#Chocolate Chipmunk

[esmeblaise]

Ginger Snap is Honeys roommate in Big Apple and Lemons close friend. She is considered odd by her community as she likes to build machines to bake, something that is usually seen as a very personal and intimate experience. Ginger doesn't see the problem though, she puts all her love into building the machines so why should it matter if she uses a whisk or a conveyer belt? She just wants to share her joy with others

[radarsteddybear]

A sampling of my work's Christmas playlist:

Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You

A cover of Happy Christmas (War is Over)

A cover of Last Christmas

A cover of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

A cover of Frosty the Snowman

Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney

A cover of Happy Christmas (War is Over)

A cover of Sleigh Ride

A song that I have been privately referring to as Jesus Ding Dong Song

A cover of The First Noel

A song about how it now feels like Christmas in New York (we are not in New York)

A song about believing in Santa Claus

A cover of Little Saint Nick

A cover of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

A cover of Happy Christmas (War is Over)

Some song that's got the words "Ave Maria" in it but I'm pretty sure it's not that song

Pentatonix cover of The Twelve Days of Christmas

A cover of It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year where the singer spends the entire last minute repeating the last line with increasingly complex riffs that make me want to punch him in the face

That one Christmas song that's just Kelly Clarkson belting

A cover of All I Want For Christmas is You

A cover of Frosty the Snowman

A cover of Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

A cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (???)

Trans Siberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells

Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas is You

Electronica cover of Deck the Halls

A cover of My Favorite Things

Pentatonix cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (???)

A cover of White Christmas

A cover of I'll Be Home for Christmas

A couple of songs about how the Best Christmas Present EVER would be if the singer's 'baby' were to come home. Why aren't they coming home for Christmas? Don't worry about it.

A cover of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas I think by Michael Buble

At least two separate covers of Santa Baby but neither are Eartha Kitt so who cares

A cover of Happy Christmas (War is Over)

[theodorejamisonseville]

“Remember that time I burnt my tongue on Alvin’s hot chocolate and started a cult by accident?”

“That was a weird week.”

[doverstardoodles]

my years of drawing chipmunks really came in handy when it came to Chocolate

[huitangerine]

Mang Loves Ice Cream 🐿️🍦🍨💕

Ref:

Buy HOPE ON THE STREET VOL. 1 & NEURON here!:

[fluffonthefloor]

guys i had my wisdom teeth out yesterday and (for right now) it isn’t so bad :)

[mewglitch]

(black) rap won't fix you until you listen to at least one indigenous song

also sorta unrelated but i still don't understand why "white" (read: light skinned people) aren't allowed to use aave. like maybe it's

the current trend of "tumblr users embarrassing themselves by proudly announcing why they don't listen to any music made by black people" is really astounding.

i cannot help but think this is a direct result of liberal White Guilt and how people have interpreted "anti-racism" as form of cultural self-segregation - the kind of person who thinks trying to cook chicken curry is cultural appropriation, or sends white people anon hate for wearing a kimono (yes, this kind of discourse happened). like, "oh, no, i could never participate in this culture, i'd get my evil white hands all over it! it would be more Progressive if I only did White things."

if you're a poc you've seen this, i'm sure - this deer-in-the-headlights stare you can get from white people when you play music / show art / share a story / anything that is Racially Coded, this total refusal to actually engage with it out of fear that it is in some way Wrong for them to have any opinion on it. because they read somewhere that it's bad to use AAVE but the only lesson they actually learned from that is "gotcha, white people are not allowed to interact with other cultures as punishment for my White Crimes. this helps to fill up the gaping pit of my white guilt and makes me one of the Good People." this transforms their discomfort around non-white cultures (black culture, especially, i should add) into a kind of virtue

anyway if you are white and reading this. go listen to some fucking haliu mergia. ethiopian jazz. will knock your dick right off. go listen to rap or reggae or bollywood and have a genuine reaction to it - like, an actual, from-the-heart reaction. you are allowed to not like some of it. but you will definitely like at least a little. yes, you can compare it to lemon demon (or whatever) if that helps you get into it and that's your only point of reference. maybe don't say that part out loud. but don't, like, separate yourself from it, like you are seeing it in a museum and the only polite thing to do is go "ahh, huh, very interesting, so much culture here."

[bee-buzzzzoff]

I dont trust anyone whos favourite icecream flavour is plain chocolate.

[luveline]

hello my love!! could you maybe show us what bedtime is like in the kbd universe? thank you, you’re incredible <3

kbd —dad!steve and mom!reader get their small family ready for bed. 3k

“She looks so pretty,” Avery whispers. 

Steve struggles to pull the hem of his sock over his ankle, crossing his legs to match her as she snaps an apple slice in half with her fingers, the juice wetting her pyjama top, her torso swaying as his knee bumps into hers. “Who?” Steve asks, blinking. 

“Wren,” Avery says, leaning back to let Steve see the baby where she’s napping in her bouncer. Avery shoves a chunk of apple in her mouth. “She’s pw-ery.” 

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, you might choke.” 

Avery nods, closing her mouth to chew up the rest of her food with chipmunk cheeks. 

Steve draws a little heart into her knee. She has a bruise from falling up the stairs a few days ago like a purple ink blot just under her kneecap, but she hasn’t complained. She didn’t cry when she fell, she just got back up and asked for a Capri-Sun. Steve’s surprised she’s so hardy, but she’s getting older. He’d sort of been hoping she’d want him to kiss it better.

“She’s pretty like her big sister,” he says. 

“I’m glad she’s stopped crying all the time.” 

“Me too.” He takes one of the smaller slices from her plate to eat, wiping juice from her cheek as he does. 

She grins. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You all done?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not hungry anymore?” 

“Nope.” She grabs her plate before he can. “I’ll put it in the sink.” 

“Thanks, beautiful.” 

She jumps up with her empty plate and does a spin, saying, “Who, me?” 

Steve laughs like an idiot, still chuckling to himself as the sound of her plate hitting the kitchen sink reaches his ears. Wren, finally out of her sleep regression (for now), doesn’t wake. All good signs of a good night. 

Steve lets his head fall back onto little legs. “What about you?” he asks Dove, the second youngest daughter, where she sits behind him on the couch. 

She hums under her breath, her hands quick to weave into his hair, petting it away from his face. He waits for an answer he doesn’t get, closing his eyes and turning his face into her knee. Her giggles are treacle sweet. “Don’t sleep,” she protests. 

“I’m tired.” 

“It’s not bed time.” 

She’s not gonna like what Steve’s about to tell her, if that’s the case. She had a screaming tantrum last night about bed time where she threw herself on the floor and whacked her hands until her palms turned bright red. He’s not wanting a repeat. 

