#Custom Cream Boxes

[creativeboxesblog]

Stand Out on the Shelf: The Power of Custom Serum Boxes

In the ever-competitive world of skincare, serums reign supreme. These potent elixirs boast concentrated ingredients that target specific concerns, making them a must-have in any beauty routine.

But with countless brands vying for customer attention, how can you make your serums stand out on the crowded shelf? The answer lies in a powerful marketing tool often overlooked: custom serum boxes.

Beyond Packaging: The Allure of Custom Serum Boxes

Custom serum boxes are more than just a pretty face. They are a strategic marketing tool that can elevate your brand and connect with customers on a deeper level. Here's how:

Attention-grabbing Appeal: First impressions matter. A well-designed custom serum box with vibrant colours, captivating fonts, and high-quality printing instantly grabs attention and sets your product apart from generic packaging.

A Story Waiting to be Told: Don't underestimate the power of storytelling. Your custom serum boxes can be a canvas to narrate your brand's story. Highlight your commitment to sustainability with recycled materials and eco-friendly inks.

Building Brand Identity: Custom serum boxes are an extension of your brand identity. Incorporate your brand's logo, colour scheme, and fonts to create a cohesive visual experience that resonates with your target audience.

The Power of Information: Don't leave your customers guessing. Use the real estate on your custom serum boxes to educate them about your product. List the key ingredients and their benefits. Include instructions for use and safety information.

Emotional Connection: The right visuals and messaging on your custom serum boxes can evoke emotions and connect with customers on a personal level. Feature captivating imagery of glowing skin or satisfied customers to showcase the transformative power of your serum.

Beyond Aesthetics: The Functionality of Custom Serum Boxes

While aesthetics are important, custom serum boxes shouldn't compromise on functionality. Here are some key considerations:

Protection is Paramount: Your serums deserve superior protection. Choose sturdy cardboard materials that can withstand bumps and jostles during shipping and storage. Consider inserts or dividers to prevent bottles from clinking together and ensure safe delivery.

Sustainability Matters: Eco-conscious consumers appreciate brands that prioritize sustainability. Opt for recyclable cardboard materials and eco-friendly inks to minimize your environmental impact. This resonates with a growing segment of the market and positions your brand as responsible and forward-thinking.

User-friendliness is Key: Customers shouldn't struggle to open or close your custom serum boxes. Incorporate easy-to-open mechanisms like tuck tops or magnetic closures. Ensure the box size is appropriate for your serum bottles, avoiding excess space that could damage the product during transport.

From Concept to Reality: Creating Winning Custom Serum Boxes

Ready to design custom serum boxes that turn heads and drive sales? Here's a roadmap to success:

Know Your Target Audience: Understanding your ideal customer is key. Research their preferences, buying habits, and pain points. This knowledge will guide your design choices and messaging strategy.

Define Your Brand Identity: Solidify your brand's voice and visual identity. What makes your brand unique? How do you want to be perceived? Ensure your custom serum boxes reflect these core elements.

Seek Inspiration: Get inspired by successful brands in the skincare industry. Look at their packaging choices and messaging strategies. However, avoid direct imitation – aim for inspiration that fuels your own creative vision.

Collaborate with a Reputable Packaging Partner: Partner with a packaging company that specializes in custom boxes. They can guide you through the design process, material selection, and printing options to ensure a high-quality finished product.

The Final Touch: The Power of Custom Serum Boxes

Custom serum boxes are more than just packaging – they are a strategic marketing tool with the power to elevate your brand and connect with customers.

By prioritizing aesthetics, functionality, and brand storytelling, you can create custom serum boxes that grab attention, educate consumers, and ultimately drive sales. In a competitive market, standing out is essential.

Invest in custom serum boxes and watch your brand take center stage and all of this is available at the beauty boxes.

[customburgerbox]

How to Create Custom Cream Boxes That Boost Your Brand Identity

Introduction:

In today's competitive market. Where countless beauty and skincare products flood the shelves. It is essential for businesses to find ways to stand out. One often overlooked aspect of this endeavor is custom cream boxes. These boxes not only serve as protective packaging but also play a pivotal role in shaping your brand identity. In this article, we will delve into the significance of custom cream boxes and how they can elevate your brand's presence in the market.

How You Can Understand the Importance of Custom Cream Boxes?

The importance of custom cream boxes lies in their ability to differentiate your products from the rest. When a consumer walks down the skincare aisle. They are bombarded with numerous options. The packaging is often the first thing that catches their eye. An aesthetically pleasing and well-designed cream box can make your product memorable.

