#bubbly parfait

[lord-dusk]

Casey was bit self-conscious about exposing her baby-tummy at the pool, but quickly learned she's the hottest model celebrity there is ~ <3

#pregnant #monster girl #bubbly parfait #casey #bunny girl #webcomic

[crystalsandbubbletea]

Made y'all a parfait

(I used chocolate eggs, mini chocolate rabbits, a Hershey's kiss, two strawberries, and Greek yogurt)

#crystalsandbubbletea #crystals ish #crystal ish #bubble tea ish #bubble ish #tea ish #rian ish #parfait

[dawn-moths]

"Birthday Wishes"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(@fanfictionsworld requested: spending your birthday with Undertaker from my Cause to Start a Vendetta AU.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff with some smut at the end, oral sex (reader receiving), use of the word “Daddy”, reader is called “princess, baby, sweetheart”.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You’d been counting down the days for weeks now, your birthday circled on the calendar with a big pink glitter gel pen heart several times over, every day crossed off that crawled closer to the day— your day— making you more and more excited.

Because, as you’d quickly grown accustomed to being spoiled by Undertaker— special occasion or otherwise— your birthday was no exception to being showered with all the love and luxury he had at his disposal.

“Morning, princess…” he cooed, gently smoothing down some of your sleep-tousled hair with a big, cool palm, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you blinked open beary eyes, wrapped in his arms and the many layers of blankets that twisted and tangled about your bodies sprawled across the bed.

“Morning, Daddy…” you replied, voice soft and delicate as the lingering dredges of slumber clung to your tone, an angelic little grin curving up on your sweet lips as you nuzzled closer into Undertaker’s chest, seeking out his elusive warmth.

For a moment, nearly forgetting what today was as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your figure filling with the heavy weight of sleep once more, your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing began to turn slow and shallow. Undertaker rubbed a hand up and down your back, stirring you back to the waking world and smiling to himself as you let out a big yawn, nose scrunching adorably with the expression.

“If you want to go back to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your nose and causing a fragile giggle to bubble up in your chest, “I won’t stop you. But that would certainly be a shame when we have so many fun things on our to-do list today.”

That was enough to entice you, your mind suddenly much more alert than before, and you snaked your arms up to gently rest over his shoulders. “Just a few more minutes…” you said, pressing yourself even closer to him, wishing you could bask in the safety of his touch forever. “Then I promise I’ll get up.”

A smooth, sonorous chuckle vibrated through his bones, the sound warming you from the inside out like hot milk and honey. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, allowing himself to melt back to a more relaxed state as well. “Just a few more minutes…”

As the sun crept further through the cracks of the curtains, bright beams painting the ornate master bedroom with thin strokes of gold, stirring up the wispy clouds of dust motes swirling through the air, Undertaker coaxed you into finally rising, draping one of his big, fluffy black robes over your shoulders when you became burdened with a chill, the mansion’s usual temperature kept low upon his preference.

Once your feet were dressed in your favorite pair of fluffy socks and even fluffier slippers, you took Undertaker’s hand and let him guide you down the wide halls to the curving staircase, heading towards the kitchen where you could already smell your special birthday breakfast.

The long dining table was decorated to the nines with all kinds of balloon bouquets and bundles of black and white roses overflowing from crystal vases. Spelled out in gold glitter confetti at one end of the display was HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS punctuated by a big heart. At the other was a full selection of all your breakfast favorites— souffle pancakes piled high with bananas and melty chocolate chips, strawberry french toasts drizzled with sticky maple syrup and sprinkled with a frosty snowfall of powdered sugar, fluffy scrambled eggs and yogurt parfaits and fruit arranged by color.

You sucked in a gasp of delight, hands clasped before your chest as you eagerly surveyed the scene, looking up at your Daddy like he’d outdone himself.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, extending a hand towards the chair at the head of the table— his usual chair, the master’s chair, the dining room’s throne— and pulling it out for you to sit in, taking the seat adjacent to it to join you in the morning’s sugary culinary experience.

Over the meal— you choosing a bit of everything to pile onto your plate in an orderly array, because why should you have to choose just one when today you could have whatever your little heart desired— you and Undertaker began to discuss the day’s itinerary.

There was a packed schedule planned indeed— a shopping outing at all your most beloved designer stores, afternoon tea at the Ritz, exploring some of the artsy nooks and crannies of the city and dropping into your favorite bookstore all before hopping on the Aurora Society’s private jet and taking the hour and a half flight to your favorite five star restaurant in Paris, sure to end the evening by enjoying your usual penthouse suit of the expensive hotel that gave the best view among any of the establishments around.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Undertaker slyly prompted just as you were about to head upstairs to get changed and ready for the events ahead, thoughts already spinning trying to decide what you wanted to wear. You stopped and considered him with an adorably cute expression for a moment until he pulled a big gift bag from under the table where he’d hidden it from you, the glossy black packaging stuffed with glittering silver tissue paper and two perfect satin ribbons serving as the handles. “You know,” he shrugged as he slid it towards you on the table, drinking in your awe, never growing tired of how easily you seemed to be innocently surprised sometimes, “just in case you felt like going out in something new.”

Carefully, as if the wrapping itself was just as valuable as the gift, you plucked the sparkling tissue paper away to uncover the pristinely wrapped box beneath, a marbling of glossy and matte black swirling over the decorative paper like ink dropped into water. The moment the first half of your favorite clothing brand’s name was visible to you, you shot him a glance, as if to say, “you shouldn’t have” despite believing down to your very core that you deserved every expensive, extravagant thing that Undertaker placed in your cute little lap.

Once you lifted the garment from where it had been perfectly folded within its box, holding it up to your body as if to sample how it would look before trying it on, you heard Undertaker sigh, a dreamy, lilting hum tailing off the end of it. “Exquisite…” he remarked, and you now held the dress out from your body, studying the intricate craftsmanship that had been hand stitched into the garment as you smiled to yourself, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really is.”

But then Undertaker was by your side, having moved soundlessly, his even stride gliding across the short distance to meet you. “I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he murmured, big hands settling on your hips. “Now, why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready.”

You turned your face up to his, met his lips when he was close enough for a kiss, and muttered out a sweet little, “Thank you, Daddy,” before following his instruction and heading for the staircase.

He watched you go, saw the skip in your step as you ventured off, only returning to clearing the table once you disappeared down the long second story hallway and out of his view. He was going to look forward to taking that dress off of you later, unwrapping you like his own special gift by the time night draped itself over the sky.

***

The afternoon had been like a dream, you and your lover floating from one location to the next to try on extravagant clothing and sample imported teas, the two of you practically waltzing through the downtown streets where you longed to see what new installments the local London artists put up around the city before you’d lost track of time perusing your favorite bookstore, a good two hours going by without you even noticing as you strategically searched for the next story to get yourself hooked on.

But as the sky began to fade from blue to gold, it signaled that dinner was soon approaching, which meant you two had a plane to catch if you wanted to arrive to your reservation on time.

The hostess greeted you two with a friendly smile, addressing you both by name, the entire restaurant staff made familiar with London’s most notorious boss and the beautiful girl who was always on his arm, Undertaker making short, lighthearted conversation with the manager in French while they crossed paths on the walk to your usual table, the man chuckling at something your Daddy had said, forever able to charm anyone if he set his mind to it, it seemed.

As you both enjoyed the delicacies of the six course meal, you continued to talk and laugh, never running out of topics to converse about, though tonight you were most excited to tell him all about the book you’d recently finished and your expectations for the new one you’d chosen on your earlier excursion, having heard nothing but praise for the acclaimed tale.

Once the horizon had lost its lilac blush and sunk deep into the velvet navy of nightfall though, you knew you were just about to enter into yet another phase of your luxurious birthday festivities.

***

You could smell the roses from down the hall before the doors to your hotel suite in Paris even opened. The entirety of the three connected rooms were decked from floor to ceiling in at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of florals, vibrant reds and sultry blacks, flawless creams and even a dash of lovely soft pinks.

You could’ve cried at how gorgeous it all was, blinking the mist from your eyes as you spun in slow circles about the place, taking it all in. Undertaker’s hands found your shoulders to steady you, stopping your awestruck turns to face the beautiful birthday cake on the hotel room’s center table, the special dessert shaped like a heart and iced in a rainbow of your favorite colors, several candles placed strategically on the top and already lit, small flames glowing and beckoning you over to make a wish.

But what could you possibly wish for when you already had everything you’d ever want or need— a gorgeous man who loved you, showering you in every stunning thing life had to offer, as simple as the snap of his fingers or a wave of his hand— besides to continue living this blessed life that had found its way to you, through trial and tribulation?

Taking a few steps forward towards the cake, you choked out through a shaky breath, “Oh my god…” unable to hold back your tears any longer, a few sparkling drops running down your cheeks, glittering like gold as they caught the amber of the flickering firelight. You looked back at Undertaker, who was not far behind you, and wondered if you’d ever be able to convey how much this all meant to you. It almost seemed unfair. He’d always be able to do more for you than you would for him, though he never seemed to mind.

For him, just having you— his sweet, precious baby girl to dote on and adore as much as he pleased— was far more than enough. All you had to do was exist. All you had to do was be his.

