs and tickling your sensitive clit and pussy, his veins tracing perfectly well. "p-please fuck me," you whine only for him to listen & obey. But he doesn't. "binnie, please.... wan' your cock," you beg, but he starts moving his cock in and out your thighs, tracing it perfectly on your cunt as you gasp, he moves it so sloppily, his cockhead sometimes hitting your clit and then your cunt, you moan from your throat at it, but he is not at all slipping it in as he aims to fuck in between your thighs.
"I will, I will, just a minute, baby. I will fuck you," he lies.
He's been saying that since he started to edge you out while making out with your pussy but you can't do anything, when he's so good at it, the teasing brushes of his length & the veins on it against your clit and the burning anguish between your thighs and in your pussy cause of his moving cock using your thighs like a fleshlight feels so so good but so not enough and yet you whine against it, combining your voice with his sinful enjoying moans, he is feeling himself get nearer to his orgasm. His pace not faltering and you feel yourself closing your slightly open thighs even mkre and his cock's veins are more im detail and pleasurable to feel, you are again feeling it, the knots when your orgasm approaches. "Baby, your legs, your thighs..." soobin moans. "They feel fucking good, please please pleeaaaasssee let me cum there? They are perfect." He is pleading, unknown of everything but to use your thighs to get off; his head buried in your neck as he is utterly lost. "Yes, y-yes..! D-Don't stop bin-nie..." you moan along, grinding onto his hips as he groans at your plump ass pressing onto him more as you close your legs even more, where his cock is exactly buried among your thighs and cunt, dripping slick working as a lube when he's going even faster.
"fu-fuck baby so hot, please more, I'll reward you, so so pretty, haaah..." His mind short circuits, his cock's wild twitches exciting him and you as your head rests on his shoulder, he's using your thighs to full potential and he's close, so are you. He moves quicker and desperately when his cock starts pulsating and spasming, hot, pearly fluid smearing between your thighs and pussy, and also wetting the floor and your legs which tremble, so close to your reach are you not, You grip on his hands that wrap around your waist as tightly as you could, press onto him more as you you feel the lightbolts appear in your closed eyes and your stomach churning than it already was, you moan to ooze your orgasm out but he stopped. he stopped thrusting and his cock relaxed, depriving you of that teasing pleasure his girth bestowed, and you're whining again.
"w-why did you stop..?" You sob. You can not yet relax, his hot cum on legs and smeared between your thighs and it's only making you more pathetic and desperate, as you hit him with your elbows and whine, he turns you back and pulls you in a hug, as he takes in all your puny punches on his chest, he presses his lips onto your forehead and wipes your tears. "Stop crying," He says, while wiping the last tear escaping your eye, as he reassures you, looking into your eyes and giving you a tight, assuring smile. "W-why?" You ask him, looking through your lashes, pouting at his fingers caressing your lips, and wiping off the light drool as he smiles, "cause I am gonna fuck your pussy so much since you have begged for it until now so you will also cry then, like a pathetic slut taking more than she could, right? On your fours baby."
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moonstruckme · 8 months
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hi ml, wondering if you’d be able to do poly!marauders x hyperactive!reader who rlly gets the zoomies sometimes (me honestly) and out of nowhere she’s just super energetic and is like “hey sorry i’m gonna run to the store quickly for some stuff” and comes back and she’s got things to bake/cook and they’re all in bewilderment like ??? what is happeneing rn
Thanks for requesting lovely!
poly!maraders x hyperactive!reader ♡ 603 words
“I’m bored,” you say abruptly, knee bouncing so fast it’s shaking the coffee table. 
Sirius raises his eyebrows at the unfinished card game between you, him, and James. “Well, that’s a bit insulting.” 
You shake your head rapidly. “Not you, sorry. I just…” You gnaw at your lip, and Sirius and James exchange a bemused look. Remus had cut you off from the coffee pot hours ago, but you look like you’re about to start vibrating. “I don’t know, I need something else to do.” 
James looks at you consideringly. “Do you wanna start a movie?”
You shake your head again, and you’ve got a look on your face like you’re trying to see inside your own brain. 
“We could put on some music,” Sirius suggests.
“No.” You frown. “I feel like I need to climb a tree, or learn how to do a back handspring, or something.” You look at him. “You know?”
Sirius can’t say he does.
“Maybe you just need to take a lap around the block,” Remus says idly, flipping the page in his novel. 
