#confection sugar baby

[stars4chratt]

Confections

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: pure smut / established relationship / softdom!matt / breeding kink / nipple play / mutual orgasms / cunnilingus / p in v / unprotected sex (do NOT) / creampie / FILTHY kitchen sex / LOTS of praise / pet names (baby, my love, sweetheart, good girl) / aftercare

Summary: The reader walks into her home after a prolonged and stressful day to Matt - her boyfriend - making baked goods in her kitchen. He welcomes her and gives her a taste of the delicious desserts. However, in return for the favour, Matt gets to taste her.

Author’s note: hiii guysss, i love you all for liking and enjoying Pins n’ Needles (there is a part 2 btw) After seeing the most recent Wednesday video, this made my fantasy grow even worse LMAOO. Also, leave a comment if you want to be added onto my taglist! Anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Cause I’m all that you want, boy. All that you can have, boy. Got me spread like a buffet. Bon a– Bon appetit, baby.” - BON APPETIT, KATY PERRY

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Your shoulders ache and the migraine you have encapsulated in the back of your head feels like it’s going to split your skull in half.

People gave you a lot of shit at work today. Both coworkers and customers. Nagging and berating you and reiterating the same jaw clenching phrase that ‘the customer is always right.’

You close your eyes and let your chest fall as you sigh longly with relief after you arrive home.

The strong and pleasant scent of stiff caster sugar alongside a tangible hint of lemon citrus whiffs through your sinuses.

Ah, Matt’s baking again. You comprehend yourself.

You plop your keys on the marble countertop and set your bag down. The feeling of a thousand weights being lifted off of you as you remove accessory after accessory attached to you.

Peeking around the corner, you see Matt whisking dairy products mashed with madagascan vanilla extract whisked into butter cream. You peer down and see something resting in the oven at exactly 195 degrees celsius.

The peacefulness Matt baking brings you is heavenly. Just him concocting a sugary delight for the simple enjoyment of doing so can’t help but make your cheeks flush bright red and your core ache desperately.

The paternity your boyfriend holds within him orchestrating treats of chocolate frosting and yeasty dough makes you fall for him even more. Not only do his sweet delicacies taste amazing, but he also does it for pure comfort and vindication for you both.

Sometimes you wonder if he would enjoy baking for a family of three, maybe even four.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He looks over his shoulder, he has a large piping bag in his grasp. A large grin appears on his face as he sneers. “Hi my love, how was work?”

You let out a fatigued sigh and your clasp around him tightens. “Not great, it was super stressful.”

He turns around to face you and pulls you in by your hips in an act of reassurance.

“Aww, my poor baby. What can I do to make you feel better? Hm?”

Matt’s words make the caterpillars in your stomach hatch into butterflies. You two have been dating for quite a while now and yet you still giggle and squeal like a small child whenever he asserts words of refreshment.

“There may be one thing I have in mind…” You whisper softly into his ear. After the distress of work and the mind blowingly stupid and egotistical customers you dealt with all day, you only wanted one thing that could ease your displeasure. For Matt to fuck your brains out.

As you were about to inform him about your dilemma, a soul-jumping alarm sitting on the table top starts dinging. Blaring across the entire kitchen. 

The migraine you’re suffering from induces even more, spreading through every crevice of your skull.

Matt notices the discomfort of the ear-splitting noise written all over your face and quickly shuts the alarm off.

“One second, sweetheart.” Abruptly, Matt grabs his teal blue oven mitts and crouches down to the oven to release the now strong scent of citric lemon flow through the room.

He takes out the tray and reveals to you that he had baked lemon drizzle cupcakes. Very tasty looking lemon drizzle cupcakes at that.

The glint in Matt’s eye along with his pearly whites framed with his smile presents his joy to you.

“Oh my god… They look delicious”

“Exactly, I’m a fantastic chef.”

“Damn right.” You both giggle together whilst Matt sets down the tray on a heatproof mat.

“What were you saying again, baby?” He twists back around to face you, letting you continue where you left off.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll leave it for after you finish off your cupcakes.” Matt’s eyes now glow with anticipation and curiosity.

“What you want won’t be an inconvenience for me at all, I can finish the cupcakes afterwards baby. I don’t wanna make you wait.” Matt crosses his arms patiently waiting for you to respond.

You gently stride over to him and lift your arms up to tug behind his neck over his shoulders.

“Matt..” You whisper softly into his ear. Trying to contain the burning sensation in between your legs. You really wanted to fuck. The intensity of today made you grow greedy with lust, and your boyfriend was the only person who could assist with that.

“Yes, baby?” He returns, completely oblivious to the pent-up arousal you’re experiencing.

You move one of your hands up the back of his head whilst the other tangles in the silver chain of his jewellery. 

You don’t say anything before you rapidly intertwine your lips with Matt’s. Your cravings of thirst for Matt’s touch starts to fester passionately.

He almost immediately reciprocates and swings his arms around your figure, your whole upper body in his grasp. You whine loudly at the sudden action as it makes your entrance leak and his touch makes you tingle like electricity shooting up your spine.

You advance your hands onto his chest and push him up against the wall beside the table top island stranded in the middle of the room.

The bulge throbbing slightly in his grey sweatpants presses against your core. Which makes you both gasp and sob into eachothers mouths.

“I’m so impatient, Matt. I need your dick now. Today has been so shitty and I really want it. Please, baby.” You choke up the words through the desperate whines thickening the air around you.

“Get on the counter then, sweetheart. Let me relieve all that stress for you.” Matt states delicately as he peppers kisses all over you up until he stops at your collarbone. He grips onto your shoulders as he forces you down on the counter until you're fully laying down with your legs spread wide.

“I don’t think we have any more condoms left.” Matt speaks softly whilst he towers over you. There’s a small worry in his pupils before you reassure him.

“Fuck it, we can go without. I need you so badly right now Matt, you don’t understand. Condom or not, I don’t care anymore. Just please fuck me.”

Your constant begging in impatience makes Matt’s prick pulse harshly. He rushes over on top of you to connect his lips with yours again.

The sloppy wetness of the kiss alongside his rock hard cock restricted in his sweats rubbed against your clothed heat has him writhing in a needy haze. His eyes go cloudy and his skin is painted ruby.

Matt viscously tugs at the hem of your work shirt pulling it upwards to reveal your laced bra. Your chest rising and falling heavily underneath Matt’s aggression.

He pulls down your underclothes instantaneously. Your tits spilling out and your nipples are swollen red.

“Oh, fuck yeah… Wait just one second sweetheart.” Matt leaves the enclosure of the space in between your legs but you can still see him in your peripheral. 

You look over to see him grab the piping bag. He races back over to the original position he was just in. His horse pendant jangling about and grazing over his defined collarbones.

“What’re you gonna do with the piping bag..?” You question him hesitantly, feeding your bottom lip into your mouth.

“You taste so good on my tongue baby. I bet you’d taste even better with cream on top of your tits. Hm?”

Matt’s filthy idea makes you tremble and your folds become velvety slick. Who would’ve thought that Matt, your boyfriend, a professional baker would want to fuck you as messily as this.

Matt leans over you and squeezes the piping bag slowly. The cream grazes your skin and the coldness of the substance makes you squirm and your back arches.

He moves the piping bag down and leaves a trail of sugary white down to just above your belly button.

His bottom lip fully concealed under his teeth in concentration before he sets the bag down and reels your hips in so the lower half of your body is hanging off the edge of the counter.

Matt then drops down to your height and starts to suck on your rock hard bud. Fully licking the cream off and nibbling at the centre, his mouth on your fully perched out nipples makes your entrance twitch and soak in your juices.

“You taste so fucking good, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long. You don’t understand.” Matt gasps between licks on your tit.

He moves his head up slightly to suckle and nibble on the flesh of your neck. Leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your skin. Making you whimper into the air of the kitchen.

He advances down the thick, sugary trail that stops at your belly button. Licking and consuming the cream off of your now hot and plush flesh.

After all of the cream is gone, Matt brushes against his lip with his tongue and grabs the bag again. 

He hastily undoes the button on your work jeans and rips them off your legs in keenness. He uses his thumb and index finger to push your matching lace panties to the side. Now fully unveiling your bare, bright pink pussy.

Matt repositions his hands and puts the nub of the piping bag on the very peak of your clit.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your breath is still heavy and uneven.

“I’m eating you my love, wasn’t it obvious?” Suddenly, you feel a thick and freezing cold liquid resting on your swollen heat. This kind of filth during intimate times like this really makes you think about what other kind of things Matt is into, and you fucking love it

He throws the bag back onto the counter and crouches down until his face is barely touching your pussy. He blows on your clit gently, making your entire body shiver.

His lips are just slightly touching your soaking wet entrance. Just as you thought he was going to eat you out right then and there, he turns his head to pay his full attention to your thighs. Kissing and sucking on them gently. Whilst his hands have their full grip on them, squeezing them in temptation at relishing at your throbbing core.

“Matt..” You whine in impatience. You were so desperate for him to just consume all of you. His tongue felt amazing on your skin. He knew all of your weak spots and he knew exactly how to take advantage of that.

“Shhh, I’m here. I promise.” He drawls out faintly, his breath brushing over you again.

Matt focuses on your dripping centre again, and gradually sticks his tongue inside your entrance.

His saliva mixing with your silky juices and the cream still laying on your clit makes your head tilt back and your eyes roll back into your skull.

Matt pulls out his tongue straight away after he notices you broke eye contact.

“No, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me whilst I eat you out like a good girl.”

You whimper at Matt’s mixture of a command and a praise. You turn your head back down to see him staring up at you through his eyelashes with his tongue deep inside you.

He licks a stripe up your folds and fully swallows up the sugary goodness of both the cream and your juices. 

You could not stop trembling under his tongue circling around your throbbing clit. His nose resting slightly above with his irises still dilated onto yours. 

You can feel your body tensing as Matt’s mouth is latched onto your slippery heat.

“Matt.. I-I’m gonna…” You mumble faintly.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my mouth. Let me taste more of you.”

An overwhelming flush or euphoria strikes all through your body in waves. Your breath hitches and you grab onto Matt’s hair, making him hum into your heat.

Your chest rises and falls smoothly whilst coming down from your high and Matt slows the rhythm of his tongue down on your clit.

Suddenly he detaches his mouth from your skin and pulls his sweatpants down.

Matt’s dick comes sprawling out of his garments. The vein that runs down the middle of his length spikes outwards. The very sight of his cock is an aphrodisiac to your senses within itself.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. I’ve never asked you because I didn’t think you’d like it.” His necklace glints under the artificial light beaming down on the both of you that hangs just above the counter.

“Matt, you really should’ve asked. Fuck a baby into me, fill me up with your cum. Forget about the fucking cream. I want yours.” You sigh out. Your core twitching at the sight of his taffy pink prick fully exposed practically grazing against you.

The gaze in Matt’s eyes is full to the brim with hot pink lust. He’s practically drooling in admiration at how fuckable you look right now.

He grips onto your thighs again and presses his tip against your slippery entrance. He hisses at the overwhelming thrill of the feeling of your drenched folds.

Matt pushes his length inside of you at a sluggish pace, almost like he’s teasing you by going slow in the beginning.

Your spongy, slick walls squeeze down on his cock and it makes it pulse inside you. He whimpers on top of you while he sits inside of you in and out stagantly.

“Fuck…you’re so tight sweetheart.” Matt stutters, the utmost feeling of your pussy clenched around his dick is like heaven to him. Your breathless whines and moans are like harmonic symphonies ringing and humming in his ears. His visual stimuli are more than satisfactory from your tender and curvaceous figure that he has held in his hands at this very moment.

Matt’s pace starts to quicken and becomes more rapid inside you. Every single time he rams into you, he slightly grazes that sweet spot that drives you absolutely fucking insane. It’s like his cock was made for you. “I want to fuck you so good your pussy turns into the shape of my dick baby. It’s so perfect. I can’t wait to fuck my cum into you.”

