#already baked like a cake lmao

[avtrbee]

the prince [2]

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig, fanfic gojo, ooc gojo

✢ a/n: here's part 2! i'd like to emphasize that depsite this being a gojo x reader fic, the main realationships i'll be focusing on are y/n and the kids gojo brings home lmao. also im raw dogging the lore as we go so if there are any inconsistencies, please lmk. as always, have fun and lmk what you think!

i don’t do taglists.

part one ✢ masterlist

If it were up to you, you would have shut the gates of the Gojo estate as soon as the child entered the grounds, but your husband had given him the the maids so quickly that you’re sure they have spread the word around already. You could hear the rumors in your head. Gojo Satoru has brought home a child out of wedlock. Gojo Y/N is barren. Gojo Satoru has a mistress.

You expected Gojo to be frantic, stumbling over his words in explanation as to why he has a son- it was his son, there was no doubt about that- reassuring you about his vows remain unbroken, or whatever else but silence. You are silent too as you watch the child get scurried away by the estate staff to scrub the dirt off his face and to get a change of clothes.

Even as he is being escorted away from you, his cursed energy did not fade. You feel it like how everyone feels Gojo’s, but more raw and untamed. Whoever this child is, it is Gojo Satoru reborn again. 

Silence. Silence is what took the Gojo estate into a chokehold as the maids finish bathing the child and then put him in a spare bedroom a good distance away from yours. The maids must think you resent him. 

Satoru pretends like everything is the same as if the boy had been there since the beginning. During the first night, you watch with a blank face as the cake you've baked for him is eaten by the child. Neither the boy nor Satoru expresses their gratitude towards you. You doubt they even know you baked it.

To his credit, Satoru had treated the child better than you had expected. He is blossoming into fatherhood, you realize and you feel the rage and anger burn in your stomach.

He pats the boy's head and messes his hair, before pointing to his own messy mane exclaiming, "See? We match!"

Satoru had tried to include you in conversations with the boy, even daring to seat him on his right at meals. Satoru would blab after seeing the child gobble mochi. "Mochi is Y/N's favorite too!" He turns to look at you with a bright smile. "Right, Y/N?"

You want to point out that the boy had gobbled everything served to him, but you just give a brief nod.

At night, you sleep like a log- rigid, straight, and quiet. Satoru, on the other hand, remains comfortable, snoozing the day's exhaustion behind him.

Tonight will be the same as it has been for the past few weeks. You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, wondering if your reflection is the perfect example of a foolish woman. How stupid of you to think he was different.

There was nothing but quiet as you prepare yourself to sleep, brushing your hair quietly. You hear the door creak but you do not turn and greet him with a smile like you used to.

“I expected you to be more emotional about this,” came Satoru's words beside you. Me too, you want to reply but held your mouth shut.

You had expected yourself to scream, and let your anger flow through your voice. You wanted to cry until your tears were dry and there wasn't any left. Neither you nor Satoru would be surprised if you use your technique against him in a fit of fury, and if you truly knew your husband, you know he'd take your anger like it was penance. You want to be the fire that burns him badly. But you did none of those.

You are as cold as their blue eyes. You are quiet.

You continue to brush your hair.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" offers Satoru. "Just say the word, and I will."

You blink in surprise. You meet his eyes in the mirror. Satoru looks nonchalant in his posture with his hands in his pockets. But the fact that his glasses were nowhere to be seen tells you he is not joking.

Your ears recall the promise he made months ago. My wife, my equal. A promise to try, to try to be happy to spite everyone who was determined to make your lives miserable. 

The sudden exhaustion hit you, your shoulders slumping from your previous postures. You lean back, letting your nape rest on the back of the chair. You stare at the ceiling, your head forbidding you to forget how the child looked like. White hair. Blue eyes. You hear Satoru sigh somewhere near you. You hear his footsteps come. From your peripheral, you see his figure beside you. A feather-like hesitant hand touches your shoulder. “I was not unfaithful to you.”

Satoru moves to kneel in front of your sitting figure. He reaches out to your head, and touches his forehead against yours. You find yourself looking up at his eyes, the same shade of eyes that he shares with the child. His hands cradle your face, desperate for you to believe him. “Please. Please, Y/N.”

You remain silent. 

“You’re the only one I have left, Y/N, please.” He begs. There are tears threatening to spill down to his pretty face, and you find some sick satisfaction in them.

That is not true. Your husband has his clan, his estate servants, his high school friends, and his teachers. It is you that has no one but him. By your culture’s traditions, you do not belong to your clan anymore. You know that some elders have begun to doubt their choice in choosing you as the wife of Gojo Satoru with the obvious lack of children, but with the sudden appearance of Gojo-sama’s bastard child, they might annul your marriage by force- or, god forbid, cast you aside for another, more fertile woman.

You do not wish to share your thoughts, but your husband grips your head so desperately. You have made a god beg.

“I know.” You say. The child may be young, but he was old enough to walk and talk small phrases on his own. He must be at least two years old. The child is older than your marriage.

His shoulders immediately drop in relief before quickly detangling himself from you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He slides his head to hide in your neck and like instinct, you welcome him wrapping your hands around his waist.

"Where would you leave him?" You manage to ask, still not believing his offer.

"The cabin," he says. You can see the cracks on your husband now. You spot his hand making a fist inside his pockets, like it pains him to speak. “The one by Nagasaki, remember? I’ll send a maid and give him money every month. We can send him right now. The maids will not say anything outside the estate, not if I threaten to chop their tongues off. We can send him off with a caretaker to a cabin somewhere and leave him there. I- I can visit him a few times a year- just to make sure he’s fine.”

You blink. You did not expect Satoru to offer that. You let the fantasy linger in your head. You imagine the boy’s life so far- abandoned by his mother and unknown by his father. Children do not understand things the way older people do, so it is up to the adults to help and explain certain things. But he has not had an adult in his life before. Would you be happy if you were left alone in the cabin in the middle of the woods with no one but a caretaker for company? Better yet- will the caretaker even stay to care for him without anyone around?

That sounds incredibly lonely, you realize. The premise sounds all too familiar to you- an empty house with no one but servants. But this boy will only get one.

He needs people to protect him, but you are unsure if you’d like to. Your instincts tell you to agree, get rid of the boy before he becomes more of a threat.

“Satoru,” you say slowly, thinking of your next words carefully. “He is just child. He is no danger to me.”

You hold your breath, suprised to hear the words out of your mouth. From your lap, Satoru holds your gaze- piercing eyes trying to read your mind. If he caught your lie he does not show it.

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes."

-

Hiroki. Satoru had names him Gojo Hiroki.

He spends most of his days inside the estate surrounded by maids or inside his room playing with the toys you off-handedly ordered the day after he arrived. The maids gush about him already, the older ones excitedly murmuring how the little lord acts so much like your husband as a child. You would be a fool not to agree.

Hiroki runs barefoot through the estate, tracking mud on precious tatami floors before a servant finally catches him. He likes people, likes the maids and the servants, and thus has migrated to the kitchen a few weeks after his arrival like he was addicted to places were people are the most. He draws. He draws so much it’s almost ridiculous. You could have a library full of childish scribbles.

Like your husband, he devours his dessert the best before any dish. He eats mochi, ice cream, cookies and whatever sweets there are on the table like it was his last meal. You recall one of the maids gasp as a drop of cream lands on your cheek when he slammed his fork in his cake. 

Satoru is free in his affection for the boy, unexpectedly flourishing in fatherhood. He remains firm in his belief that children should be children and makes an effort to see Hiroki out. Satoru becomes known to sneak the child away from the estate to parks, to mini-vacations you begrudgingly join after Satoru’s incessant pestering. And of course- school. Hiroki made history once again when Satoru announced his decision to enroll Hiroki in a totally normal, public Japanese preschool.

You realize that Satoru was meant to be a father. And one good one at that. It brings you comfort that any children that he is at least good to his son after he confessed his plan to be a teacher after graduation.

Tokyo’s jujutsu highschool would be blessed with his presence, thought one of Satoru’s female seniors would disagree.

“Yo, Y/N-chan,” came a voice.

You twist your body over to the source of the voice, and your face lights up at the sight of a familiar face. “Getou-san!”

If Satoru's presence is an overwhelming force, making everyone and everything bow to him as if he is god, Getou is a dark, uneasy, slinking feeling. His cat-like features morph into a happy expression with a polite smile on his lips.

“Is there a mission today?” You ask as Getou comes nearer. Satoru would try his best to keep any of his classmates away from his estate, but there is nothing he can hide from Getou and Shoko. "Can I come?"

After you had let slip that you wanted to become a licensed sorcerer, Satoru had made it a habit to sneak you into some missions with Getou. You had fretted about the technical legalities and questioned the safety of the public when an inexperienced sorcerer like you enter the battlefield but Satoru merely shrugged and simply gestured to his best friend. We're the strongest!

Getou leans his shoulder on the wall. "Nope, not this one Y/N."

“I see,” you say, failing to hide your disappointment. Sometimes you wonder why you enjoy the missions so much. Was it the thrill of doing something you never would? Perhaps it was the freedom of it all, unleashing your power to poor curses who quiver beneath your feet?

Your ears perked at a familiar high pitched laugh, and your eyes immediately lock to the window where Hiroki soon runs across. He has dried soil on his feet. His pale hair is slicked back with sweat and it glistens against the sun like snow.

A maid forces a laugh in panic as she tries to catch him with his shoes on one hand.

Away from him. That’s why you enjoy it.

Getou follows your line of sight. “How is he?”

You glare at him. “How would I know?”

Everyone knows that Hiroki is a taboo topic if it’s within your earshot, lest they want the you in a foul mood. But Getou does not shy away from his question and only raises an eyebrow, calling your bluff.

“You’re telling me you do not know your own household?”

“The garden is his place,” you sigh., and admitting it felt like defeat. “He likes the grass on his feet and likes big spaces. He gets angsty when a room is too small.”

“Mmhm,” Getou agrees. “Did you know Satoru plans to enroll him in a daycare?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “In a- what?” You shriek. “He has a dozen of servants here willing to serve him-! Does he even realize the risk he’s putting the boy in? Assassins, curses, cursed users…” you trail off, remembering your own childhood. It was strange to be surrounded by servants but feeling so alone at the same time. “I see.” A daycare meant potential friends, friends that you never got to have. “Does…does the boy like it at least?”

“Me?” Getou barks out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

You glare at him. Getou meets your gaze unapologetically, almost as if he was challenging you. Finally, he sighs. “Have you ever talked to him at least?”

You roll your eyes. Your sharp tone echoes around the room. “And why would I do that? He is no concern to me.”

"He needs you."

"He does not need me," you snap, suddenly impatient for Satoru to come out of wherever he’s hiding so Getou and him can go. “He will resent me when he’s older, I know it.”

You have seen this same scene over and over again. Children and the wife of the husband do not get along. Both suffer at the existence of the other. This is the fate that Satoru had subjected you to. This is the fate you have set upon yourself when you refused to send him away. You wonder if your kindness will cost you one day.

“Well,” Getou shrugged nonchalantly. “You haven’t given him any reason to like you either.”

You opened your mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Satoru.

“Getouu,” he whined, comically trudging towards his best friend with a hunched back. “Why are you so early?”

You see Getou open his mouth to reply, but you are lost in your head. You watch Getou ignore Satoru’s childish gimmicks, already dragging him out of the room and towards the door. You feel Satoru kiss your cheek before waving goodbye, but your head was in a daze mindlessly repeating Getou’s words. You feel shiver creep down your spine before shifting your gaze towards the garden where Hiroki’s presence was last.

-

thank you so much for reading guys! i’d love to hear all criticisms and suggestions for this universe <33 please lmk through comments :>

here’s my masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #gojo imagine #satoru imagine

[spdrwdw]

Pairing: 1042 Miguel X f!reader Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) fluff, smut, food play (Is that a term?), Miguel has a weird kink ( it is still kinktober, after all), oral-m/f receiving, slight breeding kink, unprotected intercourse, no use of y/n Summary: Miguel seems to have a sweet tooth. Not only for the birthday cake you are making for Gabriella's birthday, but also for you. Word Count: 2018 A/N: Thank you to @phoenixflower468 who requested some earth 1042 Miguel content! I will continue working on my other requests. Thank you to those who submitted requests to help my writer's block! ALSO; if you'd like to be tagged for my future fics, please let me know! No translations at the end. I figured most of Miguel fic readers already know some of the Spanish pet names and phrases used by now, lmao Check out more of my work on my Masterlist

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Tomorrow was Gabriella’s birthday and you were scrambling getting the cake finished. It was already eleven at night and you were covered in flour and frosting. Or was it icing? You could never tell them apart. Anyway, you were decorating the cake when you heard footsteps coming down from the stairs. 

You quickly paused what you were doing, trying to hear the footsteps. They were too heavy to be Gabriella’s. Miguel was coming downstairs to check on your progress. 

“Miguel. Mi amor, I thought you were sleeping already,” You spoke softly as he made his way into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool across from you. 

“I miss you,” he pouted. God. He was too adorable. He was six foot nine of pure muscle and dad bod and yet he was the most adorable thing in the world. Besides Gabriella, of course. 