Moreover, custom cream boxes allow you to convey a message about your brand. Are you eco-conscious? Innovative? Luxurious? Your packaging can tell this story. It is not just a vessel. It is a canvas to express your brand's values and personality.

What Is The Role of Custom Cream Boxes in Building Your Brand Identity?

Brand identity is essential to a company's success. It includes the principles of your brand. Mission and how you want your customers to view you. The process of creating an identity includes customized cream boxes. They provide a visible link between your brand and goods.

When it comes to branding, consistency is essential. Custom cream boxes with your branding on them. Your brand will be recognizable and memorable thanks to colors and distinctive design features. when clients regularly observe your packaging. It becomes a representation of your brand.

How You Can Showcase Your Product with Eye-Catching Packaging Design?

Eye-catching packaging design is essential to draw customers in. The design of your custom cream boxes should reflect the essence of your product and resonate with your target audience. Here are some design elements to consider:

Color Palette: 

Choose colors that align with your brand and evoke the right emotions. For example: soft pastels may convey a sense of gentleness. While bold, vibrant colors can signal energy and youthfulness.

Typography: 

Use fonts that are easy to read and complement your brand's style. Typography plays a significant role in conveying your message effectively.

Imagery: 

High-quality images of your product can create a desire in potential customers. Showcase the cream's texture. Ingredients and benefits through visuals.

Shape and Structure: 

The physical shape and structure of your custom cream boxes can be unique and memorable. Consider unconventional shapes or die-cut designs to stand out on the shelf.

Using High-Quality Materials for a Premium Look and Feel

The quality of your custom cream boxes speaks volumes about the quality of your product. Customers often associate premium materials with high-quality content. Investing in sturdy. Eco-friendly materials not only enhance the appearance but also convey a commitment to sustainability.

Additionally, high-quality materials protect your creams from external factors. Such as light and moisture. Ensuring that they reach customers in the best condition possible. This attention to detail can build trust and loyalty among your customer base.

The Power of Customization Tailoring Your Cream Boxes to Fit Your Brand's Personality

Customization is where the magic happens. It allows you to infuse your brand's personality into every aspect of your custom cream boxes. Here is how you can harness the power of customization:

Logo Placement: Your logo should be prominently featured on the box. It is a symbol of your brand and should be instantly recognizable.

Finishing Touches: Consider special finishes like embossing, foiling, or spot UV to add a touch of elegance and uniqueness to your packaging.

Size and Shape: Tailor the size and shape of your custom boxes to fit your product perfectly. This not only enhances aesthetics but also reduces wastage.

Brand Messaging: Include a compelling tagline or a brief story about your brand on the box. This can create an emotional connection with customers.

Captivate Customers with Engaging Box Designs that Communicate the Benefits of your Creams

Your custom cream boxes should not only look good but also communicate the benefits of your creams effectively. Here's how you can achieve this:

Clear Product Information: Clearly state the product's name. Key ingredients, usage instructions, and any certifications or awards it has received.

Visual Demonstrations: Use graphics or icons to illustrate the benefits of your creams. Such as hydration, anti-aging properties, or natural ingredients.

Testimonials and Reviews: If you have positive customer feedback, showcase it on the box. Social proof can be a powerful persuader.

QR Codes: Include QR codes that lead to instructional videos or additional product information. Offering customers a deeper understanding of your product.

Conclusion

In the world of skincare and beauty products. Custom cream boxes are much more than just packaging. They are a means to convey your brand's identity. Connect with your audience and stand out in a crowded market. 

By investing in high-quality materials. Captivating designs and effective customization. You can create custom cream boxes that not only protect your product but also elevate your brand to new heights. Remember, it is not just a box. It is your brand's story waiting to be told through packaging.

[emojiburst]

For when you and your friend get into a disagreement.

[carlosjordan]

𝗖𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗖𝗕𝗗 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗕𝗼𝘅 𝗣𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗣𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 CBD cream is one important product made of cannabidiol, especially utilized orally to make skin healthy. Because creams have a light consistency and can be easily rubbed into the skin so many brands are selling cannabidiol in the form of CBD creams. Obviously, they require box packaging to pack and then sale out these CBD creams. Our company is offering Custom CBD Cream Box Packaging in this regard. We help those manufacturers and retailers who are in search of personalized product packaging. Our highly produced CBD cream boxes would be unique and attractive enough to grab customers. We help your brand to be known to people all over the world. We do not compromise packaging quality over quantity; we always come up with the best. We engage customers with our company, and we never disappoint them. Book your order here and avail our first-class services at very reasonable prices.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Christmas Special

Christmas festivities featuring your local kidnappers Yandere! Soldier and Yandere! Sugar Daddy.