“Please do it Matt… cum inside me.” His dick is slightly bulging out of your stomach. He sees this as an opportunity to use his two fingers and press on your abdomen slightly. “This is where my babies are gonna be, sweetheart. All for you. Taking it all like such a good girl.” He huffs out smugly.

The sound of your skin clapping and beating against each other every single time he pounds his dick into you and his waist clashes into your thighs and ass cheeks almost hypnotises you. “M-Matt… I’m gonna cum again…”

“Fuck… me too baby. I’m s-so close..” The rhythm of Matt fucking his cock into you starts to slow down and you can feel his lower body start to stutter and his member pulses thickly inside of you.

“Oh f-fuck… take all of my cum sweetheart…I’m gonna cum…c-cumming…” His arms give in and he loses all balance as he feeds his cum into your hole. His and your juices swirl and mix together inside you.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to feel warm. The feeling of Matt’s hot and thick load spilling inside all the way through your cervix pulls and twists at your neurons, especially alongside your soul-shattering orgasm Matt just gave you.

He drops his whole weight on you completely and hides his head in the crook of your neck. His heavy breath brushes on your skin while his prick still rests inside you, you can’t tell if he’s too tired to take it out or he wants all of his cum to stay inside.

Either way you both savour the moment while you lay still on top of each other. Catching your breath and coming down from your second high.

Matt raises his head up and reaches out for the cloth laying next to the piping bag. He balls it up and wipes at the skin with small spots of butter cream from earlier.

“I wasn’t too rough on you this time, was I?” He enquires. He looks down on you, still swiping away the white mess all over you.

“No, of course not baby. I loved it.” You respond, giggling exhaustedly. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.” Matt smiles before pecking your cheek and rests his head on your collarbone once more.

“A-are you still inside me?” 

“Pfft, yeah.” 

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Author’s Note No.2: MY GOD THIS WAS ANNOYING TO WRITE. Sorry for the slight delay, I was incredibly tired and fell asleep and I got preoccupied with school. Anyways. Again, thank you so much for enjoying Pins n’ Needles. I WILL be making a part 2 very soon! :)

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #smut #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

[eflen-n-reegee]

Caregiver Rosie Headcanons (Hazbin Hotel)

Heads up: this show contains death, violence, swearing, sexual assault, and various forms of depravity.

Rosie can spot a regressor a mile away, and she’ll start nurturing you before she even knows your name. It might be a little off-putting, but she has good intentions.

She loves to baby the absolute dickens out of you. No matter how old you are, she’s constantly pinching your cheeks and cooing about how adorable you are.

(And any argument about how you’re too old for that kind of thing is met with a cheerful hand wave. “Oh sugar, you’ll always be my baby, however big you get.”)

There’s all kinds of creepy confections at her store, and she’s happy to let you try them… but she’s also completely willing to make you more normal food. “It’s an acquired taste, sweetie, no big deal.”

She loves to dress you up in old fashioned outfits, and she goes on for hours about how darling you look.

She is GREAT with helping you work through big feelings. She’s a wonderful listener and always gives helpful advice.

She’s always watching for things she thinks you’ll like. Maybe she surprises you with a new toy, or maybe she points out a cool bug on the ground. She just likes seeing you excited.

If you like tea parties, Rosie is your gal. She’ll set out her best tea service, make all kinds of tasty snacks, and bring plenty of gossip to the table.

She’s a very hands-on person, constantly wanting to hug you or hold your hand or fuss with your hair. (And if you don’t like physical contact, she’ll respect that, but she’ll also try to find forms of touch you’re comfortable with. Maybe gentle tugs on your sleeve, or holding hands with a plushie? She’ll find something that works!)