“Well, go on,” he lightly urged, a calm smile playing at the corner of his lips as he gestured towards the center table. “The candles won’t blow themselves out, now will they?”

You smiled, big and bright, and let out a sound that could only be described as pure joy. Undertaker was addicted to that sound, the way it rang out like the delicate jingle of bells, the way it warmed him like the sun’s rays after so much rain. It made everything he’d ever done, good, bad, or somewhere in between, all worth it. Just to see you smile at him like that, just to hear you laugh. Just to know it was him who’d been the orchestrator of such emotions.

And as you let out a strong gust of a breath, turning each melting birthday candle from flame to smoke, you realized you did have one wish you wanted to make afterall.

Let things be like this forever, you thought to yourself, like a silent prayer. Let us stay as in love for the rest of our lives as we are right now, in this moment.

Undertaker cut the cake, a piece for you and a piece for him, and then the two of you sat by the counter outlooking the spotless floor to ceiling windows that gave way to the sprawling view of the City of Light, the night sky clear and sparkling with little bursts of silver stars overhead.

You talked and joked and laughed while you both enjoyed your dessert, your chair pressed right next to his, close enough that you could lean your head over to rest against the side of his shoulder while his arm slung across your back, hugging you closer to him, his most cherished treasure.

“You know…” you began, gazing dreamily out the window at the romantic scene the city offered. Then, casting him a glance from where you were nestled into his side, you said, “I think this might really be the best birthday ever.”

Something in his eyes softened a shade then, and in response Undertaker lightly took your chin between his lithe fingers, tilting your mouth just ever so slightly upwards so he could lean down to meet it. You hadn’t expected the kiss, languid and savoring at first as you parted your lips to let him in, both of you tasting like your favorite flavor of cake, soon turning more hungry, having you straddling his lap and blinded by the blissful haze that was slowly filling you from the inside out.

When he finally broke away, leaned back just far enough to look you in the eyes, gently wiping the cool pad of his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip, glossy from your mingled saliva, a weak attempt to clean you up a bit, he said, “I guess that means I’ll have to go above and beyond next year,” and you laughed and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you felt yourself relax over him.

“No, but really…” you murmured. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything. Always.”

All you got as a warning for what happened next was a low, lilting chuckle humming in his chest before he was hoisting you up, big hands splayed against the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you elsewhere in the suite.

“Where are we going?” you playfully asked, though you already had a pretty good idea.

“There’s still a few hours until midnight,” he remarked, a new kind of vigor in his voice and stride. He set you down on the edge of the king-sized bed, beginning to shrug off his jacket and tug his belt buckle free of its loops as he added, “Which means your birthday’s not over yet, princess.”

The smirk that spread across his face then made that fluttering creature resting in your lower belly roll over inside of you, beginning to wake, soon asking to be satisfied like a dog scratching at the door begging for treats, relentless until it was given its desired reward. It wasn’t long before Undertaker was hooking his grip under your thighs again, pulling you further down the bed where he then knelt at the foot of it.

You gave him an uncertain and slightly suspicious look as he flicked his emerald gaze up to meet yours. Usually, he liked to undress you, strip you down piece by piece before ridding himself of his own clothing, admiring every inch of your bare body like it was the most masterful work of art. Then he’d pin you down, his prized butterfly, and get to work at soaking both your bodies with pleasure before wringing them dry, squeezing you for every last lustful drop he could.

But tonight— on your night— he figured he’d do things a little differently. Give you one last birthday surprise before the clock struck twelve.

“Just relax, sweetheart…” he cooed, carefully bunching your new dress up around your waist, exposing the expensive lace clinging to the most delicate parts of you and drinking in the sight like it rivaled even that of the one just beyond the windows. “Let Daddy make you feel good…”

Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the soft raise of your lower belly, and you felt your tight little hole futter and your sensitive bud pulse as he slowly removed your panties, your already damp core causing them to cling to you a moment before the cool air sighed against your damp slit.

Undertaker ran a long finger through your dewy folds, making your next breath catch as he slipped it inside of you to gather more of your slick before rubbing it against your puffy clit, already swollen with arousal, pulling one of those adorable whines from your throat as you lay one arm over your eyes, the other sprawled out across the bed, little fingers twisting into the sheets, trying to grab hold of anything while you still had the chance.

“That’s it, baby…” he praised, helping to spread you wider for him, a leg thrown over one of his broad shoulders as he continued to tease you. His next words sent a puff of his warm breath against your cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, exhaling a shuddering sigh. He whispered, “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” and when he licked a flat-tongued stripe up your pussy, you let out a soft, broken whine, back already beginning to arch a little at the sinfully sweet feel of him.

Undertaker was skilled at a lot of things— running a business, making money, getting away with murder— but the thing you thought he was best at, above all else, was pleasuring you.

It was effortless, the way he knew exactly what to do that made you body bend to his command, melting your mind until all you knew was the press of his hips or the wet warmth of his mouth, the indents of his teeth, his fingerprints, all of it branded into you so no matter where you looked on your own body there would be a reminder of him, like a promise, a gift.

You were clenching the silky sheets in your trembling fist as he speared his tongue into you, his sharp nose nudging against your clit every time and forcing moan after delicious, high-pitched moan out of you like that was the only sound you’d ever known how to make. If he thought your laugh was syrupy sweet, then your moans were something else entirely, something far more addicting or satisfying than sticky, sickly sweet sugar. More like a drug to him, making him addicted in a way that, once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop. Not until you had nothing left to give, his pursuit at seeing just how far or how long he could make you go merciless time and time again.

“P-please—” you sobbed, the new veil of tears that had welled in your eyes causing your lashes to clump and spike together with every fluttering roll of your eyes back into your head. His pace was voracious, wanting to devour you down to your very core. You could barely get half a broken plea out before it was interrupted by a surrendering mewl or a soundless gasp, mouth hung open in ecstasy before he prepared to shatter you. “Please— I’m gonna—”

But before you could even speak the last word of your sentence, let alone remember it, Undertaker had you coming undone, unraveling you like a frayed thread on a silk scarf, pulling you apart until there was nothing left but a tangle of string he could then rearrange into any shape he pleased.

Your chest rose and fell with short, shallow, panting breaths, rigid form relaxing back into the mattress, body gone all pliable and boneless once the remaining tension melted away. Meanwhile, Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of your stained thighs, palms gently petting you as you drifted down from the high and back into the garden of Eden he’d planted, nurtured, and grown just for you.

Normally, he’d barely give you enough time to recover before commencing round two, but, as he seemed to be a little more patient with you on this most special of days, he allowed your heart to slow to a steady rhythm and your breathing to smooth out into even inhales and exhales before shifting over you, darting out his tongue to lick at his own lips to catch one last obscene taste of you before wiping away your glistening arousal from the bottom half of his pale face with the back of his hand.

As he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, the vibrant green of them almost glowing through the dim dark of the bedroom, he said, as if only to himself, “Just look at you… So gorgeous… My beautiful girl…” as he helped free you the rest of the way from your pretty birthday dress, mindfully folding it and placing it on the nearest bedside drawer so it didn’t get ruined.

Because he did intend to ruin you.

He intended to ruin you in all the right ways.

As he shed his own clothing like a black-skinned snake, all those silvery scars wrapped around alabaster flesh now on full display, you reached out for him, wanting, craving, needing to feel the press of his body back on yours before the ebbing pleasure made you drift off to dreamland. Though, with Undertaker, reality could often feel like a dream, so perfect your conscious mind almost struggled to comprehend it was real at times.

But, as he began to lean back over you, your fingers interlocked as he pressed your hands down into the comforter on either side of your head, both your legs thrown over his shoulders to have you splayed wide and vulnerable for him, just the way he liked you, one thing was for certain. Undertaker had been ahead of himself when he’d said he’d have to find a way to outdo your birthday next year. After tonight, you had no idea how things could get any better than this.

***

(Hello and thank you so much to @fanfictionsworld for your request! I hope I did it justice and thank you for being so patient with me while you waited for it. I know you’ve been following me for quite some time and I always recognize you when I see you pop up in my notifs, so it was truly a pleasure getting to write for you <3

Also want to give a big thank you to everyone else for reading as well! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

#kodis requests #undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker #undertaker x reader #black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n #black butler smut #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n

[apoptoses]

It’s rare that he gets to see Daniel’s first meal of the day. He’s picked through his memories, he knows that on the Night Island he tends to wake in the afternoon, stumble down to the kitchen to graze. Daniel takes advantage of the ability to call their private chefs in to make him bacon, eggs. Food that sits heavy on his stomach so that he has to wander back to bed to sleep off the rest of the day. After that it doesn’t much matter, Daniel thinks. He’ll get Armand’s blood and that’s enough to hold him over. A cycle of snacking and blood sharing that repeats and repeats and repeats.

“LIsten, we need to make a pact,” Daniel mumbles between bites. “No more west-bound long haul flights. At least not without a couple days between each layover.”

Armand frowns. “Was it so burdensome to fly without me beside you?” 