“Lo siento, Miguel. I’m just trying to get this cake finished,” You apologized as you went back to work. Thankfully, those baking lessons you took back in college were finally paying off. The cake didn’t look half bad at all. 

“Why are you making a cake rather than just buying one?” He asked as he took a bit of leftover frosting..or was it icing..and licked it from his finger. You couldn’t help but to bite your lip at the sight. The simplest things this man did made you go feral. It just wasn’t fair.  

He noticed your expression and smirked. Oh, he was such a bastard! 

“What?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He simply contained the smirk on his face and grabbed more of the frosting onto his finger and opened his mouth, tongue sticking out slightly before slipping his finger in, letting out a moan. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your composure. 

“I still need that, you know?”

Miguel chuckled and shrugged. “You know how I get around sweets, querida. I have such a sweet tooth.”

You simply gave him a look before grabbing your things and went back to decorating the cake. 

“Yes well, that sweet tooth of yours is going to have to hold off until tomorrow, Miguel. I can’t have you messing this up,” you grumbled, trying to concentrate on your work. You were almost done. 

As you tried to concentrate on drawing up some flowers, you could feel Miguel’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his chin resting against your shoulder as he watched you work. 

“You’re doing amazing,” he complimented, placing a kiss on your cheek. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get you distracted. 

“Thank you, mi amor,” you hummed, trying to not let him get to you. At least, not until you were finished with Gabri’s cake. 

Surprisingly, he was actually behaving, watching you in admiration as you finished up the cake for your daughter. 

“Looks perfect,” he hummed as you nodded your head in approval, marveling at your work.

“It does, doesn’t it?” You smiled, glancing over at him before pecking his cheek. 

“Mind putting it in the fridge while I clean up?”

Miguel nodded his head and did as he was told before an idea popped into his head and he glanced over at you. 

“Take the frosting upstairs with you,” he said, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What? Why?” You asked as you continued to clean the kitchen island.

“I want to try something,” he stated. 

“Try what?” You pressed, curious as to why Miguel wanted to take the leftover frosting upstairs.

“Just..I’ll show you when we get up there. Come on, mi vida. It’s getting late.”

—-

“What on earth? Miguel!” You gasped as you now laid completely naked in bed, with your hands tied above your head. It was to prevent you from stopping Miguel and his shenanigans. 

Miguel shushed you as he squirted some frosting out of the piping bag and onto the bottom of your navel, leading a trail all the way down to your pubic bone. 

“I told you I had a sweet tooth, mi vida,” he chuckled before he began licking the frosting off of you. 

Your body twitched a bit and you tried to fight back a moan. You had to keep quiet. You didn’t want Gabriella to wake up. 

“And you thought this would be a good way to ease your sweet tooth?” You questioned as Miguel began to coat your breasts with the frosting before taking a breast into his mouth, licking and sucking off the sweetness, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging at it before doing the same with the other breast. You couldn’t conceal your moans any longer. 

“M-Miguel..please..” you breathed. 

“Hmm? Please what?” Miguel asked, a smirk on his lips.

“You’re making me all sticky,” you pouted. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off of you later,” he continued to smirk before taking hold of your chin and ordered you to open your mouth. You did as he said, and he squeezed some frosting into your mouth, keeping it along your tongue before he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch the sweetness. 

“Mmm, tastes so much better coming from the pretty mouth of yours,” he moaned, licking his lips.

“Alright well, don’t be greedy. Let me in on some of that, too,” you stated. 

Miguel chuckled and freed your hands before he began to take off his own clothes. Geez, how did you get so lucky to have a man like him as your husband and father of your child? 

Miguel then laid down on the bed as you straddled his waist and saw him open his mouth, tongue hanging out as he waited for you to squirt some frosting onto his tongue. You did just that, shaking your head before leaning down and kissed him hard, all teeth and tongue as you tasted the sweetness in his mouth. 

In no time at all, you were both sticky and smelling sweet. The piping bag was now discarded somewhere on the bed, and you were now sitting on his face. Honestly, it was the best seat in the house, if you had anything to say about it. 

Miguel was eating you out as if your pussy was the sweetest thing on earth. Tongue slobbering over your folds, teeth nipping at your clit, and long fingers curled into you, hitting you at just the right spot, making you see stars. You couldn’t help but to grind against his face. Miguel could take it, though. He was sturdy. 

You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, your other hand stroking his meaty cock. You could feel the veins twitching as your wedding band rubbed against them. Leaning over, you finally took him into your mouth, slowly, of course. You could feel his moan vibrating through you as he continued to eat your pussy, causing you to moan out around his cock in response. After taking in as much of Miguel’s cock as you could, you began bobbing your head, the tip hitting the back of your throat every time. 

It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your mouth, and you doubled down on your efforts, pumping him with one hand, and gripping his balls with the other as you continued bobbing your head. 

You felt his tongue assaulting your pussy, running through your bundle of nerves while his fingers curled up and rubbed against that spot that made you see stars. 

In no time at all, you were orgasming into each other’s mouths, and you didn’t dare to waste a single drop of him. 

Before you could even blink, Miguel picked you up and flipped you over, pinning you down onto the bed, lining himself between you and rammed his cock into your soaked pussy. 

“Oh! Miguel!” You gasped as he pounded into you. The wet, sticky sounds of skin hitting against skin bounced off the walls, filled with the harmony of yours’ and Miguel’s moans. 

“You feel so good, mi amor. So fucking good,” Miguel groaned through gritted teeth. 

“Kinda makes me wanna put another baby in you. Think that’d be okay?” He grunted. The thought of filling you up and getting you pregnant with another baby made his cock twitch inside of you. 

Eh, the conversation of having another child did come up every now and then, and..yeah, why not? Gabriella deserved a sibling. 

“M-Miguel..” You breathed, your mind going fuzzy as you tilted your head back against the pillows. 

“Qué pasa, amor?” He cooed once he leaned over and pecked you on the cheek, his pace still brutal. You were so close to your orgasm, you gritted your teeth.

“Can’t handle my cock? Hmm? Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He continued to coo, pivoting his hips against you in a more snapping manner. 

“Cum over my cock, mi amor.”

And you did. Because when he commands you to do something such as this, you do it, gladly. 

“That’a girl,” Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his limit and came, coating your walls with his seed, filling you up just how you loved it. 

Once he was finished, Miguel slowly pulled out of you and laid on top of you, however, didn’t put all his weight on you cuz, the man is huge.

Miguel rested his head over your shoulder as you both caught your breath. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer before kissing his cheek. You just loved him so much. He was a great husband, and a wonderful father. The best person you could ever imagine having as your life partner. 

“You alright?” He then asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he gently rubbed your back. 

“I’m fine, Miguel,” You giggled softly before kissing him sweetly just as you heard something coming from the hallway. Your eyes suddenly went wide. 

Gabriella.

The bedroom door opened as you both scrambled to get your naked bodies under the covers. 

Gabriella slowly stepped in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes as she held her stuffed bunny in one hand. 

“Mamá? Papá?” She muttered. 

“¿Qué pasa, mija?” Miguel asked softly as Gabriella stepped further inside. 

“I can’t sleep,” she said, looking up at the both of you. 

“Oh, Gabri. Do you want to sleep here with us?” You asked her, and she quickly nodded her head. 

“Okay, go grab your blankie and your pillow.”

She then smiled and nodded her head before walking out of the room, and you and Miguel both bolted to the dresser and closet to grab some clothes and a quick change of sheets. 

As you fixed up the bed, Miguel as in the bathroom getting himself cleaned up, and then you stepped into the bathroom to do the same just as Gabriella came back in, holding her bunny, blankie and pillow. She climbed onto the clean bed just as you both made your way back out of the bathroom. Miguel closed the door and turned off the lights and joined you two, wrapping his arms around Gabriella. 

“Feel better, mija?” You asked with a smile and Gabriella nodded her head, grinning.

“Yeah! I kept hearing these weird sounds and I couldn’t sleep,” she said, causing you and Miguel to look at each other with slight embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Gabri. Hopefully you won’t hear them again,” you told her, gently stroking her hair as she snuggled up against you. You noticed Miguel pouting over at you, to which you rolled your eyes and smirked at him.

“Let’s get some sleep. It’s your big day tomorrow,” you reminded her, kissing her cheeks as she giggled, nodding her head. 

“Good night, ladies,” Miguel said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you and Gabriella closer to him, having your daughter sandwiched in the middle; which she loved. 

“Night night, papà,” Gabriella giggled. 

“Goodnight, Miguel,” you smiled over at him and leaned over to give him a goodnight kiss, still being able to taste the frosting on his lips. 

Perhaps you had a bit of a sweet tooth as well. 

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Tags: @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. 

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him. 

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive. 

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table. 

You know you don’t have to. 

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him? 

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him. 

So to think about if you love him? 

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. 

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home. 

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps. 

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin. 

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face. 

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone. 

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.” 

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues. 

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.” 

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all. 

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love. 

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back. 

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away. 

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.” 

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t. 

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you. 

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple. 

Are you still breathing?   

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal. 

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.” 

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?” 

You know what he’s really asking. 

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves. 

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders. 

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess. 

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours. 

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.  

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised. 

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts. 

Well, thought. 

Do you love him? 

Do you want to love him? 

Loving him means too much. 

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself. 

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk. 

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed. 

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal. 

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold. 

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t. 

And you can’t even seem to figure that out. 

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference. 

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him. 

Is that love? 

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point. 

You’re a prisoner. 

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest. 

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep. 

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response. 

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast. 

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone. 

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do. 

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once. 

“Din?” 

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction. 

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this. 

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you. 

“What’s it like, to love someone?” 

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you. 

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.” 

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.” 

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet. 

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin. 

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.” 

Right before he had ended things. 

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it. 

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.” 

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head. 

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din. 

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him. 

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt. 

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat. 

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker. 

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.” 

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last. 

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare. 

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this. 

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first. 

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?” 

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that. 

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?” 

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach. 

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden. 

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer. 

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip. 

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned. 

“Of course.” 

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.” 

What a strange thing to say. 

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement. 

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that. 

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun. 

“About?” 

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down. 

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.” 

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that. 

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours. 

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens. 

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned. 

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat. 

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser. 

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you. 

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item. 

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like? 

Green, you, the kid, classic ships. 

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though. 

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator. 

Suddenly you have his attention. 

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you. 

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals. 

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex. 

Two instances come to mind. 

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids. 

Things a normal couple might do. 

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs. 

Thick, padded, and metal. 

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand. 

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.” 

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate. 

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off. 

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response. 

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine. 

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now. 

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name. 

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too. 

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance. 

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it. 

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.) 

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that. 

You want to show him what he deserves. 

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at. 

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away. 

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away. 

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist. 

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles. 

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one. 

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?” 

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter. 

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet. 

“Can I?” You whisper. 

After a moment's hesitation he nods. 

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift. 

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek. 

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back. 

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie. 

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out. 

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try. 

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life. 

A home. 

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.    

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers. 

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs. 

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of. 

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer. 

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away. 

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla. 

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace. 

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually. 

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin. 

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap. 

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now. 

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens. 

If you don’t mean it. 

So you were right. 

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this. 

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything. 

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day. 

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod. 

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist. 

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?” 

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.” 

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed 

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise. 

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you. 

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”  

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison. 

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night. 

“So you liked one of my offers?” 

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants. 

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder. 

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip. 

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place. 

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.” 

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat. 

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow. 

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head. 

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck. 

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear. 

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.” 

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again. 

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.” 

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage. 

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even  handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?” 

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”  

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind. 

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that. 

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach. 

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin. 

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair. 

“I know.” 

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?” 

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him. 

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?” 

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.” 

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself. 

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.” 

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up. 

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has. 

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet. 

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it. 

And he doesn’t seem to mind. 

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle. 

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps. 

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it. 

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly. 

Din immediately drops your hand. 

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice. 

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it. 

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown. 

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection. 

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.  

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice. 

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort. 

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying. 

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you. 

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor. 

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din. 

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #oneshot #x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you

[cupcraft]

Ranboo rebrand stream important stuff in one single post!:

if anything i missed pls rb and add on!

chat etiquette! They are going to be more strict with this (but not for new chatters honest mistakes).

Ban 101 -> the number 1 rule:

racism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, discrimination. Instant ban, no excuse. Even bigoted jokes! 0 tolerance! you will be banned from even viewing the streams. This even counts on doing it on other streamer's chats/platforms if found out!

