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kawaii-sugarii · 11 months

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Sugar Rush - Next Gen

Incoming: my Next Gen kiddos!

Note: This is going to be a long one, because there's a total of 9 kids to talk about, and only now I'm developing their personalities.

Anyway, I hope that it's all worth it, so...

Here we go!

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Starting off with the trio of Von Schweetz kids. Vanellope and Gloyd's chaos loving children.

• Gabrielle Von Schweetz is the eldest daughter of the Von Schweetz family. She's cheeky and mischiuevous, though at the same time sweet and caring towards her friends, especially her siblings, and quite a capable leader. Always up for tricks and pranks, her preference being to do this with style. She's also very sassy, and likes to say snarky comments on occasions.

• Ven Orangeboar Von Schweetz is the middle child, and only son of the Von Schweetz family. A cunning yet laid-back boy who absolutely can't say "no" to an offer of pulling a prank. He inherits his mother's glitch, which helps him anytime he's up for mishief, since as some say, his glitch gives him a speed boost and jump boost. He also has a habit of sticking his tongue out a lot.

• Valerie Von Schweetz is the youngest daughter of the Von Schweetz family. She's in a way the opposite of her siblings, being more quiet and reserved, often seen fidgeting with her long ponytail, but she does sometimes join in on her siblings' chaos. She also inherits her mother's glitch, but unlike Ven, hers is weaker, and only occurs when she expresses extreme emotions.

Next comes a duet of Malarkey kids. Children of the sporty duet, Minty and Swizzle.

• Kentroy Malarkey is the eldest son of the Malarkey family. He's a smart and stubborn kid, and at the same time cool-headed and daring. He likes performing acrobatics and reading a good book, and also enjoys sarcastic humor. He usually knows how to keep a cool head, but there are times when he can get a bit hot-headed. Interestingly, he was the result of unplanned pregnancy, though was fortunately loved from when he was born.

• Zinnia Malarkey is the youngest daughter of the Malarkey family. Often referred to as "Zinn", she's as energetic and bubbly as a little girl can get, in addition to being a sporty daredevil with a lot of adrenaline. Always upbeat and bouncy, she strikes to bring out the good in everyone, even if some of the people she meets are the worst of the worst. She's more trusting than her brother, which makes her rather naive despite her intelligence.

Now for the girl with a 'tude, making it clear that she's Taffyta and Rancis' child.

• Abby Fluggerbutter is the only daughter of the Fluggerbutter family. She's quite a friendly and tomboyish girl, and although she's trying to be different from her parents and doesn't want to become like them, she still retains their loud and cocky attitude. She likes to style her hair and try on new accessories, but in terms of outfits, no matter what the others tell her, she'll always pick comfy hoodies, especially if they're oversized.

Up next, the ever mysterious girl, as well as Adorabeezle's ever mysterious child.

• Eclaire Winterpop is, as far as people know, the only daughter of the Winterpop family. She's a quiet girl, much like her mother, but unlike her, she's less athletic and more lady-like, enoying spending a quiet time with nature, and sometimes play with animals, too. She is shrouded in mysteries, some of which she's aware of. She sometimes wonders about who her father is, though her mother doesn't talk much about him.

Almost there! Now comes the demi-boy, and Sticky and Nougetsia's adopted child.

• Alucard Fruitpunch is the only son of the Wipplesnit family. He's bubbly and relaxed, and incredibly easy-going. He's also an air-head with a creative and imaginative mind, liking to come up with new ideas whenever they can and want. Despite their easy-going nature, Alucard can get nervous rather easily, bumbling over his own words whenever he feels uneasy.

And last but not least, the first OC x Canon kid revealed. Torvald and Cinnaren's tomboy child.

• Toffifee Batterbutter is the only daughter of the Batterbutter family. On one hand, she's a sweet and energetic girl with a smile bright as the sun. On the other hand, she's a brash and boisterous girl with a voice loud as a hawk. She's rather impulsie, and is quick to take action in any situation, sometimes answering with her fists. Very adventurous and playful, always aims for the top, and more often than not refuses to quit.

Aaaaand that's all of them!

(Phew, that took a while.)

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rabbitcruiser · 3 months

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International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is celebrated annually on January 23. Considered a British classic by various culinary experts, sticky toffee pudding is also widely enjoyed in Australia and New Zealand as sticky date pudding. Although the name indicates pudding, some say that this dessert is a cross between a pudding and a cake. But it doesn’t really matter. Today is about celebrating and enjoying a moist sponge cake made with finely chopped dates covered in toffee sauce often served with custard, cream, or ice cream. Sounds really sweet and yummy.

History of International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day

The origin of sticky toffee pudding is still a mystery and a continuing dispute within the culinary industry. So far, there are three claims for the invention of sticky toffee pudding. Yorkshire claims that it was invented by the landlady of the Gait Inn in Millington in 1907. Cumbria claims that it dates back to the Sharrow Bay Country House, where an “icky sticky toffee sponge” developed by Francis Coulson and Robert Lee appeared on the menu in 1960. Scottish claims that the sticky toffee pudding was first served in 1967 at the Udny Arms Hotel in Newburgh, Aberdeenshire.

In 1989, Howard and Jean Johns of Cartmel Village Shop in Cumbria developed their version of sticky toffee pudding for takeaway. They first came to Cartmel in 1971. They had been making their version of sticky toffee pudding since 1984, and their creation became popular. They made only 25 puddings per week at first. Now, they make a million per year and they are sold all over the world. They say that their pudding contains 100% natural ingredients with no preservatives. That’s probably one of the keys to their success.

There are so many recipes for sticky toffee pudding. Sticky toffee pudding itself contains two essential components. Number one is the moist sponge cake made with finely chopped dates. It is usually light and fluffy. Number two is the toffee sauce made from cream and sugar. Sticky toffee pudding is often served with vanilla custard or vanilla ice cream to complement its flavor. International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is a day to experiment with it by making one from scratch.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day timeline

1907 The Gait Inn

The landlady of the Gait Inn in Millington makes sticky toffee pudding.

1960 The Sharrow Bay Country House

A sticky toffee sponge developed by Francis Coulson and Robert Lee appears on the menu of the hotel.

1967 The Udny Arms Hotel

A sticky toffee pudding is served in the Udny Arms Hotel.

1989 Cartmel Village Shop

Howard and Jean Johns of Cartmel Village Shop in Cumbria develop takeaway sticky toffee pudding.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day FAQs

Can you freeze sticky toffee pudding?

Yes, you can freeze sticky toffee pudding for up to three months.

Who invented the pudding dessert?

It is said that the pudding is a British invention developed from the sausages that the Romans brought into the country in the first century B.C.

What is the oldest British dessert?

Bread and butter pudding is one of the oldest recorded British desserts, dating back to the early 1700s.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day Activities

Tell your family and friends

Make your version

Try the takeaway pudding

Tell them about the special day and invite them over. You may want to share the joy of enjoying this delicious dessert with your loved ones. You can also exchange recipes if they have their own versions of sticky toffee pudding.

You may try your own recipe for sticky toffee pudding that you haven’t made yet. Today is the best time for you to realize it and see how it tastes. Hopefully, it will be as good as you expected.

Cartmel Sticky Toffee Pudding is so popular and contains 100% natural ingredients. You may want to buy one as a comparison for your version of sticky toffee pudding.

5 Facts About Dates You Need To Know

They are nutritious

They have numerous types

They’ve been around for a long time

Date palm tree is a national symbol

They provide necessary minerals

Dates are a good source of fiber, rich in calories, calcium, potassium, magnesium, and iron.

The United Arab Emirates has over 199 different types of dates, with around 44 million palm trees.