It had been odd, departing in the evening in the cargo hold, trapped within the box that contained his coffin. Moving backwards through time. To leave in the dark but arrive in the middle of the morning- it creates a certain kind of inertia, he finds. 

Perhaps it’s what they mean when they say ‘jet lagged’. All of that effort to only be in a place for a week and then they’ll be moving on. Tickets to Thailand, to Nepal, to Greece. They wait in Daniel’s bag. More travel, pre-planned, predestined. A time limit on every stop. Armand wonders how exhausted they’ll both be by the end. 

Daniel spears a vegetable on his fork. He shrugs. “I don’t like it. Being without you.”

Without the blood.

This too, Armand recognizes from his youth. The ravenous fits that come between the tastes of blood. He remembers clearly being sixteen and not eating for days after the drinks his master had given him, and then falling upon the table and out eating all of the other boys.

There’s hollows beneath Daniel’s eyes. A sharpness to his cheekbones that hadn’t been there when they’d met, and perhaps that’s a sign of the march of time- he is, after all, creeping up on thirty now; no longer the wide eyed boy Armand had met but a man in his own right. But then-

His spoon clacks against the glass parfait cup. Daniel digs in straight to the bottom where the ice cream is, bypassing the fruit and whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Somewhere near his lap comes the sound of his insides churning. The wet sound of his stomach straining to accommodate that which he hasn’t consumed in- days? Weeks, perhaps. Armand can’t keep track.

He should be doing better than this. He ought to be taking better care of him but Daniel makes it so hard. The world makes it hard, with how anything and everything can catch his fascination. Like right now.

Something bubbles beneath the surface of him. A desire he can’t quite put a name to, a thread he’ll have to pull at until Daniel unwinds and he understands what it is that he seeks. Some unfinished business from the Copley, perhaps. The meal wherein he’d fed Daniel a bit of everything, only to depart before he could see the effect it had upon him.

There’s so much more he understands about Daniel now. And still so much to find out. He’ll never know him intimately enough.

Armand rests his chin on his hand. He takes in the way Daniel’s tongue sticks out the slightest bit when the spoon nears his mouth, the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows. Daniel licks an errant blob of whipped cream from his upper lip and it leaves his mouth glossy with his saliva.

[AO3]

#hahaha this took forever fuck #i didn't expect feeding kink to turn into 14k #still didn't do the bonus scene maybe i will if there's enough interest #armand/daniel #devil's minion #vampire chronicles #vc fic #apoptoses fic

[foodshowxyz]

Decadent Biscuit Crumb Kadayıf Parfait with Coffee Cream and Cherry Sauce

Yields: 4-6 parfaits Prep Time: 30 minutes (plus chilling time) Cook Time: 20-25 minutes

Ingredients

Biscuit Crumb Layer

1 cup biscuit crumbs (digestives, graham crackers, or your favorite kind)

3 tablespoons melted butter

Coffee Pastry Cream

2 cups milk (whole or 2% for richness)

1/2 cup granulated sugar

4 large egg yolks

1/4 cup cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons strong brewed coffee (or 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder)

Kadayıf

4 oz package kadayıf (shredded phyllo)

1/4 cup melted butter

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

Cherry Sauce

1 cup pitted cherries (fresh or frozen)

1/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Assembly

Vanilla Ice Cream

Instructions

1. Biscuit Crumbs

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).

Combine biscuit crumbs and melted butter. Press into the bottom of your parfait glasses or serving dishes.

2. Coffee Pastry Cream

In a saucepan, whisk together milk, sugar, egg yolks, cornstarch, and salt.

Heat over medium, whisking constantly, until thickened and bubbly (about 5-8 minutes).

Remove from heat, stir in butter, vanilla, and brewed coffee/espresso powder.

Pour over biscuit crumb layer in glasses. Chill until set (at least 2 hours).

3. Kadayıf

While pastry cream chills, toss kadayıf with melted butter and sugar.

Spread in a single layer on a baking sheet.

Bake until golden brown and crispy (15-20 minutes). Cool completely.

4. Cherry Sauce

Combine cherries, sugar, and water in a saucepan.

Bring to a simmer, mashing cherries slightly. Cook for 5 minutes, or until sauce thickens.

Stir in lemon juice. Let cool.

5. Assembly

Top chilled coffee pastry cream with crumbled kadayıf.

Add a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Drizzle with the cherry sauce. Enjoy immediately!

Tips

Make it ahead: Prepare the components up to a day in advance. Assemble just before serving.

Substitutions: Swap biscuits for shortbread or other cookies. Use your favorite ice cream flavor.

Garnish: Add fresh cherries, a sprinkle of cocoa, or a mint sprig!

#food #food blogs #delicious #recipe #food pics #homemade #foodshow #dessert #cake #breakfast

[callmewrinkles3]

Homemade food.

Summary: As the 2022 season begins to draw to a close, Em spends an afternoon trying to look after Dan.

Warnings: mentions of issues around eating and disordered behaviours.

October 2022

When Em started trying to plan dinner at two that afternoon she wasn’t really thinking. The plan was to keep chopping food until she got her frustration out, staring out at the grey October day. It was another discussion that was an argument by any other name with Michael about Dan’s meal plan and his macros and she just wasn’t in the mood. The last thing she needed was to be told how to look after her husband.

Any other day she would have been exhausted and gone for a nap, but instead she was ignoring the details of the meal plan on the fridge. It said baked chicken, broccoli, peppers, mushrooms and quinoa for Dan’s dinner but she was worried. He’d barely been picking at meals, during the red flag in Japan Seb had asked her if Dan was ok. He needed something he’d actually eat, and she had time to make something in the new kitchen she barely got to cook in yet.

It was a minor miracle she wasn’t out with Dan. It was a day of sim work and media filming with Lando, so usually she drove him out to Woking. But that morning he kissed her goodbye because Blake was heading out with him. She was to stay in and out of the rain, so she hugged him and whispered her love as he left. Blake promised to bring Dan back in one piece, and to call if Dan needed anything. She trusted Blake with the hurting heart that was her Danny. Knowing that it was the two of them out in Woking led to her call with Michael about Dan’s diet and food, Em hanging up frustrated because what was the point in serving Dan the meal if he wasn’t eating any of it?

After she calmed down from the call she got on another one, this time to the one woman she knew would be on her side about everything. The first time she’d met Grace she ended up helping in the kitchen, starting to learn family recipes with Grace’s “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” echoing in her ears. They were all worried about Dan’s appetite and disinterest in food and this could help.

In Dan’s case it was more that the way to his stomach was through his heart. The best he’d eaten since the summer was their quick week in Perth, his mother feeding him. After that he’d usually eat her recipes, but the text from Blake warning her that Dan had barely touched his lunch was what made her act. He’d played with his chia parfait for breakfast that Em had made, she needed to do something. Em was too scared that her usual recipes wouldn’t be enough. So without thinking about timezones and oh so grateful it wasn’t too late in Perth she was ok the phone to Grace for advice.

It was half an hour on the phone and a grocery order on Ocado for next hour delivery but she had the method down and started chopping veggies for one of his favourite meals. Grace sent a voice note a few minutes later reading off her own mother’s recipe, making sure that Em had it as perfect as possible so he couldn’t reject it. Not that he’d deliberately reject anything that Em had made, but this way he really couldn’t say no.

Four hours and a “thank you SO much, Grace” voice note later, the apartment smelled like glory and good enough to eat the second you walked in. Em was never one who would pat herself on the back and say she’d done something really good, but even she had to admit it smelled good. She was more than proud of herself when she lifted the lid of the Dutch oven to see how the tomato sauce was bubbling around the chicken thighs. She grinned again when she took one final look at the way she’d set the table. The little bouquet Dan had bought her the day before, two candles in her favourite holders, a floral tablecloth and one of Dan’s red wines decanted into the stupid shoey decanter he was so proud of and waiting to be poured.

She’d thought about changing her clothes, putting on a cute dress and heels to make herself look good. But Dan didn’t want all the fuss. He loved seeing his girl in his clothes, so the ancient Ric3 tee from their first run and pair of his boxers stayed on. Plus, the outfit showed most of her tattoos which would make him happier. Her phone buzzed and she picked it up to see his text.

On my way back, half an hour?

Don’t stop anywhere just get home. I love you.

He was probably thinking about stopping to pick up dinner for her, considering his meal was in their fridge. Em used it as the moment to start cooking the quinoa, her one concession to the hated meal plan instead of the pasta or roast potatoes Grace usually cooked. Her text worked, because twenty minutes later she could hear his key in the door.

“Baby, I’m home,” Dan called as the front door closed, Em leaving the kitchen to welcome him home. There was her boy, dry and safe without flowers or takeaway. Just like she wanted him. “What’s that smell?”

“Hey Love,” Emmy smiled, hugging her husband’s waist as soon as he kicked his shoes off and hung his jacket up. Then it was a kiss on her lips and a peck to her forehead like every single time he came home. “I called your mama and she gave me another recipe. I need to say it the right way, she got me to repeat it a couple of times. Pollo alla cacciatora a cottura lenta per il mio bel ragazzo.”