More rules: be funny (please!) and chill and kind and use emotes (including BTTV), dont spam chat (will be fixed/enforced bc of past issues),

other tidbits/news:

the vtuber/stuff will evolve over time, there are different vtuber outfits/costumes planned (ex they have an mcc outfit already!), the room in the background will change, they will be reaching out to ppl for collabs (feel free to recommend people but do not spam their chats!), planning to do more irl streams (will be weird/experimental and they will go wild! They will be making weird stuff!), they also have plans that they are excited to tell and its been a long time coming (this may be the cake video but i couldnt tell in stream), ranboo bakes a cake 2 will be coming TOMORROW on youtube (23 mins and incredible! they laughed at themself), ranboo plans to do experimental stuff on youtube (they have gotten into film lately!), founder's cut of gen 1 of genloss will be coming out 2-3 months ?? date/end of year, the vtuber ranjacket will be a part of the merch drop prototype at vidcon (physical jacket!), will be doing competitive/events with people (like organized little thing) (content/what it is undetermined) and he wants it to be obscure and random, ranboowaslive will start to ramp up a bit (more clips/compilations to come esp if you dont enjoy long vod watching), ranboo will be eating a nintendo DS cartridge live on stream (a joke!), MORE SURPRISES KEPT AS A SECRET + tiny plans in the works, they are moving into the new place/still have boxes to unpack (vtuber lore), he may finish the last of us part 2, subathon (really like back to back fun streams/long streams/playthrough of long games like omori) in january probably, splatoon may return,

What does the new era mean/qna stuff?

talking about old content is fine as long as you recognize that it is the PAST and not the kind of content ranboo makes now. Do not "put them back in the box".

Vtuber: will not be used all the time. They will do facecam streams too. Depends on how he feels.

why the r800: the 8 looks like a b LMAO

this is just the start of rebrand. He will re-establish a lot, things will be easier to find/reorganized, slowly over the weeks things will be changing.

what will happen tothe alt twitter (ranaltboo)?: new pfp, same energy (see below my shitty sc). art creds to mochi!

not only just a rebrand for him and the look of the content. But also it is a rebrand of how they act around and view their own content. they may not be as in the community as he has been (liking fanart/in chat/etc.) out of recommendation from people! If ranboo needs to be aware of something THEY HAVE PEOPLE to make him aware of important issues/emergencies and they will be focusing more on themself and the content overall. they are thankful to be allowed to do this, as they dont want to keep seeing things they dont want to see/have that anxiety. Less scrolling = more content!

They will probably have longer streams again!

will move to more mature jokes/phrases and may have content labels on the streams. Overall, streams will be pg-13 mostly.

TITS stands for twitch integrated throwing system [insert ranboo's giggle here]

All proceeds donated to ranboo's channel only go to charity! Not to them at all! They have a list of charities that he supports and will be changed 1-3 months at a time like usual!

Please make stuff. This is how he gets ppl who edit and the emote makers/artists. Not forced. Just encouraging ppl who make stuff to make stuff and he appreciates it and loves it! Even if it is not about him just make it! AND SUPPORT ARTISTS BOOBERS!

#ranboo.liveblog #ranboo #ranboolive #main tagging bc this is important i think! #pleek rb if you want!

[gooeyringtown]

Can you do a head canon on Barbie/Gloria in the same verse as the movie? Like they are a couple because OBVI, but with your interpretation on...

who wakes up first?

who is most protective?

who is quick to jealousy?

who is the big spoon?

yes absolutely!! i did quite a lot LMAO so i'm gonna put a little cut-off

*slight nsfw warning for some

who wakes up first? : gloria, usually. barbie is a HEAVYY sleeper and snores very softly and gloria thinks it's very cute.

who is most protective? : both. gloria primarily because barbie is new (at first) to the world and she knows how unnecessarily nasty some people can be. barbie is protective in the sense that she carefully watches how everybody speaks to and treats gloria, especially considering the fact that she knows how futile gloria can sometimes feel.

who is quick to jealousy? : both. but more-so barbie. she has big feelings and they're quick to get the best of her (gloria thinks it's hot)

who is the big spoon? : i love this one and i think barbie would be, even though she's the more gentle one. she loves the idea of being big and strong and protective over gloria, and gloria would adore it sm

who is more affectionate: barbie in public. gloria in private. (she's a huge softie for barbie and 100% always seeks her out for cuddles or a kiss on the cheek, or hand-holding, etc. especially after a day at work and EXTRA when barbie is being cute. which is always.)

who's most likely to apologize after an argument: gloria. i think they're both very rational, but barbie is a bit more stubborn and also an overthinker, so it can be tough to gather up her thoughts and feelings. by the time she wants to apologize, gloria already has.

who makes the first move and how?: both. but gloria starts it. she gets home from a really long, tiring day at work, remembering that sasha had mentioned a project she needed help on, and she's just exhausted. she walks into the house, though, to see barbie at the dining table helping sasha with said-project, nearly finished. dinner's also made on the stove. barbie beams at her and welcomes her home, giving her a big hug and gushing excitedly about how she and sasha worked so hard. sasha goes upstairs to put her stuff away, and barbie has pencil stains on her hand and face, her hair a little windswept, and she looks so simple and so perfect, and gloria says "kiss me." so barbie does.

who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?: gloria. she doesn't mean to be; she just has some of those days once in a while where everything can feel so difficult. she usually feels better with some alone time. barbie is very understanding of that and loves to set up gloria's home studio with some art supplies and candles and books just in case gloria wants to spend some time in there. she'll also make her some tea/coffee if gloria feels like it

who is the most romantic?: barbie. she is very silly at first as she gets the hang of it (she nearly gets arrested again for trespassing on private property to pick some of gloria's favorite flowers from a garden) but that woman is a LOVERBOY

who can’t keep their hands to themselves?: depends which way… if u mean generally touchy, barbie. if u mean in the saucy way, GLORIA.

who says ‘I love you’ first?: barbie. she says it very passively bc she thought it was obvious, and gloria cries. barbie is kind of like 🧍🏼‍♀️

what do they get up to on a night out?: i feel like they'd love to go to a pottery class where they make stuff for each other. or an arcade. but mainly i think they'd LOVE to go to one of those places where they give you a cake that's already made/baked and you just decorate it. they'd have so much fun and afterwards they'd probably stay up late at home, eating it in the kitchen and just talking for hours

who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?: barbie

who cried the most at graduation?: BARBIE LMAO. SHE WAS SOBBING.

who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law?: barbie bc she's like 'i've been there, girl.'

what do they like in bed?: barbie likes to be rough sometimes. she also has a thing for gloria whimpering/moaning right into her ear. little bit of a thing for size. and riding. gets super turned on when gloria gets off on her stomach. gloria likes a bit of dirty talk. queen of giving head. lovessss whispering against barbie's lips while she fingers her slowly. has a thing for marks/bruises, espeically leaving them. teasing/edging barbie is her favorite thing, to the point where barbie gets insanely frustrated (sometimes it results in her getting extra rough and flipping them over)

did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: yes. pretty much everybody. gloria's family thinks barbie is absolutely adorable and they could see how much happier gloria became with her around. sasha, ofc, is barbiegloria's biggest shipper but has to be cool about it

who felt romantic feelings first?: ok i think the obvious answer would be barbie, but i hc it as both. though gloria's were much more level and she was like "fuck." and internally panicked and tried to approach it reasonably, whereas barbie was like OH MY GODDDD IM IN LOVE 😭🥹🥹💘 SHE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFEEEEEE

did either of them try to resist their feelings?: yes. gloria mainly because she feared the change would be too drastic for sasha and couldn't help but imagine if things didn't work out, how messy it could become

what would their lives be like if they had never met?: barbie would be that packaged box of perfection, but without substance and completely superficial. she would have never known imperfection and the joys of being human and the immeasurable beauty in all the mundane things like reading a book, trying a new food, hearing a pretty song. gloria would be lost to the feeling of those impossible standards and spend her life never being free. never feeling good enough. they truly do liberate one another

were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: gloria was barbie's first everything. barbie was gloria's first love, and the only true one. also the one that outlived and outshined all the others

what’s their height difference? age difference?: gloria is 5'1 and barbie is 5'10 idc. barbie is like 34/35 and gloria is 37

who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?: gloria into barbie's ear, all the time. but once barbie starts doing it, she LOVESSS it. she's so cheeky. and gloria is always death staring her bc she knows damn well they can't do anything

what kind of nicknames do they call each other?: gloria calls barbie honey, mi amor, baby. barbie calls gloria love/my love, babe, and baby also.

who remembers the little things?: barbie mostly.

who’s the stricter parent?: gloria

who worries the most?: gloria. because barbie can be very not careful with some things (like she's still understanding the concept of fire being very hot)

who kills the bugs in the house?: barbie. but she feels bad about it later on and stays up thinking about it sometimes

how do they celebrate holidays?: with gloria's family!

who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?: barbieeeee. gloria can't resist that pout and sleepy face

Who’s the better cook?: gloria. her cooking skills are AMAZINGGGGG

who likes to dance?: gloria!! she loves dancing and is great at it omg. that woman can MOVE. she always makes barbie dance with her at family events or any parties where there's music and a dancefloor

bonus random hcs i have written down:

barbie is very athletic and plays beach volleyball and does karate. she works CRAZY hard to get her purple belt, all so she can let sasha have it because that's sasha's favorite color

barbie grows her own roses to make gloria a bouquet for mother's day

gloria teaches barbie how to swim. (barbie has to wear those little kid floaties)

barbie takes her youtube videos very seriously and will be up at like 1am watching a 45 minute video on some shit like how a gecko hatches or something. she'll bump gloria like 'babe look' even though gloria is asleep

they have a little thing they do where they get those paint-by-number sets and do them together. they're collecting them<33

sasha makes barbie do the fire noodle challenge (barbie is sick for like a day)

when barbie gets her first cut/scab, sasha gets her a band-aid and barbie tears up and is all like 'thank you so much sasha. it's beautiful' while petting the band-aid

sasha is like wtf

barbie learns about mood rings and thinks they're actually magical and is so excited to wear it

sasha is like 'i'm gonna tell her it's all based on temperature.' and gloria is all 'no you're not!!'

sasha is a d&d fiend on the dl and barbie asks her about it one day

they proceed to nerd out together

barbie becomes ENAMORED with dragons

barbie and gloria have a shared journal and they take turns writing in it every night before bed

they also have their own book club where they read a book together (barbie especially loves it bc gloria usually reads a chapter or two for them before bed while barbie lays hugging gloria's stomach and gloria plays with her hair.)

ok that's all for now... if i think of any more hcs, i'll make a separate post/pt.2 ☺️

thank you sm for the ask! i hope you like these!!🩷

#barbie 2023 #barbie #barbie x gloria #gloria x barbie #glorbie #barbiegloria #margot robbie #america ferrera #headcanons #glorbie headcanons #barbie movie #asks

[hoshinoyozora]

The Queen

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Riddle Rosehearts x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 0,7k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!***

Idk much about Alice in Wonderland and I forgot about this part sorry so I decided to make it up instead lmao.

The queen was a strong figure, both in chess and in real life.

She ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, oversaw the society with hawk eyes, and ordered the subjects with clear-cut words. People parted ways for her, and sometimes, some of them just had to topple over. Subtly or forcefully.

Just like your pawns right now, as Riddle secured yet another victory. Regardless of how small it was, it still brought him closer to your king.

And closer to your defeat.

“It seems that you’re not very adept in chess game, [Name].” he remarked, smirking. “Why don’t you save your energy and declare your loss instead? Trey is currently baking your favorite cake, and we can have a tea party to celebrate your obedience.”

You scowled, willing yourself to stay silent. You hated how he treated you like a child at best, and a prisoner at worst. Then again, Riddle was the Queen of Hearts; the leader of Wonderland. And you, an alien from The World Above. It was expected that you wouldn’t know about the rules of this world, just as you wouldn’t know about the Queen’s longing for affection. You would’ve thought of it as pathetic, if not for your own predicament.

Because it wasn’t enough that you fell into the rabbit hole, you had to fall into his arms too.

Despite what many people thought, including his closest aides, your ‘love’ story wasn’t romantic. Far from it, actually, and the ‘perks’ that came as his ‘King’ only served to tighten the collar on your neck.

The black queen stood two squares away from your white king, exactly on the black square. Yours was on the white one, cornered like your situation right now. Riddle had promised that he’d let you go if you won a match, but the skeptical part of you wondered if his subordinates would allow you to. During your short time here, you’d saved not only him from his own loneliness, but also the poor victims from his, sometimes unjustified, wrath. It wouldn’t be a surprise if they decided to use you as a shield even further by entrapping you here. This was a mad, mad world you lived in, and absolutely anything could happen.

You pushed the king to the side, trying to widen the gap between him and the queen. She moved one square forward, and you wondered why she wasn’t in your row already. Was he toying with you? Giving you an illusion of hope and security? This might just be the cruelest Riddle you’d ever seen, and you’d yet to witness his worst side if you tried to escape literally.

The king sidled to another square, and Riddle did the unexpected yet logical thing; he pushed one of his rooks to your rank.

You lost.

And an hour hadn’t even passed since you started the match. No matter what kind of plan you had, no matter what kind of move you’d take, the end result would still be the same anyway.

Your king would die on the battlefield.

“Go ahead. It’s your turn now.”

Always the stickler for rules, Riddle had yet to declare his victory. Regardless, it’d always been assured since the beginning. You were just prolonging the inevitable, grasping at the light at the end of the tunnel. Or hole.