Dates have been around for thousands of years and are very popular in the Middle East.

The date palm tree is the national symbol of Saudi Arabia and is known as the “tree of life” in the Middle East.

Dates provide all the necessary minerals and vitamins the body needs.

Why We Love International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day

It’s delicious

A day to try it

To experiment with it

Sticky toffee pudding is a delicious dessert. Served with vanilla ice cream, it is perfect. It is one of the best dishes for people with a sweet tooth.

Maybe some of us never tried sticky toffee pudding. International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is the best time to try this classic.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day allows us to experiment with this dessert. We can experiment with the toffee sauce especially.

Source

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soleilnomoon · 11 months

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Hi Kaia could i order white chocolate,fruit tart,glazed Donut,nougat,Donut hole,with caramel and whipped cream for one piece men: (Luffy ,Rayliegh ,Ace, Zoro, Sanji ,Shanks,and Law) plz and thank you

hihi ty for being patient angel 🥰️ i def took some liberty w. this one, but i think i like how all of them turned out; you gave me a tall order but *clenches fist* i survived 💛💛💛 anyway, ty for requesting hope you like it :)

3.2k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; smut, some angst, fluff (wow i know), hurt/comfort; feat. luffy being a total menace, rayleigh being the dilf we all want, ace being mischievous as ever, zoro being a dumbass, sanji being overwhelmed, shanks being the absolute worst, and law trying to teach reader a lesson. also feat. cute stuff like: ass grabbing, rough (consensual sex), exhibitionism & public sex, lil bondage, jealousy, orgasm denial, some sof smut™ (who am i), oral (f receiving), fingering, oral (m receiving), idk other stuff probably. y/n has no self preservation ofc, these men are ridiculous (i love them). (if u see grammar/spelling mistakes no u didn't <3)

it isn’t your intention, but somehow you and your captain get separated from the group one afternoon while canvasing a new island. you normally don’t get lost, but luffy was teasing you all morning — pulling you aside for impromptu kisses, grabbing onto your hips from behind, his lips curled into a devilish smile against your neck with each kiss he left behind. luck was usually on your side during those instances, except it seems it’s suddenly run out.

“don’t give me that look,” you say as sternly as you can, eyes glancing around to see if any of your crew mates doubled back to look for you. luffy’s really to blame for you both getting lost, but he doesn’t want to admit that just yet; it’s more entertaining to tease you, because you’re cute when you’re annoyed. luffy wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you further away from the path you came from.

in between kisses, you remind him that you’re both pressed for time.

“don’t worry,” he says in a low voice, “it’ll be fine, probably.” you’d slap him if he wasn’t already kissing you again, tongue licking inside your mouth hotly; you arch against him, face flushed from the heat. his kisses remind you of summers and warm breezes; your mouth still tastes like the mangos you consumed with him earlier — sticky and sweet, a taste he’ll always covet.

you squeeze your thighs together when his hand roams lower and take a shuddering breath once he backs you against a thick tree. you hike a leg around his hip, holding him close to you, humming pleasantly when you feel the growing bulge in his shorts. being this close to him makes you impulsive and you know that all you have to do is rub against him once and he’ll fuck you against that tree. but your conscience wins out and you pull away, ducking out of his hold quickly, panting lightly as you touch your lips with the tips of your fingers.

“we need to get back to the others,” your voice is a bit too high when you say that. luffy laughs at your act and plants a wet kiss on your cheek; you bicker with him playfully on the walk back while holding his hand and lacing your fingers together with his.

“i don’t normally do this. i have to go.”

that’s what you said twenty minutes ago, after you’d gotten tipsy enough to have the courage to flirt with the older man sitting next to you. the pub was crowded and you only ever came by if you didn’t want to be recognized. rayleigh had a dangerously devilish charm, one that extracted information out of you with ease.

his voice is thick and rich, his words a pretty distraction — hypnotizing you as you find yourself nodding along to his impetuous plans. he hadn’t intended on sleeping with anyone tonight, but he couldn’t resist himself once he saw you sitting there by yourself, swaying on the bar stool while humming a nameless tune.

you seemed so content to be alone, it was admirable.

he had a bright smile and a laugh that came deep from the soul; you felt your body flush at the thought of kissing him suddenly. you blamed the alcohol for making you foolish, but you knew that wasn’t exactly true.

now you’re seated atop a sink in the upstairs bathroom, whimpering softly as you keep your legs spread for him. your skirt is hiked up, panties discarded somewhere — they were ruined once rayleigh whispered in your ear and suggested you carry on the conversation elsewhere; his hands were skilled, his mouth even more so.

he liked how pliable and supple your body was, how plush and soft your thighs were under his calloused hands. you shivered as he ran a finger along your slit, making you tremble as you keep as still as possible. rayleigh, you come to find, is experienced and passionate; you grow impossibly drunk from all his teasing — to the point that you’re panting and begging him to fuck you.

“all in good time.” his voice is gravelly when he nips at your exposed clavicle, cock hard and heavy; he knows he should hurry up, but something about you makes him want to take his time — so he can see all the frustrated expressions on your face. you pull him close and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking his length, rattling his nerves until he finally gives in.

he buries his cock to the hilt, hips pulling back and snapping forward roughly against you. letting out a breathy moan, you can feel just how slick your pussy is from your arousal. legs wrapped around him, you lean up to kiss along his jaw; he chuckles and indulges you, hands gripping your thighs, fingers likely to leave bruising marks behind from how tight he’s holding you. rayleigh fucks with you with fervor and selfishness that serves as a daunting reminder — that you’ll never find someone else like him after this.

“ace,” you pant as quietly as you can, but you’re struggling badly. the 2nd division commander has you in a back hallway on the ship early in the morning. he’s grinning like a fool, clearly entertained by your insistence on keeping quiet. he kisses you as he knocks his hips against yours, his cock sliding deeper inside your pussy; he holds you up against the wall as your legs stay wrapped around him.

you buck your hips against his, doing your best to match his thrusts, but his strokes are deadly and frenzied.

“wait, wait, ace slow down,” you whisper, sighing pleasantly when his cock reaches a sweet spot that has you clenching around him tightly.

“can’t,” he says in response, breath warm against your jaw, “stay. unless you want to get caught.” he gives you a meaningful look that’s accompanied with a smirk. you purse your lips but shake your head. it would be easier if you could stay mad at him, but he’s too cute and funny and attractive — plus, you like that he’s bold enough to fuck you in public without a care in the world. you hear voices off in the distance and panic, eyes widening as you look back at him.

but ace only winks and tells you to hold on tight.

as you bite down on the fleshy part of your palm to keep yourself from screaming, ace pummels his thick cock into your cunt mercilessly, balls slapping against you loudly. the sound is lewd and tantalizing; you find that you can barely keep up with his thrusts, but you do your best anyway.

apparently, he’s determined to make you cum before your crew mates catch you. and as much as he jokes that he wouldn’t care if someone saw you, a small wave of jealousy passes through him at the thought of anyone seeing you like this. he wants to finish up quickly so he can take you somewhere more private. it’s when he bites your neck roughly and pants against your skin that you cum unexpectedly, a blinding, white hot flash filling your vision as you forget yourself and scream his name.

the rain has yet to let up, not that it matters to you since you’re trapped in yet another argument with your thick-skulled boyfriend. you can’t even remember what triggered the argument in the first place, and because stuff like this makes you extra sensitive, you end up crying.

he sighs at the sight of your face flushing and eyes closing as you try to wipe away the tears, as if they were bothersome and unnecessary. guilt eats away at his chest, making it hard to swallow or breathe; he knows he should apologize, but he’s just so terrible at it. so, he does the one thing he knows how to do — apologize with his hands and mouth.