Yandere! Soldier who spends all Christmas morning at mass. And when he comes home, snow thick on his uniform, he smells like incense.

"Come see. I've brought you something."

There's a bottle of strong vodka and a frosted fruitcake waiting for you on the counter. You watch him unwrap the cake, your mind wandering to your family, to Christmas mornings when you were still an angsty teen. Did they think you were dead by now? Were they still looking for you?

He cuts a thick slice and holds it to your lips. It's sweet and dense and leaves your mouth sticky.

Yandere! Soldier who tilts your chin towards him and casually runs his thumb across your bottom lip to catch any stray crumbs.

"Let's drink, yeah?"

The vodka is icy cold and bitter. But the taste makes you think of friends and university and late nights when you were too tipsy to stand but oh so warm inside. You throw back more shots than normal, trying to chase the memories.

It's only when he gently pulls the bottle away that you realise you're far past tipsy. You're straight hammered.

You stumble when you stand and he's quick to catch you, one strong arm around your waist.

"You've got no head for drink, моя любовь."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's time for bed."

You swat at him, irritated. "No. The Russian you used. What does it mean?"

He gently steers you toward the bedroom. "It means my love."

You twist around to face him. "Do you really love me?"

He raises a brow. "Alcohol loosens your tongue, doesn't it?"

He's quiet for a moment, studying you. The flush of your cheeks, the curve of your neck... You're everything he's ever wanted.

"Yes. I really love you. Я клянусь, что да."

I swear I do.

You stand on your toes and kiss him. Cradle his face in your palms and feel the heat of him bleed into you. You're so awfully cold, so awfully lonely. You'll regret it in the morning, but for now you press into him and chase the taste of vodka on his lips.

He pulls away and presses sweet, ticklish kisses against your inner wrist. He can feel your pulse racing.

"я полагаю, это мой рождественский подарок."

I suppose this is my Christmas present.

He grabs your thighs and picks you up. You wrap your arms around his neck, terrified of falling. Your breath ghosts across his neck and your nails dig stinging crescents into his muscles.

He doesn't say it out loud, but it's the best gift he's ever gotten.

Yandere! Sugar Daddy has a tree stacked high with gifts. On Christmas morning, he wakes you up with a kiss and a mug of your favourite hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon sticks.

At first, you assume most of the boxes are just for decoration. There's over a dozen boxes waiting for you - they can't all be gifts, right?

But you should know him better by now. You unwrap present after present, gasping at each one.

A set of custom perfumes from a high fashion brand. Ten different pieces of Tiffany jewellery. A genuine fur coat. Your first pair of Louboutin heels.

Keys to a new car.

You sit in the middle of a treasure trove, struggling to wrap your head around it. He rests his chin on your shoulder and pushes his glasses up his nose.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes, it's incredible." You turn to face him. "But babe, this must have cost a fortune. I can't accept all of this."

He tilts his head. "Of course you can. I got it all for you."

You're about to argue when he cuts you off. "You said you got me something too?"

You nod and hand him two packages. Your dollar store wrapping paper is glaring cheap next to his.

He unwraps his gifts slowly. The first one is a journal you picked up in a thrift store, weeks before your argument left you trapped with him. Back when you still had your freedom.

You got your artist friend to emboss his name in gold leaf on the front cover. He flips it open to the first page.

To my tech genius boyfriend. This is what we normies call paper. You use it to record all the times your girlfriend is just absolutely incredible, got it? -y/n

He smirks and rubs the page between his fingers.

"I've only heard distant legends of this 'paper'... How fascinating."

You groan. "It seemed funny at the time okay?"

His next gift is a pottery vase, with elegant fluted handles. It's a deep cream with flecks of reddish iron bleeding through. He stares at it, his expression blank.

Your heart drops.

The truth is, you spent months looking for that specific vase. And when you finally found someone willing to sell, the price they named made your jaw drop. You haggled like hell for it. Practically begged the seller on your hands and knees to let you pay it off over a few months. Until this morning, it was a gift you were proud to give him.

But his gifts to you took all morning to unwrap, while all you can offer is a shitty notebook and some amateur pottery. You hate not being able to return his generosity in equal measure. You hate feeling like you're always giving him the short end of the stick. Even now, when you have every reason to hate him, it hurts that you can't spoil him like he does you.