Swallowing, you reluctantly pushed your last piece forward and watched as the queen brought him to his knees. Riddle’s calm yet smug ‘checkmate’ remained unheard in your shocked disbelief, and you wished for nothing more than to repeat the game over and over again. Was it possible to reverse the clock, when you could change your height to any size? There had to be a potion or a magic book somewhere.

But there was a limit to the Queen’s kindness, it seemed. Or, rather, his amusement. Just like the Chess King, the King of Hearts was fated to accompany his wife until the end of time.

And as Riddle claimed his prize by cradling your frozen self, it occurred to you how long the Queen of Hearts could live or if she was even capable of dying.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #yandere twst #female reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #riddle x y/n #riddler x you #latolover

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

#peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games meta #anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!! #as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the #headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible #and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay #and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too #like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin #it’s not a formal brick and mortar business #it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about #without there being waste and while covering some of the costs #and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about #as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!! #but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house) #is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh #anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with #this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like #but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao

[thestobingirlie]

Got any pre-season 1 stomarol hcs to share?

sure!!

steve and carol were each others first kiss. they were still pretty young, like pre-teens, and they figured… why not.

tommy and carol were very hot and cold, and during one break up steve and carol came very close to fucking. tommy called and apologised before they did, and starol both decided to never tell tommy.

as i’ve said many a time before, starol were friends first. when steve first moved to hawkins at like 7, they became besties. steve used to get mocked for only having friends that were girls.

in middle school, tommy and carol started dating, steve got his braces off, had his growth spurt, and they started getting popular.

the very first time they got drunk, stommy kissed. just a little kiss. they never spoke about it again, and they’re not even sure the other remembers it.

steve and carol are depressed drunks once they’ve reached a certain threshold, and if you can’t find them inside, they’ve probably climbed out the window and up onto the roof. they’ll just sit there in silence, hanging out and watching the stars.

the last birthday steve celebrated with them, tommy wanted to try baking the cake that year. they have no idea what he did to it, but it was like a lump of concrete. it lasted months as the three of them took turns just… throwing it at walls and shit lmao.

i don’t think steve’s parents liked carol and tommy that much, but not because of any actual complaints, they’re just miserable lmao.

stomarol were baby dorks. very into star trek. when the reached middle school, tommy’s older brother told them it was time to grow up, or they’d be losers in high school.

speaking of. tommy has one older brother, he’s like a good 5/6 years older. he was the one that gave stomarol their first beers and cigs. single mother mrs hagan would ask her oldest son to babysit tommy a lot, but most of the time he just… didn’t lol, and left stomarol to do whatever they wanted.

carol has two younger brothers, and an older half sister who was already away and in college not long after starol first met.

when they were younger, stomarol loved the fact that they never really had anyone keeping an eye on them, that the adults around them pretty much let them do whatever they wanted.

a big part of what drove the animosity towards nancy is that steve had never cared about a girlfriend more than he cared about tommy and carol before, and when nancy stepped into the picture, they felt like their friendship was splintering. essentially, they were jealous. and despite not wanting to, they basically drove steve into nancy’s arms.

#mean girls trio #steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #stomarol #starol #stommy #what’s carol and tommys ship name #stranger things #asks #anon

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

#𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

𓆩♡𓆪 being a workaholic is going to kill you one of these days. thankfully, lee comes in with quite a helpful solution. or so it seems. MINORS DNI!!

cw. afab!reader, reader is the doctor, double dragon dicks, slight dub-con, hypnosis (reader is into it but makes fun of lee lmao), dilf, age difference, scent kink, deepthroating, cumming untouched, sensory overload & genital slit/retractable dicks.

lati. thank you so much to the very lovely person who commissioned me for this!! they wished to remain anonymous but i hope you read this and are satisfied with this yummy fic bc i had a helluva time writing it :D

wc. 5325

Your head is going to explode—you're so god-awfully exhausted and stressed that death might as well be imminent. You're going to die from overworking and the endless stacks of papers would be your tomb. Oh god, you're too young to die from work; you haven't even really done all the stuff you've always wanted to do—actually, wait, how old are you again? You don't know.

Kal'tsit and Amiya never really went into any specific details about the kind of person you were before you awoke in Chernobog (well, you think you have a good enough idea of who you once were, but thinking about it makes your head hurt), and they most certainly did not inform you of your age. Well, Amiya did bake you a cake for your birthday and sang happy birthday, but had placed a small handful of colorful candles across the cake that did not indicate your age. And if Kal'tsit knew, then she certainly was in no rush to tell you just how long you'd been around.

But anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you're gonna die. And if you don't die from work, then Kal'tsit would most certainly hang you from the rafters if you didn't finish your work.

It feels like no matter how many recruitment permits you sent off or battle records you reviewed, the pile of documents on your desk was never-ending. It was already so late into the night, and judging by a glance at the clock, most of Rhodes Island should be asleep in their dorms, in the comfort of their beds. Fuck, just thinking about a bed is making you sleepy.

You leaned back in your chair, for a quick breather, and totally not because you're trying to keep yourself from passing out on the spot. Wincing at the sound your back makes in the process—a consequence of having been hunched over for so long. 

Man...looks like an all-nighter at this rate. You can feel your sanity shrivel up at that realization. If you could have a stress cry session, then you absolutely would, but even you know that crying won't get you anywhere.

Your oh woe is me! thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your office door opening. Huh? Who else would be awake at this god-forsaken hour other than yourself—?

"Why are the lights all on at this hour... oh?" There stood at your doorway, was no other than Lee. Wait, why was he awake at this time? Was he unable to sleep and decided to go for a stroll around the landship?

He looks a little surprised to see you still perched behind your desk, but his expression quickly shifts to his usual playful and lax demeanor. "Ah, (name). Are you still processing battle records? Well, I never thought you were such a workaholic. I'm impressed," he whistles, sauntering towards your desk and leaning over to peek at what you'd been working on.

After his quick inspection, he exclaims, "But! You'd better turn in sooner. It's not worth it to break your body doing it."

"While the concern is greatly appreciated Lee, I still need to get this all done or Kal'tsit will have my head," you huff out a tired laugh in response. "Cause... she said she could do that and I believe her."

"Why not ask your assistants for help? I'm sure they'd be glad to be of aid to the esteemed Doctor. I could even be of assistance to you (name), I'm rather good with paperwork." At that last remark, you visibly deadpanned—Lee was the last guy you'd ever ask for help on paperwork. You were all too familiar with his many attempts to avoid doing too much work.

"The last time I tried to ask you for help, you coincidentally got a headache and told me I could handle it by myself."

"But I still help around the office, don't I? I'm quite handy during missions even if I'm no good in a fight." Lee seems quite proud to prattle on about how he's such an excellent little helper at your side, but you're not buying any of it. He may be a smooth talker and, you're not ashamed to admit, have quite the attractive face and demeanor, but you're not exactly keen on letting him boost up his ego.

"Lee, in the last mission I didn't see you anywhere in the fight and when I asked, you said you were the moral support," you groan, lips turned downward in feigned annoyance.

"I sense some hostility towards me, (name)," his tail swishes behind his tall frame vigorously as he pouts almost childishly, but you can tell that he's anything but offended. Knowing the old fish, he was amused by your little jabs and didn't mind entertaining you to alleviate your stress levels.

"Good, feel the hostility you old carp," you were trying to appear annoyed, but the second you made eye contact with the titular old carp, you started snickering and even let out a few laughs, with Lee joining in with chuckles of his own. God, it feels good to throw harmless jabs and just laugh without a care in the world. "Sorry Lee, but even if you lend me a hand, we'd have to be multitasking like nobody's business."

"At least take a break if that is the case, (name). It's no good to keep an engine running on fumes," Lee hums, circling behind your chair to place his hands on your shoulders, applying the most welcomed pressure on your sore muscles. "Why not take a step away from this battlefield of a desk, and relax a little on the couch while I go and make us some tea."

"After all, it would be a shame to let those good tea leaves you keep go to waste."

"Ugh, fine," you whine, making a point of dramatically dragging yourself off of your chair before dragging your feet as slowly as you can. Lee places a hand on your lower back and hurries you along to the couch, to which he takes it upon himself to sit you down with hands that weigh down on your shoulders. You're almost a bit embarrassed to feel how swiftly and easily you sink into the sleek leather, sighing in relief as your tense muscles ease up.

"See, not that hard to relax, now is it? Now sit tight while I go make us some tea." He makes a point of patting your head, and you whine in defeat, unable to bring yourself to swat away his hand.

"Mmm."

Satisfied, he saunters off to the mini-kitchen, humming a song that you find somewhat familiar. You don't remember the words, but you certainly find the melody to be familiar. Maybe it was playing on the radio when you'd paid a visit to Aak in his little lab, and Lee might've just heard it playing on a loop everywhere.

Even though you're supposed to be relaxing and thinking about anything that isn't work-related, the workaholic in you is screaming and wailing like a banshee. You're practically having an internal war, and the workaholic is currently winning the bloody conquest. Figures, you could never put away your duties until you were freed by your own passing out from exhaustion or an operator forcing you to take a step back.

The internal struggle is just too much for you to bear any longer. Just...one little signature wouldn't hurt, right? It wouldn't kill you just to sign one measly little signature. Besides, Lee isn't paying any attention right now and if you were quick enough, then he wouldn't know. That's how that old saying goes right? What you don't know can't hurt you. It totally applies to this situation right now!

Having made up your mind, and taking a quick glance at Lee to make sure he wasn't looking, you scurry to your desk like a subway rat. As quietly and quickly as you can, you snatch the pen you'd left on a small stack of papers, and with a sharp click that makes you wince at how much more resounding it is, you scribble your name onto the blank space. It's a sloppy signature, but it looks decent enough to pass by without raising any eyebrows. Yeah, that's—

"Doctor."

Shit.

When you nervously lift your head, there stands Lee. Except he's no longer smirking. He looks almost, impatient. No, he looks pretty mad. Or is it disappointment? You seriously can't tell, but whatever he's feeling, it's clear that he's not happy.

"Heeyy Lee. What a nice night it is, am I right? Say, why don't we drink the tea now, yeah? Haha..." Crap, he's not answering. Trying to bullshit your way out of this one wasn't going to work, but it was worth a shot, right? "Y, you're not mad are you?"

"No." Yep, he's mad. Ugh, if someone says that they're not mad in that tone, then they're seriously mad! And it's even scarier because you've never seen Lee mad before! "Why would I be mad?"

"That's exactly what a person who's mad would say," you nervously quip, fiddling with your fingers and scratching at your skin. You always do that whenever you get anxious, it’s a really bad nervous habit of yours, even if you always end up peeling back skin right from the corners of your nails and have to snip the small peel of flesh off with your nail clippers.

"I worry that you don't take things to heart, (name). It's like you don't consider others' opinions.." he sighs, sounding more like a parent scolding their boisterous teen for the nth time. Fuck, you're seriously feeling super guilty right now; guess Lee had a bit of practice with three certain operators on the wonders of parental guilt-tripping. "And for that, I fear that you'll need more than just a stern talking to."

"Wait wha--"

Ignoring your confusion, Lee fumbles around the hidden pockets of his coat as he searches for... something? You're tempted to just sidestep him and just lie down on the couch and feign exhaustion. Yet something inside of you wanted to see where this would go, keeping you rooted to the ground. And because Lee would see through your bullshit immediately (curse his keen detective skills).

He mutters an 'ah, there it is,' before quickly yanking his hand out and holding some circular object by a mere thread that you suspect may give out at any moment. You may have only seen the device for a few seconds, but you'd recognize that black-and-white spiral pattern anywhere. Anyone would, given that it was always on those weird hypnosis videos you'd come across on the Internet.

"..Hypnosis? Seriously? What kinda scams are you getting into, my dude..?" While hypnosis and mind control weren't exactly sensational news for you, given what Amiya had experienced with Mephisto and his undead herd, it feels rather silly for it to be used in a situation like this. But seeing Lee's impatient posture and the way his tail restlessly swishes behind, you figure that you might as well humor him.

As Lee raises the circular device to your eye level, you can't resist the urge for an eye roll at the absurdity of this situation. He doesn't need to really tell you what to do, you know that you're supposed to look in the center and let the spiral do its magic or whatever. Like, make your head empty and have no thoughts, right?

"Lee, if this doesn't work and I'm not some bread-dead zombie or whatever, I'll--"

Lee snaps his fingers.

Your body relaxes.

All the racing thoughts in your mind cease.

—Ah..?

"There we go. Just focus on my voice, (name). Don't think about anything or anyone else, alright?" His crooning voice echoes in your head, and it suddenly feels like your brain is being physically rearranged. At the same time, it was as if your brain was melting, being numbed with a strange fog that left you feeling empty——No...no, empty wasn't enough to describe this strange mental hollowness that dominated every cell in your body.

"Just relax. Once I snap my fingers, you'll go back to normal. Okay?" Vacuously, you nod your head, the motion akin to that of a rag doll being shaken about. A little unnerving, yes, but it's a rather humorous sight nonetheless. "Good, good. Not so hard to just kick back and relax is it?"