She is very firm about rules and has absolutely no qualms about sending you to timeout. Don’t bother with the puppy eyes; she’s completely immune.

~~~~~~~~~

I’m finally back! I’m working on filling some suggestions from a few months ago, but I just had to get my thoughts on Rosie out there. If you like Hazbin Hotel agere content, I highly recommend @nottapossum

#Eflen writes #Eflen headcanons #Hazbin Hotel agere #Hazbin Hotel age regression #Rosie agere #Rosie age regression #sfw age regression #sfw agere #age regression headcanons #caregiver headcanons #hazbin hotel

[gothicminxx]

Part 1 here

Part 2 is finally here! It took me forever to write, there’s a happy ending in this one I promise!

Satosugu x Fem! Reader

CW: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, pet names (baby and angel), established relationship with Gojo, mentions of sex if you squint. A slight razzle dazzle of the Shibuya arc.

WC: 5.2k

Also do y’all like love and deadspace? Thinking of posting a Zayne one shot soon.

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Late hours of the night brought the city to life, lights glittered brightly and it hid the beauty of the stars in the dark sky. Any attraction given to the charm of nature was only given to the full moon, bright and massive with a tint of blood orange to it tonight— a fitting color for Halloween night. The streets of Shibuya littered with college students and foreigners from different countries that had come down to experience a party of a lifetime. Common and unique costumes alike wandered drunkenly on the pavement, stumbling not only over their feet but words as well.

Halloween night in Shibuya was known for its array of bars, genres of music that boomed loudly in the city, and the small community of party goers that it created— a splendid environment for extroverts. It set the perfect trap for those with intentions that were the least bit pure to bait and capture the great Satoru Gojo, the man that had dampened the lives of curses the moment he was born.

The night had begun like any other, Satoru stood in the rather large kitchen with a gray towelette resting on his shoulder. He wore an apron that wrapped tightly around his slender waist as he concentrated on perfecting his tonkatsu chicken for dinner. Quietly he hummed along to a random playlist on his phone, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. His back muscles flexed the moment he began cutting up vegetables for dinner.

You stood in the kitchen with your husband, preparing a sweet cream that would accompany the matcha swiss rolls you were working hard on. Satoru, being a greedy man, adored having sweet pastries after dinner made by his lovely wife. He constantly begged you for a delicious confection, coaxing you with a much needed massage, or even a bath for two which always ended in a moment of tangled moans. You never complained when it came to indulging his addiction to sugar, it was a mere excuse to spend time together in the kitchen for a couple of hours, even if you already spent a lot of time with him.

Satoru grabbed plates from the cupboard to assemble your dinner as you popped your tasty dessert in the oven. Sauntering over to the small dining table you began to set everything up, allowing Satoru to pull a chair out for you before setting your dinner in front of you. Together you savored the flavors of each item of food, sharing in conversation about mundane things that held no importance at the time.

As dessert cooled down from the oven both of you sat on the cozy sectional couch in your living room, sitting on his lap to feed him dessert. Giggling as he threw compliments your way like a love sick puppy dog after each bite. Even if you had been married to Satoru for three years now the two of you acted like teenagers in love.

You laid snuggled up in his side with his arms wrapped tightly around you, watching a movie, slowly dozing off. Before a perfect night could conclude, Satoru’s phone rang loudly, begging for attention obnoxiously snapping you out of a sleepy haze. Groaning loudly he reached for his phone, pressing the green accept button with a roll of his eyes, “What is it now, Nanami?”

The deep gentle voice of Nanami flowed through his phone as he pressed it to his ear, furrowing his brows as he listened along. Being the nosy person you were, you tried your hardest to listen to the conversation but his voice was muffled. Whatever Nanami was telling Satoru it appeared to be serious, his body stiffened underneath you, “Uh huh, be there soon.” Satoru’s slender finger clicked the red decline button before he tossed the mobile device to the side.

A loud groan escaped his lips, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. A sense of worry washed over you as you quickly sat up, “I'm sorry baby, but we gotta get going.” He stated, standing from the couch as he extended his hand down to help you up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a perplexed expression falling on your beautiful face.

“It seems a veil has been casted down in Shibuya. Non-sorcerers are trapped inside without a way out, sorcerers may move freely in certain areas, while others are blocked off.” The situation sounded grave, it was concerning to be left in the dark, nobody had any idea of who could possibly be behind it.

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Leaning back against a metal pole you let out a loud heaving breath, clutching your cursed tool tightly that the white of your knuckles were visible. The head of a deformed human was held in your hand, blood spilling against the tile before you discarded it on the floor. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire after the relentless pace of bolting through the crowded subway station, slicing each deformed human that came near you. Mahito had an endless supply of these things, spitting more out from his mouth in globs that it seemed nearly impossible to kill them all.

Satoru had been separated from you for a mere second which was absolutely devastating for the powerful sorcerer, his main goal as it always has been, was to keep you safe in the confinements of his limitless technique. But Hanami and Jogo had different plans, separating him from you the moment an opportunity presented itself. You were ultimately the biggest thing he cared about, the cursed spirits had an understanding that as long as you were near Satoru, he would be reckless in his movements. Without hesitation he would hurt those that stood near as he used infinite void to destroy the cursed spirits if it meant keeping you safe. A technique that without fail would earn him victory.

Mahito had been put in charge of tiring you out, to exhaust all of your cursed energy, he doubted your abilities believing that you were a mere weakling. But as soon as his doubt came, it quickly deteriorated, the blade of your Katana burned bright red and pink resembling a wildfire. It terrified yet intrigued the patch face curse to witness first hand, he had only been warned that you were a reversed curse technique user with the special ability of bringing back the dead. The power of your cursed energy, the way you transferred it to the blade burning it, causing it to turn a lovely shade of glowing orange-- excited him, “I never knew you’d be this much fun!” Mahito giggled, twirling with his arms extended like a child.

Wiping sweat from your brow a smirk etched itself on your face, “I didn’t expect you to be this annoying.” You hissed, gripping the handle of the katana, digging your heel into the ground preparing to race towards him.

The cursed spirit had become a nuisance rather quickly that it had gotten under your skin. Your main focus was to run downstairs towards Satoru to be by his side, where you belonged. You knew better than to be worried about him, he was the strongest after all but you couldn’t help it— something was off. Digging the ball of your foot on the tile ground you lunged forward, the fiery blade coming in contact with the cursed spirit. Mahito’s eyes widened as your movements caught him off guard, piercing through his abdomen causing a choked cough to escape him. You twist the blade, listening to the squelch of his organs before pulling the Katana away, “I’m getting sick of your shit.” Your words are dripping with venom.

Another cackle stems from his lips that it only manages to enrage you more. The moment you had arrived with Satoru to Shibuya, warning bells rang in your head, the thick layers of the veil were enough to give you a clear sign. “Awe, you don’t mean that.” Mahito cooed, jutting his lips in a pout.

Igniting the katana with more cursed energy, your legs lept into another sprint, quick to dodge a blow from Mahito’s fist that stretched out like a rubber band. The fiery blade makes contact with his abdomen once more earning a groan of pain from his lips, crimson blood decorating the blade of your katana as it’s ripped away from Mahitos stomach. You could feel the familiar burn in your lungs and the ache in your muscles from exhaustion, constantly running circles around him for the last thirty minutes was draining.

Annoyingly enough for the patch face curse, exerting your physical stamina would never be enough to exhaust the cursed energy stored in your body. You were far too calculating, too aware of how much energy you needed to exude from yourself in order to take an opponent down; it was infuriating. If Mahito hadn’t been instructed to keep you alive, he would have touched the essence of your soul and morphed you into a doll he could play with.

Mahito tilted his head, clutching his fists tightly almost as if he was preparing to send another attack your way. Instead, he snickered as his gaze drifted to the stairs that led to the lower level of the subway station, “Come play some more, doll.” he licked his lips almost predatory as he sprinted toward the stairs, listening to your feet not far behind him-- it was all according to plan.

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Cerulean eyes held a barbaric gaze, wild grin plastered on his face as his long legs took strides toward the volcano head curse, that coward in fear from the mere sight of him. His pale cheeks stained with crimson blood and his breath was frantic from eradicating deformed humans. The plan of separating him from you failed, ultimately he had released his infinite void domain for a tenth of a second to rid of the nuisances that were Mahito’s doing.

“You crying?” Satoru snickered as he stepped closer to Jogo, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins; he felt like a god. His head tilted to the side in a mocking manner, dusting his blue blazer with a displeased look on his face, “I don’t take too kindly to being separated from my wife, you understand that… right, Jogo?”

Satoru had become fed up with the constant battle, the pathetic back and forth with curses that believed they could defeat him; he was a force to be reckoned with. As he stared at the trepidation in Jogo’s eyes; though it brought him satisfaction, he simply wanted to be at your side again to protect you. Reaching his large hand out, Saturo took a hold of Jogo’s arm, ripping the appendage off his body, a giggle escaping his lips. The curse let out a panicked yelp, trying his best to create distance between him and the six eyed sorcerer; he had to keep him busy for a few more minutes but it was starting to feel like an eternity to him. Being put against Satoru was pure misery for the volcano head.

He pushed through the crowd of frozen bodies that had been affected by his infinite void domain, finding joy in the chase. Jogo was quick on his feet but Satoru wasn’t too far behind, in his panic he found himself throwing balls of fire at the white haired man; bouncing off his limitless. Jogo knew it was a desperate attempt, that he would never be able to hit Gojo, his limitless too powerful.

Racing footsteps echoed throughout the lower level of the subway station, laughter bouncing off the walls; it sounded all too familiar to Jogo. His footsteps slowed down as the shadow of a figure danced along the wall, long blue hair flowing in the wind— Mahito appeared down the stairs, giggling like a maniac. The new presence halted Satoru the moment he laid eyes on you chasing after the patch face curse, your katana blazing an angry red.

His heart fluttered as relief washed over him; you were okay. His focus soon shifts towards you, the chase soon dispersing from his mind as Satoru’s feet quickly move in your direction; planning to shield you in the confinements of his limitless technique. It felt as though he had gone a lifetime separated from you, the worry had been gnawing at him. Yet he knew better, knew that you were capable of defending yourself in the face of danger, but it never made him worry any less.

Mahito raced toward Jogo, a smirk evident on his face, “Jogo, it’s time!” He exclaimed.

Milky hair came into your view, hand grasping your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His hold was firm as if to shield you from the world, hearing Mahito’s words was enough for the six eyes to sense a threat approaching. “Stay close to me.” Satoru instructed his jaw clenched tightly, you could only nod in response.

It was a late reaction as your eyes widened, feeling his firm body against yours; wanting to feel you close to him. Since the events that had perspired with Suguru a few years ago, Satoru kept you under lock and key like a guard dog protecting its home. It was rare for you to be out of his sight, never too far as the fear of losing you too stayed with him, sticking like gum. He requested the higher ups to keep you at Jujutsu High where you spent most of your days training the students and helping in the infirmary. While most of the teacher’s received missions often that required their attention, to keep you safe, he made sure you stayed busy at school. It was never that Satoru didn’t believe you to be capable of defending yourself or even that he doubted your abilities, he knew you were strong. But you were also the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if even a tiny scratch scathed your pretty skin.

Jogo followed Mahito, a loud whistle erupting from his lips as if he were signaling something or someone. Satoru’s arms tightened around your waist as a figure appeared in the distance, responding to Jogo. Your throat felt tight as the silence was deafening, the footsteps rang loudly in your ears, the air impossibly thick. Instinctually your hand reached Satoru’s blazer to grasp it tightly, afraid to be separated from him once more.

“Satoru and Name, been awhile.” The voice was gentle, a silky melody that made your hearts drop to your stomachs. You knew that voice anywhere.

As the figure approached from the shadows of the subway tunnel, long raven hair entered your peripheral vision. Your grip on Satoru tightened, a lump forming in your throat that it felt as though it was closing up your esophagus. The face of the lover you lost to the grim reaper a few years ago now stood in front of you. Memories of his limp body falling in your arms that nearly crushed you, your wails and screams filling every crevice of your mind. Suguru’s bloody face flashed before your eyes, bringing you back to the field of the school-- begging Satoru that it didn’t have to end this way. You blinked a few times as he approached, how was a dead man walking? You looked up at Satoru as if asking for reassurance that he too was seeing the same thing as you. His jaw was clenched, his face drained of any color, and his lip quivered slightly-- he saw him too. “You’re the one behind this?” You blurted, unable to halt the words from escaping.