the mattress is soft beneath him as you straddle his hips and slowing sink onto his cock; you both shed your clothes some time ago, lips swollen from kissing him hungrily, an insatiable need seeping into your pores and making you greedy. you place kisses along the base of his throat, hips rocking forward as he thrusts into your cunt slowly. and while he’d love to just fuck you senseless — something quick and dirty — he knows that you’d appreciate his apology more if he took his time.

so, he does.

you sigh against his lips, fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the short strands. his chest is broad and firm, your nipples harden each time they rub against his light brown skin. slipping your tongue into his mouth, you cradle his face in your hands as he continues to give you broad, sensual strokes that have you whimpering in the most pathetic way against him. he likes you like this, though, and tells you as much when he presses a kiss along your jaw.

he finds forgiveness when you bounce on his cock a little harder, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs onto your ass to thrust into your pussy at a devastating pace. tears coat your eyelashes, but they primarily because zoro’s fucking you like he loves you. and maybe he does; you don’t want to think about that too much, because the intimacy behind it scares you.

jealousy, you think, looks good on him.

sanji rarely likes to show his true jealous side to you, it’s less playful and much more charged, possessive but you don’t mind that at all. earlier, zoro had offered to help train you and before you could turn him down — you’d seen firsthand just how brutal he is with his workouts — sanji was already up in arms over it. they argued for the entire afternoon, but by then you were already annoyed over the situation and dragged sanji off to calm him down.

his face is flushed when you kiss him suddenly and pull him into a broom closet without thinking too much about it. you can’t remember if you locked the door, but it doesn’t really matter. all you care about is wanting to give your silly boyfriend a little bit of attention.

your idea of giving attention is rubbing his half-hard cock through his pants, smiling slyly against his lips when you feel him shiver. in one fluid motion, you sink to your knees, fingers quickly unzipping his pants and tugging it lower. you pull his cock out and admire the shape of it, the slight curve always made your mouth water; before he can say anything, your tongue darts out and swipes at his slit, the pre-cum slightly salty in your mouth.

you make a big show of licking your lips, which only causes another flush to stain his cheeks. whenever you get like this, he has no choice but to follow your whims; he likes that about you, a lot. that you take charge and keep him grounded whenever his feelings get to be a bit too much for him to handle.

he opens his mouth to apologize, but you kiss his tip and he forgets all about it, mind short-circuiting momentarily, which gives you the opportunity to take him by surprise again.

“i don’t care that you’re jealous,” your voice is honeyed and sweet, wrapping itself around him comfortably, a lust-filled haze taking over his mind when you wrap your lips around him and suck. you run your tongue flat along his length, taking your time to lick all over before you take his cock into your mouth completely.

sanji’s breath slows and he does his best to not fuck your face, but then you’re massaging his balls and bobbing your head faster — so he does the most impractical thing and bucks his hips forward and thrusts his cock further down your throat. you gag around him, the pressure intense but welcomed; if he didn’t already know that you like it rough, he’d feel bad — and he still does, but he hasn’t voiced that out loud just yet. you don’t care though; truly, you don’t. you just want him to feel as relaxed as possible, but how can he relax when your mouth is warm and wet, when you’re looking at him tenderly, like you’d be on your knees for him every day if he asked you?

you let him have his way, and he doesn’t last very long, but you keep still, hold onto his thighs, nails sinking into his skin when his cock goes a little too deep. when he sees the tears roll down your cheeks, it ignites something in him and he cums in your mouth, your name a soft chant that tumbles out of his parted lips. he feels feverish and dizzy, but very much alive. you rub your thighs together as you swallow the thick load, smiling prettily at him, head tilted slightly while you boldly ask, “do you feel better now?”

he knows better than to piss you off, but he does it intentionally anyway. the captain of the red hair pirates loves pushing your buttons; he likes when you roll your eyes at him, when you pout cutely and demand he take you seriously; he likes when you don’t stop him when he kisses you openly, mouth possessively staking its claim against yours.

if you weren’t so used to his whims, you’d have the decency to act bashful.

you have a short temper that he’s been warned about time and time again; except, shanks doesn’t fucking listen — nor does he care.

so when he has you bent over one of the tables in the kitchen late one night after you both argued and drank and argued again, you have no choice but to forgive him. especially when he his thick cock is buried deep inside your pussy, his large hand pressing down on your lower back as you grip the sides of the table. your legs shake, but you know better than to complain right now. shanks fucks you hard, the wooden table scraping against the floor every time his hips knock roughly against yours.

“shanks, fuck,” you cry out, chest heaving as you try to keep your sanity intact. his chuckles annoy you, but he knows that you only pretend to act annoyed with him because you like the way he makes up with you. your ass bounces back against him, jiggling from the ferocity behind his thrusts.

“careful, doll,” he grabs your hip to power into you — his strokes turning you into a mumbling, delirious mess, “thought you didn’t want us to get caught.” he sounds so fucking pleased with himself, and you hate that your pussy is wet enough that you can take him without much prep. you blush at the thought of being caught and remind yourself to keep quiet.

“oh, don’t stop now on my account,” his voice lowers substantially, you crane your neck to hear him better, and you just know without having to look at him that he’s got a pleased smile on his face. that man works every nerve in your body, but you like him too much to leave him properly.

you press your lips together to stifle another moan, but then shanks keeps his hips close to yours and gives you short, rough thrusts that you struggle to keep up with. with your back arched, you make for a pretty sight; he knows he should finish quickly, but he likes watching you hold onto the edge of the table like it’s your only lifeline. you don’t even have time to process the orgasm that passes through you because it happens so suddenly.

he teases you mercilessly and without remorse, but you take it; you take the rest of his frenetic thrusts, take the way he slides his hand underneath you to rub your clit. your body is much too sensitive, and when you moan his name like that, it flips a switch in him. you doubt you’ll be able to walk properly after this, but you’re not too worried about that; shanks bullies his cock in and out of your needy hole until he’s satisfied, successfully wrenching another orgasm out of you that makes you slump over the table weakly.

“don’t tell me you’re all done,” he presses a kiss on the side of your neck, lazily grinding against you, every bit as greedy as he always is. you can barely stand, but you feel alive in the best sort of way, already forgetting that you were mad at him in the first place.

you knew better and you still didn’t listen.

the restraints around your wrists dig into your skin a bit, but they don’t hurt that much; you squirm around on the bed, not liking that you can’t touch yourself or him. but he told you earlier to behave and you still chose to ignore his warning.

now you’re paying for it.

although, you wouldn’t exactly call this sort of thing a punishment.

law’s mouth latches onto a patch of skin on your inner thigh, teeth and mouth leaving behind marks that serve as little reminders for later. you whimper softly, but he pays you no mind, instead moving to the other thigh, tongue running along your skin. you buck your hips forward to get him to touch you properly, but all he does is click his tongue at you in faux-disappointment.