Lee ruffles your hair, inwardly chuckling as he notices more stray hairs begin to stick up from the mass. It truly completes the workaholic and sleep-deprived image that he’s heard so much about from passing conversation he just so happened to overhear. Though, now that he has you like this, he isn’t all too sure what he really wants to do to you. Or perhaps he does know, but he’s just too accustomed to pushing those thoughts to the back burner.

As his hand trails south before resting against your cheek, his thumb comes to rest against your chapped lips—that was no surprise since he’d seen you lick them so much—and he absentmindedly rubs along the uneven surface.

Lee swallows hard and mutters a small ‘pardon me.’

He dips his thumb past your lips experimentally, circling the thick digit around and coating it in your spit. The warmth of your mouth, the wetness of your tongue, and the titillating tension of this situation chip away at something deep inside Lee. Yes, he was quite the trusted comrade whom you'd seek out whenever he made his visits to the landship. But he knew quite well that there was always a bit of tension between the two of you. It wasn't bad, heavens no, but Lee would have to be a fool to not pick up on the playful smiles, the suggestive remarks thrown his way, how you so teasingly expose the more sensuous parts of your body by bending over...Those were just a few he could list off the top of his head right now.

He could name a couple more, but he's getting distracted by the minuscule whines you produce as he continues to probe your tiny mouth. A part of him wonders if you're responding this way simply because it's him touching you. 

He's decided. Why waste an opportunity as good as this? He grabs your shoulder and guides you to the couch, which he eagerly plops down upon—yeah, he’s pumped full of excitement, who wouldn’t be? Lee makes sure to spread his legs nice and wide; he’s at least kind enough to not make you spread them apart yourself.

"On your knees." Lee winces a bit at how suddenly you drop to the floor, and he's rather inclined to stop and check for any bruising or irritation. But you don't even so much as flinch, hardly showing any sort of reflexive response to the discomfort. Hesitantly satisfied, the detective relaxes the tension in his body. Well, at least you'd simply have to suffer through some scuffed kneecaps, but nothing too serious that would require the attention of a medic.

"Undress me. Waist down," Lee blinks hard as if thinking over his command, watching as you sluggishly fumble with his belt and attempt to push away the countless accessories that adorn his lower half. Somehow, you manage to undo the leather strap and pull the zipper down, revealing grey boxers. Upon noticing you attempting to pull his pants down even further, he seems to realize something. "Actually, scratch that. Just.. just pull my pants low enough. It'll make clean-up easier..."

He mumbles that last part to himself, but thankfully you pay no heed and instead hook a few fingers into the waistband of his underwear to pull it down. What awaits you is a thin slit, though two pink tips of sorts have begun to slowly slide out.

"Well go on. They won't come out if you just keep staring. Make sure you really use your tongue, okay?" You duck your head dangerously close to the protruding tips and swipe a tiny lick that has Lee's hips jolt ever so slightly. Your blunt little tongue teases him relentlessly, easily covering the tips from view and even occasionally dipping into his slit. The detective groans at that, swallowing down the urge to cum right then and there.

"Oh yeah, I don't want to see you touching yourself in any way. This is your punishment Doctor," he ordered, eyeing your hands just in case you got a bit too into this and decided to get yourself off. He couldn't allow that, now could he?

But you remain obedient, latching onto his slit and coating it in your spit in a bid to ease out his cocks. Lee has to admit that you look adorable with your mouth so lovingly devoted to him, and he's almost tempted to order you to touch yourself, to see you satisfying your own base desires without any shame. Almost.

You should be scared. You should terrified out of your mind, feeling your own body acting your will and unable to do anything about it. But, you’re not. Okay, maybe you’re a bit nervous, but it’s the kind of nervousness that borders on feeling good. Normally, you'd be waayy too scared and end up fumbling over yourself in these kinds of situations, but that's not the case here. Your head is all fuzzy, but it feels, like, good? Your entire body feels warm and relaxed, and while that might've been a bit scary to others, all you can feel is a strange pleasure that induces heat to pool into your belly.

Maybe it’s the hypnosis making your brain feel all funny, or maybe it’s because you just like Lee so much, but you find that following Lee’s orders comes rather easy. Then again, it’s just the hypnosis scrambling your brain, right?

With a sudden pop! that sounds perversely wet, the two tips push forward and expose the rest of his manhood in all its glory. You don't react, don't pull your head back out of surprise, and as a result, his cocks push right up against your face. It'd be comical if you'd reacted with any sort of surprise or nervousness, but there were no such expressions on your face.

He's..he's really big...♡ He has two cocks, both shaped like elongated teardrops, and have a sort of pinkish-red color to them. They look really smooth, save for a few prominent veins that pulse rapidly. Even despite your relaxed body, you can't help the small pang of anxiety at the thought of those... going inside of you. Would they even fit..? Your cunt clenches up just thinking about taking his cocks all the way inside. He'd... he'd really break you if he was gonna fuck your cunt with them...♡

"Suck." Lee watches quietly, his face expressionless as he awaits your obedience. Sluggishly, you nod, and slowly press your lips against the left one—well, your left. Your earlier guessed observation of his shaft's texture proves correct, as the almost unnaturally smooth surface seamlessly slides against your lips, and dribbles of precum stick to your skin. You open up your mouth and begin to suckle on the tip, the sleek texture of his cock allowing it to slide into your mouth more easily. 

Lee jolts, clearly being rather sensitive right there. “Fuck, that’s--shit!”

His cocks have a really funny smell; it's all musky and thick and it makes your head spin every time you breathe. It's the kind of smell that you can't help but get addicted to, wanting to breathe it in more even if you're supposed to find it off-putting. Acting on your desires with nothing to stop you, you inhale an extra bit of air as you bob your head up and down on his shaft. Who knew that just the smell of his shafts would turn you on even more? Lee doesn’t seem to notice your strange scent obsession, and if he does, he gives no sign of stopping you anytime soon.

"Excited are we?" He breathed out, hitching a noise that suspiciously bordered on a sensual moan as you pushed your head down to the base. When you repeat that motion, this time Lee moans, a husky and rumbled noise that strikes straight into your core. "Q...Quite gifted with your mouth, aren't you? I wonder where you learned to be so skilled?"

He sounds a bit mocking as if the possible scenario of you on your knees before another man really grates on his nerves. His jealousy wasn’t really rooted in much plausibility, though, since you had often spent countless daydreams conjuring up scenarios like these with Lee in mind. Maybe that’s why you’re so enthusiastically sucking him off even with the hypnosis supposedly making you more robotic—it simply allowed you to act on what you’ve always wanted to do.

Thanks to Lee's little hypnosis trick, your gag reflex is practically nonexistent, evidenced when the pointed tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and all you react with is a muffled moan. Though you’d be ashamed to admit that you’d secretly been testing your gag reflex with a banana whenever you were alone in the break room. It was for science, you swear! And you can get away with saying that because you technically were a neurologist! When scientists do this, it’s an area of interest, not a fetish.

He’s beginning to leak a lot more, salty and oozing pre-cum starting to dribble out in thicker amounts, both inside the confines of your throat and his other cock dripping on your clothes. It even tastes funny too, all salty and bitter and thick—was this even really his pre-cum, or is Lee just really pent-up to the point where he’s leaking out so much? The wise Mr. Lee really was just a perverted old man in the end.

Well, you’d be a hypocrite at this point since you aren’t exactly faring much better either. Your cunt’s been practically melting, slick juices rapidly pooling down and drenching your panties to the point where it’s already started to ooze through. On reflex, you start rubbing your thighs together the best you can, but with how your legs are spread, it comes off as an awkward little butt wiggle. It’s barely enough to even really stimulate you, much less properly get you off, but what little friction you can work up soothes that aching heat, if only barely.

Lee’s moaning a bit louder now, your tongue rubbing the underside of his dick with the kind of pleasurable tickle that makes him want to cum already. But it’s not enough for the detective. He needs more than this. His other shaft is just awkwardly rubbing against your face, with hardly any stimulation other than the feel of your skin. And that couldn’t have possibly been enough, now could it?

“Hey, d-don’t leave this one all alone,” he mumbled, jutting his hips forward in an attempt to get your attention on his other cock, all lonely and unattended to. Though all he succeeds in is shoving his dick further down your throat. “Give it some attention too. Use your hand.”

Giving him a moan of obedience, you clumsily raise a hand to wrap around his poor ignored cock and begin to pump. After barely even a few pumps, when your hand comes back up to enclose the pointy tip, your palm, and fingers are coated in thick globs of pre-cum. They make the motions of your hands easier, the wet glide allowing you to better pleasure him and give the tip that soft squeeze that makes Lee ooze more juices. You can feel a few veins that add a texture to the smooth wet surface, and when your fingers rub against them, Lee shivers a bit.

It’s still a bit difficult to comprehend that he’d be this pent-up to be leaking so much—maybe it was a Lungmenite thing, they were technically dragons after all. But another whiff of that addictive, musky smell and you stop thinking about it.

Clearly, the double stimulation was proving to be too much for Lee, because he orders you to “stop” with a shaky voice, completely different from how smug and charismatic he usually was. You obey, with his dick still stuffed down your throat and his other dick being gently held at the base. He has to take a few moments to breathe in deeply before he gives you his next order.

“P…put both of the tips in your mouth and jerk both of them off at the same time until I cum.”

Your compliance is immediate, and you have to pull his dick out from the depths of your throat (which makes Lee jolt and groan at the loss of heat) and pull at his other dick so it’s angled towards your mouth. He winces at the tugging on his cocks, but as soon as your tiny mouth simultaneously licks on both tips and your hands begin to jerk off both lengths, he forgets all about the discomfort. He’s more focused on your frantic movements and the building crescendo of muffled moans as if you’re moving in tune with his reactions and approaching orgasm.

But in reality, you’re on the verge of bursting yourself; that burning hot coil in your lower belly has become unbearably tight and even if your brain is all fuzzy and feeling weird, you still feel of pang of desperation to reach your climax as well. Your body acts on those desires for you; sucking harder, jerking faster, licking all the sensitive spots—

“Dammit, you—(name),” he panted, expression all scrunched up,” make sure you drink it all up. Don’t… spill!”

He shuddered and dug his fingers so hard into your skull that he’s probably leaving imprints behind on your scalp, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now. From the way he pulls down, your teeth grazing against his tips—he wants to keep them in there as he finishes in your mouth, grimacing hard enough to reveal sharp canines and wheezing your name, the sensation clearly is a lot for him. It’s enough that you gag a little, greedily gulping down the gooey release as best you can to keep up with the excessive amount that floods into your mouth.

There’s just so much; would he fill your belly with lots of thick cum when he fucked your pussy?♡ If he came this much from a simple blowjob and handjob, then how would there be when he finally worked his way to your cunt. You… you’d definitely get knocked up with his babies if he came inside...♡ Just the mere thought of Lee possibly impregnating you with his potent seed is all it took, and you were coming for him, seizing up and sobbing with a few selective moans—incoherent and sweet.

It takes a bit longer for Lee to come down from his climax, your warm mouth milking his dick for a few more spurts of his release, but he practically collapses against the couch once it’s over. It was most certainly the strongest orgasm he’s had in quite a long time, so he just needed a minute to calm down, that’s all. So he sucks in a nice deep breath from his stomach (diaphragmatic breathing was certainly beneficial for the lungs!) and breathes out heavily—

The audible sound of gulping quickly snaps him out of his stupor, and when he glances at you, he catches a glimpse of your cute stubby tongue swiping at the excess release on your skin.

"Did you—?" Lee jolts forward like he's been hit by a lightning bolt and for a moment he looks flustered, his thumb pressing your jaw down without any resistance as he scans your slack mouth. He'd been so focused on the high of his orgasm that he forgot that he was going to order you to spit it out. "Hah, you really swallowed it all, huh?"

You don't answer him, hazy eyes staring up at him blankly as he thumbs away the small streaks of his release on the corner of your lips. It felt rather strange to see you so quiet, considering that it was commonplace for you to be throwing teasing remarks his way. Well, if he ignored the fact that you were hypnotized—

"Oh right, forgot you're still hypnotized. Sorry about that," he murmured, mostly to himself. Heh, look at him, forgetting that he'd hypnotized you and had to snap you out of that trance. He really is getting old if he can't keep track of that. With a graceful flick of his wrist, Lee finally snaps his fingers, the sound as crisp as the crunch of an autumn leaf that resounds in the empty room.

Like a switch, the haziness in your eyes fades away, and the familiar twinkle returns. You blink. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart around the room, seemingly a bit nervously before they land on him. Realization seems to hit you and—

"You are such a horny fuck, y'know that?" Yeah, there you are. You're certainly back to normal, with no repercussions whatsoever. Well, except for him getting a bit of an earful from you, though Lee can just smile as your words go in one ear and out the other.

"Ugh, you dirty old man, my underwear's all sticky now," you hiss, shifting your thighs and grimacing at how slick your inner thighs are now. Lee breathlessly chuckles, flashing you a lazy smile as his body sinks into the couch. When you attempt to lift yourself up, you huff once the familiar pins and needles feeling makes itself apparent in your legs. "And I can't feel my damn legs, and—ow, my fuckin' knees..."