He finally looks up at you, dazed. "This is an original Murazaki. How did you know I wanted one?"

"You mentioned it a few months ago. When we were having dinner together in my apartment."

He puts the vase down carefully.

"You remembered?"

It's your turn to be confused. "Of course? You were really upset about it. You said he was your favourite artist but that you could never find any of his stuff for sale."

He stares at you like he's trying to pick you apart. You look down, embarrassed.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't get you more gifts. I feel like an ass. Like the world's worst girl-"

He grabs you before you can finish and pulls you flush against him. He buries his face in your hair. He takes a deep breath, like he needs to control himself.

"You remembered."

He kisses your temple and then presses his forehead against yours. His voice is low and loving and just a little shaky.

"Oh y/n, you're the best gift I could ask for."

Bonus: a yandere who only has one thing on his Christmas wishlist - you.

You wake up under his Christmas tree, cold and confused and still groggy from the sleeping pills he slipped you.

Your hands are tied behind your back and there's a cherry red gag in your mouth. You squirm, trying to pull your hands free. The floor is icy against your naked skin. Wait, naked?

You look down, horror clawing it's slow way up your throat. Most of your clothes are gone. And you're almost completely wrapped in ribbon.

Your thighs are held together with an excruciatingly tight bow. Two green rosettes are pinned to the lace of your bra. You can't see it, but there's a cute red bow stuck on your head too.

The door opens and you hear heavy footsteps on the basement stairs. You squirm, increasingly desperate to get loose.

"Wouldcha look at that? Santa brought me exactly what I asked for."

Your kidnapper squats down next to you, his eyes roaming your body. Taking in all the curves and dips. Mapping it out like it's his to explore. He reaches out and tugs at the ribbon tied around your throat.

"My girl all wrapped up under the Christmas tree."

He grabs your chin and tilts your face up towards his. His eyes are dark - the pupils blown out wide with lust, with hunger.

"Merry Christmas baby. I promise it'll be one you never forget.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・eren in suit ⸜⸜・

eren likes when you are clingy and naughty. but somethimes you choose the wrong time, for example is when he's preparing for a dinner with his friends. he just looks so pretty with his custom suit on.

"whatcha looking at, princess?" he smiles at you when he sees you oggling him from the door. his legs are spread as he sits in front of the mirror and tries to fix him tie and all you want is to sit on his lap and ride him until he's exhausted.

you dare to come closer, letting your knee bump into his crotch, but you can't fool him, he knows exactly what you are trying to do.

"don't even start." eren rolls his eyes and you wonder when did your boyfriend become this sassy. you take it a step further, throwing yourself on his lap. you try rocking your hips but before you can do anything, you're thrown on the bed.

"im not gonna waste my time with you." he says, digging thru the box next to the bed. he pulls out your favorite vibrator and he hikes up your skirt to put it right on your pussy. you jump from the sudden pleasure.

he sits next to you with bored expression as he tortures your pussy with the vibrator. you're embarrassingly turned on. mostly because of eren trying to play that he's mad.

"come on, cum for me." he orders, using his fingers along with the toy on your cunt. it's coming, you feel it all over your body. you look up at eren's face, your boyfriend is just so beautiful. just his face is alone is what could make you cum. you twitch as you cum, creaming your panties.

"im already late, princess," he groans, throwing the toy back in the box, "i love you, but sometimes you are too much. have your ass up when i come back."

[custompackaginglane]

[biteyoubiteme]

lemon cake

lemon drop!soobin x angel cake!reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ synopsis In a world where everything is sugary and sweet, it is always fun to throw in a little twist. Quiet and tired Lemon Drop finds himself struggling to keep up with the day to day of single-parent life. Knocking on Angel Cake's door, begging for more than just help, might take care of two of his problems.  ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ warnings 🔞!!! fairytale au, lemon drop!soobin, angel cake fem!reader, slight spit kink, spit and cum as flavored aphrodisiacs, not really but chubby reader implied bc angel cakes body is soft and described as cake (skin indents and takes a few seconds to bounce back), mentions of masturbation (f! and m!), hand job, oral (m!rec), virginity loss, breeding kink, corruption kink, biting, cumplay/eating/snowballing, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

⊹₊ ݁ . wc: 8.9k . ݁₊ ⊹

၄၃ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: new emotion- the aces an: ive never been so happy to post a fic before! this was so very fun to work on with my moots. im honored to have worked alongside some absolutely incredible writers- actually wild that you let me in on this when you guys are just so amazing im a little dazed lol. and it was so fun to read everyones fics early and go back and forth on little ideas we found would benefit each others works. this was one of the best things to do and im so thankful for mae and her mind,,go read everyone elses fics pls pls pls they are so so good. anyways love my friends <333 [m.list] [strawberry shortcake m.list]