“seems like you still need to learn,” he says sharply, his eyes a dark amber, the look he gives you is equal parts fierce and mesmerizing. you want to kiss him, to run your hands down his chest, but he won’t let you and you’re upset about it.

when it looks like you’re about to say something that’ll piss him off, he stuffs your panties inside of your mouth to keep you quiet. your pleas are muffled but he pulls your hips close, mouth brushing along your slit, making you tremble with need.

he knows he should probably ease up, but if he doesn’t teach you now, then you’ll keep the same bad habits and he can’t have that, now, can he? you’re nearly in tears when he finally flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit, hips jerking forward when he swirls his tongue around. you can feel your saliva dampen your panties. you close your eyes briefly, ecstasy filling every part of your body when he stops and says, “keep your eyes on me.”

you want to tell him that it’s damn near impossible, but you try to follow his instruction anyway.

law eats you out with purpose and vigor, his mouth a sinful delight as he french-kisses your pussy without restraint. he teased you for so long that your nipples ache from being hard and untouched. you could kill him for that. and law is smug in his own way, enjoying you at his leisure, slurping and licking your pussy with fervor.

you thrash against him and he holds you steady; you can barely keep your eyes open and you feel like you’re having an out of body experience when he glides his lithe fingers inside your cunt. law fingerfucks you lazily, sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite piece of candy. when you cum, your moans are strangled and garbled, vision blurring as you ride his mouth shamelessly, a sharp pain on your wrists from the way you keep tugging fruitlessly.

he could let up but won’t, taking pleasure in watching you fall apart for him; you tell yourself that once you’ve calmed down, you’ll just have to pay him back in kind later when he least expects it.

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

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7 or 22 with innocent/babygirl reader.

Include daddy kink, the rest is yours.

Hello, thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! 🖤🤞

— [MASTERLIST]; [1k Followers Celebration Masterlist]

"Come, sit. Don't be shy."

That was all he had said a few minutes ago and now you were sitting on Patrick's lap wearing nothing but your pretty little socks as he puffed on his cigar; the sharp scent of the snuff hit your nose but only encouraged you to press closer to his massive body.

Playfully, Bateman nipped at your neck between blowing out the smoke rings, your coy mewling amusing him and causing his already hard cock to jerk in his pants.

"Mmhhm, I love your cute little cheeks, sweetheart," he murmured in a raspy voice, tracing a finger across your lips. "Will you show me what that pretty mouth is capable of?"

With a stifled gasp, you looked into his brown eyes, literally drowning in their darkness. "If Daddy wants me to."

Patrick grinned almost at once, humming contentedly as you took his long fingers into your mouth.

"You're not acting like an innocent girl," he pursed his lips around the cigar as he watched you suck on his fingers with naughty noises. "If you don't stop making that sound, I'm gonna ruin that succulent pussy, and believe me... I won't even care that you've never had sex before!"

"But, Daddy…Aw!" You cried out from the hard spanking on your butt whilst his wet digits slid down your throat.

"Now, get on your knees, right here," as you started to move, he pointed to the spot next to him on the couch, so you just did what he wanted. "Such an obedient girl."

With that, Bateman puffed on his cigar before putting it in the ashtray and then slowly unbuckled his belt. A low growl of satisfaction erupted from his broad chest as he finally released his large, engorged dick and gave it a few short strokes.

"See what you do to me, babygirl?" Patrick chuckled as he noticed the way you looked at his beefy girth.

"Yes, D-Daddy," you hiccupped as Bateman gripped your chin not so gently. "It's so big, I… I don't know if I can take it."

"Then try."

His velvety voice was like a sweet nougat, enticing you to give his swollen tip several shy licks, collecting small drops of his sticky pre-cum.

"Fuck…" Patrick tilted his head on the back of his white couch, his eyes now closed as your wet, warm mouth covered his blushing tip. "Yeah, just like that, baby."

Panting, you did your best to take him as deep as you could, your throat starting to hurt as he pushed his hips towards your face and his big palm held your head in one place.

"Mmmh!" You whimpered around his hot flesh, the shimmering tears already forming in the corners of your eyes.

Your high-pitched wails only spurred him on to increase the pace of his thrusts, his large hand pinning you down on his thick cock so that you literally choked on it.

"Aww…is this too much for you already?" Bateman mocked you before easing his grip and giving you a moment of rest. "And what if Daddy decided to touch you there?"

Frowning, you jolted from the surging sensation in your lower abdomen as his skillful fingers sneaked between your bent legs, now attacking your moist slit, sweeping over your sensitive bud with long, steady strokes.

"A-ahh…"

"You like that?"

"Y-yes, yes, please-mmmhm…" You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you deeply, devouring your tongue greedily.

"I wonder what you would say when I fuck you for the first time?" Patrick smirked and squeezed your jaw without stopping to rub your blushing clit. "Mmm, I can't wait to know what it feels like to be inside you, honey. But for now, keep that sweet little mouth open for me."

Shaking like a leaf, you let him use your face however he wanted, and he wanted it rough. No matter how much you drooled and gagged around his meaty dick, Bateman would never stop giving and receiving pleasure, even if you begged him a million times, because he was savage in the way he was.

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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sabakos · 9 months

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Ice cream does not belong in the summer, that's a wintry food. How much milkfat do you really want to weigh your pores down with when its 96 fucking degrees out, get yourself a nice low-density goddam water ice with some acidic expurgation like a lemon or mango and leave that colloidal nougat sticky shit for the snow season.

#brain noise

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skeptiquewrites · 2 years

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Microfic: Sticky

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'sticky'

"Can you describe the potion, Potter?"

"It was... sticky."

Draco pushes the tips of his fingers into his brow ridge, except he's wearing Harry's face so it's unsettling.

"It was sticky," he repeats. "What else?"

"Tasted like nougat. Looked purplish, I think."

"Want the good news or bad news first?"

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #fifty words #body swap

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atlas-library · 5 months

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☾ raw ☽ a snippet.（001）

〝they're in my habitat, i like that.〞

fandom: jujutsu kaisen genre: romance rating: r-rated word count: 300 trigger warnings: nsfw mentions, food mentions, ed implied

disclaimer: this snippet is being reposted from my main blog for organisation and sharing purposes.

wip introduction ⭒ more snippets ⭒ characters ⭒ brainstorming ⭒ taglist ⭒ ao3 ⭒ ko-fi

You never eat, Mother would say, try to force yourself a bit.

‘Hm, yeah, aah… harder, harder! Harderr!’

HUNGER.

Everyone is hungry: gaped mouths salivating for breadcrumbs, dancing tongues hoping for juicy steaks, gurgling throats longing for stodgy cakes; everyone is hungry. People can court with food, people can fight over food, people can kill for food.

Honey would flow along fleshy chins, greasy leftovers would make plump lips glisten, ripe blueberries would stain crooked teeth. Adam’s apples coated in sugar would gulp down nougat as marshmallow would stick on puffy cheeks, blushed by raspberry jam and strawberry juice droplets.

Insatiable stomachs would guide voracious fingers akin to paintbrushes, covered in melted chocolate and tracing trembling lines on wet tongues, as if they were blank canvas; mouths stuffed to the brim, overflowing spit, euphoric smiles as yellowish teeth would bite down on scrumptious meals. Food is the trickiest of addictions and the tastiest of drugs.

Food is everything, yet Yūta is satiated.

‘Yeah… hm, yeah! Cummin’, cummin’, cumm…!’

Hard strokes, angry groans, strangled cries: white and straight teeth tightly clenched together; chapped lips painted by encrusted blood; a furrowed chin wet by a trail of spit.

A starved stomach would guide skinny fingers akin to paintbrushes, covered in sticky lubricant, violently stroking in rhythm with the symphony of moans filling the room.

Painful wheezes, shaky breaths, choked yelps similar to laments.

The hoarsest of cries leaves Yūta’s damaged throat as his body climaxes, both convulsing and tensing, spluttering semen on pale fingers like eccentric chefs would splatter mushroom sauce on grilled pork.

Another cry crosses his lips as he lightly hits his forehead against the wall, multiple whimpers following right after. He gasps and whines once, twice, thrice; loud sniffles shake his shoulders, his runny nose drips snot, spit dangles from his furrowed chin.

Yūta breathes deeply, the grotesque squeals coming from his phone now a muffled symphony to his ears.

taglist (ask to be + / - !)