Hearing the metal clink of his belt, you realize he's attempting to slip on his pants in a somewhat presentable fashion. Oh, you thought he would touch you even more, and—wait, were you seriously disappointed by him not going further? Geez, what's wrong with you?! This wasn't like all those hentai stories where the girl becomes a slut for the guy's cock—everyone knows that hentai has the worst logic imaginable when it came to sexual happenings!

Besides, Lee would have to at least take you out to dinner and wine and dine you before you can officially admit that you'd be a willing slut for his cocks. You have standards!

"Now now, no need to fuss (name)," Lee hums, paying no mind to your rather cute attempt at a threat, having long gotten used to your little quips. "Have some tea, it's still warm; it'll soothe your nerves."

"You seriously think a cup of tea is gonna calm me down?" You gawk at him incredulously, grunting as you force yourself to stand up. Grumbling a quiet thank you as he places a steady hand on your hip, you plop down unceremoniously on the couch next to him. "Because you're right. Gimme that."

You hold out your hand like a child asking for a cookie, and Lee places the cup in your open palm, but not before shaking his head and snorting at your childish mannerisms. After pouring himself a cup and inhaling the rich aroma of the tea, he finally takes a sip and sighs in contentment.

As you sip at the lukewarm tea and bask in the atmosphere, you ponder whether these late-night relaxation sessions will occur regularly. Heh, you suppose that you're a bit of a masochist if you find this stern admonishment enjoyable and something to look forward to. Perhaps next time, Lee will go even further than what he did this time. A delicious shiver runs up your spine at the thought of all the ways the laid-back detective could toy with your body.

If that was the case, you were looking forward to next time.

© latimeriafellfromheaven

#lati's commissions #arknights x reader #arknights smut #lee arknights #arknights lee smut #arknights lee x reader

[enam3l]

rockstar eddie introducing reader to wayne for the first time? 🥺

uncle wayne’s seal of approval (rockstar eddie x reader)

1.8k words / pure fluff / one thing about me is imma drop something for this series with no warning like reply to a lovely request from december LMAO i am sorry anon, i hope you enjoy (finally!)

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Out of every part of Eddie Munson’s world you’d been invited into since meeting him almost four months ago, this was the most daunting. As the car crawled up the drive your heart hammered. Finally, you were meeting the most important person in Eddie's life - Uncle Wayne. 

The car comes to a halt. You knew all about Wayne's home already, being able to buy it for the man who raised him was one of Eddie's greatest achievements. It was rustic and homey, the pair had worked on it together; it mirrored their lives, something they accomplished by sticking together. Daunting was an understatement for how it felt to be introduced to Wayne. Eddie’s only parental figure and life long constant. The person he was adamant was the reason he made anything of himself. You never had anyone like that so you knew Wayne’s approval meant everything. 

‘He’s going to love you,’ Eddie grins. The boy is practically jittering in his seat with excitement about seeing his uncle after so many months. No matter what adventures and luxuries life granted Eddie, Wayne would always be home. You daren’t let your nerves dull his enthusiasm. His big hand takes yours, tugging you behind as he storms up the porch steps. The iron grip a giveaway of his giddiness, using you to ground him as if he were to float away. Before the row of rings you can list by heart, can rap at the door, it swings open and two identical smiles face each other. 

Uncle Wayne, you think, looks straight out of an old Western; like the weathered former sheriff, gruff but full of wisdom. A sun soaked wrinkled face with a touch of grey hair and a moustache you know based on photos has been present since the 50s. He’s a little stiff from a lifetime of hard work but he still opens his arms for his boy. It’s impossible not to smile seeing Eddie vulnerable for someone. Seeing there was one person he did let look after him instead of the other way round. After peeling off his eager nephew, sharp blue eyes find you. 

‘So… y’gonna introduce me to your lady friend here, boy?’ Wayne’s throaty voice drawls. 

‘This,’ Eddie declares and grabbing your hand, raising it like a prize, ‘is my girl. Wayne, I’d like you to meet Y/N. Y/N, this is my uncle Wayne.’

You’re unsure why you bow your head as if curtseying to royalty but this meeting is overwhelming. You’ve never met a parent of someone you’ve felt like this with before. You’ve never felt like this about someone before. 

‘It’s lovely to finally meet you Mr. Munson! Eddie is always telling me stories about you.’

Wayne chuckles, a hand even rougher than Eddie’s, warmly patting on you the shoulder.

‘Please, call me Wayne. Mr. Munson making me feel older than I already am, doll. An’ am glad the boy still remembers where he came from now he’s a big shot. Lord knows he don’t shut up about you when he calls.’

The revelation causes Eddie to squirm, cheeks turning the colour of the strawberry cake you baked for Wayne that you hand to him. A genuine look of shock passes his face as he takes the treat. 

‘Homemade and for me? She’s too sweet for you, Eddie. You casting spells in that dragon game to get this one?’ 

The dig causes you to chuckle along with Wayne as Eddie whines at his uncle. Taking the cake, your boyfriend slinks off in shame to the kitchen, insisting he’d rather not be in the room as you and Wayne mock him. 

‘Eddie told me the town used to think he was summoning the devil with that game. But you’re right, Wayne. I always assumed if he’d been doing magic it’d be to get girls or at least for a new Lord of the Rings book to be discovered.’ 

Wayne claps your back as he laughs gruffly again. 

‘Oh, you called the boys number there for sure, darl’. Hey, why don’t we go sit down and embarrass him some more with old photos.’ 

Upon entering the lounge, your surroundings indicate one thing, Eddie is Wayne's entire world. From the outside a weathered, gruff, working man but inside is a kind, selfless sweetheart. Above a sideboard, hung on the wall is a huge pinboard tilting from its mass of contents. Countless carefully cut posters, articles, reviews and photographs about Corroded Coffin. An entire archive of their career so far all collated in one place. The surface then littered in framed photographs of Eddie from childhood to the present day, a timeline of those growing curls. Between faded paintings of landscapes are framed tour posters and record sleeves.  

Wayne ushers you to sit down on the soft leather sofa as he juggles boxes off a shelf. 

‘I know jus’ what he’ll kill me for showing ya. Gareth once dared him to blow a bubble usin’ ten packets of gum. Had to sheer the fool like he was a damn sheep!’ 

A stack of boxes drop to the table and he thrusts a photograph into your hand. The incriminating photo makes you laugh too hard, that for a moment you worry you’ll pee on Wayne’s nice sofa. There with fury behind his big brown eyes, stands a gangly Eddie, no older than twelve with a freshly buzzed head that made him look like a cress egg. 

Thrilled at your reaction, Wayne continues to present you with more photographs. Each one with another silly or endearing story about the life of your boyfriend. Each another insight into the ridiculous man you adore. Eddie potters in and out of the kitchen, bringing you both drinks and slices of the cake. Hitting you both with exaggerated eye rolls and moaning despite the joy the sight before him instills. The two most important people in his life getting on better than he could ever have imagined. You, the girl of his dreams, enthralled just learning more about his past. Something he’s normally ashamed of but you’re enjoying. It further contributes to Eddie’s wondering that maybe you truly were the product of a conjured spell. 

Once Eddie ventures off to the store for supplies for the evenings barbecue, yours and Wayne’s conversations continue. Whilst flitting through piles of his archived photos, one folder flutters open. In its confines are collections of photos of a beautiful young woman, trails of dark curls and deep pools of chocolate eyes, identical to Eddie. Amongst the papers includes photographs of her holding a cherub faced newborn but also the booklet from a funeral service. Eddie’s Mom. Wayne flusters, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the collection as he decides to tuck them away but you can help yourself but reach out and still his movements. 

‘I’ve never seen these pictures of his Mom before,’ you smile, ‘especially not when he’s a new born.’ 

Wayne turns to you, wide eyed. 

‘Y’know about her?’

‘Yeah,’ you reassure him, ‘I know everything.’ 

‘Everything, huh?’ 

The shadow of a smile appears on his face. Everything, he thinks, Eddie really spoke about it all. It was a first, Wayne knew for a fact no one else in his life knew all about his parents. Knew about his mom, what happened or why he ended up with Wayne. Eddie never liked to expose his true story, stuck to dropping small fragments that no one could piece together, never letting himself be vulnerable. Except with you. Wayne wonders if his nephew even realises himself just how big the implications of that were. Or if you even realise how monumental that step is for Eddie. 

‘He speaks about her a lot,’ you continue, ‘but if you don’t mind me saying, Wayne. It’s all you. You did an amazing job, you really raised the most amazing man. I think Eddie is the most special person I’ve ever met, truly. And that’s cos of you.’ 

The words form a lump in the old man’s throat, a sensation so very rare to him. Never in the years of raising Eddie has he received that acknowledgement or thanks by anyone but the boy himself. The situation was thrust upon him and he did what he believed was his duty but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t hard. Whilst never admitting it, Wayne sacrificed more than most people ever would for Eddie. Sacrificed some financial independence and the prospect of forming his own family but, Wayne stands by the choice. Now your words make him gladder than ever. 

‘Well, Y/N,’ Wayne snuffles, ‘don’t think there’s too many things you could say t’me that mean more. You’re a lovely girl, think my boy really got a miracle with you.’ 

It’s not long before Eddie returns, hollering at you both. 

‘We gonna barbecue or what, you two?’ 

Both you and Wayne share a tender smile, hands holding the other before joining Eddie in the kitchen. 

You nestle into Eddie’s side to peak at his grocery store haul, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. 

‘Made sure to get your favourites, sweetheart,’ he admits. 

Revealing the packet before bopping you on the nose with it. 

‘Really? Thank you, baby,’ you beam and tip toe up to peck the sweet smile on his lips. 

‘No problem. You wanna do that saucey thing you do whilst me and Wayne set up the fire and grill?’

Nodding in agreement, you already begin to analyse the kitchen, ready to take over as if it’s your own. 

‘Wayne, you gotta taste this. Y/N makes a mean ass marinade!’

Wayne hums in appreciation as he takes in the domestic scene before him of his nephew doting over you in the kitchen. 

‘I believe ya if that cake was anything to go off. A natural chef. Think she’ll use this kitchen better than I have the whole time I been livin’ here.’ 

Eddie snorts as he squeezes your hips before meeting Wayne at the garden door.  ‘Alright, need anything sweetheart and we’ll be just outside!’

You’re quick to open the window looking out onto the garden and shout out. 

‘You better tie your hair up and wear gloves, Edward Munson, I’m not having you getting burnt and getting that hideous buzz cut again!’

‘WAYNE!’ Eddie wails, ‘you showed her those pictures?!’  You smirk to yourself as you continue to prepare the food, Wayne’s chortling audible from outside.  

Beside the workshop they built together, the two men chop firewood. 

‘Soo…’ Eddie starts. 

‘So?’ Wayne gruffs in return. 

‘So… do you like her?’ 

The older man stills, placing his saw down carefully. Looking into the hopeful umber eyes that whilst don’t match his own, are still that of his son’s. 

‘Well,’ he croaks, ‘I’d say outta everything you’ve ever done, Edward, she’s the best thing. And if y’don’t put a ring on that girl, then you’d be a downright moron.’ 

Eddie nods, not disagreeing with a single word. 

‘For once, Uncle Wayne, I think I’ll do what I’m told. I know it’s only been a few months but… she’s the one. I just know it.’ 

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar

#enam3ls rockstar eddie #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson × fem reader #eddie munson × reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson X y/n #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson × afab reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[ididntseeurbag]

kitchen fight

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff

warnings: slight mention of stress, mentions of food, no use of y/n (decided to try it, but probably will go back to third person)

in which reader can't sleep and decides to bake a cake, getting some unexpected (but not unwanted) company in the middle of it.

a/n: god it's been a while lmao

it was late at night and you were alone at home, finding it impossibly hard to fall asleep, your mind clouded with thoughts that had been stressing you out for a while. since you knew you weren't going to bed anytime soon, you decided to bake a chocolate cake.

was it 4am? yes. did you care? no.

after you checked if you had the ingredients to make the dessert, you started preparing them all on top of the kitchen counter. as you put down the flour container, you heard the doorbell ring, getting slightly startled by the sudden noise in the middle of the silence that you found yourself in moments before.

you cautiously walked to the door and checked through the peephole, just to be safe. what you saw forced a giggle out of you, since it was heeseung standing in front of the door, taking his mask off and making a funny face. you then opened the door, a smile still on your face from the stunt he had pulled. “what are you doing here at this hour, seung?” you asked, using the nickname that he only allowed you to say. 

“well,” he answered. “you told me an hour ago that you couldn’t sleep, so i decided to come here and give you some company.”

you frowned. “aren’t you sleepy, though?” 

the older looked at her and chuckled. “do you think i’d be here if i was?” 

“i don’t know, heeseung, you sometimes make decisions without processing them beforehand,” you said. 