Suguru smirked, he appeared to be looking around him with admiration at the chaos that the curses caused. His coffee eyes soon focused on the two of you, “I guess so,” he chuckled, he took a step closer, “Didn’t you miss me?”

Satoru dug his nails inside of his palm the longer he stared at Suguru. His features were the same as if he had never died, as if he never left his lovers. He gritted his teeth preparing his red technique, to muster the courage to do it all over again-- to end it, but he couldn’t, “My six eyes keep telling me it’s Suguru Geto, but my heart and soul know otherwise!” He hissed, the agony he felt evident in his voice.

“So observant.” He cooed. Suguru tossed a metal cube in front of you, using the shock of the situation to his advantage. The cube opened, quick to entrap your wrists and Satoru’s tightly like cuffs.

The raven haired man reached up and pulled at the stitches engraved in his forehead, pulling up his scalp to reveal Kenjaku, a curse that has the ability to use the victim's body as his own. “Someone was kind enough to leave this body for me.”

Kenjaku’s words confused you. Satoru had taken you to the crematorium after Suguru’s death, a place where they laid sorcerer's to rest. It was a small place just outside Kyoto, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Satoru had picked this crematorium for this reason. Suguru admired the pink color, the sweet aroma the flowers brought each season. At the time he picked an apartment with a cherry blossom tree in the backyard. Every spring he would pick the flowers to make mochi, sitting outside to delight in the sweet confection with the two of you. The cherry blossom tree held a special meaning for the both of you, it was Suguru.

The white haired man had taken you by the hand, leading you to a small koi pond. A marble tombstone with Suguru’s name had come into view, a few flowers already scattered on his grave. You reached out your fingertips to trace his name, tears rolling down your face as the reality had finally set in that he was gone. You remember setting down his favorite tea and Cherry blossom mochi that you and Satoru had stayed up all night to make that wasn’t nearly as good as his. It never made sense to you as to why your husband never allowed you to have an urn with Suguru’s ashes. You had begged him, pleaded with him to let you have that last piece of him but Satoru insisted he’d be better off somewhere lovely. His ashes were placed in the ground that would one day make a cherry blossom tree.

As he stood here now, you realized Satoru had never gotten rid of Suguru’s body. That when he had instructed Shoko to take him to get cremated it had never happened. The grave you had spent hours at, talking to him, dropping him gifts-- it was empty. “What?” You choked, your eyes immediately falling on your snowy haired lover.

Satoru avoided your gaze, dropping his head to the ground ashamed that a secret he had held onto for so long had finally come to light. He had planned to tell you one day, but as time passed and visits to Suguru’s ‘grave’ became more frequent-- he couldn’t. Kenjaku tsked, “What a pity, it was quite simple to retrieve this body. Surprised you would be so weak to not tell her.”

You winced at his mocking tone, each word stung deeper than a knife. Satoru had lied to you, kept you away from resurrecting the man you each had spent decades loving. You understood Suguru’s values would never match up to your own, that his existence alone was a threat to human society, and yet, none of it mattered. The love you held in your heart for him was much greater than the mistakes he had made, than the lives he had taken. You could never see him as a monster, Suguru had always been misunderstood. “Sato-”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “How much longer are you going to let it control you, Suguru?!” Satoru called out.

Suguru’s hand began to twitch, his hand lunging forward at his own throat causing Kenjaku to laugh in amusement, “I’ve never had a body fight back before. How entertaining.”

“You’re one of the strongest, don’t let it consume you, Sugu.” You added, his hand doing anything it can to choke the curse living inside of him.

Kenjaku laughed, peeling each finger off his neck with brute force, “Times up.” The cube that had surrounded you and Satoru slowly began to close, muffling the sounds of the outside world as it entrapped you inside its prison-- each surrounding going black.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The prison realm was compact, reeking of death from the various skeletons from past prisoners that surrounded you. The bones made for an uncomfortable mattress, Satoru had laid you on top of his body to provide you some form of cushion. It was silent in the metal box that imprisoned you compared to the noisy outside world that continued with or without you, it was a bleak thought. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress your tears, the last thing you wanted was to be near him. Your heart felt heavy in your chest almost like a fifty pound weight rested there, it ached an agonizing pain that you could barely ignore it.

Satoru’s heart steadily beat against your ear, the only other sound that could be heard besides his breaths. He held you tightly, his arm around your waist and the other moved from your hair to infront of your eyes, obscuring your vision to total darkness, “Don’t think.” He murmured.

Your lips quivered, his words setting off each emotion you felt deeply, a choked sob raking your body. A few of your tears touched the palm of his hand, Satoru’s heart stung the more you gripped his hand, whimpering like an injured puppy. It pained him to see the damage his actions had caused, he swore to himself that he would tell you the truth on Suguru’s birthday. The day you had tirelessly baked a chocolate cake for hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect it just for him. Dolling yourself up in the mirror, that day you made sure to wear Suguru’s favorite dress that he had bought for you, a white one that made you appear like an angel sent from above. When you sat at his tombstone with balloons, cake, and sunflowers, lighting up candles on the cake as you and Satoru sang him happy birthday. He promised then that he would tell you, but he never did.

He kissed the top of your head, holding his hand still over your teary eyes, providing the only darkness he knew would calm you down. It was his form of silencing the world around you, allowing you to focus on the atmosphere around you-- acknowledging each emotion you felt that you often failed to discern. “Don’t think, just focus.” Satoru instructed once more.

Another wail left your lips that caused him to wince, holding you tighter as he buried his face in your hair. A tear slid down his face as he listened to you cry, he hated himself for the agony he had caused you. Holding his wrist tighter to keep his hand as a blind fold you listened to the quiet atmosphere around you, that stench of death that made your stomach churn reminding you of the prison you were in. Trying to grasp at the emotions that overwhelmed you, “How could you do this to me?” You choked out.

Nuzzling his cheek against your hair, you could feel the wetness-- he was crying. Satoru held onto you as his life depended on it, petrified that if he let go that you would disappear and leave him alone in this cruel world. The person he loved with his entire being, the one he would sacrifice his own life for in a heartbeat because you were absolutely everything to him. He felt like an idiot for lying to you, the truth always came out, he was a fool for believing otherwise, “Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Satoru croaked, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you but I…”

“Decided to be selfish and lie to me instead?”

“Name-”

“No, you thought I’d be reckless and bring him back,” You shoved his hand away, sitting up on him, “Didn’t you?”

Your face was flushed, sticky with tears that persisted on falling from your eyes. Your chest heaving up and down, a clear indication that you were furious at him. Satoru sat up, averting his gaze from those pretty sad eyes of yours-- he felt sick. “Look at me!” You pleaded, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at the hurt he caused.

He placed his hands on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he found the strength to muster words, “I did.”

You dropped your hand from his chin, dropping your gaze to his abdomen as you frantically wiped at your tears. He doubted you, but was he wrong? His death had affected you gravely that it took months to cope, even now you still struggled on certain days. Suguru’s birthday was the hardest date to get by, alongside the day he passed, those days you wore his clothes that had already lost his scent. You drank his favorite tea even if you preferred coffee, you just wanted to feel close to him again. Satoru clung onto you those days, he sought after your comfort-- as you did his. It was silent around your home for long periods of time, embracing each other tightly to communicate how much you missed him, to remind one another that you were still here.

Suguru’s spot in bed remained untouched, a cold spot that reminded you of the once warm body that lay there. His things never left your house, not even after you and Satoru moved to a new home, there was always a piece of him there. Thinking now, if Satoru had told you that Shoko stored his body somewhere safe you would have spent days, even months searching for it-- you’d bring him back. You had been blessed with the ability to bring those back from the dead, it didn't matter how long they were gone, if the body was well preserved you could bring them back. Playing with death would have its consequences someday, but you would have risked it for Suguru. Your husband wasn’t wrong to hide the truth from you, you couldn’t let Suguru go.

“I would have.” You chuckled bitterly, resting your forehead against Satoru’s, “I still would.”

His hand cupped your cheek, gently wiping away the fat tears that cascaded down your face, “I know.”

“I miss him, Toru.”

“Me too, baby.”

You stared up at the black sky, Kenjaku now had Suguru’s body. It was a harsh reality. While he created chaos as your deceased lover, you were locked away in a box, hoping to be rescued by the other sorcerers. The time of when you’d be free from this hell wasn’t certain nor was it definite, you relied on those outside to save you; you had faith. Once freed, it was inevitable that Satoru would fight against Kenjaku, face the reality of hurting Suguru’s body once more-- something he hadn’t forgiven himself for. “I can bring him back, once we get out… I can bring Sugu back.” You blurted.

Satoru sucked in a breath at your words, it had never left your mind to bring him back. He knew you still thought of the days where it was just the three of you, he did too. The six eyes craved to have his old life back where the raven haired man was in the picture, his gentle smile, his soft voice-- he missed it all. It sounded like a dream come true to have that life back, perhaps the old Suguru would return, at least that’s what he told himself.

His silence was deafening, “Please,” You choked, more tears fell from your eyes, “Please let me bring him back, Toru. We can eat mochi under cherry blossom trees again, just like we used to. You can drag us out of bed on snow days and I won’t complain, I promise. Then he’ll scold you for eating too many sweets and for buying candy behind his back. Please… I-” Your head fell against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, pleading with him over and over again.

He buried his face in your hair once more, holding the back of your head with his hand, gently rocking your bodies together. Satoru wanted that fantasy life more than anything, your promises sounded like honey. It was a life that had once been reality before Suguru disappeared to pursue his own ideals, a life that remained cherished. Satoru cried with you, biting his lip to suppress his whimpers; he knew better. Suguru had changed, too stuck in his ways, his values so engraved in his brain that it was impossible to persuade him differently. His own lovers couldn’t stray him from the society he saw fit, Suguru would return to his old ways-- Satoru would let him, neither of you would deny him that anymore and that terrified him. “We can’t.” His voice weak, the words struggled to come out almost as if he didn’t believe what he was telling you.

Your body shook with each sob that left your lips, each tear staining his navy blazer. Your husband held you tighter, silence loomed overhead as you both cried. In the end the both of you knew that your love for Suguru remained, neither of you have stopped grieving him. “I can’t let him go.” You rasped.

It was Satoru’s turn to sob, cradling your head in his hand. The rocking of your bodies pacified the emotions from causing anxiety, his body was warm— a big protective blanket that you found yourself sinking into further. A sharp pang spread through his heart as he reminisced on the past. It would be selfish to bring him back, to turn the world upside down as Satoru and you finally stood by him. He couldn’t let him go either.

Pulling back from the hug, Satoru cupped his hands on both of your cheeks, he was a selfish man. Two selfish lovers disregarding the pain of the innocent for a love unforgotten.

He had lived for others, sacrificed himself for the greater good. Satoru constantly fought tooth and nail to protect the weak, constantly worrying about you because the weak could not control their cursed energy— curses would continue to be born. But they were only human. The guilt was gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraled out of control the more he looked at his precious wife. Suguru was right, it was your turn to be happy.

“Okay, once we get out of here… let’s get our Sugu back, angel.”

Maybe it was selfish, but neither of you cared anymore. The decision had been made. When the prison realm freed you, and the battle became a gruesome bloody mess. With Kenjaku ripped from Suguru’s body, you did the only thing you knew— resurrect the man that held onto your hearts after all these years.

As he wrapped his arms around you both, holding you close. The smell of cedar wood and jasmine enveloped you like he never left, he held your dizzying body tightly that felt exhausted after using up your cursed energy for the day. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish, the long lost lover had returned, never to be separated from either of you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#angst #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #love #polyamory #satosugu #satosugu x reader #suguru geto #satorugojo #happy ending #multi #multiple #shibuya #prison realm #mahito #jogo jjk #hanami jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto

[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E2

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 2nd | monday plays: food play WC: 0.8k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker x f!reader WARNINGS: f!reader | switch!anakin | pnp | coitus | kinks: size, praise | foodplay | unprotected sex | finger sucking | mommy issues | body image: “short.” | no y/n

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“What are you up to?” The voice of none other than Anakin Skywalker breaks you out of your focus, pivoting your head in his direction in time to witness him stride into the kitchen.