You jump to your feet. “I’ve got it,” you announce, and head for the door. 
“Wait,” James says quickly, “wait, sweetheart, Remus was just joking.” 
Remus looks up from his book, vaguely alarmed. “Yeah, dove, don’t actually run around the block. It’s dark out.” 
“I won’t.” You wave them off, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door. You stop a few steps from the threshold, look down at your feet, and come back, slipping on a pair of shoes. “Be back soon!” you call, and before anyone can protest further, you’ve shut the door behind you. 
Sirius looks between his boyfriends. “What the fuck was that about?”
Remus shrugs, going back to his book. “Dunno. If she’s not back in twenty minutes, would one of you let me know? We should probably call the police.” 
Thankfully for them (and the police), you are back within twenty minutes. You and three bags of groceries. 
“Angel.” James stands as you speed into the kitchen, heaving the bags onto the counter. “What’s going on with you? What are you doing?”
“I’m baking cookies.” 
“It’s nearly midnight,” Remus says, at the same time as Sirius asks, “What kind of cookies?”
James has perked up at the mention of desserts, too. “Not sure,” you answer with a shrug. “I couldn’t decide between chocolate chip, earl grey, and these peppermint-and-chocolate ones I saw online, so I got ingredients for each and I’m gonna try them all.” 
“Dove,” Remus tries again, as James prances happily into the kitchen to help you set up, “it’s nearly midnight. How late are you planning to stay up to finish all that?”
“Also not sure.” You take out three big mixing bowls and begin measuring out flour for each of them. “The dough for the earl grey cookies needs to be refrigerated for a few hours, so I figure I can always freeze the rest if I don’t want to keep going after that.” 
Sirius raises his eyebrows, watching as you and James flit about the kitchen like busy hummingbirds. “Should we try and stop them?” he asks Remus quietly. 
“No.” Remus is frowning, and Sirius can tell that, behind a layer of weariness, his amber eyes are calculating. “She won’t be able to keep this level of energy up for long. She’ll conk out soon.” 
Sirius grins, leaning up to press a kiss to the taller boy’s cheek. “Alright, sunshine,” he says, joining you and James in the kitchen. He hops up onto the counter. “Tell me what I can do to help.” 
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risuola · 1 month
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ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // There's sugar to your kisses, it tastes like dessert.
contents: arranged marriage!au, fluff — wc. 2093
a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!
series masterlist
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“What the hell am I doing–“
You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.
Mochi.
A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.
“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.
The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.
You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.
You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.
Take the dough.
Scoop on the filling.
Close the dough.
Roll.
Repeat.
You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.
To the fridge they go.
Now clean.
* * *
Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.
Oh right, mochi!
It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.
“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.
“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“
“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.
“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”
“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”
“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”
“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.
“So, you’re fine with the idea?”
“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”
“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”
“Why would I–“
“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”
“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”
“Don’t peek.”
Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.
“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.
Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.
“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.
“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“
“You made this mochi for me?”
Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.
“You made all of this? With your hands?”
“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”
Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.
“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”
“That easy, huh?”
“That easy.”
You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.
You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”
There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.
“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.
He wanted more.
Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.
You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.
The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.
You should stop it.
You wanted more.
He should stop it.
He wanted more.
It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.
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taglist: @kinny-away , @anan-baban , @lotomber , @netflix-imagines , @kawliflo , @nishloves , @ghostfacefricker6969 , @thejujvtsupost , @yozora7154 , @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost , @ae-mius , @ropickle , @chokesonspit
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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month
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Surgery VI
Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader
Summary: Baking when you were Little Cub
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"In trouble, again?" Paredes asks as Mapi leaves her meeting," What is it this time? Still the food issue?"
"There's no food issue," Mapi replies with an eye roll.
"If you're struggling with healthy food then-"
"There's no struggling to make healthy food," Mapi interrupts," It's fine. We're fine."
"I'm just saying, Mapi. I know Cub's properly weaned now so if it's difficult then just come over to mine. Lucía will be happy to feed you both."
"It's fine," Mapi insists," We have no nutrition problems in the house."
Paredes looks sceptical but doesn't push anymore as you toddle over, grabbing onto Mapi's legs and giggling as Ingrid tickles your tummy.
You've taken to Ingrid like flies to honey.
Paredes hasn't seen anything quite like it. You're notoriously impulsive and wiggly (she's still trying to convince Mapi to get you checked out by a professional) but you don't mind sitting still in Ingrid's arms.