She smiled brightly as she looked up at Dan’s surprised face. It wasn’t new for her to make one of Grace’s recipes, she was always in the kitchen with her in Perth. But this was a big deal, it was one Grace was careful who got to learn. It wasn’t a big deal to do - chicken, peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes - but the secret was in the seasonings and in the long, slow roasting.

“It smells like my mum’s. And my Nonna’s.”

“Well I hope it does, otherwise I really did something wrong. Your mum says hi and to call her before we go to Austin. It’s never going to taste as good as theirs but I hope you like it.”

“You did all this for me? Why?” She pulled him even tighter into a hug before leading him into the kitchen and getting him to sit down while she served their meals.

“Just because.”

“Just because? Really?”

“Does your wife really need a reason to make you dinner? You deserve something tasty. And it’s miserable outside, I wanted us to have something fun.” She put his plate in front of him, Dan reaching up to kiss her cheek.

“Does your husband need a reason to give you a kiss?”

“Not at all. Enjoy.” She watched Dan pick up his fork and actually start eating, a tiny weight off her shoulders. It was so much better than that morning.

#call it what you want fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #ciwyw media #daniel ricciardo oneshot #f1 oneshot #formula 1 oneshot #ciwyw writing #ciwyw drabble #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic

[yridenergyridenergy]

Sukekiyo 10th Anniversary Café

Those who were interested probably already know, but here is the menu for the sukekiyo 10th Anniversary Cafe.

MAIN DISHES

The Aishita Shinzou salad-style tagliata with balsamic and 'crimson love' sauce

Room 304 "The truth of the beef tongue stew" with bread

Squid ink and seafood sukekiyo pasta ~Jet-Black Ceremony~

Torii-chan limited omurice

DESSERTS

Candis (baked cheesecake with strawberry mascarpone cream)

Valentina ~pure white dress~ (truffle chocolate cake covered in white chocolate mousse made to resemble a fluffy white dress)

MOAN parfait ~served with jet-black sauce~ "A parfait that depicts Kyo in MOAN out of tuiles."

Kuchi ni ringo ~bright red apple custard pie~

DRINKS

sukekiyo special cafe latte (with EROSIO cover art)

Don't break, that's too fast, that's not the bright red color I want hot apple ginger (quote from Kuchi ni ringo)

Jet-black ceremony soda that you want to assimilat and mix right now (cranberry-flavoured)

Sashite Sashite (lit. "stab stab", from Frame out kara no, made of tomato juice, soda, bubbly/jelly, with tabasco; will come with a special member recipe card to learn how to drink it)

Kaka Monster (ref. to Waizatsu, made with lychee syrup and orange juice)

Tsumetai Chinmoku Frozen (lit. "Cold Silence Frozen", in reference to tour title. Strawberry & cranberry-flavoured. Seemingly comes with a printed picture of a sukekiyo show on top.)

Other drinks that don't include a special coaster: Premium Malts Sake, Ice Oolong Tea, Orange Juice, and Iced Coffee.

#sukekiyo #café #anniversary #translation #sukekiyo cafe #Kyo

[leaderpinhead]

Idia - Like A Shoujo Cliche

Prompt: Role Reversal Notes: I feel like this could be read as both a romantic and platonic interaction. Personally, I enjoy a more platonic Idia/Yuu pairing, like two siblings.

Idia fiddled with the headphones around his neck. The crowd passed in front of him like a sea of faceless NPCs. Idia clutched his tablet closer and took a small step back to avoid being trampled by a trio of giggling girls.

Why had he agreed to do this? Oh, yeah because Ortho bullied him into it. “This is a once in a lifetime chance, big brother!” Ortho had insisted. “It’s a limited-time offer, and it’s right here on Sage’s Island. Do you really wanna spend hundreds of thaumarks to buy the same Premo merch from a dirty scalper?”

Honestly, Idia hadn’t minded the thought at all. Sure, he hated people who bought fan merch for next to nothing and then sold it for ten times the amount, but it made his life a lot easier. Just click a few buttons and wait a few days for the package to arrive at the Mystery Shop. Easy, breezy.

And not panic inducing like standing here like a complete weirdo taking up space in front of a cutesy cafe.

“Idia!”

Idia jumped. He nearly lost his balance spinning to face the direction he had heard Yuu’s voice. She waved when they made eye contact. The sprint Idia did to reach her would have put his record times in PE to shame, and Vargas would have given him an immediate spot on the track team.

Idia grabbed Yuu’s wrist. “What took you so long? I thought we said ten sharp. You weren’t here at ten sharp!”

Yuu rolled her eyes. She shook her arm, but he refused to let go of her. “Stop acting like I completely ghosted you. I’m literally five minutes late.”

“You’re still late,” Idia insisted. He tucked his tablet into his pocket. He clung to Yuu’s arm with both hands. He cringed closer to her shoulder to avoid a group of normies taking up over half the sidewalk. “Do you have any idea how stressful all this is? I don’t come here on the regular. How am I supposed to blend in with all the normies?”

“The first step is to stop acting like you’re being tortured for just breathing,” Yuu said. She shook her arm again, but Idia clung to her out of sheer stubbornness now. She sighed. “Come on, Idia. We’re here to enjoy something you like. The least you can do is be a bit excited.”

Idia pouted. He was excited...once he got past all the anxiety of brushing shoulders with complete strangers. He enjoyed all the livestreams of Premo’s concerts; he watched all their interviews and was active in all the big fan groups. He collected memorabilia like it was no tomorrow. He just...had never experienced something actually live.

And it seemed a bit silly to be stepping into a cutesy, pastel cafe with him being all “doom-and-gloom" like.

“We’ll even get a few crepes,” Yuu insisted when he stayed quiet for too long. Instead of trying to pull herself free again, she gave one of his hands a friendly pat. “They don’t have energy drink flavor, but Cater said the hazelnut chocolate ones were pretty popular.”

The only response Idia could give was an embarrassing groan. How lame was this? He was giving off NEET vibes like a radioactive zombie in some post-apocalyptic world. No wonder all the girls who had passed him going into the cafe had giggled and whispered to each other while shooting him some major side-eye.

Idia clung to Yuu’s arm as they stepped through the cafe’s door. It was just like he had seen through the window: cheerful pastels and bubbly employees. He liked the little woodland creature mascots pictured on the walls and displayed on the tables, but he figured a noodle with flaming hair cooing over a cute rabbit would earn him more stares.

His eyes darted across the menu hanging on the far wall. A separate board had been placed to the side of it, and the darker colors immediately caught his eye. Premo’s band logo—a stylized eyeball with a golden thread circling it—was pictured beside a parfait with several blue and purple layers topped with a cloud of whipped cream and blueberries. Another treat—a crepe with blueberry whipped cream and a drizzle of golden caramel sauce topped with whole blueberries—was pictured alongside it.

The second treat made Idia tighten his grip on Yuu’s arm. “They’re advertising a crepe with the parfait! No one mentioned a crepe on the message board.”

Yuu chuckled and patted his forearm. “I’ll get that crepe then. Why don’t you go find a table for us? The line doesn’t look too long, and I should be able to get them myself.”

Idia nodded and made a quick beeline to the tiny table in the farthest corner. He tucked himself into the chair facing towards the rest of the cafe. The other tables were occupied with mostly girls, but he spotted a few guys here and there. Mainly with one girl, and the girl was giggling while the guy looked like he took every opportunity he could to put his arm on the back of her chair.

Idia’s nose wrinkled. Talk about a shoujo manga cliche. Idia bet they had some equally cliche interaction, like the girl getting whipped cream on her cheek and the guy wiping it away with his thumb and saying something swoon-worthy. Then they’d continue their date and later have a “will-they-won't-they" kissing moment before someone else interrupts. It was kinda lame to think about it.

Idia’s tablet buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out without hesitation and found a message from Ortho. He was asking if Idia and Yuu had made it to the cafe yet. He grinned and typed out a response before holding his tablet up to take a picture of the limited-time menu options. Ortho would get as hyped as him about the extra crepe option.

Yuu stood at the counter just below the menu. She pointed up at the board just as Idia took the picture. He giggled at the serendipitous moment and shot the pic off into cyberspace. Ortho immediately responded with a happy face.

The next time he looked up, he found Yuu flanked by two guys. She held a tray with the Premo desserts and squinted up at the guys. Her head bounced back and forth as if they were talking too quickly for her to even form a response.

Idia sat frozen in his chair. Was he supposed to jump up and help her? From what he knew, Yuu usually handled her own problems without any issue. She had definitely handled guys on the campus that were twice her size. Idia getting into the mix would just cause more problems. Yeah, he was better off just waiting right here...

One of the guys grabbed her elbow. Yuu immediately jerked to the side in an attempt to free herself. The motion nearly knocked the parfaits off the tray.

Idia had crossed the cafe before he even realized it. He huffed when he reached the trio. “Are you guys some kind of shoujo creeps who can’t take a hint? The girl’s not interested.”

The guys spun on him. From a distance, they had looked to be bigger than Yuu, but up close, Idia actually thought they looked shorter than her, which made them way shorter than him. They blinked up at him like they didn’t know how to respond. Yuu blinked at him in the same way.

Idia widely grinned with false bravado. “Not so tough when you’re up against someone bigger, huh?”