“Oh,” you breathe, grinning in relief to see him. Your grip readjusts on the piping bag, returning to your meticulous work of tracing frosting streamers onto the sides of the dessert. “Finishing up this cake. It’s one of the ladies’ birthdays.” you answer his question, your volume lowered while you labor. Anakin remedies the lack of appropriate decibels by closing the space between you. The warmth of his presence against your back alerts you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when he stoops to hover his chin over your shoulder.

“Such a sweet girl.” he muses, commending you for your selfless act. Instead you’re selfishly thinking about the ways he could show his appreciation for you. He takes advantage of your distraction, and dips his finger into the careful decoration of the dessert.

“Ani!” you chastise him, patting him as he passes you to round the island. Lips enclosed around his thick fingertip as he sucks off the sweetness. That mischievous curl to them makes you shake your head at him, quick to reverse his misdeeds by dedicating yourself to filling the crater he created. He sits onto the stool opposite to you, and you curse your attraction to his height. Unlike you, he doesn’t struggle to get seated on those things. He releases his finger with a wet pop, and dives for another round. Fortunately, you intercept him. “Ah, ah! No.” you command, and there’s a shift in his eyes. A glint of intrigue, pleasantly taken aback as you raise the bag to offer to him. Obediently, he outstretches his index, and you squeeze a line of frosting onto it. You note how he obliges you, as if he enjoys being scolded and told what to do. To show you you’re exactly right, he licks up the stroke, replacing his appendage in his mouth as he maintains that eye contact and drawing it out precisely. Your breath hitches in your throat.

He fools you into believing he’ll sit pretty for you, clasping his hands together onto the surface of the kitchen island.

“Suck it off my hands, baby,” his winded order is too delicious to resist, greedily sucking as many of his thick fingers will fit into your mouth. Crumbs of cake stuck together in frosted gobs coat the surface of the kitchen island where your naked bodies lay. You slip and slide against him as his fat cock fills your hole. “That’s it- good girl,” Moans reverberate from deep in your throat at your shared actions. While you clean the destroyed confection from his skin, he laps at the sugar on your neck, licking long stripes to collect all that’s offered. Your salty sweat mixed in, creating a most delectable palate on his tongue. “Tastes so fucking good…”

You whine, swirling your muscle around his fingertips, tracing the wrinkles of his knuckles and the edge of his nails. As he pulls out, a string of drool breaks to lay on your chin.

“Too bad we ruined your cake.” he coos, murmuring his tacky lips against your neck. He trails up, an open mouthed kiss onto your jaw gathering your spit from earlier, consuming it. “You worked so hard on it.” Another fake verse of sympathy, punctuating it with a nip to your jawline. “All that only to get fucked with it. She’ll be so disappointed for her birthday.” To hammer it in, he slams into you, a shock to your body in comparison to his leisured pace from before. The way his tip kisses your cervix causes you to cry out as he digs his nails into your hips, rocking you in to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sounds of your conjoined bodies, how the dessert squishes and stretches between the movements of your positions, fills the room. When your mouth falls open to protest him, assure yourself through insisting to him how you’ll make another one, she won’t mind waiting for another one. You don’t get the chance, his chocolate brimmed palm claps over it, stuffing your face with cake. You make a noise of wonder, and it intensifies when he captures your lips with his. It’s hard. Gnashing teeth, sore tissue, prying your lips apart impatiently to plunge his tongue inside. You hadn’t chewed or swallowed, the breading wet from saliva yet he fed off of it, kissing you through it.

His breath pauses as he swallows, and slides back off of you onto his knees, cupping your backside to lift you to meet his thrusts. His herculean form glazed in the substance that barely resembled what it began as. Your ruined cake, worn like fabric on the both of you.

#Krayt House #Season 1 | House of Amateurs #Kinktober #dead dove do not eat #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #x f!reader #reader insert #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin x you smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x you smut #indy drabbles #smut #indy one shots #adultfilm!anakin #indy fics #kinktober 2023 #no y/n #switch!anakin

[bitchiswild]

♡⟡˙⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆˙⟡♡

🍒: Smut | 🕯️: Angst | 🧸:Fluff

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Chaewon

Little Things 🧸

Aquatic Highs 🧸

The Christmas Mission 🧸🎄

Jeju Vacay🍒

Jealous Ex🍒

Distracted 🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Yunjin

On The Court 🍒

Rockstar 🧸

Tree Hugger 🕯️

Snowman 🧸🎄

Her Present 🍒🎄 (bonus)

While We’re Young 🧸

Needy Girl 🍒

Lesson Learned 🍒

Valentine Lovin 🍒💕

You’re Mine🍒

Distracted 🍒

Backstage 🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Kazuha

Sweet Confessions Confections 🧸

Skating Hearts 🧸🎄

Ghostin 🕯️

Brat🍒

Private Lessons 🍒

Baby Fever 🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Karina

Ride 🍒🧸

No Harms List 🍒🧸🕯️

Wishful Snow 🧸🎄

New Year Anticipation 🧸🎆🎉

Valentine Disaster 💕

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Winter

Her Angel 🍒

Colors Of Love 🧸

Winter Ball 🧸🎄

Sweet Whimpers🍒

Sweet Whimpers : Dom minjeong ver.🍒

Partition 🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Yujin

Skater Girl 🧸🍒

Cookie Stealer 🧸🎄

Scooter Fate 🧸

President’s Daughter🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Wonyoung

The Queens Love 🧸

Secret Spouses 🧸

Gifts 🧸🎄

Your Sugar Baby 🍒

Possessive Desires 🍒

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Requested

Tangled Hearts- Rosé 🕯️🧸

You and Me- Jennie🧸

Basement Scare- Blackpink🕯️

Short Problem- Rosé 🧸🕯️

20th Century Girl- Rosé 🧸🕯️

Right Where You Left Me - Jennie 🕯️

Clingy- Blackpink 🧸

About You- Jennie🕯️

Sweet Whimpers -Lisa Ver. On WP🍒

Safe Place - Rosé 🧸

Us Against The World - Rosé🧸

Partition- Rosé ver.🍒

Office Seduction - Lisa🍒

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/n: I’ll be focusing on 4th gen gg. Im also going to just write about the girls I want to writing about. No hate to the other girls I do love them but not as much as the people in the list🧍‍♀️🫶

Check out my rules then feel free to request, when requested I’ll get to it eventually…maybe, if I don’t then,

1 : i probably don’t want to write it

2: I want to focus on the main people in my masterlist

(request are just a little extra fun)

3: im lazy🤪

#bitchiswild #BIW~MASTERLIST

[kcrossvine-art]

Hihihi all! It’s startin to get hot out. Or maybe it already is hot. I can’t feel this. Today from the little book of mice and war we are making a chilled treat named “Great Hall Gooseberry Fool”.

(If you’d like to follow along with this foolish endeavor, original recipe is under the cut!)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Great Hall Gooseberry Fool?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Gooseberries

Sugar

Cornstarch 

Milk

Heavy Cream

(Optionally, vanilla pudding)

Grated chocolate

SO funny story; the principal, crown jewel, fruit of this confection was federally outlawed until 1966, where it transferred to a state-by-state basis. Now, the state I live in doesn’t have any restrictions on ribes (the family of fruit the gooseberry belongs to), but due to the decades of being banned, its still super duper hard to find. I’m not keen on the deets but golden berries are a lot more common than gooseberries, despite being the same family,. The main difference between them seems to be appearance, and taste. This will be relevant. 

AND, “what does Great Hall Gooseberry Fool taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

As if you ground up a pregnant mammalian insect and its unbirthed internal egg clutch, and ate it. 

Kind of like a rancid orange. Meaty.  Grainy. Viscous. Acrid.

With many tiny seeds

The custards pretty good!

Texture overall reminds me of baby food. 

A schnasty exploding bullet that gives way to an infection. The grated chocolate makes it look even more unsanitary but it and the custard were the most enjoyable parts.

.I managed about 2 bites before my mouth dug its heels into my brain and halted. This was meant for UK gooseberries, and you cannot substitute for cape/golden berries. 

.substituted Gooseberries for ‘Golden Berries’ .used almond milk for ‘milk’  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yipes! YUH oh!YORK!

In the future I’d make this with blackberry or raspberry, maybe? What I’m able to gather between the flavor profiles of goose vs golden, they seem to be more comparable to those. It’s also very very possible I didn’t puree it correctly, it called for an amount of water that didn’t quite cover the fruit and combined with the sugar I noticed even on low heat it seemed to caramelize some pieces of fruit skin?

The custard part actually turned out super well! Considering I’ve never made custard before, or, actually tasted custard before- I was thoroughly impressed with how it turned out! If only I hadn’t folded all of it into the fruit.

The custard and chocolate shavings try to papermache the termite infestation, and its damn good papermache, but the termites eat that too. 3/10. didn’t give me food poisoning, wasn’t as bad as the time i needed a scented candle held to my face to force down a whey protein shake, still super duper nauseating. 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Fruit:

1 pound gooseberries, washed

1/2 cup sugar

Custard:

(or substitute 1/2 cup prepared vanilla pudding):

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

10 tablespoons milk

1/2 cup heavy cream, whipped

Grated chocolate (use a cheese grater), for serving.

Method:

Place the gooseberries in a saucepan with the sugar and two tablespoons of water. Cook over medium heat until the fruit is completely soft, about 10 minutes. Press the fruit through a fine mesh sieve set over a bowl to achieve a smooth puree. Let cool.

To make the custard, in a bowl, mix the cornstarch and sugar with 2 tablespoons of the milk.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, bring the remaining 1/2 cup of milk to a boil. Pour the hot milk onto the cornstarch mixture and stir to blend well. Return the mixture to the pan and cook over medium-low heat, stirring, until thickened, about 4 minutes. Let cool, stirring occasionally.

Fold the custard and then the whipped cream into the gooseberry puree. Cover and refrigerate until thoroughly chilled, at least 1 hour.

To serve, divide the fool between four sundae glasses and sprinkle each with a little grated chocolate.

#redwall #cooking recipes #digital art #cross cooks redwall

[rebelliousstories]

Gingerbread House

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Paul x Reader

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Vampirism and Weed, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,272

Masterlist: Here

Summary: It’s just making a gingerbread house. How hard can it be with a ADHD, weed smoking, man-child of a vampire? Oh no.

“Babe! Babe! Baby!” Paul shouted as he rolled up to her house, late one December evening. His lover had already told him that she couldn’t be at the boardwalk this evening, but she wouldn’t tell him why. Leaving the only reasonable option for the vampire to come to her home, and find out why. He entered through the window in her bedroom, as quiet as a mouse. Smells of baked goods flooded his nose as he took a deep inhale. Paul crept down to the kitchen, following the scent, when he finally saw his human.

She was busy moving around the kitchen, in and out of the oven, mixing frosting in another bowl, opening and closing the fridge with her feet. It was a marvel to him to watch her work. Paul leaned himself against the doorway and simply watched her flutter around the kitchen. Her music was cranked up loud, and she would mumble the words to herself every so often. The vampire tried to wait for her to be done, but she seemed to be super busy with whatever she was doing. He moved forward silently, and grabbed her hips to pull her into him. What Paul wasn’t expecting was to catch an elbow to his nose.

“Son of a bitch!” They screamed together, for entirely different reasons. She quickly set down the stuff in her hands and came down to the vampire that was now on his back on the floor.

“Paulie! What have we said about sneaking up on me?” She yelled, looking over her boyfriend. Said boyfriend was now clutching his nose and whining loudly as he laid down on the floor.

“Not to do it! I’m sorry, babe! I think my nose is broken. It hurts, babe!” Her eyes rolled involuntarily at his complaining. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to where he was sitting up properly, and gingerly pulled his hands away from his face. There was quite a bit of blood coming out of his Paul’s nose, but the bridge looked fine. She sighed as his eyes welled up with tears.

“Okay, handsome,” she began, “it doesn’t look broken, so that’s good. Come on. Stand up with me, baby.” The couple got off of the floor and leaned against the counter. The woman went over and ran a couple paper towels under the faucet, before bringing it to Paul’s nose gently. She dabbed at the drying blood softly, as the vampire winced every so often when she touched a sensitive area. Eventually, all the blood was gone, and she could continue what she was doing before. Tossing the towels away, she washed her hands quickly before turning back to her project. Paul, apparently, didn’t learn his lesson, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“So… whatcha doin’ babe?” He drawled out, leaning his chin on her shoulder. There was sweet stuff strewn all along the counter, and what looked like melted sugar in a pan nearby.

“I’m making gingerbread houses. It’s a tradition I used to do with my family, and I still do every Christmas. Usually, I make one for myself, and any other’s I make after that are donated to shelters and people in need.” She said, carefully gluing a side wall to the base with the melted sugar. Paul watched with fascination as she steadied her hands to attach the sugary sweet confection.

“Whoah, babe. That’s so cool. Could I do one please?” He begged, causing his girlfriend to turn to look at him with a ridiculous expression. But Paul didn’t let up.

“Please baby! I’ll be careful! Please, oh please,” he got on his knees next to her, “just one please? I’ve never done it before. Not even when I was alive.” The vampire turned on the puppy eyes she sighed deeply, before rolling her eyes, and tilting her head up where she was working.

“Okay, Paul. Get up here, lover boy.” A wide smile came across his face as he stood up eagerly. She chuckled at him, while pulling a finished house up to where Paul could work on it. Grabbing icing, and all different kinds of candies, and sprinkles; she turned part of her counter into his personal workspace. Paul clapped his hands with glee and grabbed the icing bag, when a hand came to rest on his. He looked over at his girlfriend who smiled sweetly at him.