She's your go-to babysitter now, even edging out Leila while Mapi's busy and you seem to love her.
"Are we still up for later tonight?" Ingrid asks as you duck back and forth between her and Mapi.
Mapi's cheeks turn pink and her voice goes embarrassingly high-pitched. "Of course! Cub's really excited. Aren't you, cub?"
"Makin' cookies 'gain?" You ask.
"If you really want to."
"Yes!"
"I see," Paredes laughs as you and Ingrid run off again," The nutrition problem is you can't say no to your kid. Cookies? Again? How many spare have you got?"
Mapi groans. "Too many. You know what Cub's like. My mama took her to a bakery last time she came to visit and she's obsessed now. I can't bake for shit so I think we've hit up every bakery in the city."
"And Ingrid came to your rescue?"
"I think Cub must have mentioned it because she turned up a few weeks ago with ingredients and they spent an hour baking together. I've never seen Cub so calm."
"And now you have too many to eat by yourself?"
"Way too many."
"Bring them in next time," Paredes laughs, clapping Mapi on the back," At least then the whole team gets the nutrition lecture."
"You know what? I think that's a great idea."
Ingrid follows Mapi's car home, having already bought more ingredients on the way to training so you could get right into the baking as soon as you got home.
The countertops of Mapi's kitchen (and every spare space) is already covered in baked goods, ranging from cookies to cupcakes to fancy bread that there's truly no hope in her eating all by herself, hence the reason she is constantly getting in trouble with the coaching staff.
"Alright," Ingrid says, commanding the room easily when you get distracted by showing Bagheera the lion on your t-shirt," Let's wash our hands please."
You go immediately over to the sink, letting Ingrid pick you up so you can reach while Mapi grabs the stool she keeps in the bathroom so you're tall enough to reach the countertops.
Mapi's in awe as Ingrid so easily gets you to follow her instructions. You're fairly unruly and impulsive at the best of times but you calm right down as Ingrid helps you break an egg into the bowl and stir it in with the rest of the mixture.
"Do you need any help?" Mapi's only really asking out of curtesy.
The first time you had baked with Mapi was also the last time when the cake mixture set on fire in the oven and the glass bowl you had mixed everything shattered.
"Why don't you just sit with Bagheera and look pretty?" Ingrid teases but Mapi feels it go straight through her body and she sits down quickly.
"Ingrid's da boss!" You giggle and Ingrid moves behind you to tie your unruly hair back properly.
"I don't think I'm the boss," She says to you and you shake your head.
"Are! 'Cause Mami's my boss and you tell her what to do! You're Mami's boss!"
Ingrid laughs, scooping out a bit of cookie dough and swiping it across the tip of your nose. "You're so sweet, cub," She says as you go cross eyed looking at the blob on your nose.
"Tha's what Mami says!"
"Well, your Mami is very smart. Now, what cookie-cutter shape are we using today?"
You end up choosing the star cutter and Ingrid helps you cut them all out before she puts them in the oven.
"I've noticed that," Ingrid says as she joins Mapi on the sofa," Doesn't she get bored?"
You're sitting in front of the oven, just staring at the cookies.
"It's normal," Mapi shrugs," You should see her watching the washing machine. It's so cute."
You watch the cookies bake the entire time until Ingrid comes over to get them out. You can't touch them just yet because they're still hot but you're pulled away by Mami making you help her box up the other things you made this week.
"Why?" You ask her.
"Well," She says," I thought it would be nice to give some to the team your snacks."
"But why?"
"Because your Mami really wants to share how proud she is of you," Ingrid jumps in," Your food is so tasty that she wants everyone to taste it too."
You gasp. "Can smash Tia Leila's face with cake!"
You're very determined to do that as you carry the box of cupcakes into the changing room the next day. Mapi and Ingrid lag behind with bags full of boxes.
"What's this?" Alexia asks with a laugh.
"Made bakery food," You say, tearing the top of the tupperware off," Tia Leila! Tia! Cake for you!"
As soon as she ducks down to take it from you, you slam it right into her nose.
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jgracie · 1 month
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ SPEED DRIVE!