One of the guys stuttered and looked down at his shoes. The other guy, the one still holding Yuu, pointed an accusing finger at her. “She doesn’t even know the names of Precipice Moirai!”

Idia’s grin faltered, and it was his turn to be confused. “Huh?”

“She can’t even name a Premo song!” the guy insisted. He pulled on Yuu’s arm again, but she braced herself to keep him from shaking anything on the tray. She glared at the guy but didn’t say anything. “The limited-time parfait and crepe are for real Premo fans. Not some fake fan who doesn’t even realize how valuable the reusable parfait cup and limited-edition crepe button pin are!”

The turn of events, while still shocking, immediately made Idia cackle. He loomed over the guy still holding Yuu, his grin widening. “For real? You’re really that type of guy. What gives you the right to gatekeep, bruh? Over a buncha sweets too? Premo would legit disown you plebs. They’d be the first to say the threads of fate can guide anyone to them. You’re thinking of clipping that thread prematurely? Lame.” Idia took a deep breath and scowled at the speechless guy. “And FYI, Yuu’s tots a fan. She might not be able to hold a tune, but she’s def jammed to a Premo song or two while waiting to queue into a game lobby. I got the proof right here—.”

“Okay!” Yuu’s abrupt interjection made all three of them jump. The guy holding her jerked away like her arm was a hot iron skillet. She shrugged between the guys to stand next to Idia. “I think we get the point. And they’re not going to gatekeep anymore because they really shouldn’t judge a person without knowing them. Right?”

The two guys picked up Yuu’s scary authoritative vibes and snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Yuu paused. She lightly gestured the tray at them. “Now, uh, go order your own parfaits and crepes.”

The guys nodded and practically tripped their way back to the counter. Idia snickered. Idia would be the first to admit he was an otaku, but it was hilarious to watch other weebs embarrass themselves.

Yuu nudged his side with her elbow, and Idia followed her back to the table where he’d left his tablet. It wasn’t until they were seated that he realized a good number of the other customers were staring in their direction. Mainly the girls, who immediately started whispering and giggling with each other when he looked in their direction.

His face warmed with his own embarrassment, and he ducked his head into his jacket. Yuu pushed one of the Premo parfaits and the crepe in front of him and took the other parfait for herself. She grabbed one of the Premo buttons, the cellophane bag crinkling between her fingers. “Can I open this or am I committing a Premo sin?”

Idia snickered and temporarily forgot about the girls giggling at him. “I don’t care. I’ll keep mine sealed just for the collector’s value of it.”

“Cool.” Yuu unwrapped the button and swung her canvas shoulder bag onto her lap. She pinned the button to the flap of the bag. The ink used to print Premo’s logo shimmered when she moved the flap. “I’ve never actually seen the band’s logo before, but I like it!”

Idia rolled his eyes and grabbed his tablet to take pictures of the parfait and crepe. “I can’t believe you just admitted that. After I just sacrificed what little dignity I had to defend you against those gatekeeping dweebs.”

“Your sacrifice was greatly appreciated.” Idia rolled his eyes again, but Ortho had already responded to the pictures. Idia quickly responded to his brother’s awe. “By the way, thanks for the save. They were saying things I’ve never even heard from you.”

“How about we just forget that big flub,” Idia said. He grabbed the tiny spoon for the parfait but paused. He squinted and decided to attack the crepe first. “I’m already gonna suffer remembering it later.”

“I don’t see why,” Yuu argued. She didn’t have an issue stabbing the fluffy whipped cream of the parfait. Idia stared in horror as she shoveled the edible cloud onto a napkin to reach the sour yogurt beneath. “I think you made half the girls in here swoon.”

Idia choked on the large bite of crepe and blueberry whipped cream he had just taken. He stared at Yuu with wide eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Girl’s swooning over me? More like they were grossed out.”

Yuu’s eyelids drooped. “I think you underestimate the first impression you give some people. It’s not until you open your mouth that they get second thoughts, though this time it actually worked in your favor.”

Idia scoffed and went in for another bite. He froze when he realized Yuu was leaning towards him. She casually—almost too casually—swiped her thumb across his cheek at the corner of his mouth. She pulled back with a dollop of blue cream on her thumb. “Sometimes I wonder how any of you boys survive with the messes you make.”

She popped her thumb into her mouth, and Idia thought he was going to melt into a puddle of embarrassed shoujo cliche.

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud #twst yuu #tbh idia was more concerned about losing his parfait #he knows yuu's a big girl who can kidney punch a guy if she needs to #ffc 2024

[bechnokid]

My 86th attempt at a gijinka Meta Knight, which I actually like!! I didn’t post the first image here, so to make up for that, here’s an extra drawing showing Meta Knight’s wings! Contrary to what Kirby fans may say, I personally think that his wings are wyvern-like in nature. :3

Image descriptions under the cut:

There are two images depicting a humanized/gijinka Meta Knight from the Kirby franchise.

The top image has a full-body reference of the knight and his armor, taking some inspiration from the existing armor in Monster Hunter because the artist really, REALLY loves Monster Hunter. The text bubbles that surround him say the following: "Wings turn into cape. I don't know enough about animal biology to figure out his exact wingspan...", "Muscular, but a little soft", and "5'9 (175cm)"

On the side, the knight has a surprised expression as his mask is sliced off. The text bubble next to him says, "What a cute little face~"

The lower-right sketch depicts him in casual wear while holding his signature parfait. The text bubbles say, "chainmail", and "Has an affogato in the morning, a fondant in the afternoon, and then a parfait at night...", indicating that the knight has a very sweet tooth.

The bottom image has Meta Knight in a battle stance, with his Galaxia blade in his right hand and displaying his wings.

#kirby gijinka #meta knight #bechno art

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Thank you for your work - as a fellow writer I can't even imagine writing as much as you. My deepest respect.

Something has clicked in me after I read the RoR pregnancy request... May I ask the same for Poseidon and Hades please?

Thank you in advance.

Take care.

-The furious roar of not only Odin, but Zeus rang through Valhalla, as Loki was being held down by Brunnhilde, who was also furious, her knee in the center of his back, keeping him pinned to the floor.

-It started with a harmless prank, one that wasn’t meant to cause so many problems.

-Loki and some of the other male gods and human warriors of the Ragnarok tournament, and the topic, for some reason, was pregnancy!

-The men were all talking about how their wives, those who had wives, that pregnancy couldn’t be that bad, but Loki was quick to interrupt, telling them that it was hard.

-That’s when many remembered that Loki is able to take on both a male form and a female form, and he had a child, Sleipnir, an eight-legged horse, after luring The Builder’s horse away to keep him from completing the walls of Asgard, by changing into a mare.

-Some, like Ares and Raiden, had teased Loki, reiterating their comments that being pregnant and giving birth couldn’t be that bad.

-So, Loki conjured a spell, one that would only simulate the feeling of being pregnant and giving birth, to teach them a lesson, however this backfired and now Poseidon and Hades were both pregnant, becoming almost instantly six months pregnant.

-When Odin and Zeus found out, their rage was nearly uncontrollable as they yelled at Loki for what he had caused and what future trouble this was going to cause, as the men still had male genitalia, meaning they would have to give birth via C-section!

-For punishment, Loki had to dote on the four men, helping them through the last trimester as well as help with the babies, as technically he was going to be the father, since it was his spell that impregnated them.

Poseidon

-It had been two months since he was impregnated, and Loki was still hiding, as Poseidon swore to gut Loki, and the trickster knew he was serious.

-Zeus had been the first to feel Poseidon’s pregnant wrath, after his younger brother teased him and quickly found himself yeeted out a window.

-Hades was a bit more sympathetic, getting him a heating pad for his back and a foot bath for his swollen feet.

-Poseidon was ready to murder anyone who looked at him wrong, defiantly the moodiest of the bunch, but angry rather than crying.

-When Loki finally came, after Hades assured him Poseidon wouldn’t do anything at the moment, Poseidon did nothing but glare at him before demanding another fruit parfait and a bubble bath.

-Loki was quick to get him whatever he wanted, quickly finding out that a placated Poseidon was a less murder-y Poseidon.

-When he gave birth, holding his little daughter, he gave a rare, true smile, adoring his little daughter with so much love.

-Loki was still there to wait on him hand and foot, as he was the cause of this, but Loki soon found out that Poseidon liked ordering him around, and Loki liked it too, being a masochist.

Hades

-He was stunned to stay the least, but carried on with his duties like nothing was really different, except he wouldn’t hesitate to beat anyone within an inch of their lives if they mentioned his new ‘situation’.

-Had a pretty mild pregnancy, no real cravings other than the occasional super spicy dish, and with bubble baths he didn’t have many aches or pains, and his mood remained mostly unchanged, other than he was way more tired.

-Loki helped him with his duties, carrying and delivering paperwork, fetching him food and drink, and as Hades got bigger, helping him stand.

-Many were quick to learn, Zeus and Loki being the first, that Cerberus became very protective of Hades, knowing his master was pregnant, each of the heads taking turns to smell his belly, smelling the child within him, and he would growl viciously if anyone would try to approach.