@artmistersealy

@heartvexer

Feel free to like and reblog; if you wish to be added to the taglist, my comments and inbox are open. My askbox is currently open for any question or opinion. :)

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slasheru · 11 months

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Dateables fave snacks?

Hex: JALAPEÑO POPPERS!!! *Hex runs breathlessly into the room* JALAPEÑO POPPERS.

Tate: Tate is a pistachios guy, he loves munching on anything he doesn't have to pay attention to while he's working. If coffee were a snack it'd be his favorite. He gets nauseous a lot & coffee's one of the few things he can keep down!

Laila: Laila is a ~*~bonbons~*~* girl. TOTAL sweet tooth. Turkish delight, truffle chocolates, marshmallows, fruit pastilles, nougats (although the stickiness gets on her nerves), anything candy - especially classic or old-timey candy!

Juno: CHIPS. CHEETOS. SO MUCH GAS STATION SNACK TRASH. Juno is the kind of person who goes inside a 7-11 and walks back out with an armful of everything in the store, ESPECIALLY the weird shit like gas station hot dogs and off-brand Red Bull and loooooots and lots of Cheetos and Pirates Booty.

Sawyer: Beef jerky. ;) I like to think he's also the kind of guy who packs himself a meticulous lunch when he needs to go places, like fully compartmentalized with little containers for dipping sauce and everything. Also, classic sandwiches. He might be into fine dining but he has a squishy soft spot for homemade food!

#hex LOVES Guy Fieri #of course #asks #hexecutioner #tate mcgillicutty #laila velasquez #juno park #sawyer ferguson #slasher u #slasher u lore

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sacredsanguine · 1 year

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5 Times Amer Doux Dreamt of Killing Nicholas Remington, and 1 Time He Didn’t

Little wonder that later that night, he dreams that Remington blood is as bitter as that chocolate.

Thank you @saviolum-sanguineus for beta-reading this fic for me! @kittenishdelights hope you're onboard the Nicholamer train too! Your pistachio chocolate scene suggestion was so scrumptious, lol!

He haunts Amer’s dreams: a figure of spectral black trailed by the cloying, metallic scent of blood. Nicholas Remington is a reaper whose scythe swings with the flash of his teeth, bared brilliant, searing white after softly swung whispers to a faceless throne. The blood spills whether Nicholas smiles or shouts—and his hands never bear the stains themselves. In his dreams, Amer steps out of the invisible, shadowed line that staff exists in, forces the Imperial Advisor to look at him with that poison-green gaze (not through him, at), feels his blood boil in his veins, and squeezes that black-collared throat until the poison flickers and fails. His scar stings like it’s been torn open when Amer wakes, breathing hard. His hands are clenched into fists in the sheets, crescent moons marking where his nails dig into the swell of flesh. The roar of the kitchen fires is never enough to drown out the screams of his past or the souls he knows will join it soon.

2. Lord Daddano always tests Amer’s patience, but (unfortunately for the chocolatier) he’s grown too accustomed to the sight of Andrey’s tongue swirling wetly around sticky fingers and the sound of entirely too enthusiastic exclamations of gourmet appreciation. It’s the sound of the Imperial Advisor’s voice and his sudden, unexpected appearance that makes Amer wonder if he’s finally tipped over the edge into hallucination.

He’s never known if the presence of Nicholas makes his dreams nightmares or the other way around. Either way, Amer has to lean into the familiar exasperation of watching nobles ignore him in favor of indulging in each other to ground himself. It’s a struggle not to pick up the sweet little knife beside him and drive it into the Advisor’s heart, exposed as it is; instead Amer clenches his jaw and rearranges his features into a smile he knows neither Nicholas nor Andrey will take notice of.

His palm is flat and pointed as the blade he wishes it were when he motions at one of the new pistachio-nougat confections. Its layers are robed in dark, glossy chocolate that’s almost as bitter as Amer feels when he lets himself think too much. Nicholas nods at the recommendation and Amer imagines that pale throat flexing under his grip as Andrey presses the little bite to Nicholas’s lips. Exposed heart indeed.

Nicholas watches—studies—Andrey with a singular intensity that makes Amer’s scar itch. It’s almost enough to make Amer believe his station’s invisibility would last if he lunged across the table and tore Nicholas’s throat out with his teeth.

Little wonder that later that night, he dreams that Remington blood is as bitter as that chocolate.

3. The macarons come out beautifully: smooth, evenly domed tops and tiny, clean feet, not a single crack to be seen in the airy pastel shells that hug rings of velvety buttercream and jam. They take two and a half hours to make, bake, and fill, and a day to mature in a temperature-controlled resting room before Amer hand-wraps them individually in pastel tissue paper and totes them over to the Remington estate in an enchanted silver box worth more than his rented room and the few possessions that fill it.

The cats enjoy them almost as much as Samael does. Amer, robbed somewhat of the perpetual invisibility of his station by his responsibility to introduce each course, despairs quietly in the corner of the room as the friskier of the little white kittens manages to dye himself and half the table pink with ruby chocolate sauce.

He half-expects Nicholas to be as harsh on his son as he is to everyone else in court; the Advisor’s unexpected, radical gentleness is so jarring it slips somehow back into the realm of terror. The same hands that have turned living beings into shapeless, broken bags of blood and bone wield a silver dessert spoon with the careless elegance of a hummingbird feeding from honeysuckle. Samael beams up at Nicholas, showing him some silly thing that the kittens’ pawprints have melded into on the tablecloth, and Nicholas smiles back with the fond, indulgent expression of a stained glass saint.

Amer focuses on the ruby chocolate pawprints until the light makes them gleam red as blood and he tastes his own from where he’s bitten his tongue.

That night, he pins Nicholas to the floor of his own dining room, hands tight around his neck and growing tighter; Amer realises it’s a dream not when green light bursts around him and his blood begins to flow backwards in his veins, but when Nicholas meets his eyes and croaks, “You’d murder a father in front of his son? Very righteous.”

Samael’s eyes are huge and watery, green just as piercing as his father’s magic as he stares at Amer from the doorway. His lip trembles first, followed by his shoulders as he wails, fat tears rolling down his thin face. Amer’s grip loosens, but Nicholas doesn’t move; instead, he begins to laugh—harsh and mocking, more crow-like than the songbirds his son takes after.

Amer’s stomach churns. Beneath Samael’s sobs he can hear the cries of children with dead eyes, the ones he tries to lay out extra blankets and smuggle a few sweets from the kitchens for at every meeting in the teaching hospital basement. Some of them cry at night, others scream in their sleep, and every single one of them would have a fuller family tree if the man laughing on the ground beneath him hadn’t whispered something in the monarch’s ear. He doubts Nicholas doesn’t know—he just doesn’t care.

It isn’t fair. It never has been. It never will be.

Good chocolate snaps when broken, with a loud, clear crack and a clean edge; Amer could identify it in a heartbeat. Maybe that’s why the wet crunch of Nicholas’s neck snapping wakes him up screaming.

4. The Ward trial is a catastrophe. Amer reads the summary of events in the morning paper, launches it into the wastebin furiously, and almost immediately fishes the crumpled ball back out to reread the article in a desperate bid to convince himself that the Butcher of Seraphine Estate would face more than a tap (calling it a slap is too generous) on the wrist.

His despair follows him like smoke billowing out of burnt sugar; it’s only when he shouts at Kezia for a split ganache undeserving of such wrath that he realizes the rest of his kitchen is staring warily at him much like he’d stared at any noble when his scar was still a wound. Amer sets his bowl of frangipane down—it smacks harder than he intended on the counter and he winces—and wipes roughly at his face with the towel at his waist.