“It is bed time,” he says gently, though it’s not for another half an hour, “but, I was thinking, because you’ve been so good today you’d stay up extra. Maybe even have hot cocoa before bed.” Steve turns to meet her eyes. “How’s that sound?” 

“Really?” she asks, her eyes blowing wide with excitement. Steve is starting to wonder if she’s not as mini-me as he used to think, growing into sweeter features as she leaves the baby-toddler stage and starts to look like a kid. He loves it. 

“That sound fun or what?” 

She dives at him. He has enough sense to have twisted and catches her before she can break any of his teeth. “You are the best daddy ever!” she declares seriously, almost tipping over his shoulder. 

He lets her dangle for a second, then yanks her back topside. “You’re my best girl, that’s why. Let’s go make the drinks. Actually, we better go see who else wants some.” 

You and Bethie are attempting some last minute crafts at the dining table, and you’re very interested in hot chocolate but Beth doesn’t like it and so, doesn’t want any. She does seem interested in a glass of milk with a couple of chocolate chip cookies, so it’s nearly the same thing. “Careful,” he says, putting the half a pint of milk down in front of her birdhouse cautiously, “you don’t wanna spill that, baby.” 

“Who says she’s gonna spill it?” you ask. 

“Don’t start with me,” Steve warns. 

You smile to yourself. You’ve a spatula for PVA glue in your hand, skins of glue dried to your fingertips flecked with splinters of wood. Lollipop crafts felt like a good idea when he’d suggested it, but then he didn’t actually want to do it, and you’d been kind enough to step in. I’m sick of mess, he’d confided. 

Well, you’d said, somewhere between a quick kiss pressed to his shoulder and your hand rubbing it away, you probably shouldn’t have asked me to have so many kids. 

I love mess, he’d corrected immediately. Love to make more of it someday. 

“We’re nearly done in time for bed,” you assure him now. 

“I told Dove she could have an extra half an hour.” He winks at you clumsily. 

“Oh, really? Well, maybe Beth and Avery should get some extra time too.” 

Beth dunks her cookie into the top of her cup. “No thanks. I’m tired. Can I sleep with Avery again?” she asks, milk dribbling down the sides of the glass to darken the coaster underneath. 

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Steve says. “Wait, where is she? I thought she was in here.” Something grabs him by the legs, a sudden clutching that activates a heat in his eyes and spine he can’t explain. He flinches sideways into a cabinet and almost steps on a rather small limb. “What the fuck.” 

“Boo!” Avery says, laughing brightly as Steve rights himself on the counter. 

“Avery! Did I step on you? I’m sorry,” he says, immediately bending down. “What were you thinking? I could’ve really hurt you!” 

“Daaad, I was just pulling a prank,” she says. 

He checks over the arm he was so sure he’d stepped on. “You okay?” 

“She’s fine,” you say. “Yeah?” 

“I’m fine!” She hugs his legs again. “You said a super bad word.” 

He was hoping everybody missed that. “Dove–”

“Dad,” Dove interrupts, kicking her little feet exactly where he left her sitting on the dinner table by your left, “bad words make me cry.” She says it all clunky and clumsy, having heard it enough times. Her Aunt Robin has a potty-mouthed girlfriend, and Steve can’t do damage control quick enough sometimes.

“No, it’s when you say bad words daddy cries,” Avery says. 

“I didn’t say one!” 

“I know! I just mean it’s not when dad says it.” 

“What?” Dove asks. “He did says it.”

You’re grinning. You love when Dove confuses herself, all kids go through it, where half the time they don’t know what they’re saying until you help them along, but you love Dove’s new phase especially because she’s always been so serious. “What Avery is telling you, baby, is that daddy doesn’t get upset when he says bad words because he’s a grown up.” 

“So when we’re older we can cuss too?” Bethie asks. 

Steve’s jaw drops. “No, Beth! No, none of you need to say bad words, and I don’t either, and I’m really sorry. Can we forget about it?” 

Steve makes hot chocolate and helps you clean the sorry mess you’ve made on the table, and, after some light teasing, everybody forgets he’d reacted so violently to Avery’s surprise. Well, almost. Dove is the first to succumb to a case of the sleepies despite being otherwise reluctant to give in, sitting on his thigh, marshmallows still whole in her drink. She’d barely managed four sips. 

Steve cuddles her to his chest, covering her ear where she nuzzles against him from the sounds of your and Avery’s giggling. “He went pale,” you’re saying. 

Beth offers Steve half of one of her cookies. “You didn’t,” she says. 

If he didn’t have his arms full of Dove he’d scoop her up. “Thank you, Beth. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Alright,” you say, twining your fingers and sliding them behind your head, your neck and back clicking audibly in the quiet of the Harrington house winding down, “I think it’s bedtime. Are you done with your drink?” 

You rinse the cups. Steve ferries Dove upstairs, has her down and tucked in in record time, soon enough to catch you as you and the rest of the girls make your way upstairs. Beth and Avery are beautifully silent, weary of their sensitive baby sister where she’s cradled to your chest. 

You attempt to put her down in her crib in your room, but Steve gets the feeling you aren’t successful when a crackly cry breaks out. 

“Oh, no,” Avery says. 

“It’s fine. Let’s go brush our teeth, okay? Mommy has it.” 

They brush their teeth. Steve wipes their faces down with a damp hand towel and has a moment of gratitude just touching their faces. They both look so loved, the way their eyes crinkle, the way they lift their chins, all too happy for Steve to do it. He loves these moments of being a dad most, he might say, second only to getting to talk to them, especially now they’re both holding conversation. They talk to each other none stop; Beth talks to Avery ten times as much as she does anyone else. 

“Are you having a sleepover again?” Steve asks. 

Beth turns to Avery pleasingly. “Can I? Please, please, please.” 

“Yes!” Avery says, big sister extraordinaire. She wraps her arms around Beth’s shoulders, taller, more aware of herself as she presses her cheek to Beth’s and mumbles, “Of course you can. I love you. I want us to have sleepovers every night.” 

You emerge from the bedroom victorious, heading into the bathroom as he and the girls come out. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” you say. 

“Gonna get Beth changed.” 

“Okay, I put her nightie on the foot of her bed earlier.” 

It’s routine but not without enjoyment. He makes sure they’re both comfortable in the night's sleepwear and takes care of their hair, before giving Avery’s room a quick half-clean and shaking out the sheets on her bed. Avery has the second biggest bedroom, though Bethie’s is nothing to turn your nose up at, and it gets Steve thinking as they climb up into Avery’s single bed. 

“I think it’s good for you guys to keep your separate rooms for now,” Steve says tentatively, “but what do you think about sharing?” 

The plan was that Dove and Wren would share, but if Avery and Beth are getting along so well, it might not hurt to ask. 