↳ part two!
ferrari driver!percy jackson x fem!reader
masterlist | rules
warnings one swear word!
on the radio . . . speed drive (charlie xcx)
percy knew it was a bad idea leaving his house without at least a pair of sunglasses to conceal his identity. he was craving cookie dough ice cream, the grocery store wasn’t too far away and it was the middle of the night - who would possibly recognise him at a time like this?
the answer is many people. while percy did love his loyal fans, both tifosi and others, even he had to admit they were a little crazy. all it took was for one to snap a photo and post it on twitter and the rest seemed to immediately spawn all around him
“percy, is it true that luke might lose his seat next year?” he heard one voice say as he attempted to weave through the thick crowd of people. why couldn’t he have one second of peace? unfortunately, percy had made another awful decision that night - walking to the grocery store
this left ferrari’s golden boy with two options: either tough out the wall home with fans and paparazzi alike swarming him, or find someone who was willing to drive him home. with cars on the street in front of him were stationery thanks to the red light, percy made his decision
he bolted for the first one that caught his eye, a car that was small, (ironically) bright red and most importantly had an open roof. percy also had to admit the driver was kind of pretty, at least from what he could see from that far away
the light turned yellow and you prepared yourself to continue driving. you’d only recently gotten your drivers license and this was your first time driving without someone more experienced with you in the car, so you were just praying to end up at your apartment in one piece
just as the light became green and you began to drive, some random guy jumped into the passenger seat of your car, causing your heart rate to increase dramatically and your foot to immediately press on the brakes - out of shock or fear (or both), you weren’t sure
“drive!” he nearly yelled at you. you just stared at him, your mouth agape. it was way too late at night for this. at your state, percy huffed and leaned over to the wheel, beginning to steer for you
this snapped you out of the daze you were in and you slapped his hands away, your brows furrowing in anger as you drove, “who the fuck are you and what do you think you’re doing in my car? i’m pulling over right now, you need to get out.”
“no, please, i promise i didn’t mean any harm! can you just drop me off at my house?” he asked. you didn’t need to look at him to know he was incredibly desperate. who was this guy? as you recalled his face from when he first got into your car, you realised he did look a little familiar, but you still couldn’t figure out his identity
at your silence, percy continued, “i’ll do anything, do you like car racing? i can get you tickets for that!”
okay, so he was rich rich. you didn’t know the first thing about racing, but one of your friends was obsessed with formula one. specifically, a driver called peter jameson (or something along those lines). still, you rolled your eyes at his offer, disliking the way he attempted to bribe you
“no, it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything. where do you live?”
after percy told you his address, the car ride was silent. neither of you knew what to say to the other. you were still shaken by his sudden appearance, and percy was trying to conceal the blush that coated his cheeks. he was right, you were beautiful. the moon made your skin glow and your eyes brighter. from the death grip you had on the wheel, percy could tell you were new at driving. cute
“thanks a lot, you have absolutely no idea how much you helped me tonight,” percy said as he got out of your car. part of you was a little sad to see him go. sure, he freaked you out, but something about him was magnetic - maybe it was those sea green eyes that put all of poseidon’s oceans to shame, or the light dusting of freckles you hadn’t noticed until now
giving him a small smile, you said, “you’re welcome. have a good night.” you stayed for a little and watched as he entered his home, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart
once you’d gotten home, you noticed he’d left something on the passenger seat. a strip of paper with a line of messily scrawled numbers lay on the leather
call me. (917) 173-1839 — PJ
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swordsandholly · 1 month
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Across The Way
Ch. 2: And So It Begins
Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader
MDNI
Ao3 | Previous - Next
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.
A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!
“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.
“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.
“She is a pretty little thing.”
“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.
Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.
“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.
Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.
“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.
Simon huffs out a half laugh.
~~~
Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.
By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.
When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.
“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.
As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.
The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.
This is what you always wanted, after all.
You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.
When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.
It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.
You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.
When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.
It makes you feel normal.
As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.
It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.
Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.
Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.
That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.
You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.
The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.
So cute.
“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.
“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”
“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.
“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.
“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”
You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.
Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.
Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”
You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“
“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”
You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.
“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”
“Course.” He nods.
“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.
~~~
“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”
“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”
She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)
“Can I get you something?” You ask.
“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”
“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.
Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”
You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”
“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.
“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.
An image of home.
“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”
“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”
“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.
“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.
You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.
Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“
“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.
Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?
What’s that like?
Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”
You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”
He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”
“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”
“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.
“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”
“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.
You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.
Riley barks from the front of the shop.
“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”
You smile. “You too.”
~~~
Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.
Pretty girl.
You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.
That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.
You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.
You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.
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