Angel Cake loved a routine. Most things could be broken down into a neat list of checkpoints, a simple to-do list set up like the recipe for a good day. She would get to the store early, prep the tables, and make sure all the clothes were neat enough for when she opened the door. Sometimes a new shipment would come in and she would take her time checking off every box as she added the new items to her inventory. She loved folding all the shirts up, stacking them, lining them all so neatly, and keeping them color-organized.

It wasn't until an hour later that the store officially opened for the day, the sweet buttery scent from the town's shops wafting in through the doors. Angel Cake would sit behind the register looking through catalogs to pick out new things to order, helping customers when they filtered in and lulled around the shop admiring her cute displays. Almost an hour after opening is when her favorite customer arrived. “Strawberry!”

She loved to shop, everything she wore was hand-selected by Angel, perfectly picked out from the catalog with her in mind. Even the pale blue shirt worn by Kai was bought within these four walls. The sweet blueberry boy gave a shy wave, apple dumpling, strawberry’s little sister, running right past the two of them to her favorite section in the store.

“I brought you your share from the bake sale,” the cream-colored box carefully held in hand. It was one of the small things Angel looked forward to, the soft cake and cream, the first bite of sweetness. “They took a little longer than expected to make but they turned out so good,”

Kai flushed a deep shade of blue, the color only highlighted by the blue strands of his hair. Even Strawberry was blushing, her eyes tacking onto apple dumpling to avoid looking at angel cakes questioning glance. “Berry why don't you help Dumpling pick out a new school dress, I see angels gotten some new ones in,”

It was all it took for Kai to follow after the giggling child, leaving Angel and Strawberry alone. “You won't believe the weekend I've had,”

“Was it beomgyu? I hear he went to the market for the first time in a month and acted so bitter over Cherry’s jam,”

“No no nothing like that, I just- berry and I-” If strawberry could get any more color to shade her cheeks she would, her flush traveling to her ears, “We kind of…”

“You kind of what?” Angel Cake had known for years that Blueberry had a crush on Strawberry. They spent most of their time together, strawberry baking and blueberry strumming his guitar. It wasn't news to Angel that either of them had fallen into a relationship without much effort.

“We kissed and then it wasn't kissing it was- well-” she was struggling to find the right words, the images of the night before flashing in her eyes as she stumbled through the words. “It was so much more than kissing, the both of us were just insatiable and he just- he tasted so good,”

“Tasted? Like when you kissed?” Angel tilted her head as if that would tip the right information into the right spot for her to understand. Tasting someone did not necessarily sound all too fun, she could picture the underwhelming flavor of blueberries and didn't find it appealing at all. Angel was never really a fan of how plain they could be, although she would never confess that to Strawberry who couldn't stop herself from remembering the flavor as if it was spilling right back onto her tongue.

“Not exactly-” but it was all Strawberry could say before the two of you turned to the sound of apple dumping giving a shout.

“Meringue!” the little blonde, dimpled-cheeked child, giggling as she ran to meet her friend, exclaiming just as loud, “Dumpling!”

Everyone in all of Strawberry Land knew exactly how close the two little girls were. Spending hours joined at the hip, playing games, singing songs, and laughing enough to fill the sweetest of souls with the happiness shared between the two of them. Most times lemon meringue would find herself sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring with apple dumpling while angel cake and strawberry tested recipes in the kitchen. The two little girls being the best test testers, never afraid to say when they didn't like something.

Most times meringue was over because Blueberry was the perfect babysitter, teaching the girls how to play the guitar, and finding fun ways to keep them entertained. He kept them busy while Lemon Drop, meringue’s dad, was off at the local college teaching. Lemon drop soobin was always a bit bitter, the slight tinge to his personality always brought forward with his obvious sleepiness. His under eyes slightly bruised from the late hours he spent bent over books, grading papers, and chasing after his little sweet tart. Rumpled shirt half untucked from his pants, butter blonde hair mussed, and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Angel Cake could feel her stomach flutter at the sight, he looked unbelievably warm, the kind of person you wanted to slip into and cuddle up. His lazy blinking eyes tracked around the sweet cream shop, deeply breathing in the sugary air.