Beth gasps. “Our bedrooms?” 

“Like, you and Avery could both sleep in here. You have a bunk bed, or we could get you a big one to share, and you could share teddies.” 

“I don’t want to share my teddies,” Avery says. 

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you.” Steve squints at them both. “Bad idea?” 

“I want to share,” Beth says immediately. 

Avery has a better understanding of what that will mean. “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to,” Steve says. “Your rooms are yours, okay? Maybe we can just get you a bigger bed anyways, Ave. You’re so tall now, in a couple of years you’ll be ten feet tall and we’ll have to bend you in half to get you to school.” 

This is the funniest thing a man could say, apparently —both Beth and Avery burst into girly giggles that ring down the landing. Beth sounds like she might be sick. She laughs so much, falling into Avery’s side as her big sister says, “Dad, that’s silly!” 

“I can show you, if you want. We’ll practise making you into an Avery flavour pretzel, c’mere.” 

She squeals and climbs over Beth’s legs to huddle in the corner of her bed. Steve doesn’t so much as touch her legs and she’s laughing again, panicked, hyper laughter like she can’t decide if she wants to be folded or not. He presses his finger over his smile. “Shh, shh, we can’t wake the babies.” 

“Sorry,” she laughs. 

“My fault. Don’t be sorry.” He gives her leg a squeeze. “How about we start to tuck you in, girls? Do we have everything we need?” 

Beth wants a few things from her own bed, but besides that, they’re ready. Well, they’re supposed to be ready, but Steve wound them up and it’s his own fault, he can’t even complain when they beg him to watch a movie. What’s the harm? he decides, turning on Avery’s TV and pushing their favourite tape into the VHS player. 

“The effect FernGully has on the new generation is amazing,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’ve changed into pyjama pants Steve’s sure you’ve had since you met him and a tank top with straps falling down your shoulders. He wants to pull them back over the curve of your shoulder, but he’s trying to be less smothering.

He fluffs the pillows behind the girls’ backs. “It’s the boy. What’s his name? Dennis? Daniel?” 

“Neither.” You put a fallen teddy back on the bed and turn on Avery’s star-shaped night light before flicking off the big light above. The TV glows green on their legs. 

“Gonna lie down?” Steve says, gentler now, easing them in. 

Avery flops back. Beth curls in on her side, and it reminds Steve of you and him. He can sleep any which way. You’re slightly more particular, but you’re happier curled on to him. He really loves how close they are as sisters, and he has to give Avery some credit, because while Beth is exceedingly easy to love, she’s a clinger, she worships her big sister, which must get heavy from time to time. 

Avery pulls the blankets up over them before Steve can do it himself. He sighs, tucking them both in. Blankets pushed gently under their sides, hair brushed back from their little faces, he says, “Love you, Ave. Love you, Beth,” kissing their foreheads in swift succession. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

“Love you, daddy,” they say at the same time. 

You touch his arm gently before leaning in for your own kisses. You’re slower than he’d been, turning their faces in your hand one after the other to place identical kisses on their cheeks. “Love you, sweetheart,” you say to Avery, and, “Love you, baby,” you say to Beth. Steve holds your back as you do. “Have good dreams, okay? And don’t mess with the TV. One movie tonight is enough, you’ll wake up with sore eyes.” 

He steals another kiss from both of them and then you’re closing the door behind you, the house much darker and quieter than it had been only ten minutes previous. 

“You want a glass of water?” Steve says. 

You catch his hand. “I got you one.” 

Neither you nor Steve bother with anything but bed. He draws back the blankets and you climb in, only stopping momentarily to make sure that Wren’s alright in her crib. You curl in the middle of the bed and wait for Steve to force his way beneath you, which he does, your face resting on his shoulder, your leg stretched across his. Your hip is a lump in the blankets. He lets his hand fall atop it, whistling a tired breath through his teeth. 

“Mm,” you agree, stretching out, curling in tighter. 

“I know,” he says. Can’t forget his best girl, can’t not think about how much he loves you when it’s you and him alone. Mostly. “You alright?” 

“Fine. Tireder than I thought.” Your eyes close, lashes brushing his chest. “H?” 

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Fine, honey. Was just asking you,” he mumbles. His pillow feels like a cloud beneath his head, the mattress even better, and the sheets are a brushed cotton that’s amazingly soft on his skin. 

He turns his nose down onto you for a not so secret sniff. 

“Feels too good to be true.” 

“My turn tonight,” he says. 

“No, baby, it’s my turn.” 

“That’s fine.” He’s not as tired as you, or at least not half as achy. If Wren wakes up crying (not definitely going to happen) or Dove has a late night startle (even less likely, though not impossible), he’ll take the burden tonight. “I wanted babies and I got ‘em.”

“I want them too,” you say. 

“Of course you do,” he says, rubbing your forehead with the tip of his nose affectionately. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Less when they wake me up,” you joke. 

Steve feels up your side to your shoulder for a sleepy cuddle. You don’t realise how soft you can be, how warm you are pressed against him like this, how grateful he is to hold you. Maybe you can read his mind, or maybe as just pure evidence of such a feat, you cup his upper arm in your hand and begin to draw shapes over his skin, breaking the pattern with fleeting scratches. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, honey. I’m sure. You go to sleep now, okay? It’s Saturday tomorrow,” he whispers tenderly. “You don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“‘Cept here,” you whisper back. 

“Love you.” A brush of his lips to your eyebrow. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he says. He swears he’s gonna stay up for a bit and count your eyelashes or something, maybe pen you a love poem, write a note about your lips and how they pout when you’re nearly sleeping, but he forgets to when you press your face into the curve of his neck and kiss it clumsily. You fall asleep at the same time, the girls laughing in whispers just a few feet away behind the wall.  

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request headcanons of Jason Todd with a reader who is a talented chef and baker?

Jason loves, loves, loves to eat but he loves to eat whatever you make especially.

It’s just so damn good and enticing that he can’t help but want to steal a bite while you were working your magic on some cookie dough in the kitchen.

Jason likes to claim he’s helping you when in actuality he was just being a little shit.

You still remembered the time where you had caught Jason red hand eating something he shouldn’t have, and still have the audacity to look at you with his attempt at puppy dog eyes.

He should be lucky you like him enough to make him whatever he wanted in bulk, seeing as how he had quite the appetite as you’ve once watched him wolf down four homemade burgers, chips and still found room in his stomach to indulge in something sweet.

You couldn’t count how many times you had to swat him away with your spatula when you saw his hand creeping towards a cooling tray of gooey double chocolate chip cookies.

‘Jason!’ You exclaimed. ‘Stop trying to eat the cookie before they’ve had time to cool down!’