“I’m sorry.” Amer can feel the heat of the kitchen fires pressing sweat from his skin, but the pounding dizziness in his head comes with a sensation of being frozen in place. “Send the commis and the dishwashers home for the day—”

“Already did, Chef,” Kezia says flatly; her face is taut with understanding straining at its limits. She’s already chopped the chocolate to fix the ganache; it scrapes off the board and hits the oil layer with a quiet rustle. “Figured it’d be worse for you to see them cowering.”

Amer exhales noisily and nods. Kezia is a better sous-chef than anyone could ask for. Her voice is quiet when she speaks next, still carrying the clipped urgency the kitchens demand. “Go home, Amer. You’re a danger here.”

She could mean anything: distraction around knifes, fires, and the latter two in crowded spaces is all too easy to trip into greater injury, but Kezia pins Amer with a gaze that’s just this side of knowing. She’s a better sous-chef than anyone could ask for, and a better observer too. He’s lucky they’re on the same side.

Amer walks home feeling like he’s fallen into a pale waking nightmare. When he finally falls asleep on a pillow that can’t take much more punching, he sees Nicholas on the stand in the courtroom. There’s blood everywhere; the judge is a headless thing slumped and oozing over a gavel.

There is a sword in Amer’s hand and he can wield it as easy and precise as a dowel spinning sugar for croquembouche; he flies from the benches up to Nicholas, screaming names of people who will never answer him again. The sword finds its target like a lost child running home; there’s a breath of startled resistance before the flesh and muscle parts for Amer’s blade, length sinking in with a wet squelch.

The taste of bitter chocolate interrupts Amer’s litany for the fallen; there’s a moment of silence, sweet as raw sugar, before those green eyes flutter back open and Nicholas bares those scythe teeth at him. It’s soulless, the Advisor’s polished face of personal war, and it burns in Amer’s chest like it’s going to tear him apart—Nicholas clenches his fingers and Amer stumbles forward as the hand buried in his chest rips aorta and vena cava asunder, then plunges deeper and bursts from his back, bloody heart clutched like a pearl; there’s a soft grunt that Amer only knows is his because of the way his lungs ripple around the air driven from them, and Nicholas smiles. It’s a soft in the way moonlight off even the deadliest of poisons is soft, and fixated in a way Amer recognises by the itch that prickles along his scar.

The sword in Amer’s trembling hand sinks in to the hilt, grinding against some fragment of rib when Nicholas squeezes his hand again; Amer’s face is close enough to his that the wet plop of Amer’s heart as Nicholas drops it to the floor is drowned out by his raspy whisper: “My beloved spoke the truth. I’m holding everything else against you.”

Amer wakes violently, hands pressing frantically at his chest as he sucks in air.

5. It would be wise to get to sleep early the night before the Day of Metamorphosis Parade, but Amer’s obligations are apparently dedicated to folly. He isn’t able to leave the kitchens until nearly two in the morning, visions of pastry cream and chocolate butterflies blurring over his vision as he stumbles home through dark streets. He falls into bed and sleep almost instantly, but the peace of a dreamless night escapes him.

It begins in the kitchens: cocoa butter melting while he scrapes pigments into powder with a curved knife, the smell of chocolate making his mouth and eyes water as he works. It tempers easily, eagerly popping out of the molds in glossy, perfect curves, and Amer smiles.

Nicholas is leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, when Amer turns around; the tray of quenelles clatters to the ground, painted white chocolate shells rattling like chips of bone. Nicholas doesn’t so much as blink at the mess, boredom carved harsh and haughty into his face.

“Two dozen dolorosas,” he says; his voice is as strident as ever, demanding in the way of a man who’s seldom been denied and accustomed to making examples of those who do.

He watches Amer work, green eyes hovering over his shoulder like the fangs of a beast as he whisks and melts and whisks again. It’s enough of a reminder of Daddano that Amer’s dream shifts around him for a moment, melting into slick shades of grey and pearly white before he finds himself at the dark, cool shelves of extracts and herbs kept away from the fires. Nicholas hasn’t followed him; Amer’s heart pounds in his chest as his fingers close around an unmarked, dark glass bottle. The liquid inside glimmers clear; even in his dreams, Amer knows that poison is rarely as obvious as storybooks make it out to be.

It will do nothing more than perfume the air with almonds until the chocolate crystallizes and turns its fragrance into fatality. This Amer knows in the watertight, ineffable way of dreams; it’s that same logic that presses him forward against Nicholas, holding the open bottle up between them as fire burns in his gut. He will slip his hand into the mouth of the beast to watch it choke; dignity is a small price to pay.

“Does this please you?” Amer asks, voice low and raspy—partially a conscious attempt to mimic Andrey’s forwardness but mostly thanks to histamines.

Nicholas’s face is still, a mask sculpted out of ice and disdain; he doesn’t bother inhaling before his words are sliding over Amer’s skin like the burning thaw of icicles. “You’ve forgotten yourself.”

But he doesn’t push Amer away; Nicholas raises a hand, looking rather like a cat toying with some bird trapped in a corner, and lets his fingers crawl up the edge of Amer’s jaw, gripping a little too tight for comfort. His eyes are clear, green boring into green like a candle held between two mirrors. “Get back to work.”

The hunger in his voice is cold enough to raise goosebumps on Amer’s skin, even with the heat of the kitchens.

Death, it turns out, dreams of itself wrapped in the delicate scent of almonds and a glossy coat of chocolate so dark it’s nearly black. Amer rolls out twenty-four perfect spheres of bitter chocolate—how fitting, that they’re already in mourning colors—and holds one up between thumb and middle finger.

Nicholas doesn’t part his lips; he raises a brow imperiously until Amer lifts the dolorosa to his mouth, then smiles that scythe-like smile, malicious in the way of a beautiful thing meant to hurt. His tongue is warm, teeth blunt but unforgiving as he holds the tip of Amer’s finger between them and rolls the chocolate deeper into his mouth; the tip of his tongue flicks against Amer’s fingertip, oddly whip-like, and for a moment the dream imagines that the skin there splits, blood sizzling.

Amer draws his hand back and smiles at the sharp crack of chocolate; there will be an instant of smooth pistachio and salt on the Advisor’s tongue before the bitterness blooms into eternity—Nicholas lunges forward, one hand curling harshly around the back of Amer’s neck, dragging him down so Nicholas can slant his mouth over Amer’s, fingers digging in enough to force a gasp out—

His tongue is hot, slicked with chocolate that tastes of blood or blood that tastes of chocolate; Amer bites down and tastes bitter iron and smoke, swallows down Nicholas and his death as they fall together to the floor, hunger and rage twitching between them.

Green holds its reflection captive until both mirrors shutter, emerald candle between them snuffed out as suddenly as waking from a nightmare—Amer jolts upright in bed, every breath and muscle in his body throbbing hard.

That afternoon, when he crunches the detonator in a sweaty fist, he can’t help but think of the way Nicholas laughs—sharp and splintered.

+1. Amer has never been particularly devout, but it does strike him as a sign that it was the third dream of his in which Samael appeared, and that it’s Samael who saves him, even if his life is paid for by the blood of those he’s torn from and a batch of pastel macarons. Kezia’s mutterings about what kind of man names his child “Poison of God” flash through his mind and Amer’s scar screams from its silent throne beneath the curve of his eye.

He pours himself into work as much as he can, hoping that exhaustion will be the end of the specter in his dreams: Amer’s nights know no such kindness. Every night, he finds himself on his knees with the taste of blood in his mouth, looking up at Nicholas and Samael like some corrupted version of La Pietà in Kezia’s church. The scent of gore holds him down, green burning into green; Amer finds himself in a wretched loop of looking up and meeting Nicholas’s dry gaze—to be seen by him in waking life carries only a dilute cousin of the satisfaction it does in dreams, the majority of its power turned to the induction of pitiless, fathomless rage.