“trust me,” he concluded. “i don’t have an ounce of tiredness in my body,” that was a lie, but you didn’t have to know. heeseung wanted to spend time with you after a while of not hanging out, so if it meant that he wasn’t sleeping that night, then he would gladly do that.

deciding to trust him, you walked to the kitchen, knowing that the boy would follow you. “i was about to bake a cake, wanna help?”

heeseung pondered the question a bit before answering. “sure, but don’t expect me to be of much aid,” his words made you smile. 

“if i can make sunghoon help me, and you know how much he hates cooking, then you can too,” and having said that, you took out the materials needed to mix everything.

the only thing left was the big bowl to put all the ingredients in at the end, but it was too high up and you couldn’t reach it well, so she stood on your tiptoes and tried to grab it to no avail. seeing that the boy behind you wasn’t doing anything, you turned around and looked at him with a deadpan expression. “aren’t you gonna help or something?” you asked and, after he looked at her with an amused smile for a few seconds, he decided to come to the rescue.

standing behind you, your first thought was that heeseung was going to reach for the bowl himself, but what he did surprised you, to say the least. he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up until she was high enough to get the bowl, which was now secured in your hands thanks to him.he then put you down, and you immediately missed the comforting warmth his touch provided. heeseung tried to look at you, but you only turned to face the other way to not show the slight blush appearing on your cheeks. “happy now?” he chuckled, ruffling your hair in the process.

“hey!” you protested. “i’ve told you many times to not do that,” heeseung only gave you a hum in response, as if saying that he would still do that even if you didn’t like it. to be honest, he liked teasing you until you got angry, he actually thought it was quite funny and cute.

you managed to calm down after the bowl incident and decided to start with the recipe that you already knew by heart, telling heeseung to do something from time to time. when he wasn’t doing anything, he just admired your concentrated face which, surprisingly, also seemed very calm. baking actually took your stress away and set your intrusive thoughts aside, so heeseung tried to take in that state of you before it flew off, since he didn’t get too many chances to see you so relaxed and content.

“here,” you told him. “hold the sifter while i pour the dry ingredients and shake it slightly to sift them.” 

“yes, chef!” he playfully answered, making you laugh. after doing so, you both took turns to mix the batter and then poured it into the mould. finally, you put it in the oven and set a timer to remember to check it so it wouldn’t burn. 

“okay,” you turned around and looked at all the dirty tools and containers. “now we clean.” 

heeseung whined after hearing that. “do we have to?” he asked, dragging out the last word. 

“yes, seung, we do, and if you help me it’ll be much faster and we can chill before taking the cake out.”

heeseung ultimately decided to clean too, taking some dirty spoons and thoroughly scrubbing the food off of them. he then spotted the bowl with the batter remnants and immediately got an idea that you would most likely hate. he thought about doing it or not and he just told himself to take the risk, since your anger didn’t last long when it came to him.

heeseung carefully grabbed the bowl and swiped a bit of the remaining batter with his finger. he then tapped you on the back with his other hand, making you turn around and be met with the boy putting the batter on your cheek. your face immediately turned into a scowl. “lee heeseung, you’re gonna regret doing that!”

heeseung ran out of the kitchen with followed by you, who turned the roles around and had some batter on your finger, ready to be swiped all over heeseung’s face. he ran and ran around only to get back to the kitchen, suddenly getting cornered. “you have nowhere to run now, heeseungie,” you sing-sang, attacking him with the batter a second after.

you both looked at each other and started laughing at yourselves acting like little kids in the middle of the night. after the laughter died down, you grabbed a tissue and went to heeseung, wiping the batter off his face with it. he then took it from you to clean your face. “we’re tied now,” you talked. “let’s not pull any more stunts.”

for a few seconds, there was only silence. until heeseung spoke up, this time not thinking about what he was about to say and do, just like you had stated a while before. “but,” he slowly approached you, making you walk backwards to keep the distance. “what if i don’t want to stop?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but you found yourself speechless. “seung,” you finally managed to blurt out in nothing but a mere whisper, only to hit the counter with your back right after, getting startled and not continuing your sentence.

heeseung had trapped you in, putting his hands on both sides of your frame, resting them on top of the counter. the tension was palpable in the air, feeling like it could be cut with a knife at any moment. you both locked eyes, the atmosphere much serious than it was seconds before. heeseung took a deep breath, just then considering the situation he was in.

he knew it was too late to back off and, even though he had pictured that happening in another, much more planned scenery, he decided to just go along with what he had started. he looked down at his feet, then back at you, sending a fleeting look to your lips, then settling his gaze on your eyes.

“can i?” he questioned softly, praying to the universe that you wouldn’t say no.

it seemed like you didn’t need to think about your actions either at that moment, because you just gave him a nod. even though it was small, that was the only thing that heeseung needed before closing the gap between you that had been growing smaller with every passing second.

you were overwhelmed with joy, but kissed back with the same force as heeseung. feeling your strong response, he smirked into the kiss, only stopping when he had no more oxygen left in his lungs. if it were for him, he would’ve continued to kiss you, but he decided to stop himself before it got too out of hand.

“if this didn’t make it obvious,” he spoke after catching his breath. “i like you.” 

you smiled after hearing his words. “i like you too, heeseung,” she admitted, still giddy from what just happened.

heeseung then smirked at her. “does that mean that i can keep pulling stunts on you?”

“we’ll see about that, seung.”

masterlist

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung imagines #enha imagines #enha #lee heeseung enhypen #enhypen heeseung #heeseung lee #heeseung imagine #kpop #i'm back from the dead guys #university is a nightmare

[thisisnotkitty]

Prompt: Ness and Abby cooking a cake from scratch. Mike walks into the kitchen and sees flour everywhere

i got way too excited about this prompt and kinda went off the rails lmao. here's 2.3k of ness and abby (trying) to bake a cake for mike!

you can also read it on ao3

When Mike steps into the house and hears excited giggling and shrieking coming from the kitchen, his first thought is oh no.

He’d just come back from work and had left Ness to babysit Abby. The waiter had been babysitting her even before Mike and him officially got together. He offered his services when Mike off-handedly mentioned needing someone to look after Abby once at the diner and ever since then, if his schedule allows it and Vanessa is on duty, Ness comes over to the Schmidt household to keep an eye out on the 10 year old while Mike is away.

They got along great, which was definitely a positive in Mike’s book, and Abby always looks so excited when he tells her Ness is going to look after her. She had loved Ness since the first time he’d been their waiter at Sparky’s diner and he drew a smiley face in whip cream on her chocolate chip pancakes.

Ness had sold his babysitting skills as being attributed to his love for kids and claiming that he’s great with them, though Mike would say that’s less due to the fact that he’s responsible around them and more due to the fact that Ness thinks like a kid himself a little too much and is always willing to indulge Abby in whatever her imagination comes up with. He may be a little immature but never in a way that endangers Abby so Mike never really tells him off for it (and definitely not because he finds it a bit endearing).

Though that might have to change when he steps into the kitchen to what can only truly be described as a crime scene.

Pots and pans Mike didn’t even know they had are stacked high on the kitchen table, there’s egg running down the refrigerator door, and some slimy looking dough is dripping from the ceiling.

Amidst the chaos are Ness and Abby, covered in the same flour that’s all over the counters and floor. Ness is holding a bowl while Abby wields a bag of the offending flour from where she had been shaking it into the bowl.

They both stopped what they were doing as they heard Mike walk in and stared at him like deer caught in headlights.

“Heyyy Mik-” started the (supposed) babysitter before being cut off by a puff of flour directly in his face.

It seems that Abby hadn’t realized she’d still been holding the bag of flour at an angle and a rather large clump of it had been steadily making it’s way out of the bag. When it finally tipped over, it landed onto the flour that had already been in the bowl, resulting in a large cloud that went straight into Ness’s face.

“Agh!” he yelled, bringing his hands up to his eyes in an attempt to stop the burning as flour had gotten into them. Except this meant that the flour bowl he had been holding was forgotten about and promptly dropped to the floor; which then startled Abby enough to make her drop the bag of flour she had been holding.

It had only taken 30 (very chaotic) seconds since Mike had stepped through the door to have all three of them covered in flour. (Well, for Ness and Abby to be covered in more flour.)

Mike takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them the kitchen is still in chaos but being a big brother comes with a wealth of patience and resilience to these types of situations.

He gives Abby a quick once over and when he sees she’s okay, just covered in white and seemingly wary of Mike’s reaction, sends a small smile her way, letting her know he wasn’t mad. He ruffles her hair as he makes his way over to Ness who is desperately trying to rub the flour out of his eyes.

“Here, you’re making it worse, let me help,” Mike says, gently taking one of Ness’s hands in his and using the other to brush some of the flour off his partner’s face. He has to stand up on his toes to properly reach but when enough of the flour has been cleared Ness gives him a pout and the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

And Mike is not weak. He’s fought an evil murderer in a bunny suit before. Heck, his workplace is quite literally haunted by the ghosts of dead children. No, Mike is not weak by any means, but something about the brown orbs staring back at him leaves him a little defenseless.

With a sigh, he surges up to press a kiss against his boyfriend's (boyfriend’s!) jaw and it’s definitely because Abby is there and not because that’s as far as he can reach. He gives Ness a small smile before pulling away.

He looks around, assessing the damage to the kitchen before turning back to the two perpetrators who are sullenly looking at the floor as if awaiting to be reprimanded.

“Hey,” he says softly, catching their attention. “Here’s what we’re gonna do-”

“We just wanted to bake you a cake!” Abby cries out, eyes brimming with tears. Ness immediately notices and turns back to Mike with urgency.

“Look, it was my idea, I’m the one in charge so if anything you should be mad at me! And I’ll- I’ll clean up the kitchen so don’t even worry about that, okay? I promise I’ll do anything to make it up to y-”

For the second time that night, Ness is interrupted by a small puff of flour to the face, standing in shock as Mike shakes the flour off from his hands. “Let me finish talking, yeah?”

Abby and Ness immediately quiet down and he hears a small sniffle from his sister.

“I’m not mad,” he begins, choosing his words carefully and keeping his tone soft. “I’m just a bit tired from work, but I appreciate you guys trying to bake a cake for me. That’s very sweet of you. Once we get this cleaned up, we can go buy a cake. How does that sound?”

He receives identical small nods in response, causing him to roll his eyes. “Alright, c’mere”, he says, opening up his arms.

Immediately he has a handful of his two favorite people and, despite being significantly shorter than one of them, they both curl up in his chest as he wraps his arms around them as tight as he can.

“You know, I thought I’d left Abby with a babysitter, not another kid to play with”, he jokes after a few seconds of the hug. Ness pulls away with a pout, while Abby giggles, wiping away her tears. Ness catches this and exaggerates his pout comically, making Abby laugh even harder. She suddenly stops and looks at Mike again.

“You sure you’re not mad?” she asks quietly.

Mike lowers down to her level and puts his hands on her shoulders. “I promise,” he says, looking into her eyes so she can see he’s being truthful.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, she steps back with a small smile and looks around as if properly seeing the mess for the first time.

When Mike catches Ness doing the same, he figures they should get to work.

“Alright, first let’s get you guys cleaned up”

They cram into the small bathroom and Mike helps Abby get the flour out of her hair while Ness cleans up his face. He instructs them to begin sweeping up the floor and tells him that he’ll meet them in the kitchen in a minute. The two troublemakers walk off, chattering about what they can do better the next time they bake a cake. (Mike makes a note to worry about that later.)

He takes a minute to collect himself and to prepare for the chaos ahead, quickly splashing some water on his face before making his way back to the kitchen. At least they didn’t burn down the house, he thinks as he steps through the door frame just in time to hear-

“Do you smell something burning?” from Abby.

She quickly looks over to Ness, who had turned to her as well, and they seemingly remember something at the same time. Immediately dropping what they were doing, they scramble towards the oven. Ness hurriedly puts on the oven mitt and, once he makes sure Abby is out of the way, opens the oven door.

There’s not a lot of smoke, luckily. Mike makes his way over to make some room on the stove and when Ness sets it down, the cake doesn’t seem to be too burnt. This seems to greatly excite the amateur bakers, meanwhile Mike wonders how Ness, as a seemingly competent adult, forgot there was a whole cake in the oven and-

“Why were you guys making two cakes?”

He turns to face them but catches a glimpse of the kitchen which still looks like a hot mess. Right, he thinks, priorities. “Actually, let’s clean up first and then you can tell me all about what you guys did while I was gone.”

As they clean, they explain that the first one had been a trial run, but they knew Mike would be home soon so they figured they might as well get started on the second one. He listens as Abby tells him something about coffee being a … soup? (“It’s just a theory,” Ness chimes in and yeah that makes more sense.)

Between the three of them, they quickly leave the kitchen as good as it can be. There’s still a bit of dough on the ceiling - how did that even get there? - but it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking up. Mike sends Abby to get changed and is surprised when Ness grabs his hand as soon as she’s gone.

There’s a childish grin on his face as he leads Mike to the dining table and it’s so bright Mike almost feels like he should squint a little.

Ness dramatically pulls out a chair and excitedly gestures for Mike to “sit, sit!” and who is Mike to deny him? He tries his best to look exasperated but he knows Ness can see the smile tugging at his lips.

He feels a kiss pressed to his forehead and look’s into his boyfriend’s (boyfriend’s!) sparkling eyes and lets the smile take over his features.