‘But sweetheart it’s not my fault that your cookies are so good! They even maintain that gooey chocolate chip goodness that you know I like.’ Jason says as he hugs you from behind, pressing kisses into your shoulder, neck and head.

‘You’re just buttering me up so that I’d give you an early taste.’ You pouted, looking away from him as you feigned hurt. ‘Admit it, you’re only with me for the fact that I can cook and bake your favourite things.’

Jason, feeling a little bad for making you think that, was quick in having you look at him as he apologised. ‘I’m sorry chipmunk, you know I love you beyond your ability to cook food and sweet treats and make it look like an art form. How about I help you cook tonight or let me took for you instead to make up for it?’ He asks as he kept you close to him and planting kisses across your face.

His lips tasted very much like the chocolate chip cookies and after a while you just couldn’t keep up pretending to be mad at him and smile into his lips as you kissed him back before inevitably pulling away. ‘That sounds perfect jay bird but let me cook and you just stand there and look pretty.’ You cheeked as Jason gasped.

‘You only like me because I’m pretty? How shallow of you chipmunk.’ Jason joked and you couldn’t help but kiss his lips once more. ‘I like you because you’ve got a bottomless stomach.’ You then playfully prodded at his tummy and Jason jolted at the touch, which made you laugh as you went back to what you were previously doing before Jason interrupted.

‘Can I at least have a nibble?’ Jason asked after a moment of silence against your neck.

‘No, I think you’ve already had enough nibbles don’t you?’ You asked with a smile as you felt Jason pout.

‘Mean.’ He muttered childishly.

‘Mean is you eating the cookie dough and saying oops after I caught you.’ You replied and Jason stayed silent after that.

Jason hyped up your cooking and baking simultaneously and would praise your natural talent for it to anyone with ears to hear him, which had lead to one or many instances where his friend Roy or his family came over to see what all the hype was about.

Needless to say you’ve gotten more people who were obsessed with your baking/cooking and as for Alfred? You were sharing recipes and what techniques you use when prepping food, the usage of spices and herbs and so on in hopes of enhancing the flavour of the dish.

[fracturedporcelaindoll]

Autumn love~

the autumn chill

[zvdvdlvr]

For your ‘Holiday Headlines’: drinking hot coco with Soap?

Hot Chocolate + Johnny MacTavish

Burly arms wrapped around your waist as you sprinkled cinnamon onto melting dollops of whipped cream. “Looks delicious, bonnie,” Soap praised. His eyes watched the mugs hungrily- waiting impatiently for you to give him the ‘go ahead’.

You hummed in satisfaction. “I’ve worked all day on these,” you tell him solemnly. “Yours is the one on the left. Be careful because it is hot.”

The word ‘left’ hadn’t even filled the air before Johnny’s greedy hands clasped the porcelain and he took a generous swig of the chocolate drink. His eyes widened and his cheeks swelled like a chipmunk. You guffawed at his reaction.

“I told you!” You reprimanded him with a smirk, taking your mug and padding into the living room to continue your Chrisrmas movie marathon.

Johnny followed soon after looking more dejected than he had before burning off his taste buds. “You didnae tell me it was fookin’ boilin’,” he accused. He set his mug on the coaster beside the couch and snuggled up next to you. “Tryna bloody kill me, woman.”

You set your mug beside your husbands and chuckled. As he pressed play, your hands carded theough his short hair while waiting to the admittedly hot hot coco. “What’s love without a little pain?” You joked, giving Johnny’s hair a gentle tug.

He yowled dramatically. “Steamin’ Jesus!”

You shushed him. “You’re being dramatic, my love. Queen never cry. Watch the movie.”

Johnny grumbled under his breath and glared at the whisps of smoke trailing out of your Snoopy mug. He wasn’t mad, though, because he was spending Christmas in your arms.

[holylulusworld]

Hot Chocolate time

Summary: Christmas is near. You and Lee want to get the most out of it.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, Christmas fluff

Catch up here: Snuggle Time & Snuggle & Cuddle

“Lee? Baby? Where are you?” You walk into the house, your arms full of all the things you’ll need for Christmas. “I got more toffees and the candy canes you love so much!”

“Candy canes?” Lee jogs toward you; he takes the three paper bags filled with food and sweets out of your hands. He tuts before pecking your cheek. “I told you not to carry heavy things. Next time, you’ll let me handle this.”

“I wanted to bring everything inside before the snowstorm gets worse,” you shiver and whine. “It’s so cold outside, and the snow is falling even harder.”

Lee hurriedly brings the bags into the kitchen. He looks out of the window, sighing. There's no way he can make it to the police station. “I won’t even make it out of the house. How did you make it back home?”

“Willpower,” you giggle. “Uh—I got lucky. The snowplow was driving in front of me.” You wink at Lee. “If not, I’d be stuck at the grocery store for days.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, Chipmunk?” He looks over his shoulder to watch you unpack the groceries. “I could’ve handled the grocery run for you.”

“I wanted to buy more hot chocolate.” You wink at Lee. “Now we got everything we’ll need for the next few days. Hopefully, there’s no emergency, and you can stay at home.”

“I guess they got the shifts covered.” Lee shrugs. “I’ll call and ask if they need me. If not, I’ll stay home.”

“They can call you if it’s an emergency,” you grumble. “It’s so cold, and the snow masses won’t go away soon. You can’t go out there, Lee!” You put your hands on your hips and huff. “I won’t let you leave!”

“Aw, my little Chipmunk tries to keep me hostage at my house,” Lee purrs and steals a candy cane. “How about I call the guys and ask if they need me, and you can prepare the hot chocolate? I don’t think they want me to leave the house today.”

You smile to yourself hearing Lee call his colleagues. He hums and tells them to contact him if they need help. “Everything is good. They won’t need me today, Y/N.”

“In here,” you call from the kitchen. “The hot chocolate is ready! I added your favorite mini marshmallows.”

Lee strolls back into the kitchen. He grins from ear to ear, smelling the hot chocolate. Lee licks his lips as he steps toward the kitchen counter. “You know my weakness.”

“Of course I do, Lee baby,” you coo, and hand him the mug you prepared for him. “I hope you like it.”

“I will love it because you made it…” Lee pecks your lips. “Because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tags in reblog.

[heazueken]

I Want My Donut

*ೃ༄ summary: You were promised Satoru wouldn’t eat your donut. So how can he repay you when you wake up to it missing?