Soobin wanted a nap, the warmth of the shop hugging him the second he breached the doorway. It was the favorite shop on the strip, the scent pulling him in amongst the rest of the fruity temptations. Buttery warmth hinted with vanilla cream beckoned him in that direction every time. It was easy to get lost in thought and follow his footsteps right to your door without realizing it when he followed his instincts. With an excuse to step inside, he could settle his craving without shyly backing away from the doorway, tinted pink from the recurring embarrassment of finding the shop irresistible. It was okay when Meringue was with him, but when he was alone, gazing through the sugar glass window to see angel cake folding or hanging clothes, it was a little more awkward.

He wasn't particularly known as the fondest resident in strawberryland. He was known to fight back, the sting of his arguments leaving people with a bitter impression of him. It was something that was expected of the debate professor, teaching the people how to stand up for themselves and find the proper form to an argument.

Angel found him to always cut back the sweetness of the people who took his class, leveling out their need to please in a way that she knew people who didn't take his class found caustic. Working in such a closed shop she heard more than anyone else did in the street market, the stalls so open the voices carried over to one another. No secrets could be kept when the air picked up every sound, enough so that anyone could get burned when gossip traveled. It made her shop the gossip harbor, the walls soaking in the secrets enough so that it set the illusion that nothing would make it to the unknowing subject of conversation.

Just last week she heard the run-around rumor mill turning out stories of frosty puff and gingerbread taehyun. The occasional talk of lemon drop, he's just so sour, listing ways to prove someone wrong. Can't we all just get along and not fight? He must be teaching that poor sweetheart of his such nasty things.

It had made Angel roll her eyes. Who cared if he was giving the rest of Strawberry Land a backbone, it was needed in such a basket of softies. But Angel knew she was in the same boat, still a product of her environment, soobin had moved back after finding himself in a big city amongst the rich and decadent. Nothing like the homegrown bunch he had been born from.

Strawberry pinched angel's arm, her soft flesh dimpling at the draw to attention. It always took a second for Angel's skin to bounce back from a tight hold, easily squashed like the cake from which she was named. “It wasn’t just kissing it was- I don't even know how to describe it, we tasted each other in places I never thought to before,”

“Like where?” it felt absurd to think of putting angel's mouth anywhere besides the mouth of a lover, maybe the back of their hand. Strawberry fiddled with the loose ribbon she used to tie a bow on the shortcake box, tugging the strand until it neatly fell away. Even for her name, Angel had never seen strawberry so pink, from ear to ear as she swallowed. “Down there,” her eyes flickered down to Angel's zipper, popping up just as quickly to see if Angel understood what she was saying.

“Berry!” Angel whisper-shouted, shocked, and intrigued all at once. Angel wasn't too dense, she understood to some extent how it worked but never thought about their being a flavor, or even that your mouth was used for more than just kissing.

“Angel, I don't even know how to describe how good it tasted- better than this,” she held up the short plump cake, the sweet cream swirled on top and donned with a little strawberry heart. “And it's hard to taste any better than this, I mean it's more addictive than sugar,”

It seemed hard to believe, especially when Angel sunk her teeth into the light dessert. The warmth of the sponge still lingers in between the ripples of fresh fruit. The frosting was her favorite part, dotting her upper lip in the clear mark of overindulgence, the creamy whips making her softly moan.

The sound echoed in the shop, just loud enough to be heard under the giggles of the girls, talking out planned outfits to wear to school tomorrow, but it didn't catch Kai’s attention, only catching the ear of lonely Lemon Drop Soobin. He watched the way Angel wiped at her mouth, sucking her thumb clean before rolling her eyes, “Hard to believe,”

“Well, you won't know until you try,” Strawberry muttered, closing the box of sweets and tying the bow back up.

“Ew no, I hate to say it but blueberry is kind of a flavorless fruit-” Angel Cake started looking over to where soobin and Kai stood. Angel stuttered in her speech, cheeks flushed and shoulders straightening under Soobin’s piercing gaze. Strawberry not even noticing the hiccup, “No! Not with Kai, anyone else but him, I mean it, Angel, it was something else,”

Soobin quirked a brow, Angel's cheeks deepening in color. It didn't help that he was looking at her with her train of thought derailing in the direction of a lovely open pool of crisp lemonade. She could just smell the citrusy freshness that followed after him, the scent that made her perfectly aware of how different they were, and forced her to face the recollection that she wanted him in a horribly needy way.