-This made getting anything done quite difficult as none could get close to Hades.

-When he gave birth, he had the easiest, time, making it look easy, and when Loki came in, he was stunned to see Hades holding his daughter up to the sky, a beacon of light shining down upon her, “She’s gorgeous!”

-Loki got to help more with his little daughter, who was adorable, looking just like her papa, but when she smiled it looked almost mischievous, even for a baby, just like Loki.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades

[lord-dusk]

happy birthday to Casey the kinky Dutch Rabbit! I hope you make very wonderful babies ahead~!!

#bubbly parfait #webcomic #casey #bunny girl #monster girl #mermaid #pregnant

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forgotten Lessons XXVIII

Masterlist

The weekend is over 😭

Warnings: noncon/rape, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, mentions of suicide, depression. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

The distortion of your mind slowly dissipates as the air shifts, warming around you as a door shuts. The jingle of keys pulls your attention and you turn to watch Bucky hang his keys from a small hook. You glance around. You don’t know this place, but you assume it’s his.

Why are you here? Why wouldn’t he take you home? 

You don’t say anything, only standing there as he pulls the jacket from your shoulders. He slings it on the coat rack and sits on the low bench, removing his boots as he nods to your own. You sit beside him and slip off your boots.

You move without thinking, mimicking him again as he gets to his feet. He takes your hand and guides you further inside. The loft, condo, whatever it is, is spacious but cozy. Vintage woods, oaky tables, an amber leather couch with a soft fleece throw over the back. You get only a brief glimpse through the fuzzy daze.

He guides you through another door and sits you down. You feel along the porcelain seat of the toilet as you watch his figure move around. He bends over the large tub and water spills out loudly. He stands and faces you again.

“You should… try to calm down, a hot bath will help,” he suggests, “I have some bubble bath or bath bombs…” He opens the cupboard below the sink and pulls out a pink pouch. He puts it in your lap, “everything you need should be in there.”

You look down and unzip it carefully. There’s soaps, shampoos, creams, and everything else. Even a toothbrush. All new, all untapped. Why does he have all this?

You don’t ask. You’re tired of the questions. Tired of trying. You just want it all to be over. 

“Go on,” he backs away, “I’ll be close by so if you need anything, just call my name.”

You stare at the open zipper, “thanks,” you don’t look up.

You wait until his shadow moves and the door gives a soft creak as it shuts, but not all the way. You reach in and take out the cherry parfait sundae soap. The bottle is extravagantly decorated, the lid looks like a swirl of whip cream. The girl you were months ago would’ve thought it was cute.

You set the bag on the counter and stand. You got to the door and push it shut with the handle. It doesn’t meet the frame as Bucky catches it from the other side.

“Sorry, sunshine, but I need you to keep it open for now, just a little,” he leans his weight on it until you relent, “for your safety.”

You feel the stab in your chest, “you think…” your voice trails off and you shrug, “alright.”

You don’t have the will or energy to argue. What’s the point? No one ever listens to you. No one hears you. You’re nothing in this world. An unwanted baby, a controlled child, a neglected teen, and now a forgotten shell. 

You turn and leave him at the door. You got to look into the tub. You know what he’s thinking. He thinks you’re going to hold your head under and let the air out of your lungs, swallow down the water until no bubbles rise. You’re not stupid enough, you know that you will only ever be a failure.

You peek over your shoulder and he gives you a look, something almost sad, but something else you can’t name. He steps back into the hall and pulls the door, leaving several inches between the edge and the wooden trim. You face the bath again and twist off the faucet as the water floods the basin.

You pull off your sweater first, dropping the wool to the tile. You can still feel him groping you through the thick knit, the way he squeezed and pinched. You peel off the tee shirt and add it to the floor, your bra is folded under one breast still. You unhook it and let it fall.

You shove your pants down, socks rolling in the ankles and sliding off your feet. You stumble and catch yourself. Your walls ache and burn, your thighs throbbing from the bruises, your ass too. Your hip bones hurt as you struggle to push down your panties, you feel his cum still wet on the cotton.

You kick them away and go the tub’s edge. You lift your leg over the side, leaning on the porcelain as you bring the other in and carefully lower yourself into the steaming pool. You groan and lay back against the wall. You close your eyes and let your hand brush down your stomach.

What are you going to do? It’s too late to protect yourself. You recall the large pill you took in the car, Laufeyson’s coldness as you chugged down the water. How little he cared even this time. You wonder if maybe it’s intentional. That he wishes upon you even the pain of carrying a child you could never want. Yourself, a child nobody wants.

You take your wet hands and smear them down your face, dampening your skin. You hide behind your fingers and suck in air, a sob rushing from you, unrestrained as you begin to bawl. You can’t hold it back. No matter how you try, it tears from you like a deathly bellow. 

Your body quakes as you let out every ounce of grief, the feel of his hands on your neck, the noise of your flesh smacking against his, the pain that hollowed your bones. You weep until you have nothing left, until you sink down into the water, only your face above the surface and stare unfeeling at the ceiling.

Empty, you just lay there, the water cooling around you, eyes and cheeks puffy, throat sore and tight, head thrumming. You feel the crack as it rents through you. You reach to wipe your eyes with your wet hands, soothing yourself until you can breathe.

You grip the side of the tub and pull yourself up to sit. A dark speck shades the corner of your eye and you look over as Bucky stands in the open door. He holds a towel under his arm.

“I only came to bring you this,” he says and you shy away, covering your chest, uncertain if he can see it above the tub, “I can put on some tea?”

“I don’t want any,” you croak and hang your head.

“Alright,” he accepts and sets the towel down on the counter, lifting the pouch and brings it over to you, “here.”

“Mmm, thanks,” you grumble, bending your legs to hide from him.

“I’ll make up the bed. That’s what you need, sleep,” he says.

You snort but say nothing. Sleep? Is he stupid enough to think you could ever sleep through this nightmare?

#loki #bucky barnes #dark loki #dark!loki #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #series #bucky barnes x reader #loki x reader #forbidden lessons #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #mcu #marvel #professor!loki #professor!bucky #ask drabble

[classyinnie]

loving him is like...

彡 sugawara koshi, kageyama tobio ; [gn!reader]

genre: cavity inducing fluff

notes: this is what happens when I give my touch starved self a pen. It will write to its heart content and there is no guarantee that it will not be sappy.

➶ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ² ⁽ᵏⁱᵗᵃ⁻ⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵒʸᵃ⁾

━━ sugawara koshi; 

Loving Sugawara is like a breeze of cool air on a scorching hot day. It’s like a fulfilling bite of chocolate parfait on a lovely afternoon. It’s whipped cream-covered hands and flour-covered faces. It's filled with addicting touches that you can’t get enough of. If loving Sugawara was candy, it would be the sweetest kind. The one that leaves you craving for more despite the toothaches you're bound to get afterward. 

Sugawara makes loving so easy...

A squeal left your lips as you felt a pair of flour-covered hands grab your face. The action was gentle, almost feather-light, but the suddenness had you clutching your chest. “Don’t do that.” You laughed nonetheless.

“I love you so much.” He says with so much adoration in his voice, sweetness that you could almost taste on your lips.

The sheer randomness of the situation made you giggle. “All of a sudden?”

“Yeah.” He sounded almost out of breath. “Just felt this sudden urge to say it.”

See, loving Sugawara was like a breath of fresh air. It won’t sweep you off your feet but ground you amid any chaotic situation. In your case now, the cluttered kitchen.

You leaned further in his palm and placed your hands on top of his hand. “Love you too.”

He plant a kiss on your forehead and lets you go. He continues piping different flowers on the cookies you baked – no sign of the sudden action earlier but a refreshed smile playing on his lips. He bumps you with his hip, “Have I ever told you how much my students love listening when I talk about you?”

Loving Sugawara is so damn easy; it's almost like breathing.

━━ kageyama tobio;

Loving Kageyama is like finding the last piece of your favorite drink in the fridge. The feeling of relief that comes after long study hours. It’s reassurances through shared kisses on the places where it hurts. A much-needed shoulder to lean on after a long day. Mundane chores turned into acts of love and care because for him ‘actions speak louder than words.’

The sound of the fizzing bubbles and the smell of cherry-scented shampoo was almost enough to lull you to sleep. Skillful hands gently massage the shampoo on your scalp. The weight of the long day finally hit you at this point. You felt tired, so depleted that whatever burdens of the day seemed to double. The thought pushed you deeper into the tub as if it were physically affecting you. 

However, the warmth of the person sitting on the edge of the tub drew you back to the present.

“Hey…” You slowly turned to him, “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to.”

“But I want to. Now turn around, I’m not yet done.” He twirls his finger in emphasis before returning to massaging your hair. You fight the urge to close your eyes and relish in the comfortable silence.

Kageyama seems to notice this because he says, “If you want to rest for a while, you can. I’ll just wake you up when I need to rinse your hair.”

You responded with nothing more than a hum before finally succumbing to the darkness – feeling safe in the arms of home.

Loving Kageyama is a tender reminder of the relief that awaits after the unforgiving grasps of exhaustion.