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, crack smut, food consuming and sex, blow job (male receiving)

pairing(s): gojo satoru/reader

w/c; 5.5k a/n: every fic is self indulgent isn’t it? this was a gift to a friend (@stsgooo) who had his donut taken from him </3 so this is based off of real events (just not the smut part) enjoy? LMAOOO

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You had one, repeat, one good thing to look forward to when you woke up and sat straight up in bed; A fucking donut. You and Satoru had gone the previous morning to a new local pastry shop that had a wide variety of pastries, from croissants, to danishes, strudels, you name it. They also had a good selection of classic donuts. You didn’t need that many but Satoru, having the sweetest tooth between you two, decided that six donuts just simply wasn’t enough. A baker's dozen had been decided by him and he chose to pay himself considering he changed the plans of only getting six. You carried the box in your lap on the way home, the box smelling sweetly of frosting, cream and baked dough. It warmed your thighs the rest of the way.

By the time Satoru parked the car three donuts were gone. No, you hadn’t had a single one. Satoru begged for you to open the box and let him have one— insisting that because he paid and was driving that he deserved payment in the form of a chocolate bar. After nearly avoiding an accident, you clinging to the box to protect the donuts out of sheer instinct, Satoru decided he deserved another for that one. ‘I did just save our lives’ was what he muttered when he stuffed a lemon filled donut in his mouth. And finally, the reason for the third donut to be wolfed down in such an ungodly manner was simply because he was pretty and to keep that natural beauty he just had to have the apple filling strudel. That bastard.

“You better save at least one for me, you freak.” Satoru licks his sticky fingers and you stare at him with a sneer of disgust. He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and you had to make a note to clean the wheel the next time you were in the drivers seat.

“I will, I will!” He muttered, crumbs falling out of his mouth, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunks except this chipmunk was a full grown man and it wasn’t necessary for him to store his dessert inside his mouth like that. 

By the time dinner rolled around there were three donuts left.

“Satoru,” shocked, but mildly impressed, you looked at the stains of the cardboard box where many donuts had just been sitting were now gone and only remnants of crumbs were left. Still, your cream filled donut sat by its lonesome, untouched. “How many did you fucking eat?” 

Satoru barely looks up at you from his phone, his lip pours in a false consideration before he shrugs as if it wasn’t insane for someone to eat ten donuts in one day. “I don’t know, three?” You point to the box, whistling for his attention which he reluctantly looks up to see you standing there with the lid open.

“There are three left in here. We got thirteen, Satoru, thirteen donuts. You ate ten donuts!” Your boyfriend throws his hands up in his defense, shoulders shrugging up to his ears.

“Can’t a man like me enjoy a sweet treat now and again?!”

“You can! Just don’t fucking touch my donut.” You look back down to the box, then back to Satoru who looked equally as shocked at you, except his reasoning was your sudden ‘outburst’ and not the fact that he was a pig. 

“I will not touch your fucking donut, sheesh!” He storms off to your shared bedroom, but he rounds the corner and quickly swipes an eleventh donut, trotting away before you could really give him an earful.

So yeah, that’s how we come here to this very situation the next morning. Satoru, away from home (probably for his morning jog, that psychopath.) You, standing in the kitchen in one of his oversized t-shirts that he bought specifically for you to wear with the box of donuts sitting on the counter in front of you. Except it wasn’t a box of donuts anymore. It was just a box. An empty box with remnants of the grease that stained the cardboard material, swipes of chocolate frosting were seen as well as the crumbs littered around inside it. No matter how many times you opened and closed the lid, your cream filled donut just was not showing up. How strange. You had specifically told your stupid boyfriend to do one thing and that was to not eat your one donut you wanted for yourself. And yet here we are, an empty box and an angry girlfriend ready to grab Satoru by the balls and drop kick him into next week. He was in for one when he got home.

You paced the kitchen, chin between your thumb and index finger in thought as you considered the options swirling around your head. Should you call him right now? Give him an earful and make him run to the bakery to get what you rightfully deserve? Should you print copies of those embarrassing photos of his middle school portrait from when he thought he could dye his own hair and had to go to picture day with patchy pink hair and pin them all over the walls? Should you tackle him when he got home and choke him out? Should you murder him? All options just seemed too good to choose from, it was hard to pick. 

When the sound of keys jingling and the doorknob turning reached you, you decided that death for Gojo Satoru would be the best option. You grabbed a knife off the cutting board that had been left there just the night before, you raised it up like you were Norman Bates from Psycho about to plunge the sharp kitchen tool into your boyfriend's chest when he finally opened the door and stumbled inside. Satoru kicks his shoes off, takes an ear bud out and looks up at you when he notices a figure (you) in the distance. He’s still bent over, even from across the room you can see panic settle into his eyes. His body becomes rigid, his eyes widen and he acts like an opossum. Maybe if I just stay still they won’t notice me…

You raise the knife higher, an eerie smile cracks across your face. “Would you like to tell me why my donut is gone from the box, Gojo.” Oh god. You never called him by his last name unless you were properly pissed off, like actually angry with him. It had been so long since he had seen the rage boil from you, he could see the trembling of your body and it only made him shake with fear.

“Sweetheart, I can explain— Y-you’re up earlier than I thought. I was going to go back this morning to replace it and—“

“You wouldn’t have to replace it if you had just listened to me the first time.” It’s like there's an evil glint in your eye when you look down at him over your nose. Chin turned up when you point the edge of the knife towards him. “You will be dealt with shortly. But first,” Satoru looks at you with horror when you dramatically pause before continuing, “You will tell me why you ate my donut.”

Frozen in fear, your boyfriend still stands there by the door. He finally let the door go, it clicks closed and now he can’t escape. It would be a dumb move to turn back and run out, that would only draw attention to them both and the chance of someone calling the cops on them when they see a domestic dispute unraveling right in the road was simply something he wasn’t willing to risk. He could see it now, you chasing him down the street with the knife in your hand, him desperately yelling for forgiveness to only be met with your evil laugh and the blade buried in his chest. And over what? A donut! A fucking donut.  He could try and flee to their bedroom but then he’d have to shelter himself in there. He’d ultimately have to leave at some point and face the wrath of his hangry girlfriend. No, no he had nowhere to go, he was forced to face you head on.

“I…I…” You take a step forward and he straightens his back and attempts to go backward only to be met by the front door. “I was hungry, I needed a sugar fix before my jog and-and I was going to stop by the bakery later and replace it before you woke up but—“

“You are the biggest asshole, Satoru. I mean seriously.” 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “It’s only a donut, I can buy you a new one.” Your sneer is apparent across your face and Satoru only feels his stomach drop when he realizes he said the absolute wrong thing. You take a few more steps toward him and you’re just a foot away from him. He presses his back hard against the front door and looks down at you. Despite him being over a foot taller than you he did not feel very tall, he felt small in front of your burning gaze. You were so close now that he could actually see the pain that flashes across your eyes for a moment. He had really fucked up this time. 