She wondered exactly what he would taste like, obviously lemony, but would he be more sweet or sour? Fresh or bitter? He was the opposite of sweet little blueberry who was now clapping at the choice of dresses the girls had picked out. Lemon drop was a streak of verbena-washed clarity in a town full of half-baked sweet tarts. She wanted him to wash over her and teach her things she never would have known without him, open her pallet to more than just the sweets found in a shop just like Strawberry said. Because as much as she talked down on the people around her, she was just as close to them, still grappling with the niceties of sprouting out in a field of pushovers. But she had time to bake, enough so that she knew she wanted more than just a dollop of sweetness to finish her off. She needed the honesty of someone who would be just as bitter as she was sweet, someone who had left and come back, someone who knew exactly what she wanted and had achieved it themself. Only now all she could think about was what exactly you had to do for a taste of anything at zipper level.

“You know, I heard he's looking for a sitter, especially because Kai is helping me so much at the stand. It's great to have Dumpling around but sometimes following her and meringue is a bit much,” Strawberry added, looking right past soobin to where Blueberry was fussing over apple dumplings shoelaces.

“Really?” soobin had broken eye contact to tend to little lemon meringue, carrying the outfits she's picked out in one arm and pushing back his hair with a ruddy knuckled hand. She watched the two of them like she was memorizing her favorite recipe, taking the time to run over every line, connecting the little bullet point dimples the two of them shared. Even when Strawberry took her bunch with her out the door, leaving the two of them alone at her counter, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her features.

“Don't you just love it, angel? It's so bright and pretty and does a perfect twirl when I spin,” meringue is nearly a spitting image of lemon drop, the only difference is her hair doesn't have the classic butter blond but a sun-washed version, the roots starting as a toasted tan color before fading out. But even then it's impossible to say they weren't related. Holding onto the edge of the checkout counter, hand still fluttering over the dress she's picked. Soobin reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, grinning with the edge of his mouth as he watches her look up at Angel with her big brown eyes, dimple so deep in his cheeks she's sure she can swim in it. “It's perfect,” Soobin mutters.

For someone who has been pushed into the bitter pile by the rest of the town, Angel finds it hard to believe someone like the man before her could be anything but comforting. It was in his name, lemon drop, so nostalgic, in and of itself an acquired taste.

“I know you think that but I was asking angel,” meringue scrunched up her nose in that little kid's way, the light dusting of faded freckles tucked into the creases like a bunched blanket.

“I love it, would it even be a good dress without a perfect twirl? It's why I make sure all of the dresses in here look good when you spin,” Angel folds the items neatly sliding them into the gift bag. “Here you go,”

Soobin passes out the exact change, hand brushing angels as he lets the money go, surprised by the warmth radiating off the soft contact. Just as comforting as the alluring scent in the streets he shouldn’t have expected any less. Meringue is elated to be handed her bag giggling to herself as she thanks Angel and her dad. “Next time I see you I hope I can see your perfect twirl and soob- lem-” Angel stumbles over the right name, never really having spoken to him personally besides a few light greetings in passing.

“Soobin is fine,” his grin was a mix of amusement and arrogance that whipped Angel around in a mix of unrelenting jealousy. The ease with which he found himself walking through life was something angel only wished to grasp, and here he was, with confidence written into a single smile.

“Okay, soobin, if you ever need help after five I'm always free to watch her when you need work done. Strawberry was just telling me you could use a hand, "Angel says it so innocently, eyes blinking up to him in a way that he can't think about too closely. It takes everything in him not to look down at the very hand she speaks of, even if it's metaphorically. Because he could use a hand, specifically hers wrapped around him revealing the stress he was feeling in ways that he knew only she would be able to take care of. But it was too much to ask in a place like this, too much to think about when he was in public, and certainly too much when his child was waiting by the door for him to take her to her playdate.

“Thank you I could- um- really use the help,” he didn't know what to do with his hands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose only for them to slip right back down, hand running through his already messy hair. It was the most angel had ever seen him discomposed, more like a stuttering school boy instead of a college professor who made school boys cower.

“Okay just let me know, you know where you can find me,”

It was only a few days later when soobin came by to ask for Angel's assistance, meringue hot on his heels as he shuffled into the shop right before closing. “I know it's last minute but Kai was supposed to take her to Strawberry’s house but turns out he cant and-”

“It's okay,” Angel chuckled, “I know the two of them have been so finicky with plans recently it's no problem at all. I just need to make sure the doors are locked up and then we can go,” and so they waited while you twisted the key, checking the knob twice, and shuddering from the slight chill in the air. In only a few days, Angel knew the gingerbread cobblestones would be coated in the thin glaze of the first frost, dollops of shoveled snow pushed up against her shop looking like misplaced piles of spilled frosting.