Samael gazes down at Amer but does not speak. Amer is impaled by matching green gazes, his own rendered useless in the face of destruction; Nicholas is impassive as he looks down the bridge of his nose at Amer, and for a moment, monstrous, ravenous hunger roars above the pounding of blood around them. Amer cannot move. He cannot speak. All he can do is wait for the reaper to bring his scythe swinging down.

It never comes.

#nicholamer #s2g formatting this post was harder than writing the fic #written in nectar

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noxwithoutstars · 2 years

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｡･:*:･ﾟ▹ Viscosidulcic

Viscosidulcic a REMIN gender related to taffy, nougat, backyard parties, and playing in creeks or rivers. It feels nostalgic and hot and sticky, like a summer day spent playing while the adults made dinner.

Pronouns can include:

nougat/nougat/nougats/nougats/nougatself

taff/taffy/taffys/taffys/taffyself

sum/summer/summers/summers/summerself

Day 8 of @cinnamogai coining event. Prompt: sweets

[ ID: A digital watercolor wash of pale purples and peaches that loosely resemble jellyfish. Words are in dark indigo: “DNI IF: fit basic DNI criteria, gatekeeper/REG/exclus, anti-mogai, anti-lesboy/turigirl, trumpie, anti-aspec, anti-mspec gay/lesbian, anti-endo, proship/anti-anti, JK Rowling apologist, prolife/anti-abortion, anti-decolonization, TERF/radfem, anti-kin/anti-alterhuman, anti PNC & GNC.” End ID. ]

#Viscosidulcic #lgbtqia+#mogai haven #mogai coining #liom coining #coined by me #mogai coining event #new gender #new term #new flag #nox's terms #nox's flags #REMIN #nougatself #taffyself #summerself

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peppermint-toads · 2 years

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eddie munson loves halloween. loves wearing slasher masks even though the tips of his brown curls poke out of the bottom. loves scaring kids so candy goes flying out of their little plastic pumpkins, calling out to them as they run away “hey you dropped some candy!” and shrugging when they don’t come back, picking up a few pieces to stuff under his mask. his teeth are sticky with nougat and caramel by the end of the night.

#will expand on this later #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcannon

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kawaii-sugarii · 11 months

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Happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

#pride month #bisexual #pansexual #lesbian #wreck it ralph #sugar rush #sugar rush racers #swizzle malarkey #crumbelina di caramello #jubileena bing bing #nougetsia brumblestain #sticky wipplesnit #sticky nougat

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scully-loves-ruthie · 2 years

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For the one word prompts: Candy!

Fox Mulder never had much of a sweet tooth. Sunflower seeds the back of a straw; the occasional pencil even was enough to satisfy his oral urges. All that ended the day he got a taste of Dana Scully.

He'd nibble the inside of her thighs, a sweet nougat so soft three musketeers paled in comparison. The gentle folds of her lips a tangy sweet tart beckoning him further in, until her juices briny and satisfying covered his lips. The sweet sheen like a burst from a fresh orange.

He'd devour his first few treats before trailing his nose up her abdomen, stopping to simmer in the burst of her breasts, cinnamon roll sweet begging to be savored slowly and sinfully.

Underneath her neck he'd nip and lick, eyeing the list of her ingredients in the hollow of her neck. Everything was written there all at once in a spot selected just for him. A swipe of the tongue and it left the sweet stickiness of twirler's behind.

Finally making it to her mouth. A flavor wholly her own. One which he could never share with anyone. Fox Mulder was a sugar fiend, constantly craving the candy of Dana Scully.

@today-in-fic

#xfiles fanfic #my fic #prompts #just a little something

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labradoritedreams · 2 years

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If I wanna put some sweets all up in my teeth, ITS NUN OF YOUR BUSINESS!

If she brings Sticky Sugar Booms up into her room, ITS NUN OF YOUR BUSINESS!!

If you think my cavity is a travesty, ITS NUN OF YOUR BUSINESS!

So don’t tell me what to eat, did you go trick-or-treat? NO! ITS NUN OF YOUR BUSINESS!!

Now just ‘cuz you’re a grown-up it doesn’t mean you are a dentist,

Even if you really were you wouldn’t be my friend-tist!

Check it,

Don’t say nothin’ ’bout my nougat, talkin’ ‘bout my chocolate, if you got a problem ITS NUN OF YOUR BUSINESS!!

#bobs burgers #outro #nightmare on ocean avenue #nun of your business #i put a spell on queue

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3wisellamas · 2 years

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SCC Halloween Headcanons

(’Tis the season!)

-Sweet's favorite candy: Anything with caramel. Or honey. Or almond nougat. (You didn't think it was JUST the milk, did you?) He likes the sticky stuff. -Sweet never got to go trick-or-treating as a kid. However, even though he's all grown up now, K_K insists on taking him out in costume every year to experience it! (To his credit, when he's standing next to K_K almost everyone thinks he's a 10-year-old...) -Three words: Pumpkin spice lattes. Thanks to Sweet these actually sell out as early as September. -He also gets into arguments over insisting the shop smell like pumpkin spice all season, instead of the floral or sugary scents Cap'n and K_K prefer. -Overall, he's just more of a general Fall fan than a Halloween fan. He likes when the weather starts getting cooler, and he can justify wearing gigantic sweaters and scarves and cuddling up in tons of blankets with hot drinks. -He does love carving pumpkins with his bandmates, though! They end up with jack-o-lanterns all over the shop (though Sweet ends up cleaning piles of rotting pumpkin mush three days later all by himself...)

-Cap'n's favorite candy: Believe it or not, he's a dark chocolate fan! Though, he likes all chocolate, especially the kind with almonds in it (again, it's not JUST the milk!) -He also LOVES trick-or-treating, though now it's less about doing it himself and more passing on his extensive knowledge of the best neighborhoods to kids, in exchange for a percent of the proceeds of course! -(K_K and Sweet are not exempt. They owe him a candy tax for his help every year. But it's fine, they just give him all the stuff they don't want!) -Cap'n is also obsessed with trying to prove how brave he is, watching horror movies and going to haunted houses. He always ends up needing to leave five minutes in, clinging to K_K for safety. -He's always the mastermind behind the trio's Halloween parties as well! While Sweet and K_K handle the tunes and the treats, he decorates the rest of the shop, and makes and delivers the invitations by hand. -Also the master of costumes, both on the stage and on Halloween. His bandmates usually go to him for help with theirs!

-K_K's favorite candy: Come on, do I really have to say it? But in addition to lemon drops, they also love...well, pretty much everything, including black licorice, candy corn, and those bland circus peanuts, but sour candy is usually their favorite! -They also revel in the opportunity to bake spooky-themed treats all season, and give them out in addition to candy to trick-or-treaters at the shop! -K_K LOVES swapping out their usual soundtrack for things more suited to the holiday, and can usually be found doing their own Monster Mashes with Cap'n. They'll also keep one of those stock sound effects CDs loaded, and randomly play zombie moans or rattling chains or cracks of thunder -- it absolutely drives Sweet up the wall, but he hates to disappoint them so he tries to laugh along. -They've dressed up as Frankenstein's monster for the past six years. However, with Cap'n's help they do at least switch up some of the details. -They also insist on trick-or-treating every single year, no matter how old they get, since you never outgrow free candy! In fact, it's even more fun sharing it with Sweet! -Can and will watch the goriest horror movies, and play the most jumpscare-y video games, without even flinching. No one knows what it takes to actually scare them, but Sweet and Cap'n are fine with that -- K_K's always there to hold them whenever Halloween gets too spooky!