“It was my donut. You clearly don’t respect my things or me as a person if you’re willing to steal something that I specifically asked you not to.” The words felt like daggers in his chest and his knees go wobbly with the guilt that settles low in his gut. Satoru falls to his knees right in front of you, he lowers his head and knocks his forehead to the ground. A full on dogeza before you. 

“I’m so sorry! I’m terrible! I ruined your entire day! I’ll make it up to you!”

Staring down at the pitiful man before you, you lower the knife in mercy and tap your socked foot to his hand. 

“How are you gonna make it up to me?” He’s about to raise his head to look up at you but you firmly put your foot atop his head and force his forehead back to the floor. “You will answer me.” 

How will he make it up to you? A new fucking donut, duh. Maybe he’ll get you a whole baker's dozen of cream filled ones and you can keep them to yourself.  That’s the only possible solution, right? But even when he suggested getting you another it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear. Satoru had taken from you, something you had told him to keep his grubby hands off of and he disobeyed. Knowing you, you’d want a resolution that was outlandish. You liked to make a fool out of him, lowering him a peg or two. Like when he had eaten the last Milky Way that you called dibs on (he swore he didn’t hear you announce that) last Halloween and so you had him dress up in a maid costume and do your assigned chores the next day. You seemed eager to make him get on his knees and clean between the tiles of the kitchen with a toothbrush, really, that had to have counted as domestic abuse surely. Satoru would be lying though if he said he didn’t enjoy it half as much as you do. How will he make this thievery up to you now?

His eyes are shut tightly as he thinks of what to say and he lightly bangs his forehead against the wood floorboards as if it would help him choose a solution faster.“Aaaahhhh, uhhhhhhh,” he groans, trying to find some sort of answer to grasp onto. Could he put on the maid costume again? Maybe he could offer doing the dishes for the next two months. Perhaps he could suggest crawling into a hole and staying out of your sight for a week if that made you happy. Nothing, nothing came to mind! Satoru lets out something along the lines of a moan and he tries to raise his head only to be met with your foot pressing him back down. He needed to get you another damn donut, forget the other shit. But that clearly wasn’t enough for you! What else could he possibly come up with?

Then it hit him. Like a light turned on in that empty head of his and the image of his answer sat on top of a podium beneath the harsh white light, glowing and sparkling. Oh, you would love this.

“I know how I can make it up to you.” He scoots his hands, his right hand sliding over to your other foot that wasn’t occupied by stepping on him. He rubs his thumb over the top of your foot. 

“I will get you your donuts…and…and…I’ll get some to stack on my dick and you can eat them off me.”

There’s a silence that nestles between you both. It’s deafening and he can feel his blood rush through his ears as a fear oozes across himself at the thought that maybe, just maybe, you would actually end his life over a donut. Oh…maybe you wouldn’t love this.

“Satoru…” You begin, your voice lacking any emotion, he tries to gauge where you are but your foot stays firmly. “That is…the stupidest idea ever. What the hell?” He’s sweating, full on soaking through his shirt. The fear ripples over his body and he almost begins to tremble before you’re removing your foot and telling him to look at you. He slowly raises his chin, his eyes follow up your figure, starting at your ankles and glazing past your legs, up your torso (he still notices the knife in your right hand—now lowered), then your neck and finally your face. There’s a playful smile and suddenly he hears a laugh escape you. What? 

“I think I would love that, actually. But you’re driving there and buying the donuts.” 

You turn on your heel, heading back toward the kitchen and leaving Satoru on his hands and knees in shock.  He watches you put the knife back where it was and calmly walk back to your room, the sound of the door shutting reaches him and releases a sigh. There’s a buzzing in his pants, he reaches for his phone, a text from you at the top of his notification center; 

I don’t want to see you until you get those donuts.

A period at the end. This is serious. 

He scrambles back to his feet and grabs the car keys by the front door and is practically running to the car.

Satoru bought a fresh new batch just for you. Twelve donuts, half of them cream filled and the other half plain chocolate donuts with the hole and everything for…the activity you settled for as repayment. He’s proud of himself, a big smile slapped across his face when he gets back home and kicks his shoes off, not caring where they land. He makes his way into your shared room, not bothering to knock. 

He’s already semi-hard; just the idea of him exposed to you was enough to get him going, Satoru was easy like that. It didn’t help when he stumbled into the room and you were laying across the bed on your stomach, your back to him so he could see a defined shape of your ass. You sway your hips side to side in the pair of shorts he told you many times he adored seeing you in. They were just loose enough to give him easy access, pushing them to the side and sliding himself inside you (which he had done many times). He shudders at the thought, his dick growing harder and aching more for you. You sit up, scooting yourself to the wall that the head of the bed met and you lean against it, a wide smile across your face too. You’re just as excited as he was, he could tell; you tended to become red in the face and neck, your eyes would have this gloss over them when you were especially aroused or needy. Then there was a fidgeting, you bringing your legs together and squirming told him you were already wet and warm between your legs. You motion him to come to the bed, pulling the covers away and leaning over to grab the box from him.

Satoru makes quick work to sit beside you, he touches his shoulder to yours and puts his hand over your thigh, squeezing it in greeting. You don’t meet his gaze when he admires your profile for a second, watching the way your eyes light up when you open the box to see they’re all for you. You look at him then, a toothy grin on your face and you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. It felt great to be back on your good side after that rollercoaster of a morning. 

You reach a hand over and mirror his movement, squeezing his thigh and Satoru releases a pathetic whine. His hips shift and raise, his cock fully erect and creating friction within the confines of his underwear and pants.

“You’re seriously hard already? What? Had a raging boner the whole way home?” Your hand slides teasingly up his firm thigh, your fingers pressing into the soft skin. Your fingers travel beneath where the hem of his running shorts begin and you're sliding up and up until you feel the beginning hill of his erection. Satoru jolts, he forces himself to look at you, that pout on his face told you everything. He most definitely had been hard on the way home and needed you to fix it. He bites his lip when your hand gently cups him and your fingers wrap around what it can against the strain of fabric. Your index finger finds his tip, already beading through his underwear, you coo.

“Bet it was hard, huh? Being this hard and having to wait. Were you hard at the shop too?” Satoru could only nod, releasing another moan from between his lips. You squeeze harshly around him and it makes him yelp.

“Answer me.”

He nods again, bringing a hand up to cover his incessant sounds. “Y-yes. I was hard…I was so hard just thinking about this.”

“You like thinking about me eating donuts off your dick?” The corner of your mouth tugs into a smirk and you both can’t help but release a laugh at that absurdity of the situation. But Satoru had to admit that yes, he definitely was hard thinking about you jerking him off while you ate a donut that was wrapped around his cock. 