“Couple of rules, Paulie. Rule number one,” she grabbed his hair in a low ponytail, “your hair is going up. I’m not having hair in the frosting. Rule number two, don’t make a mess please. I don’t want to spend hours cleaning up afterwards. Okay?” He nodded like a child, and she took her hand off of him. Paul turned into his project with enthusiasm. She returned back to erecting her other gingerbread houses, and enjoyed listening to Paul’s little quips as he worked.

“‘I’m wanted, wanted! Dead or alive.’ Man, Bon Jovi is hot.”

“How much icing is too much icing? I think I’m good.”

“I want a smoke. But I want to do this too. Finish this; smoke later.”

It genuinely made her happy to see Paul using his brain power to focus on something. He wasn’t able to focus for long periods of time for anything; that was just Paul. For the entire time she had known the wild haired vampire, he had never been able to set his sights long term or make himself stay in the same spot for too long. Not even seducing a meal could keep his attention long if he wasn’t hungry enough, or if the prey was too difficult to get. She let the current house she had finished building set up and rest a bit while she turned to another unfinished house to decorate, when she decided to check in on what Paul was doing and- oh no.

Icing was everywhere. There was practically no gingerbread left to be seen, and there was so much candy. Gumdrops and skittles covered the roof and edges. The door was a mix and match of licorice, and sour candies. The roof had frosting dripping from it, less in a cute stylized way, and more in a… well bloody way. Her hand tried to stifle the giggles coming out of her mouth, while Paul turned to her.

“Babe! Whatcha think?” He looked so proud of his house, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to criticize it.

“I love it, baby. Why don’t you clean up a little bit and then help me make another one?” He smiled and went over to the sink to rinse the frosting off of his hands and the little bit on his arms. She gently picked up the board that the house was on and moved it over to an unoccupied part of her dining table to dry and rest. The house that she previously left alone was placed back in front of the couple, along with more frosting and decorations. His arms came to wrap around her waist yet again, and his head rested gently on her shoulder. Paul nuzzled the side of her head softly, gaining her attention as her head swiveled around. He leaned forward and captured her lips with his, enjoying the feeling of her lips against his. Eventually they released each other, and turned back to working on the gingerbread house, with sweet rock music in the background, safe in each other’s embrace.

Paul did get to smoke after that second gingerbread house though. He can only hold out for so long. He’s only a vampire after all.

#rebelliousstories #writing #the lost boys #lost boys #lost boys imagine #lost boys imagines #paul lost boys x reader #paul lost boys #25 days of ficmas #25 days of christmas

[ausetkmt]

It’s Mardi Gras. Welcome to The King Cake Drive-Thru.

A tire shop parking lot has become a popular destination for those craving the beloved treat. The only problem: Which variety to choose?

By Rick Rojas

Reporting from Metairie, La., and the kitchen of Joyce’s Sweets in Ponchatoula, where he sampled a praline-filled cake fresh from the oven.

Of course Mardi Gras is about boundless revelry: the weeks of balls and the parades that shower the streets of New Orleans with beads. But beneath all that, it is also a period of metamorphosis.

A midwinter Tuesday transforms from the most mundane of days into a festival of frivolity and vice. People shed the cocoons of their regular lives and emerge plumed in feathers and sequins.

And this year, just outside New Orleans, a tire shop that for as long as anyone can remember sold only car parts has become a bustling marketplace offering king cakes, the delicacy of the Carnival season, in just about any conceivable flavor.

All you have to do is drive up.

“Any idea of what you want?” Tiffany Langlinais asked a customer who pulled up on a Friday afternoon.

It is a daunting question at the King Cake Drive-Thru. Flaky or fluffy? Filled with cream cheese? What about strawberries, ice cream, even crawfish — or nothing more than the traditional plastic baby? Cakes from more than a dozen bakeries are on offer.

Others have had the idea to sell king cakes culled from various local bakeries, at one location, like King Cake Hub in the Mid-City neighborhood of New Orleans. But the innovation of the King Cake Drive-Thru, which Ms. Langlinais opened in January with her fiancé, Mike Graves, is the added convenience of accessing that bounty of options without even needing to get out of the car.

The drive-through has drawn nurses headed to morning hospital shifts, parents with cars full of children, tourists on road trips and people with limited mobility or weakened immune systems keeping them from easily browsing bakeries. Even the food writer for the city’s main newspaper, The Times-Picayune, passed through.

“I’m surprised nobody thought of it before you, Mike,” David Scripter told Mr. Graves as he dropped off an order of dozens of cakes from Bittersweet Confections, a bakery started by his wife.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Graves said, “the best ideas are right in front of you.”

The drive-through, which takes over the parking lot of Duckworth Tires in the suburb of Metairie three days a week, often has a line of cars waiting when it opens at 7 a.m., and has sold out its inventory well before 7 p.m., its listed closing time.

King cakes have always been a staple of the Carnival season along the Gulf Coast, a crown of pastry served during a burst of gluttony and good times before the austerity and fish fries of Lent. (King cake season begins on Jan. 6 — known as Twelfth Night, Epiphany or Three Kings Day — and ends with Fat Tuesday, or Feb. 13 this year.)

A king cake, in what many consider its purest form, is a ring of brioche-like dough with a dash of vanilla, a crunchy coating of purple, green and gold sugar and a small trinket known as a fève — usually a plastic baby — baked inside.

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“It’s almost blasphemous to get cream cheese in it,” Pam Carr said the other day as she placed an order a staunch traditionalist never would: a pair of cream cheese and chocolate cakes to share with her co-workers at a warehouse store. “Those are the ones I like!”

King cakes are another front in a familiar New Orleans divide. There are those who believe that adhering to tradition means refusing to budge from how things have always been done, and those who maintain that experimentation and interpretation are not an insult to the past, but a tribute.

“Anyone can put anything in a king cake now,” Bridgett Saylor Meinke said as she surveyed the drive-through’s selection.

She grew up on old-school king cake but has been cautiously open to trying some newfangled varieties, like the bananas foster from Brennan’s (“Absolutely delicious,” was her take) and the strawberry cream cheese from Joe’s Cafe.

“That’s the one I’m on the hunt for today,” she said.

The drive-through’s menu varies some week to week, written on a white board by Ms. Langlinais. The couple buys the cakes from bakeries at a wholesale rate and sells them at a markup, with prices ranging from $17 to about $50 per cake. (They come in a range of sizes, too.)

On a recent weekend, there were plenty of traditional options, as well as the Bavarian cream from Caluda’s, an almond cake from District Donuts, boudin or crawfish varieties from Clesi’s Seafood, and lemon curd and vanilla bean cakes from Paw Paw’s Donuts.

The one with Vietnamese coffee filling from Dough Nguyener’s Bakery sold out quickly, as did the cinnamon cream cheese option from Tartine.

Ms. Langlinais wanted to lure customers with their favorite offerings from well-known spots but also nudge them toward cakes they may not know. Those from Joyce’s Sweets, a bakery in Ponchatoula, almost an hour away, are a prime example.

Joyce Galmon is known for her pralines, but she has made king cakes for 25 years, stuffing them with a filling made from broken pralines she could not sell.

“Miss Joyce has no social media,” Ms. Langlinais said. “You can only call her. She has no website.”

In past years, Ms. Galmon would sell as many as 90 cakes in a season. With the King Cake Drive-Thru, she has sold more than that in a single weekend.

Hers is a labor-intensive process, teasing out the dough, lathering on the praline filling, and then letting the cakes rest and rise for several hours. The result: a gooey, crunchy eruption of cinnamon and sugar.

“It’s got me on my toes,” Ms. Galmon said after delivering a fresh batch to the tire lot. “It was a hobby for me, but they’ve made it bigger.”

For all the excitement the drive-through has caused, it is a simple operation. From the street, it almost looks like a Covid testing site.

“No frills, as you can see,” Ms. Langlinais said, “with our tent and tables and Mike’s van.” She was referring to a raggedy but reliable 2007 Kia Sedona missing its middle seat.

Jimmy Duckworth, the owner of Duckworth Tires, gave them a pretty good deal on rent: a king cake a week. Last week, he got his favorite, the cinnamon cream cheese kind from Tartine.

“I’ve been very lucky in life,” he said. “Give them a break — why not?”

He nodded at Mr. Graves, who was busy helping customers.

“Look at him,” Mr. Duckworth said. “He’s all happy.”

A few years ago, Mr. Graves, 35, had been a lawyer in Manhattan, working in finance. Then he moved to New Orleans and started a novelty ice cream business called Bof Bars. He had no ties to New Orleans — he grew up in Chicago — but now he cannot imagine leaving. He and Ms. Langlinais are planning to get married in March.

Ms. Langlinais, who also owns a marketing business, grew up in a shrimping family in Biloxi, Miss., immersed in the elaborate world of Mardi Gras.

She became something of a king cake connoisseur. She has tried more than 100 varieties. She keeps a spreadsheet with detailed notes. (“Enjoyed the light filling but would want x3 for me to be truly happy,” she wrote of one encounter.)

“I know that it’s not a super refined operation,” Ms. Langlinais, 33, said, “but we want it to feel like us.”

There have been setbacks. One day last month, Mr. Graves woke up at 3 a.m. to find someone had busted a window on the minivan and stolen 100 cakes.

The whole endeavor has been exhausting: The excruciatingly early mornings hustling to collect the cakes at bakeries or rendezvous points in random parking lots. The 12-hour days on their feet at the drive-through. And there have been the urgent after-hours calls and texts.

“My kid didn’t tell me she got the baby!” said one friend desperate for a last-minute cake. (According to tradition, the one who finds the baby is responsible for supplying the next cake.)

The drive-through is usually open on Fridays through Sundays, but customers have asked if the couple would be selling cakes on Fat Tuesday.

Not a chance.

Duckworth Tires will be a tire shop again.

“I’ll be partying,” Mr. Graves said.

#It’s Mardi Gras. Welcome to The King Cake Drive-Thru. #King Cake #New Orleans #Joyce Galmon #Lassiez Le Bontemps Roullier #Mardi Gras #Mardi Gras Food #Mardi Gras Traditions #louisiana #Black Kitchens #Black Food Matters #Let The Good Times Roll

[systemsylvania]

Chocolate Rabbit Family

Mother - Teri Chocolate

Older Sister - Stella Chocolate

Sister - Freya Chocolate

Baby Sister (Red) - Crème Chocolate

Baby Sister (Red)- Crème Chocolate

Brother - Coco Chocolate

Older Sister (Dark Blue Hat)- Stella Chocolate

Baby Sister - Crème Chocolate

Twin baby brother - Breeze Chocolate

Newborn Triplets - Flora, Fauna & Philip Chocolate

Twin baby brother - Kabe Chocolate

Father - Frasier Chocolate

2 x Crème Chocolate (Red) - Baby Band Series

Stella Chocolate (Dark Blue Hat) - Town Girl Series – Chocolate Rabbit

Chocolate Rabbit Family Celebration Set

Mother Teri Chocolate makes all the fillings for Frasier’s chocolate creations; the strawberry surprise being the best. Her kitchen is always full of the rich smell of fruit mixed with the sweet smells of sugar and spices bubbling in pots. It makes your mouth water just thinking about it.

Brother Coco Chocolate is not permitted to help his father or mother in the preparation of their confections concoctions because he eats more than he makes! He’s put to useful employment being delivery boy for the family.

Sister Freya Chocolate, unlike her brother, doesn’t eat sweets or chocolate, so she helps her mother prepare the fillings. She does eat a lot of fruit thought!

Older sister Stella Chocolate works as a fashion designer at the Grand Department Store and even has her own Fashion Boutique in town.

Baby sister Crème Chocolate loves bedtime. When it comes to time to say night-night, Crème rushes up stairs (with little help from mummy) and eagerly awaits her bedtime story.

Twin babies Kabe & Breeze Chocolate like to help clean up after their parents, licking the chocolate covered spoons and bowls. Teri, their mother, is sure more chocolate is put on their clothes than in their tummies!

Newborn triplets Flora, Fauna & Philip Chocolate are the newest arrivals in family. Being so young, they aren’t yet able to do a huge amount by themselves, but that’s no problem as their doting parents, grandparents and big brothers and sisters always want a turn playing games with them or taking them out in the pram.

#my collection #sylvanian families #calico critters #rabbit #Chocolate Rabbit #Chocolate

[prismatica-the-strange]

Snowfall Sweethearts | Sugar and Dye

Warnings: 18+, swearing

After a few years of being in wrapping, Charity finally shows her hand at her true skill as an elf

Dividers by @saradika

There's a commotion in the kitchen, nearly a third of the elves are running around trying to right it.

Not Charity though. No, she's still in wrapping, doing her job, headphones on, blocking out the chaos.

In fact, she doesn't even notice anything is amiss until Bernard inches into her line of sight.

"Hey baby," She smiles, pushing her headphones around her neck. Her shoulders slump when he smiles sheepishly, "What's wrong? And... why do you smell like burnt sugar?"

"There was a mishap in confection," He admits, "I need your help."

"Okay...?" Her eyes go wide when he grabs her wrist and starts hurrying them out of the workshop, a trail of wrapping paper and ribbon behind them.

The whole kitchen reeks of burnt sugar and the doorframe to confections is marred from black smoke.

"I got her, sir," Bernard calls out, pushing them through the crowd of elves.

"Good cause- Charity?" Santa's eyes narrow at him, "Look, I get you're together, but Charity isn't the answer to every problem."

"When the hell did we automate confections?" She asks, scowling at the large machine in the middle of the room with contempt. When no one answers she looks over to Bernard who looks almost guilty, "Twitch?"

"Uh, about... a century ago," He mutters, "Give or take a decade..."

"A century?"

"It's quicker!"

"You can't automate candy making at the North Pole!" She argues, "Are you fucking serious?"

"Language!" Santa scolds, "Charity, you obviously have some insight into this. The machine's busted for the rest of the season, and now we're further behind than usual."

Bernard shrinks under her glare, he knew she'd be pissed if she found out. Her nose scrunches, causing her glasses to rise slightly on the reddened skin.

She suddenly turns and storms toward the storage room, muttering to herself about how she can't believe they did this.