“Wait right here!” says Ness, and he takes off into the kitchen again. Mike obediently waits like a good boyfriend (boyfriend!) and listens curiously as Ness stumbles around the kitchen.

They haven’t been dating for very long, but the thought of Ness in his kitchen - in his home - baking a cake with his little sister as they wait for Mike to get home feels so domestic, it leaves a sense of longing in his heart for a dream he can see so clearly.

He comes back to himself just as Ness sets down a plate with … something on it in front of him. Abby comes back at that time too and excitedly makes her way over.

“Is Mike trying the cake?”

Oh, that’s what it’s supposed to be. Ness seems to be as bad with a knife as he is at baking because the cake slice on Mike’s plate is so misshapen that it can hardly even be called a “slice”. It’s burnt at the top, a bit more than he had originally thought it was, but the middle seems almost gooey. (Mike really hopes that’s by design.)

All in all, it looks pretty unappetizing. Mike grabs the spoon that Ness is offering to him and is prepared to make some excuse of having real food first when he looks up to a pair of matching puppy dog eyes.

Again, Mike is not weak, but it’d be downright cruel to not at least take a bite.

He digs his spoon in, making sure to get a bit of everything as if the burnt top will counteract the under cooked middle. He takes a bite and-

First off all, the burnt parts do not counteract the under cooked ones, he can say that much. Now there’s just two distinct textures in his mouth that are not at all pleasant. There’s also so much burnt that it really overpowers any other flavor there could’ve been, but if he focuses really hard Mike’s pretty sure he can taste a hint of … carrot? He forces himself to chew and is desperately trying to think of anything nice he can say about the cake when he makes the mistake of looking up.

Ness is grinning from ear to ear, although that’s pretty much his natural expression. He’s bouncing on his feet a bit, waiting in anticipation.

Then there’s Abby. His little sister, who he loves so dearly, is also bouncing on her feet, looking incredibly proud of her monstrous creation. Even though they’ve been healing slowly but surely, their lives have been hard. Abby is a resilient kid but Mike always wishes he could do more for her, be a little less rough around the edges.

His eyes drift back to Ness who is nearly a mirror image of Abby despite being a foot taller and over twice her age and he’s so grateful to have him around in that moment. He knows he gives Ness a hard time about being like a child but he knows when to be a responsible adult and Mike knows he’d never put Abby in any real danger.

He looks at his sister again and gives her a genuine smile as he swallows the cake and wow, he had been so lost in his thoughts he’d nearly forgotten what the creation tasted like.

Still, his next words are genuine and worth it to see the megawatt smiles grow.

“I think I’d enjoy anything made by you two”

Abby and Ness rejoice in excitement, whopping and clapping. Ness even picks Abby up, spinning her around. Mike takes another bite and something about the giggling and shrieking in the background makes it taste even better.

please send me more prompts or headcanons i am literally begging for any content of these two

#can you tell i have so much brainrot #they've literally been on my mind since i woke up this morning #securitywaiter #mike x ness #mike schmidt #ness the waiter #fnaf ness #abby schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #kitty tries to write; keyword tries

[etherealyoungk]

HII pls elaborate ur thoughts on svt and christmas dates since its november now and i have an unhealthy obsession with christmas LMAO (ignore if u got nothing babes its alr hehe)

naya hello lovely! here you go. these are more like christmas svt thoughts, hope you like them!

seventeen and christmas thoughts

seungcheol: lots and lots of mornings cuddles because it's cold and he'll just crush you against him as he nuzzles in the face in the crook of your neck. won't let you go even though your alarm has rung and been snoozed 3 times already. when you finally get out of his arms he is so sulky and pouty as he goes on about how cold he is now because all the warmth is gone now that you were gone.

jeonghan: ice skating with jeonghan who's surprisingly good for someone who's never gone ice skating before (def went and practiced before to impress you) and you're just holding onto him for dear life as you try not to fall. he'll take your hands and gently guide you on the ice and tell you how good you were doing. will get you something warm afterwards.

joshua: making hot chocolate with joshua on a cold winter night while he sings to you softly and will tell you cute christmas stories from his childhood.

junhui: the cold got you craving something hot and spicy and ramen seemed like the best fix. so that's how you and jun were now in the kitchen making ramen, jun watching over your shoulder until he wraps his arms aorund your waist pulling you closer to him for warmth.

hoshi: dragging hoshi out in the snow to make a snowman only for him to start making a tiger in snow...to accompany the snowman. will turn into an impromptu snow ball fight until ya'll are laughing on the floor.

wonwoo: to say your hands were cold was an understatement because they were freezing and you thought they were gonna fall off. you're desperately trying to warm your hands as you walk along the street with wonwoo to get some coffee in the morning. he notices and takes your hand in his, and puts in in his jacket coat. you lean into his touch and warmth and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

woozi: going out to the christmas market with woozi and everything you look at he's like "do you wanna this". but when you don't end up buying anything, he'll surprise you with one of the things he noticed you lingering and looking at longer and you're just surprised at how he noticed that you wanted that.

minghao: getting matching christmas sweaters with hao would be so funny. he'd hate the idea at first but will indulge because of you and you dragged him to the store and got some of the lamest but funniest matching sweaters. would say it was 'okay' but he did like the idea and he loved the smile on your face even more.

mingyu: making a christmas cake with mingyu with matching aprons and all and he's just having so much fun and telling you to relax while you're reading the recipe a dozen times to make sure you don't mess up. it's only when the cake is fully baked and you taste a tiny bit that you realize how much rum mingyu actually put in the cake and he just shrugs his shoulders and will feed you more telling you it's christmas as he kisses your cheeks.

dokyeom: seeing the first snow with dokyeom as you're walking back home, hand in hand and he's looking at you with the brightest smile because you're going on about how you saw the first snow with him.

seungkwan: decorating the christmas tree with seungkwan and you yall put on some christmas tunes and seungkwan is softly singing along in his angelic voice and you're just smiling as you look at him. later when it's time to put the lights on the tree, you just wrap a few lights on yourself while seungkwan is just looking at you like "what are you dong?", and you burst into a fit of laughter.

vernon: crocheting a scarf for vernon to wear since it was getting colder and colder and he was always out for his schedules. he loved it so much and would wear it every day and it was like a little token of you he could keep with him always if he ever missed you.

dino: you and dino decide to gift each other something but then one day you both see each other shopping for the other's gift 😭so it just then turns into a "buy me this" or "buy me that" and the whole surprise element is gone. but dino will still go out of his way and get you something extra because he really did want to surprise you.

#skye's anons #skye's writing #☁️'s anon's #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen soft hours #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt soft hours #svt scenarios #svt drabbles #svt x reader #svt x y/n #scoups imagines #scoups fluff #jeonghan fluff #joshua fluff #jun fluff #hoshi fluff #hoshi imagines #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #svt woozi imagines #woozi fluff #minghao imagines #minghao fluff #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu fluff #dokyeom fluff

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii dear 💗 i was wondering if you could write a birthday blurb with tangerine or pietro (i think you already have one with tangerine? but id love another one lol) my bday is next wednesday (22nd) and just wanted to see a little fluff and cuteness lmao

thank you sm🫶

hii honey!! happy happy birthday, hope you have lovely day💓!! I did pietro, so then you can have both😭 thank your for requesting, hope you like it💌 link for tan bday fic

couldn’t decide if I should post it a few days earlier or today, but waited for today so it’ll feel special

BIRTHDAY

pietro maximoff x female reader

word count. 542

Pietro is always the type of guy to make a fuss about an occasion, to make a big deal over a special event. That was no different when it came to you. When your birthday rolled around, he'd spent the upcoming weeks brainstorming ideas and activities to celebrate your big day, picking out things you would like.

He'd get into your head from afar, planning a schedule late at night on his sofa, thinking of ways to make you feel admired, thinking of ways he knows you'd appreciate. Often, he'd come up empty, not because he didn't know you, but because thinking and planning isn't something that comes easy to him. He's more of a do-first, think-later guy.

With your birthday soon approaching, he felt scrambled trying to muster a plan, so instead, he decided to call his sister, asking for her input. He called her one afternoon while she was baking with her boys, phone wedged between shoulder and ear as she tried to separate the soon-to-be chocolate fight between her kids. She briefly gave him a few ideas, nudging him in the right direction - steering him away from the water park idea he had.

After the call, he was still clueless with the minimal help he got from his preoccupied sister. He thought back to the phone call, thinking about baked goods, and that's when he had the idea to bake for you. He knew you'd appreciate something homemade - something made with love, even though the outcome was likely to be horrific. 

The day before your birthday came around, which is when Pietro chose to get the bakes done. He spent the day baking cakes to the youtube tutorial that played on in the background, following the instructions to make the three-tiered heart cake. When it cooled, Pietro iced it -poorly- in colours he knew you'd like: light pinks and pale blues before decorating it with an abundance of sprinkles and even more piping.

Afterwards, he packed it in a box, tying a ribbon around it and wedging a handwritten Sokiovian note into the knot. He put it aside and began to ice the massive cookie he had baked earlier - piping squiggles around the edge and writing out a funny and juvenile word in the middle that he couldn't stop himself from.

Your special day came around, and in the morning, when he first awoke, Pietro sent you a paragraph of things he loves about you - ways he appreciates and cherishes you. He finished the text by telling you he'd be over soon with breakfast and gifts.

He got ready as fast as possible, wanting to spend more time with you on your special day, so he dressed himself in whatever loungewear he had hanging about - whatever was closest to him. He packed his overnight bag, throwing in an outfit for dinner tonight and something to sleep in. He then loaded his car, filling it with gifts, balloons, and surprises, carefully placing your cakes in the passenger seat. 

On the way to you, he picked up breakfast and coffee to fuel and prep you for the day ahead, wanting to make the most of your birthday - to make it as special as he could.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

the cakes I had in mind:

#request #HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro x reader #birthday fic

[average-egirl]

Today's my b day! So here's some little birthday hcs. I wrote this at 4am so sorry if the grammar is bad lmao.

Birthday headcannons

Tw: mention of sex in Asmos and levis, mention of blood in bps, nothing else.

Characters: Jane the killer, Nina the killer, Bloody painter, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Vincent Sinclair, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus.

Jane the killer

First of all she's a very busy woman but she would never in a million years forget your birthday.

She luvs you too much :)

She would get you a dress/shoes/some kind of accessory.

Probably something leaning towards the gothic style.

Would get you your favorite kind of cake and sit in your room while you too eat it.

Slightly more affectionate on this day.

Nina the killer

Of course she wouldn't forget your birthday!

You silly silly goose.

She would get you some plushies.

By the time she gave them to you she had already given them a name and social security number.

Would get the other creeps to help throw a surprise party for you. :))

She's already very affectionate but it's like 5x as bad on your b-day.

Bloody painter

Helen would definitely remember your birthday.

Your the best thing to ever happen to him after all.

He would make a painting of you and give it to you as a gift.

It may or may not be made out of your ex's blood.

I hc that he can bake so he would make you some cupcakes. <3

Normally he's not super affectionate but today he's a little more clingy.

Michael Myers

This man would not remember your birthday 💀

He wouldn't get you a present either.

Okay okay he MIGHT throw some pads at you. Tough luck if you don't use them.

Ain't no way in hell he's gonna so much as look in your direction. 🥲

Overall 0/10

Jason Voorhees

Obviously bby boy would NOT forget.

He's way too sweet.

Would get you some flowers along with random things he took from victims.

And probably a condom he thought was chocolate.

He can't bake :( BUT no worries because pam can :)

He's just as affectionate as any other day.

Vincent Sinclair

Just like everyone else on this list he wouldn't forget.

You lil cutie. <3

He would make a little wax figure of you as a gift.

He might also draw some lewd pictures of you and him.

With the help of his brothers you would get a barely edible cake, but it's the thought that counts.

Normally he's not very affectionate, and today's no different.

Mammon

He probably forgot until the day before honestly.

Once he remembers tho he would immediately run to get everything needed.

He would get you some very expensive jewelry.

Did he go into even more debt to get it? Yes. Does he care? No, not really.

He and his brothers through you an epic birthday party.

Very affectionate. Like always.

Leviathan

He wouldn't remember until like three days before your birthday.

He only remembers because of his brothers tho.

He got you an awesome anime figurine and some video games.

+ He probably got jealous seeing you hang with his brothers so- BIRTHDAY SEX.

Again, he and his brothers through you an epic birthday party.

Just as affectionate as any other day.

Asmodeus

He wouldn't forget, he never forgets.

TRUST ME HE NEVER FOR-

Your present is...Sex.. tbh you should know that tho.

What do you mean you want a real gift? He is the gift.

Aaand once again, He and his brothers through you an epic birthday party.

He's always incredibly affectionate. and hot.

#its my birthday #writing #headcannons #creepypasta #slashers #Obey me #Jane the killer x reader #Nina the killer #Bloody painter x reader #Michael Myers x reader #Jason Voorhees x reader #Vincent Sinclair x reader #Mammon x reader #Leviathan x reader #Asmodeus x reader