“Have to admit I do…” He confesses. Your fingers gently ghost up and down his shaft, making the words falter out of his mouth and feeling him try to raise his hips to make more friction between the two of you. Satoru’s face scrunches, his nose getting wrinkly and his eyes screwing shut to focus on not cumming right in his underwear like some horny virgin. If this was enough to send him over the edge, he can’t imagine holding off for very long once you finally get between his legs. But he was the strongest, he could do it…maybe.

You remove your hand, sliding it back down and feeling the soft bristle of the fine hair on his legs, down and down until your hand grips his under knee and you pull it close to you, forcing him to spread his legs. There’s a look in your eye when you shift over his leg to settle between his thighs. You lock eyes and he sees that hunger in your gaze, your eyes half lidded, lips parted. Your right hand cups over him again over his shorts, your left reaching for the elastic around his hips. With a hook of your fingers and a quick tug Satoru’s shorts slide down his thighs with ease. He raises his legs up over your head to help him get half naked, his cock springing free from its confines and standing to attention.

He’s beautiful like this, he always is. Spread apart, slouching into his pillows and covering the bottom half of his face with his hand to hide the blush that dusted his cheeks. Satoru tended to also get red all over, the blush traveled across every part of him, his cheeks, ears, down his neck and across his chest. Your hands lay over the strength of his thighs and you notice his cock twitch with anticipation when your hands reach where his thighs meet his pelvis. White coarse hair makes a trail from his belly button down to where he’s aching and red for you. He looks down at you with bright eyes, droopy and glossy like he was about to cry— he often did that too. Your fingers find settlement in the bush of hair, pressing down on his pelvis and your other hand grazes over the underside of his hard shaft. 

“Nngh…please…”

“Quiet,” you bite back. Your fingers travel down until the soft skin of his balls gives into your touch. You cup them and your hand on his pelvis is wrapping around the base of him. You squeeze gently and watch more precum dribble out of his tip. You have half a mind to bend down and have a taste but you refrain— instead you remove your hand from his shaft and reach over to open the box. Pulling out one of the chocolate donuts, it had rainbow sprinkles atop it, one fell off the frosting you caught it with your mouth just in time. You look at Satoru whose gaze is locked where your tongue connects to the donut. You drive the tip of your tongue into the frosting, it melts away under the heat of your mouth and you lock eyes with the man before you, dragging your tongue over the frosting and coating your tastebuds with its sweetness. You watch Satoru’s adam’s apple bob as he gulps, he almost becomes redder and you feel his balls in your hand twitch at the lewd action before him. 

“You’re sick, you know that?” He says through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with arousal. 

You smile. “You’re sick for eating my donut.” He couldn’t argue with that so he shuts his mouth and watches you lower the pastry over his tip.

Satoru’s girthy, almost too girthy for the likes of this donut. Its hole is much too small to fit a man of his width, but you try anyway. The dough stretches and tears slightly as you shimmy it down his shaft, it doesn’t give a good squeeze like you do when he’s sheathed inside you but it’ll have to do for now. It’s sticky and the warmth of your hands had the frosting melting slightly, but now that it’s wrapped around Satoru’s cock like this, it practically drizzles down the sides of his length. It’s silly, you bob his dick forward and backward, watching with amusement— your boyfriend has a donut wrapped around him like some sort of cheap imitation of a cock ring. You let out a laugh, your hand wrapping itself around the base of him again to catch the melting chocolate from reaching into the crevices of his coarse hair. Your fist slides up to the underside of the donut, then back down, then back up, then down. Over and over again, you duck your head down, scooting so you lay on your stomach between his legs. Your tongue peaks out of your mouth and you let it follow a path of chocolate up his cock. The warmth of your mouth has Satoru letting out a choked gasp and his eyes widen to watch your tongue lap at the melted frosting.

This was crazy, right? Absurd even, feeling this aroused at the sight of a donut around his cock and his girlfriend licking the chocolate off him. He watches with his mouth agape, you taking a bite out of the donut, your eyes opening to look up at him through your eyelashes. The dim lights of the room hit your face just right and your full cheeks chew on the sweet pastry for a moment. Your eyes shut with a comfort that travels across your body and you’re sinking lower into the bed, the sweet taste of the pastry making your body go limp in bliss. You swallow and decide to give Satoru a few more well deserved tugs before opening your mouth and laying your tongue flat against the underside of his tip. You let drool trail down his cock, flicking your tongue back and forth where you know he’s sensitive. Satoru arches his back off the bed and he grabs the sheets instead of giving into the temptation of grabbing your hair and fucking into your mouth, he has to keep some sort of control…he cries out your name, head thrashing to the side.

“Please—fuck…don’t stop!” He begs, drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. You pull away then, watching a bridge of spit break between you both, his tip glistens in the light and you decide to take another bite of the donut. Satoru lets out a loud whine of disdain at the lack of contact, his hands reaching out to grasp at you to pull you back but you swat his hands away and hold one of his wrists down firmly against the mattress.

“You don’t get to order me around, Satoru.” You take another bite, making sure the ring of dough around his cock stays intact, your hand makes good work on his lower shaft and you watch a dribble of melted chocolate slip past your hand and down his balls. Aiming the head of his cock towards his face to have a good look, you lower your mouth to catch it with your tongue and slowly lick up the path it followed, you let your tongue press and wrap your lips around a testical. Satoru grunts, another plea leaving his mouth and he watches your eyes flutter closed. You hum your satisfaction, sucking on the loose skin and you caress your thumb against a prominent vein on his hard length. You let him go with a wet pop and your tongue follows back up his length to take another bite of the donut. It begins to tear, losing its structure with each taste from you. Satoru’s width stretched it far enough so it slumped to one side and rested atop your closed fist. 

You work your hand up, his foreskin following along with the chocolate donut. His precum beads out of his tip and it collects enough to topple over and slide down the head. It drips onto the donut and you feel him trembling underneath your touch. Satoru breathes your name, throws an arm across his face and huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His knees attempt to draw together but he instead digs them into your hips and squeezes you. Your free hand goes back to cup over the expanse of his thigh and you press him back open and you dig your fingernails into his skin, releasing a whimper from him. You were one of the lucky ones to see him in such a state as this, calling out and weeping for release. His hips began to buck up into your fist with a furocity and the friction only fanned the flames that blazed beneath his skin. He was close, so incredibly close, but he knew better than to cum without permission.

“You’re so pretty, Satoru,” you whisper his name in such a way that makes his head dizzy and his eyes roll back into his head. His mouth locks open and another needy moan crawls out along with the trail of drool that follows down the hill of his lip and the slope of his chin.

“Please…fuck, please just let me cum.”