"Do I have to haul all this out myself?!" She yells from the closet and a few elves scurry over to help her.

Even Bernard helps Santa and the others get the old equipment out, most of the elves looking on in confusion, most of them being only recently put on the candy line sometime in the past fifty years.

"We don't know how to use this stuff."

Charity rolls her eyes and pulls off her sweater, then her second, leaving her in a cropped long sleeve as she hangs them outside the door.

"A fucking travesty," She grumbles, tightening her ponytail and pushing up her sleeves.

He tries not to stare too hard at the way her tattoo peaks out from the waistline of her jeans.

The whole group watches in awe as she works, letting muscle memory take over.

"Ribbon candy?" One of the elves scoffs when she starts shaping her wrapped and pulled sweet. They continue even when Bernard motions for them to stop, "No kid wants ribbon candy, it's the twenty-first century!"

The elves around them step back at the pointed glare she throws at them.

"Ribbon candy is a classic," She points out, "And kids don't care as long as they get colorful sugar."

She gets the first batch out in record time with the help of a few elves that timidly stepped up.

Bernard lingers behind as the rest of crowd disperses, watching Charity in her element, adoration emanating off of him.

"Bernard," Santa snaps his fingers near him to get his attention.

"W-! Y-yes sir?" He reluctantly takes his eyes off her.

"Why was Charity working in wrapping when this is obviously what she's more suited to?" He asks, "She didn't even look at a recipe."

He shrugs, "She used to be head of confections before she got sent to the mortal realm. When she came back she wanted something a little slower paced and I..."

Santa looks at him queerly when he pauses and he clears his throat before continuing, "I may have been scared to tell her the candy was machine-made now."

"So that's why she's so opinionated about it."

"She used to pull when she was mad. It kind of comes naturally and she's... not happy right now. I'm gonna get an earful later," He glances back over at her. She's teaching the others how to properly pull the candy on the hook as they struggle, "But we shouldn't have to worry about being behind again."

"She's that good?"

They both look over when another elf shouts and Bernard cringes.

"We should be prepared for an influx of burns."

"You should have told me."

"You should have been more careful," He tuts, helping her bandage various cuts and burns from the day as she sits on his thigh.

"I just need to rebuild my calluses," She pouts, "And you're dodging."

He sighs, "You said you wanted to do something less stressful and I knew you would flip when you found out. I just..."

He laces his fingers with hers, not willing to look her in the eye, "I wanted you to be comfortable here and go at your own pace. I knew it would upset you so I just didn't tell you..."

She pulls one of her hands away to grip his chin, raising it just enough for her to softly kiss him.

He trails after her when she pulls away, looking up at her with stars in his eyes, "What was that for?"

She hums and bumps her nose with his, eyes shut, "For being sweet... In your own, stubborn way."

He leans in brushing their lips together again.

"You're not mad?" He breathes.

"Oh I'm furious," She teases, "But not at you."

He reaches up to hold the back of her neck, kissing her harder.

She laughs into the kiss, her stomach twists, and she moves her hands to hold his cheeks.

"That still gives me butterflies," She whispers.

"Me too," He admits, voice no louder than hers.

"And I think I need to start an official transfer to confections."

It's his turn to laugh as he nods.

"I think we can arrange that," He pets her hair, eyes bright and loving, "You'll whip them into shape in no time."

"I'll definitely have my work cut out for me," She groans.

#bernard the elf #bernard the santa clause #the santa clause #prisma self ships #Snowfall sweethearts ☕️❄️ #prisma writes

[imaginedreamwrite]

What if Silvefox!Jake's s/o does confections/bakes as a hobby? And she makes a little something for Jake after some encouragement from her friends? Of course, she's nervous and feels some regret thinking this was stupid and crosses a boundary in their sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship.

“I made you something and you by no means have to enjoy it. I just thought since its Valentine’s Day and you wanted to spend it together-“ you stop mid sentence, eyes widened when you finally notice the setup Jake’s created, and the sweets you made that are already being consumed.

“I heard you don’t know where the line is between us,” you hadn’t noticed Jake dressed in his loosely buttoned dress shirt before, but you do now, “and I need to be clear.”

You swallow thickly when he steps towards you and lifts your chin, your neck craned to look up at him. His eyes are intense behind black framed glasses, his lips quirked into a smirk. Usually he’s so playful, and you suppose he’s playful even now however he’s looking at you like he’s going to taste every inch of you.

“Jake-“

“You’re mine, baby.” He inched forward and tugged at the ties of your dress, loosening the back and with another quick tug the dress falls even looser. “Sugar daddy has such a weak title compared to what I am to you.”

“Which is?” You feel nervous and aroused, your stomach flipping and your thighs shaking. “Jake what are we-“

“I’m your daddy, angel. But I’m also your future husband. And our annual Valentine’s tradition starts this year.” His lustful and playful drive struck deep with overeager intent, and you quivered when his left hand started tugging at the rest of your dress.

“We don’t have any traditions, I don’t-“

“I have everything I need to turn you into my dessert. All you have to do is lay back and relax for daddy. Can you do that?”

Before you can answer verbally, he pressed his finger against your lips in order to get you to nod. And as you physically responded, he grinned and stepped back.

“Good girl. Everything’s set up in the living room, I’ll be right there.”

[morte-par-le-chocolat]

Jean-Pierre, baby girl, what’s your favorite type of cuisine to chef up?

Petite-fille? Moi? :the chef shakes his head, a bit baffled, before clearing his throat and moving on.: I get asked this often. I will answer the same- my favorite thing to make is whatever brings a smile to the face of my Lords. If I must pick, however, I enjoy making confections. With enough patience and skill, amazing things can be crafted from candies and cakes. Lord Toki is diabetic, so I have devised a non-sugar sweetener so closely aligned to the real thing that not even the most concerning palates can tell the difference... ...ah, but this is top secret.

#oh god candymakers would kill to get ahold of jean's secret sweetner #but he's taking the secret to the grave #jean answers

[mysticninetalis]

Christmas Woes and Peach Cobbler

@fuckyeahspones thanks for doing the prompts lol. This goes for baking and beginning:)

____________

Today began like any ordinary Thursday for Leonard. Some ensign fucks themselves up doin' something or someone stupid, comes to Sickbay whining about how they damaged themselves tinkering, then he yells at them for being stupid, fixes them, and rinse and repeat. Ugh, he couldn't just catch a break, could he?

On top of the overgrown children he had to patch up on day-to-day, he was brooding about canceling his before-Christmas call to Joanna, missing another Christmas with her. Their biweekly call was supposed to happen Monday, but the Brass decided they needed to do some last-minute exploring of some baby nebula some lightyears out. Just his luck, he guessed. God, did he miss his little darlin' somethin' fierce!

He was tagging some additions to Ensign Donivan's chart and was so engrossed he still had yet to hear that an individual had requested entry into his office. He jumped at the feeling of someone touching his shoulder and turned in his chair to see Spock behind him. Their eyes met, and Spock did that little not-smile he does with his eyes whenever he catches Leonard off-guard. 

"Leonard, it would appear that I have caught you unaware. You had been so immersed in your work that you forgot your midday meal. I have also observed over the last 3.62 days that you remained melancholic about not being able to have your bi-weekly correspondence with Miss Joanna." Then Spock paused and did that slight head tilt whenever he was unsure. Pushing forward, the Vulcan continued, "As such, I have acquired you one of your 'southern comforts.' I know this cannot replace the emotions you would feel conversing with your daughter, but I hypothesized it would lift your spirit." Spock remarked as he gently positioned the plate of food in front of Leonard on the work desk. "Was my hypothesis correct?" Spock questioned.

On the plate in front of him was a peach cobbler, fresh from the oven; he could tell as the slightest bit of steam was coming off the top. The dish was plated with precision and consideration that he knew the replicator didn't usually do. This stunned Leonard a little bit, if he was being honest. He knew that he and Spock ribbed each other at any opportunity; it was merely how their little frenemy-ship they had goin' on was. He also understood that their arguments could get really heated if left unsupervised. It was an unsaid agreement that they also did it to irritate Jim, but it was neither here nor there.

Leonard's gaze drifted from the southern confection to Spock. For an instant, he reckoned he saw a speck of hesitance in Spock's warm gaze. To be frank, he was speechless. And because he didn't understand how to respond to Spock's spontaneous act of compassion, he did what he always did: taunt him.

"Now, Spock, whatever happened to that Vulcan logic of yours? Ah didn't think you had it in you to do a deed out of the goodness of your heart?" McCoy knocked the Vulcan.

Earning himself a look of furrowed brows and a slight not-frown as the Vulcan's cheeks were dusted with a bit of green. "While you believe you have proven your illogical argument that I am able to exhibit emotion, I will tell you that you are incorrect." the First Officer articulated his gaze hardening. After a minute pause to regain his emotional control, Spock restarted his rebuttal. "The conclusion that one of your favored desserts would improve your mood was purely the outcome of a logical thought process and data. Past occurrences have shown that to lighten your moments of emotional distress by choosing highly sugar-filled confections 67.982% of the time compared to your preferred alcoholic beverage of Kentucky Bourbon or a Mint Julep at 32.018%. As you are still on shift, and it would affect your efficiency in treating patients or reacting accordingly in an emergency, I inferred that this outcome was the most acceptable." The Vulcan concluded.

The Doctor looked away from Spock's newly blank gaze. He'd let out a heavy sigh as he scratched the back of his neck. That wasn't the reaction that Leonard expected, if he was being honest. Leonard knew that Spock did feel, and very deeply at that. Even if the Hobgoblin wanted to prove that he had the same logic stick stuck up his ass just like the rest of his people. Dammit, now he felt terrible.

"Look, Spock. Ah didn't mean any of that in a mean way; 'was only teasin' ya. Ah'm sorry. Ah appreciate the gesture, and your right, 'M real upset 'bout not bein' able to talk to Jo. Haven't been able to be home the last two Christmas', y'know? Ah know 'm bad a sayin' what Ah really mean. So, thank you." Leonard said. Looking back to Spock, McCoy wrapped his hand around Spock's covered wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Spock looks down at their almost handhold, and his face remains the same, but his eyes soften just the ittiest bit.

Spock softly pulled Leonard's hand away from his wrist and then nodded, " I find it gratifying that I was able to bring you an amount of comfort, no matter the minute amount." Spock then did something that Leonard hadn't expected would ever happen; he moved a loose strand of hair off Leonards's forehead and held his hand behind him in his usual parade rest. " If you continue to find work challenging to maintain, I suggest coming up to the Bridge, as you have not done your visit of the workday. If you are inclined, I invite you to observe my and Jim's chess session this evening if you persist in feeling alone. I acknowledge that humans require an amount of amiable intimacy to ease their negative emotions."

McCoy gapes at the ship's First, but he dumbly nods. Spock, pleased with Leonards's response, nods and takes his leave. Leonard turns back to his desk and glances at the peach cobbler. The Doctor smiles to himself. He picks up the fork he was given, takes a bite, and rumbles an approving hum. Finishing every last bite, he decides that he'll make Spock some of his mama's cinnamon apple crisp next time.

#12daysofspones #spones #star trek #leonard mccoy #spock #joanna mccoy

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

It was 100 and raining in L.A., so here's a Friday Fic I finished at work today.

When she woke up, she knew it was going to be a good day. Something about actually feeling rested for a change, the way the smooth, cool sheets tickled against her skin, how the sun was shining through puffy white clouds, and everything felt good, intensified. Bluer skys, greener grass, that sort of thing. So when the chocolate-walnut horn from Lunacorn tasted oven-fresh, and her mocha with whip was an extravagant balance of bitter to sweet, and there was no line at the shop she was not surprised, elated, but not surprised. Today was going to be a great day. And that was a good thing, because today was Adoption Day.

Penelope practically skipped to the meeting point at the park from her car. The weather was perfect, California perfect and she had caffeine, cocoa, and sugar in her system; nothing was bringing her down. She'd thoughtfully bought pastries and coffee for the two shelter workers she was working with to ensure they would be just as excited.

“Good morning, Melda! Happy Adoption Day, Tom!” she chirped brightly as she handed them the sugary confections and hot paper cups. "How many sweet babies are we placing today?!”

Melda, a young curly haired brunette, laughed biting into her danish pointing out their matching cat ears.

“We have 35 cats and 21 dogs that are looking for homes.” the sandy blond man replied as he struggled with the legs of a folding table.

“Oooh! and I see you brought your boy along Melda! Sweet baby!" she cooed at the dog thumping his tail on the grass, kneeling to pet him as she stored her things.

“He just calms all the others.” she responded. “We really are so fortunate he came to us."

By 9:30 the three had gotten everything all set up and ready to go, tents were erected to provide shade where there weren’t trees, cats were in crates, and half the dogs were in a pen where they could run around and people could interact with them (the other half were waiting back at the shelter). Penelope had even found a heart-shaped rock to act as a paper weight for the adoption forms. By 11am 15 cats and 19 dogs had been tentatively placed to young families. The shelter would be doing home visits to sign off on conditions, Tom explained. After lunch they were ready for the other half of the dogs to be brought over.

“Can you believe how well we’re doing today?!” Melda asked, in awe of the number of pets they’d been able to adopt out already.

“I know! If only we could plan in advance for good weather.” Replied Tom.