#deltarune #sweet cap'n cakes #deltarune sweet #deltarune cap'n #deltarune k_k #emheadcanons

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anamedblog · 1 year

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Turkish Delights, Macun, and more Sweet Treats…

Beate Böhlendorf-Arslan, ANAMED Senior Fellow (2022–2023)

Fig. 1. Photo by author.

Turkish cuisine is versatile, and Turkish desserts are especially versatile. What is commonly known as “Anatolian sweets” in Europe, and called “Turkish honey” or “Turkish nougat,” is only one of the sugary offshoots of the delicious dessert in Turkey.

Almost every foreign visitor to Istanbul tries baklava, the delicacy made of thin layers of dough, nuts or pistachios, and sugar syrup, which comes in various shapes. By the way, fresh baklava with pistachios is especially delicious if served with a portion of damla sakız dondurma (mastic ice cream). On a particularly hot summer day, I recommend having it with a slice of kesme dondurma (“sliced ice cream”), an ice cream so firm that it must be eaten with a knife and fork.

Dessert lovers should also try other pastry specialties that come in a variety of shapes and flavors. The numerous and sometimes very old shops on Istiklal Caddesi sell specialties with flowery names such as bülbül yuvası (nightingale's nest), hanım göbeği (lady's belly), sütlü nuriye (nuriye—a woman's given name—with milk), vezir parmaği (vizier's finger) or kadayif. Commonly known and loved as a typical souvenir is Turkish delight (Fig. 1), lokum, made with nuts or fruit juice, or rose water. As delicious as these sweet treats are, Anatolian cuisine has much more to offer.

If you are looking for a more exotic souvenir, try the macun from Manisa, a soft candy that is a bit sticky on the palate but tastes very aromatic (Figs. 2 and 3). Manisa mesir paste is made out of spices mixed with various herbs such as cinnamon, black pepper, pimento, black cumin, mustard seed, aniseed, coriander, ginger, turmeric, coconut, fennel, cubeb, cassis, fructus, myroba, vanilla, piper longum, cardamon, galingale, fructus cassiae fistule, saffron, cumin, rose hip, myrrh, licorice, rhizoa zeoariae, lemon peel, orange peel, thistle seed, linseed, locust, opium poppy, stinging nettle, white pepper, grape seed, chaste berry seed, dried rosemary, erica leaf, melissa, fructus myrobalani nigri, and hibiscus. The consumption of these candies is said to have a healing effect. According to legend, the wife of the Ottoman sultan Yavuz Selim, Hafsa Sultan, fell ill during her stay in Manisa. As there was no cure, Merkez Effendi, the head of the madrasa of the Sultan's mosque, prepared a paste of herbs and spices. After eating this paste, Hafsa Sultan recovered. Following her recovery, she ordered this paste to be spread from the minarets of the sultan's mosque. This tradition has been maintained in Manisa since 1539.

Fig. 2- 3 Photo by author.

The traditional lollipops that can be bought fresh in the streets of Istanbul, but also in villages like Behram/Assos and many other places in Turkey, are prepared in a similar way. However, they do not contain a variety of herbs and spices but only fruit juices or tree resin (damla sakiz or mastic) and a lot of sugar (Fig. 4). The seller dips a wooden stick into the sugar mass and turns the stick several times so that the gluey mass wraps around the stick. Now the lollipop is ready!

Fig. 4. Assos excavation archive, Aykan Özener.

Other than these sweet souvenirs and shelf-stable desserts, Turkish cuisine has equally tasty creamy desserts to offer that you should not miss out on.

Milk dishes are especially delicious. Even something as common as rice pudding (sütlaç) has a special Turkish twist to it. It is prepared with regular rice, not the round-grain rice used in other countries. Turkish rice pudding is not firm but rather creamy. Most importantly, it is placed in the oven in a second step after cooking, causing the top layer of milk to caramelize (Fig. 5). Tasting it is highly recommended!

Fig. 5. Photo by author.

The more adventurous Istanbul travelers should definitely try tavuk göğüsü (a dessert literally called “chicken breast”). Tavuk göğüsü consists of finely pureed chicken breast cooked in sweetened milk and rice flour as a starch to thicken the milk (Fig. 6). The dessert is usually served with cinnamon. Sometimes it is grilled in the oven, resulting in a caramelized top and tasting almost more delicious than the unbaked version (Fig. 7). This preparation is called kazandibi (“bottom of the pot”). I often had the pleasure of treating foreign visitors who were not vegetarians or vegans to a tavuk göğüsü and then having them guess what the dessert was after the meal. Nobody had any idea that there was meat in the dessert!

Fig. 6-7 wikimedia

Regarding possible historic roots, tavuk göğüsü bears no resemblance to the pullus tractogalatus (chicken in milk porridge) described by the Roman cook Apicius in the 3rd or 4th century CE. In this dish, the chicken (or fish) was first cooked in white wine and olive oil, boned, and then the mouthfuls of chopped meat were doused in a porridge made from chicken broth, milk, honey, and grape juice. It is possible that Europeans brought the white meat and milk dish back to Europe during the Crusades, having learned it from the Arabs. A similar dish to tavuk göğüsü, blanc mange, was eaten by nobles and wealthy people in the European Middle Ages. In the oldest German cookbook from around 1350, the Buoch von guoter spise, there is a recipe that calls for rice ground into flour, milk, and a chicken breast to be cooked together. Other recipes used fish instead of chicken. For the nobility, however, blanc mange was not a dessert but a main dish.

Another famous dessert, aşure, has different roots. According to the legend, when Noah saw the land again with his ark, he cooked a pudding from the remaining supplies, namely cereals and dried fruits. In the ancient Greek pantheon, wheat symbolized the earth goddess Demeter, pomegranates represented her daughter Persephone, queen of the underworld, almonds were sacred to Aphrodite, and raisins were sacred to the god Dionysus. Interestingly, the eastern Romans, as inhabitants of Byzantium, also knew of such a pudding, which they called kollyba (or kolivia). It is said that kollyba was the food that the Virgin Mary was fed as a child in the temple by angels from heaven, as depicted on a wall mosaic in the Chora Church in Istanbul (fig. 8). There are different recipes to prepare kollyba, whose main ingredient is boiled wheat mixed with various dried fruits. It is served as a common Lenten food and was therefore commonly eaten in monasteries. Kollyba was also prepared as a dish for the commemoration of the dead. For the Greeks, aşure is also known as barvara (Βαρβάρα), named after the feast of Saint Barbara that is celebrated on the 4th of December. During this festival, it is cooked and shared with neighbors.

Fig. 8. Photo by author.

The ingredients for aşure (but also for varvara or kollyba) are wheat grains, white beans, and chickpeas, and sometimes also rice and barley, that are cooked until soft. After draining, the aşure is sweetened with honey or sugar. In addition, aşure also contains some or all of the following: sesame seeds, almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, pine nuts, cinnamon, sugar, pekmez, pomegranate seeds, raisins, sultanas, dried apricots, figs, dates, grated orange or lemon peel, cardamom, cloves, black cumin, mastic, rose water, or even anise (Fig. 9). Every family in Turkey (as well as in Greece, the Balkans, and the Middle East) has its own recipe, but the one thing they have in common is that they always make a big pot to share with others. So, if you have a chance to try a homemade aşure, do not miss out on it. Otherwise, try my favorite Anatolian sweet at one of the many muhallebecisi (pudding maker) in Istanbul!

Fig. 9. wikimedia

Afiyet olsun!

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