#II. –⚜ jasswrites. #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq x you #haikyu fluff #haikyu imagines #haikyu imagine #kageyama #tobio #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #kageyama imagine #kageyama imagines #kageyama drabbles #kageyama drabble #sugawara #sugawara koshi #sugawara imagine #sugawara comfort #sugawara drabble #koshi imagine

[adollchild]

do you have any stuffies names ideas? 🩶

Hi there ♡

Here’s a few names that I like for plushies:

♡ Angel

☆ Belle

♡ Bubble

☆ Butterfly

♡ Candy

☆ Candyfloss

♡ Cherry, Cherrie

☆ Chibi

♡ Cinnamon

☆ Cloud

♡ Coco

☆ Cookie

♡ Cupcake

☆ Cream

♡ Daisy

☆ Doll, Dollie, Dolly

♡ Dream, Dreamy

☆ Fairy

♡ Fluffy

☆ Glitter

♡ Honey

☆ Melody

♡ Milk, Milky

☆ Muffin

♡ Parfait

☆ Peach

♡ Petal

☆ Periwinkle

♡ Pixie

☆ Rainbow

♡ Strawberry

☆ Sprinkle

♡ Softy, Softie

☆ Sugar

♡ Teacup

☆ Vanilla

#asks #sophia speaks #stuffed animals #agere #agedre #agereg #sfw agedre #age dreaming #age regressor #age dreamer #sfw age dreaming #age regressing #age regressive #sfw age regression #age regression #noncom regression #sfw noncom #noncom agere #name guide

[naradivision]

What a coincidence! At the beginning of spring, it wasn’t only the birthday of a particular errand boy but also a certain wagashi artist from Nara! And of course that meant a present has made its way into Harumatsuya! This present in particular was a medium box of green foil wrappings held shut by a back ribbon with a spider web pattern on, and for the contents…

It’s a plushie of a caterpillar, how cute!

And about that box, there’s a black note of white writing attached to it.

“Happy birthday, Asa-chan!!!

Kekeke! They weren’t lying when they said we’re a lot like twins! Anywayyyy with the start of spring some of the plushies in this shop I came across with were on sale and I thought you’d like this one :3c

—☂️

“Tada~☆ Look at this baby I found at my doorstep this morning! At long last, Kinako-chan and Kuromitsu-kun are finally having a new friend!”

With Asahi’s overly enthusiastic voice, the green caterpillar plushie was suddenly shoved right in front of his red-haired bestie who was now seeming to be busy pondering over the menu attached on the table.

Yeah, right now they were hanging out at the karaoke box nearby.

“Oh, isn’t the sender Meguno-san from Echizen?” guessed Yuuya as he was done ordering some drinks and snacks.

A ‘Caterpillar’ hmm? That kinda reminded him of someone a certain ‘Cat’ has introduced to him lately…

“Yup~ I must make sure to add him more extra kohakutou or some new candies when he stops at my shop next time —And there was also one novelist from Kōfu who came here to give me homemade cookies!”

“Sounds like your birthday has gone a lot merrier than before, that’s a good thing …Gosh, somehow it feels like my gift has become pale in comparison with theirs.”

“Hah??? What’re you talking about? Hey, how could I not be happy with your wonderful gift since you’ve tried to find me a new charm that I lost weeks ago?”

Asahi proudly raised his phone up to show his friend the dangling phone straps that he had just received from him.

“And not to forget that you’re the one who helped me adjust my mixtape until the finalization! This much already makes me pretty touched, you know~”

“Wha—” Yuuya stared at him in disbelief a bit since he had never told his bestie about his intention before.

“*laughs* Glad to know you like it. Still, I think it would be better if I could find something that looks just like your old one.”

“Nah. This new one is super cute and there’s no need to cry over spilled milk. I’ll just remember to be more careful from now on~”

Asahi replied as he was looking for the song they will sing and just then, the karaoke’s staff had just entered the room.

The drinks and snacks they ordered had just arrived; one bowl of potato chips, one pink lemonade for Yuuya, and the Spring’s limited edition parfait for himself. 

Asahi whistled a little at the sight of his fancy dessert.

“But by the way, do you have anything you want to talk with me today hmm~ YuuYu?”

Despite his bubbly and a bit airy outlook, Asahi was surprisingly sharp when it came to sensing his friend’s worries. Since his buddy decided to invite him out for a hangout somewhere else rather than just talking things over the dinner at Saigo-san’s house like usual, thus it meant there was something he didn’t want the old man to know just yet…

“Ah, riiight~ Actually, lots of stuffs have kept coming up to me lately…”

Yuuya wore a troubled smile on his face as the sunset colors in his eyes knowingly met his friend’s blossom pink and green.

At first what he wanted to tell his friend was only about his soon graduation in this spring, but with a series of weird encounters that happened to him within these past months, he was wound up feeling like it wasn’t just something he could keep silent about.

…Haaa. So, which one should he tell him first then?

#hypmic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #nara division #miraitabi #yuuya kanata #asahi tomoharu #echizen division #clockwork lament #kohaku meguno #happy birthday asahi 2024

[dyrewrites]

Before Deluca -- What We Are

As most cities of the time, they were a lot less mesmerizing up close. If not for how dreadfully packed every street was, the stench of what looked quite lovely from afar overpowered all else. I won’t detail what that stench was, but I will remind that most water in Paris at the time came from—and drained into—the Seine.

The buildings, however, were a delight. As were the street vendors and some colorful entertainers that danced by us. Also of note were the lack of stares at how tightly we walked together, how our hands were ever on the other, making it nigh-impossible to mistake us for anything but a couple—even without our pleasantly matched attire.

And hunger or not, our distraction stayed with me, bubbling my mood.

“Je t’aime, Lucient,” I whispered, close enough for my breath to shiver him.

Focused as he was—eyes and mind alert for someone to sate our hunger—he nuzzled into my shoulder, returning my love and scolding, “Anch'io ti amo, bestia.”

“Your beast,” I teased, tasting his ear before he nudged me away.

Kissing my cheek, his eyes twitched to those passing before returning brighter to me, “So pleased you seem, treasure, yet I know you ache.”

“You help,” I explained, “having you near, touching, I can forget what gnaws.”

“Do I,” he swooned before realization narrowed his eyes, “wait, is that why you’ve been so—”

A gaggle of women in layers of skirts and paint caught both of us off-guard, cutting Lucient’s words as they stopped in front of us—giggling without speaking.

Socialites, my thoughts sneered, what could they want with us?

We are a curiosity, my love, Lucient’s cool voice sang, sharpening to add, but it may work to our advantage.

The women were whispering, and tittering, attempting to decide who would speak to us. Yet I knew the tone Lucient took and the look in those moonlight eyes, as I raised an eyebrow at him, confirmed it.

I feared the taste of socialite on my tongue, Someone else, my love, I beg you.

The nibble of his lip and gleam in his eyes worried as he suggested an alternative, there’s that brothel downtown, run by one of our own, if you’d prefer an easier meal.

“After all we did to smother similar—” that smile quirked and I held my tongue, checked the women and, finding them tittering still, I answered in thought, no, no offense to them, my love but I’ll not see you in that environment again.

Ever aware of the eyes on us, he leaned and whispered words they’d understand in my ear, “Tu es trop parfait, mon trésor…”

Is that a yes to these ladies then? He asked me alone, yet he turned to watch them, tilting his head, studying—earning more fervent giggles with his gaze, we could have all three...and you are starving, aren’t you?

I wouldn’t answer, the thought of luring them—young as they appeared, too well dressed not to have escorts—into some dark place, subduing, biting, tasting. It soured me with memories of parties turned too intimate, of perfumed and painted faces pressed too close. More than that it raked with worries, monstrous worries, that I would take too much, that I would delight in their stuttered final breaths...

Lucient took to nibbling that lip again, eyes again on me even as one of the women was chosen and pushed forward.

She played with her perfectly painted nails as, voice a gentle melody on the air, she asked if we were together, “Excusez-moi, messieurs, mais êtes-vous...ensemble?”

“Oui, ma chérie, tous les soirs,” Lucient cooed, holding me tighter and sending the poor women into fits of giggles—every night, he’d told them.

But I have the filthy mouth? I asked his salacious tone, if not precisely the words, and immediately shivered with my notice of a quicker rhythm singing to me. Separate though they were, all three women were pulsing at similar speeds. Their hearts racing, blood rushing loud as rivers in my ears. And the aroma, oh, light and delicate their aroma. The heavy perfumes that coated them could not mask what throbbed within, what sang to me as any siren song.

I growled, I hadn’t meant to, and they hadn’t noticed...but Lucient did. I focused on the class-pale flesh of their necks, wrists, the thin veins in their ears. Any, any I would take, bite, drink and drink until that heady song sputtered and died.

Lucient grabbed me as I twitched for them, turning me to face him and fed me his tongue, which I fell to—as I always did. Collective their gasp. But he didn’t stop with the kiss. Balancing his parasol on our shoulders, he slid one hand up the back of my neck to dig his fingers into my hair. When my own instinctively grabbed his waist, he sent his other to grasp my backside.

“Tellement romantique,” one of the women swooned.

Another cooed wordlessly. The one who spoke to us, however, kept quiet while Lucient yanked me ever-closer—grinding me into him—moaning softly with me.