It helped that it was spring and most of the animals were young. The cute kittens and puppies were always quickly snatched up by adoring animal lovers. Teen and adult animals simply were not picked up as fast, but better the right owner, than a rushed placement. With it being afternoon in the park on such a lovely day, more people were bound to be out and about soon enough, a walk after lunch, an ice cream, feeding the ducks. More people, more opportunities for adoption thought Penelope, positively, despite the lull in foot traffic.

For two hours there was a slow but steady trickle of interested individuals. With few pets left, Penelope felt they were absolutely going to make their goal of getting all of the animals adopted even if there hadn’t been the crowd she expected. She was slightly grateful it had been manageable groups of people if she was being honest. There were only three of them and people could be very pushy and busy, and with kids running free and the dogs out in a pen someone could easily run off with one. As it was, they always had one person at the table to assist with forms and paperwork, one person with the cats and one person to help in the dog pen. But just as she’d thought, later afternoon/ early evening the park took on new life.

There was a concert happening and groups of people were showing up to scout spots on the lawn early which lead to an influx of visitors, resulting in a flow they really hadn’t anticipated, a flow that had turned into a stoppage. One crowd of people would come but few left from it and then another group would come up, and then another until there were suddenly over 30 bodies all swarming the set up enjoying the free entertainment of dogs and cats. Penelope and Tom tried their best to manage them while not wanting to run off potential adopters, but it had simply become overwhelming.

At this point, a few things happened all at once. Melda found herself acting as referee between some kids fighting over a dog, Tom and Penelope were handling adults trying to get them to line up, follow a given path, to instill some kind of order, and a young girl opened the pen gate while leaving with her sitter. The gate was open and commotion filled the area, loud noises, lots of movement, and the high pitched screeching of animal-excited children startled a poor brindle rescue who took off, unnoticed. The gate pitched closed from the force of the dog bolting, leaving no one the wiser.

——

On an uncharacteristically late run, Luke made his way to the park with Roxie. Generally he was an early riser, usually he liked to get Roxie out in the mornings, often that’s when they would go for their runs. He did this for a few reasons; the mornings were cooler so less thermally-stressful on her, he could make sure she got exercise before he headed out to work, and less people were around so he didn’t have to field all the “can we pet her?” questions, because though Roxie was thoroughly social, sometimes Luke was not. But today was one of those “one thing after another” days, and his whole routine was pushed back. Far back. Days off work could get like that catching up on all the things left while out of town for extended periods of time. He knew it would be people-y out so prepared himself and Roxie for crowded paths. “No leash-free running today Rox, sorry.” he talked to her as he ruffled her ears, clipped the leash on, and took off running towards the trees, leash firmly in hand.

As they dashed through the tree-line, they took notice of the events happening in the park, a concert setting up and doing sound checks, a fleet of food trucks lined up on the grass, balloon artists, a flower vendor, craft stalls, and the local shelter was doing a pet adoption. Great. Perfect day to run late. He could see the majority of people were starting to gather around the stage. Groups were drifting from the adoption tents, food trucks, and the row of stalls down the hill to the stage. They must be starting soon. Good for us, he thought, the paths should stay pretty empty. He debated unclipping her. Roxie loved running free and Luke enjoyed watching her chase the shadows she found through the treetops, but as this was an abnormal time for them, she was busy tracking the different late afternoon scents in the underbrush. Sniff, sniff, sniff, under a bush half of her went, tail wagging.

She wasn’t a working dog anymore, but was still exceptionally obedient and good at her job. He kept up her training and commands just in case she ever needed to be reactivated or he needed to bring her on a case, so found it odd that she was acting up and refused to leave one particular shrub to move on. Luke called her to attention, Roxie reluctantly sat back on her haunches, head darting from Luke to the dense leaves in front of her, tongue lulling and let out a whine and a yelp. He couldn’t help the small smirk that formed, then commanded once more before cautiously peering into the bush, where a sleek, excited brindle came rushing out. The dog leapt and jogged in a circle around Roxie who gave Luke a pitiful begging look.

“Friend of yours, Rox?” He questioned, squatting down to call the dog over. The animal rushed for his legs, Luke catching him and stilling the ball of energy. The dog calmed long enough for him to grab at it's collar and look for a tag, but found none. What he did find on the collar, in large contrasting block letters, was the name of the rescue.

“Ahh, so you’re an escapee. Well, bad news for you, my friend, I have lots of practice hunting down and retuning your kind.” Luke unclipped Roxie’s leash, looping it through the rescue's collar, then clipped it back on Roxie so that both dogs were attached.

“We should get you back. We weren’t getting much of a run today anyway.” he sighed, looking down to the busy part of the park. "I bet the volunteers would appreciate some flowers,” Then looking to the found pup, "ease the panic they’re no doubt feeling at you running off.”

He withheld telling the K9 companions he hoped friend-to-all-furry-and-four-legged, Tech Genius Supreme, Penelope Garcia would be volunteering and that he might get to see her.

Over a hill of the path, their small parade approached, two dogs eagerly preceding the man and a bundle of flowers. Confusion, relief, then embarrassment flooded the two workers at seeing one of their own being brought back. No one had registered his absence. Penelope, despite her usual mask of annoyance, lit up at the sight of him. “You bring strange dogs flowers often, Newbie?”

“Ehh, you know Roxie, she befriends all sorts of strays.” he quipped giving a wicked smile, then continuing, “She thought this one might belong here, looks like she was right. And she thought you deserved a reward after finding families for all these furry friends. “ He added handing over the bouquet.

"My smart girl is never wrong.” she grinned up, taking the flowers, scratching behind Roxie’s ears.

“Thank you so much for brining him back! Hi, I’m Melda!” she greeted, lunging across the table, hand extended. “And I’m Tom, how do you know Pen?” asked the man, pushing Melda for her spot, both viying for the attentions of this handsome dog hero who seemed to know Penelope.

Luke chuckled at the exchange “Hi, Penelope and I work together, I’m Luke.” he responded shaking each of their hands.

“Like the rescue she named?” Tom asked quizzically, glancing over to Garcia with the hint of a smile.

“The what?” Luke asked cocking his head to look at her.

Penelope seemed to have lost her voice, only capable of staring, dumb-struck. She knew exactly what was about to happen and yet it was like a dream where you run and you run and you get further and further behind, or more like you yell and you yell but no sound comes out and no one pays any attention so you can’t stop the thing. Internally she was screaming, kicking herself. Why did she have to do that? It had just been a stupid joke at the time, something to amuse herself, something no one else would get. And now he was going to find out and make a big deal out of it, try to make it more than it was.

“The dog.” Melda went on, "If they don’t have names, we get to name them. We thought it was kind of a weird thing to call a dog, but Penelope, said he looks like a Luke and if you know her-“

Feet catching up, or more accurately voice, she yelled out abruptly, "OK! Enough story time!”

Luke’s hands went to his hips, as he turned to face her. "Oh no, Chica, if i’m a dog’s name sake I need to know what kind of dog."

"He’s not named after you!” she stamped stubbornly.

“That’s him right there, Melda adopted him.” Tom helpfully pointed.

"A golden retriever?” Luke questioned. He looked amused and offended and just a little bit proud.

“They’re-“ she tried.

"A GOLDEN RETRIEVER?” he said again, interrupting her "Not a German Shepard, not a Belgian Malinois, not even a Pitbull… a Golden Retriever."

"THEY’RE REALLY GOOD MILITARY DOGS.” she rushed out.

“They’re also very intelligent, affectionate, devoted, playful, and get along with lots of other animals, much like this guy.” chimed in Melda rubbing the knot on the dog’s head who was now playing with Roxie and the brindle.

Penelope shot a glare at her fellow rescue workers, Luke grinned. “Is that what you think of me, Garcia?”

“Whatever, you know everyone falls at your immature feet.” she grumbled.

“Ah-ah. I think it was the devoted, intelligent, and affectionate parts that caught your eye- or imagination.” he teased.

“The only thing I imagine involving you Alvez, is you missing the elevator for once.”

“Ouch, for someone who thinks about me in their off time, you sure are being mean.”

“This is nothing and you know it Newbie, wait until we get back to work.” she spat.

“Ohh, when I tell the whole team you named one of your rescue dogs after me? Can’t wait.” His grin was getting bigger with each tease.

"You can tell them whatever you want, they won’t believe you.”

“Sure.” he nodded with a look of insincerity.

“Well. If you’re done kidnapping dogs, we need to pack up.”

Though he enjoyed their easy banter, part of him still wanted more. A part that was growing with every encounter. And really, there was no reason to stop should that happen. Her veil of contempt for him, he was seeing more and more, was just that these days- a veil. Thin, gauzy nothingness hiding something. Something better. Something, hopefully, deeper. A part of her he wanted to find and experience just for himself.

“We were finishing up our run, actually…I could help out. If it wouldn’t bother you, of course.”

Melda and Tom traded looks that said can you believe this? and I know they’re fucking pathetic.

"We would love the help!" gushed Tom, before Penelope could brush him off. “Here, why don’t you start dismantling the tents. Put those arms to good use.” he added, giving an apprizing look.

“Don’t. Don’t compliment him, don’t fill that already fat head.” she said, shaking hers discouragingly. But part of her was happy he was staying, that he wanted to stay.

“What’s wrong, Chica? Afraid you’ll be tempted to look?”

“In your dreams, Alvez.”

“Only every night, Garcia.”

They dismantled and packed up piece by piece, tables flattened, tents lowered, folded and re-boxed. As they did he drifted closer, closer, and closer, until he was working right next to her, arm brushing arm, shoulder bumping shoulder. Too close. Making some quip about her shirt, hand pulling at her sleeve, then running the fabric through thumb and forefinger, touch lingering, gaze lingering. She could feel it, see it, but refused to turn her head, a pit growing in her stomach at what she might find there were she to do it.

He brought his attention back to the awning they were folding, but leaned in next to her speaking low, "You can, you know. Look. I wouldn’t mind.”

She narrowed her eyes, cutting a glance from the corner, quirking a brow. "I know you wouldn’t. Don’t think I’m extending the same offer."

A small smile spread "Don’t think I was waiting for one.”

——

“Sorry we didn’t get this guy adopted! I was really hopeful that we could do it.” Penelope was hugging Melda, Tom was shaking Luke's hand and thanking him again for bringing back the runaway.

“We did really good!" comforted Melda rubbing her back. “I’m positive if he hadn’t gotten out, we would have. No worries, I think this was our most successful event yet!”

“Yeah, and most chaotic. If we do it again, we definitely need more workers.” Tom sang the end giving Luke a pointed look. Luke threw up his hands, “I…I don’t know, I’m just about as available as Penelope here.”

"And he’s a sourpuss in large crowds even though he’s ’from New York’ ” she mimicked.

Luke laughed “I think it’s because of New York. Fine. Tell me when, if she can be there so will I.”

With everything (and everyone) all packed away into the shelter van, he insisted on walking with her to her car.

I’m already here.

“It’s just across the lot!”

Then it’s really no problem at all. Come on, Chica. Roxie wants to make sure you're safe.

She’d rolled her eyes, but let him lead her away over the asphalt.

His hand was on hers, primed to open Ester’s door and dart away. A sound of nervous indecision peeled from her throat as she sucked in her bottom lip.

“Would it really be so bad?” he asked softly.

“Yes” They were watching each other in the reflection of Ester’s window, she shut her eyes. It hurt to say it, hurt to shut him out.

“Why?” He brought is other hand to her shoulder, he was boxing her in. Her heart was slamming against her ribs ready to leap from her throat. She should have felt trapped, but all she wanted was for him to pull the trigger and end it for them both. He was so close.

“You know why” She could feel him behind her, both his hands occupied with parts of her. There was space between her and the car, she could move forward if she wanted, reestablish the line. But she didn’t want to.

His thumb smoothed over the back of her hand. "Penelope, that excuse is weak and you know it.” He was looking at her neck, eyes tracing the gentle curve from shoulder to ear. Her hair was pulled up for once revealing parts of her rarely exposed. He found himself thinking about what it would be like to latch to the delicate skin there, sucking, biting, how she’d react. He leaned down, burying his face in her hair, one of his favorite things, and moved the hand from should to waist, snaking around, warm, steady. "I’d like to give this a chance.”

A war of uncertainty raged inside her playing tug-o-war with her mind. One side denying the feelings she had for him, knowing it wasn’t right, the trouble it could lead to, the pain that could result. What if he decided she really wasn’t what he wanted, they went out and he found she wasn’t as appealing as he thought. The awkwardness of an imbalance when they needed to work together in a high pressure professional setting. And then the side that said YES an amazingly beautiful, kind, intelligent, and strong animal lover- someone a perfect match, who knew her and liked her, wanted to be with her. Go for it! See where this leads!

Yes won out. For now. “Two weeks.” It was a compromise, with herself, with him.

His head dropped huffing a laugh of thanks. "Can I get a kiss?” He curled his fingers ready to turn her.

Regaining composure, she threw her shoulders back, "Not until our date, Newbie.” Penelope ducked into Ester and out of his grip, unsure what was louder, the nerves screaming inside her, or Ester roaring to life. Today really had turned out to be a very good day.

#garvez #luke alvez #penelope garcia #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #fan fiction #friday fic #snail's tales #ao3