“I’m not even done with my snack.” You give him a few more tugs, opening your mouth to release a string of spit off your tongue and let it land and slide down the tip of his cock. It’s filthy when you wrap your lips around the head and suckle, letting the flat of your tongue toy with his sensitive skin. Satoru jerks upward and forces you to take more of him in your mouth and your nose presses against the top of the donut, leaving a mark of frosting. You quickly release, sliding your mouth lazily down his shaft and taking a bite out of the pastry. The dough rips, unable to keep its form anymore and you grab it before it can fall over. Satoru whines when you pull away but haphazardly keep a slow pace with your fist around him, spreading your spit, his precum, and frosting across his length looking like some lewd scene you’d see in a poorly acted porn video.

You eat up, watching your boyfriend thrash and struggle not to cum all over your hand as you finish the donut you rightfully deserved. You lick your fingertips clean, sucking on them the same way you’d suck on his. Satoru narrows his eyes toward you when your eyes meet and you give him a cocky smirk. You release your tongue to lick the rest of the frosting off you, side eyeing him in the process to make sure he was watching the show you’re putting on. 

“You’re cruel, you know that? So crue-aaahh—!” Your fist clamps around him, dragging over his sticky, wet skin and now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes.

“Maybe I’ll edge you all day, then. Maybe you don’t deserve to cum at all since you still don’t see this is all your fault.” Another squeeze but around his tip, your thumb flicking over the edge of the head, drawing out a slew of apologies.

“I-I’m sorry! It’s all my fault, I’m sorry! You’re right—haa— please just…I’m sorry. Let me cum, please!” You spit into your other hand, wrapping it around the base of him and both hands work up and down in haste and the room fills with filthy squelches. Should you let him cum? Surely not, he doesn’t deserve it. But he was so gorgeous when he finally found release, his skin burning red and legs trembling, toes curling…you couldn’t deprive yourself of such a sight.

Lowering your head again, you drag your lips over the tip of him and you let your tongue drag across the swollen head. Your words ghost over his skin as you speak and tighten your fingers around him.

“Cum for me, Satoru.” It was enough, it always was with him. He could hold out for you, he was the strongest after all. But the moment you gave him the okay and when your soft lips released him from the torture of holding out he was a force not to be reckoned with. His hips jerk upward, dipping his tip back into your mouth as hot spurts fill you up. The saltiness mixes with the sweetness of the chocolate and coats your entire mouth, you swallow some of it down only to be met with more ropes of cum filling you back up. Your hands help ride out his orgasm, gripping and sliding over the veins and squeezing near the top to help him release his passion. His hand grapples your hair to steady himself, his hips driving up and down, you lower your head to let him sink further into your mouth and suddenly your throat is swallowing around him. His cum pumps out of him with each thrust and once he begins to slow down you’re slowly raising your head, already missing the slickness of your throat, Satoru pouts and lets his head fall into the pillows. 

Your hands lazily jerk him off, the last of his cum dribbles out of him and trickles down his softening erection. You press your cheek into his thigh, turning your head to give him a chaste kiss. Splaying your fingers over his pelvis and rubbing his lower stomach, feeling the ripple of his muscles as he still struggles to come down from his high. Satoru’s blood rushes in his ears and he barely registers your touch, his mind going blank after such a violent orgasm. 

“We got five more rounds to go,” you mention, reaching over to flick the box back open to remind him of the five other chocolate donuts waiting to be eaten (or used as a sex toy in this case.) Satoru looks over to them, horror making his eyes widen at the realization that you were not joking in the slightest.

“But…I—“ He begins to plead but you cut him off.

“You owe me this.” 

Why did he buy a whole dozen? Was he stupid? 

This was going to be a long night…

[pyromcbster]

jezebel kicks the empty box under the end table , the tinkling of unwrapped tinsel can be heard for a split second . she doesn’t like her weaknesses being known , but if there’s one that’s more known , it would be that this bunny LOVES her chocolate .

}IT'S NEVER TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS!{

@pyromcbster asked: "I stocked up on fancy chocolates for christmas three days ago. Now they're gone. I am full of sugar and regret."

" Ah, a travesty indeed. " While he may not be one to particularly like sweets, he could still sympathize with someone being lacking in a food they enjoy so soon after getting it. Especially if that someone was his beloved Jezebel. " ...Were you at least the one to finish them off? "

[just-jordie-things]

MOREE headcannons for choso i really do love your other headcannons! heh

hell yes i love how open this is i'm gonna give ya such a random smattering of choso headcanons <3 tagging @delzinrowe bc it's choso and we talk abt him a lot so some of the credit for this has to go to her <3 ___

choso is a bit of a menace at the grocery store, but he doesn't mean to be. he's intrigued by all the packaging of different snacks and drinks- sometimes just regular products too like tissue boxes or toilet paper rolls. it often takes a couple hours to get the shopping done with him in tow. he's drawn in like a child to a candy bar!! if something is packaged in bright colors, expect to have to tell him what the product is, because he's gonna be interested in it.

i think he'd hate carbonated drinks. i think the bubbles would be a shock to his system ((did he even drink water before he met you??)) but i think he'd LOVE flavored milk. chocolate and strawberry. picturing choso casually having a lil carton of milk in his hand makes me soft. he'd go to yuji as soon as you introduce him to the wonderful beverage to see if his brother had ever tried such a delicious treat.

choso's always touching you. he doesn't know what pda is, but he's very into it... in an oblivious way. if he's not holding your hand, then his arm is around you. if you're sitting together he prefers to have you on his lap, but tucked into his side and under his arm is the next best thing. and he'll kiss you, anywhere, anytime. standing in line at the bank? the sunlight caught your eyes just right and he was just overwhelmed with the urge to cup your face and kiss you so longingly one could assume you were lovers reunited after years apart... but no, you've just been in this line together for fifteen minutes. you could tell him there's a time and place for such acts of passion but... whew you gotta catch your breath first, don't you??

he's always catching lil critters to show you. he noticed you liked to point out when there's a squirrel crossing the street, or a lady bug on the windowsill, so he notes that little creatures are some of your favorites. now on walks he keeps an eye out for any critter to present you with. he's caught all sorts of things with ease and surprising gentleness- despite being a massive hunk of muscle. he's managed to catch (and later release, of course) rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, toads, a couple of turtles, possums, even street rats. as well as bugs- just about any bug he sees. some are more exciting than others, the dragonflies, the ladybugs, rollie pollies, caterpillars, snails.... you could probably do without the roaches and big spiders, but you try not to show your squeamish side as you thank him for showing you and politely ask him to put it back on the ground <3

choso pouts if you don't shower with him. bc why wouldn't you? he got the water to the temperature you like... what, is he supposed to shampoo his own hair?? are you mad at him??

choso is quickly becoming a favorite of mine i'm sorry gojo but i have to cope somehow