That poor woman, truly, left to watch with no idea how to respond, entirely unaware of how close she came to death—assured that, with how I burned, how I ached to drown in her blood. The others grabbed her, tittering as they hurried passed us, taking their delicious pulses and sweet-smelling life with them.

When they were out of earshot, Lucient released me to lick the taste of me off his lips and wipe mine with his thumb. Decidedly refusing to meet my glare, he did address it, “Se détendre, mon tresor, you said you didn’t want to eat them. This way they get a thrill,” teasing my beard, he stood taller to kiss my nose and added, “and so do we.”

“Perché dobbiamo essere uno spettacolo,” I didn’t ask so much as complain.

And he laughed, “Better we be the show than the one your hunger would have given, non?” He retook my arm when I groaned and guided me toward more mundane scents. Namely, baked scents. The aroma of fresh baked bread overwhelming all others. It didn’t help the renewed awareness of my hunger, but Lucient did and, stealing a taste of my lips, he pointed to an alley.

Following his finger, I caught a woman in fewer layers than the others on the street. She was looking over her shoulder as she disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway, with a man in even less a few steps behind.

“A couple?” I asked, near to a scoff as it was.

And he sighed at me, chuckling softly after, “that is no couple, treasure, she went in first and led him...both of them cautious of watching eyes?”

His memories have been enough to explain how he knew, but perhaps I should explain how I did. There were exactly two working women in my little town, both did so out of the Amici...and we saw each other often. So yes, I was aware of what sort of target he’d chosen.

I was less aware of why it excited him.

“She’s working then,” I asked that excitement.

“Yes, she is,” it slithered from his lips, in a manner I did not at all care for as he walked towards them, careful to keep my arm as he did—eyes vigilant for others.

I kept close and confused while he hummed an unknown and lilting melody.

We caught up to them at the end of the cluttered alley. Despite the black of shadows, and wood crates and bottles in our path, they were easy for our eyes to find. Up against a wall they slammed, rhythmic but quieter than expected. The woman’s skirts were pulled up to her hips, her leg wrapped around the man’s bare backside. Yet she did not scream, did not make a sound in fact, she only held him, expression distant toward the boxes around them while he grunted and thrust into her.

Lucient laughed.

It took them by surprise, his laugh, but as they could not see us they went back to their business while I was taken by what he muttered, “Femme honteuse, lures a man in broad daylight, into this filthy alley, and can't even pretend?”

With the peculiar rage icing in his thoughts cooling my hunger, as much as it amplified what I felt of his, I was struck with a twinge of guilt. While the socialites had stoked my fear of becoming the monster—the demon—my mother’s memory kept calling me...it was there, with those two bright, hot pulsing bodies that it burned.

I knew, without a doubt I knew, that Lucient had no plans to leave them breathing. So where did that leave me, and my wretched aching hunger. Would I stop before they did, could I...did I want to?

Ice the eyes that turned on me, yet not for me, begging as they were while his voice came rich as ever, “They are easy prey, treasure, aching for our teeth and I am so very hungry, as are you, yet you hesitate?”

I waited a breath, then another, lip firm in my teeth for that face, those eyes. But I fell to them and pulled him to me, leaving the lovers to continue—ignoring us entirely.

With Lucient's tongue on mine, I still could not answer, but as his fingers dug into my hair, shoving that chill tongue deeper, he asked more, will you deny what we are, my love, or will you feast?

I had no chance to answer—not that I had one, uncertainty popping still.

As the lovers noticed us. Or, rather, one of them did.

The woman’s harsh voice interrupted, stuttering with the steady rhythm of the man inside her, essentially telling whoever was there to take a number, “Ey, si vous cherchez de la compagnie, vous devrez attendre votre tour.”

Lucient’s smoother one sang back, after he separated from me with a wink that worried, “Darling, you can't even keep the man inside you rapt, and you think you can please me?” on her before she had breath to say more, he threw her client towards me and cooed, “Let’s see if your death can manage it.”

In that chill voice and edge of his tone I was held, mesmerized...but aware enough to grab the half-naked man attempting to flee. Slamming said man into the nearest crate, I took him by the throat as he made to scream, but kept eyes on my dream.

“Je serai avec vous dans un instant, monsieur,” I told choking gasps to wait a moment as the man kicked and yanked at my arm—my voice perhaps too distant.

Oh, the hunger scraped, it raked and growled and gnashed its teeth. But I didn’t care, couldn’t, not with what unfolded before me stoking a greater fire.

Up against the wall Lucient pinned the woman and she moaned beneath his teeth, not kicking or squirming but holding—with more passion than she showed her client. And the sight of those hands so tight on his back burned me, but not so much as the leg that rose to hold him closer. His moans sang with hers, hungry if not lustful, but they seared all the same.

I’d not disturb him, starving as he was, as I was.

Yet all my worries of causing death burnt up in those wretched moans and I gripped the man in my hand tighter and tighter until his neck crackled. Weak as his cry sang, it sputtered in my slam of him against the wall—opposite Lucient and the gasping moans of his meal—and died as I tore into the soft flesh between neck and shoulder.

Filthy though his skin, grimy on my teeth as it was on my fingers, I tasted none of it. That salt-sweet life swelled in my veins, as all others, but I wouldn’t take time to savor it and while it soothed the burn of my skin, my blood, every fiber of my being...it wouldn’t cool what those moans set aflame.

Not a spasm of his muscles were enjoyed—barely even noticed—before I jerked free so roughly I took chunks with me. Hunger sated, my muscles yet twitched, my vision jittering as I spit flesh to the ground and dragged him to Lucient.

Tossing my spent meal at his feet, I waited until he finished with his. He dropped her beside mine and I was treated to the quirked grin of my dream—his thoughts bubbling with desires of being my nightmare.

“Well, that was quick,” he cooed, “Was he no good?”

Slamming him into the wall, in the precise spot he’d had the woman seconds before, I pinned his arms to his sides but didn’t speak.

He did, “Something I said...or, perhaps, did?”

“Testing me again,” I didn’t ask and my attempt not to growl a curse failed miserably, “Tu fottuto monello geloso.”

“Mm, your jealous brat,” he cooed, repeating the insult while carefully omitting my curse, “and I had my reasons. You were hesitating, treasure, about to taste without eating. Again. All the blood you’ve spilled and still you refuse to accept what you are, what we are.” Wriggling his arms free, he gasped as I snatched his wrists, pinning them above him, still he smiled, kept his cooing tone, “We’re predators, my love, you must learn to let that nagging humanity die.”

“And this is how you seek to teach me,” I snipped, turning as his bloody lips came for mine, “you play, you tease, to rile me, force me?”

“Force? How did I force?” He tried again and I leaned.

But while I didn’t taste it, that blood pumped inside me, singing of its want, its lust and it spilled into my voice, “The way you fed, how you let her touch and grab,” Avoiding another attempt at my lips, I fed them to his neck, delighting in the gasps that were mine, “You knew what it would do to me.”

“Did I,” he breathed, moaning ever so as I nibbled his ear, “I’m the jealous one, remember, treasure? You said so yourself; a little jealous brat.”

His greater gasp ignited me as I pressed in closer, tighter against him, whispering, “I didn’t say little.”

“Mm, but I’m a brat?” He asked, catching my lips, feeding me a warmed tongue.

You are, I said through it, savoring the gasp on mine, the moans as I held his wrists with one hand and teased above his breeches with my other. Pulling my lips free, I licked the bloody mess I left on his neck and cooed, “my brat.”

Reaching again for my lips, he snapped his teeth when he missed and pouted, “You only ask for more if this is my punishment.”

Mess cleaned from his neck, I licked what remained on his lips and dropped my voice flat, “No, this is.”

He whimpered as I released him, scoffing as I tossed the bodies at our feet behind the crates. My slow walk towards the street earned me another, and yet another when I bent to grab his dropped parasol.

Holding it out for him, I smiled and waited.

“Tease,” he accused, snatching the parasol and swatting me too sharply sweet.

“Learned from the best,” I giggled, kissing his cheek and wiping the dirt from his jacket before taking his arm.

Nudging me as I swooned in the light he hid from, he asked, “Are we done with that then, will you embrace what you are and be the magnificent monster I adore?”

I smiled, but didn’t answer...and didn’t need to.

We left our meals to the alley—safe and dark as it would remain—and, with his test of me successful, I left the rest of my humanity with them.

That was his way, to tease and taunt and make it seem always my choice to attack and kill. Had I not been so enamored by him—obsessed with him—those tricks would not have worked so well. He never did force, never demanded, only asked or teased or presented too delicious an opportunity to my ever-gnawing hunger.

My brat, my love, my partner…and my master—whether he enjoyed the title or not it was his. There were few things he could ask I would not do, even if I responded with sarcasm, even if I played at fighting back; I would beg and kill and die for him.

Without a twinge of remorse.

#writeblr #snippet #writing #novel #before deluca #vampire romance #we're accepting that as the genre now #tw: death #tw: suggestive #pardon my google and microsoft translations #no one better be coming out of this book thinking these two are a relationship to aspire to or i will be disappointed