Lemon meringue ran ahead, her ballet flat-covered feet skipping between each stone like a made-up hopscotch map only she could see. Instinctively, Angel walked a step closer to soobin, bumping his arm with every other step they took toward his house at the end of the lane. Angel knew this was one of the reasons why he was accepted more than his other bitter labeled fellows, he lived in town, and went to town meetings even if he didn't add to the majority opinions. If he lived down on the outskirts, house kissing the woods or worse buried deep inside them, he wouldn't have a chance of being accepted in the way that he has been. It gave Meringue the best opportunity to find friends and build a relationship with the community before they ostracized her for being anything but sweet because of the name she carried.

Pushing open the door to their modest place, Angel was surprised by the solace laced into the brown woods and honey-colored accents thrown around the house. Stacks of leather tomes litter tidy shelves, and little dolls, and figurines placed by meringue are known only because of how high each item reaches. It smelled of freshly picked lemons and the cozy baked smell of warmed sugar. It was just late enough for the sun to be setting in through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm golden glow. Angel wasn't to bask in the light, curl up like a kitten on the plush couch, tucked in with the knitted blanket tossed over the back like an invitation.

Meringue shot forward, hand wrapped around Angel's wrist tugging her past the living room and to the overly saturated room that could only belong to a child as happy as her. “Look, angel! I can show you all my princess dresses, we can do a fashion show!” She pushed open a trunk decorated like a little carriage fit to wheel a queen in, the lid holding back all the tulle and silk, only to now spill out like an overstuffed donut.

Soobin chuckled by the doorway, knowing exactly how his daughter was. She would keep Angel entertained enough for the both of them, needing no help to find something to do. It was the only thought in his head until he caught sight of Angel's wrist, his little meringue’s handprint still indented on her soft skin. He watched in amazement the way it slowly rose back into shape like a cake filling the tin in the oven. The thoughts running in his head were nothing to be proud of, images of his hands on the plush of angel tummy driving him mad. He had to turn away, leaving them alone in the room to focus on the stack of papers he had on the edge of his desk to dull the image of his handprint on the crease of her hip, dented into her thigh.

It was hard to get work done as is, his mind always fluttering through the tasks at hand, the next paper to grade, the time to pick up meringue, when he would be able to fit in the time to sleep. Now all he can think about is sweet cream dotting the smooth expanse of buttery cake. He hardly got through the few papers waiting for him, red pen in hand, staining the tips of his fingers as it sat motionless waiting for him to write. Hours passed, the soft laughter and chatting heard through the cracked door, every so often a glimpse of yellow and pink crossed in front of his field of vision, both angel and meringue going from the living room and back.

It made soobin happy to not worry that Meringue was having a good time, sometimes she fell shy especially when not near Apple Dumpling. She even had to warm up to Strawberry, only becoming her bubbly self when she and dumpling were alone, hiding behind her closest advisers in the face of someone new. But Meringue had always wanted to talk to Angel Cake even before they had known her to be best friends with Strawberry. His sweet lemony girl's eyes go wide and glittery seeing the expanse of clothes held in Angel's shop, do you think she gets to try on anything she wants? Look at how cute she dressed Daddy! I wish I had her job.

Every little comment only showed how deeply Meringue wanted to play dress up, more so play with Angel. He's sure even if he had asked for Angel to watch meringue in the shop she would have just as much fun as she was having going around the house now. He loved how comfortable Meringue found herself around Angel, and how Angel accepted his girl with open arms.

Time slipped past soobin without realizing the laughter had faded into hazy silence, more than half his stack of papers cleared through and marked to be returned to waiting students. He ran his fingers under his eyes, glasses set askew from the rubbing, sighing into the empty study. Soobin didn't notice Angel until he smelled her, that wonderfully delicate sweet smell of vanilla sweetness making him hold back his groan. He had thought it had only been the smell of the shop. The cake-like walls were made to pull in customers like the cinnamon scent of a bakery wafting through the streets, beckoning all who breathed in the air. Maybe Angel smelled so delicious because of working all day, the scent rubbing off and sticking to her hair, her clothes, her skin.

“She's fast asleep, knocked out almost as soon as she laid down to read her bedtime book,” Angel leaned against the edge of soobins desk, hip digging into the wood, fingers sprawled over the skewed pages of work. To Soobin, she was a dazzling masterpiece of messy hair and flushed skin, dress short enough for him to see the way the desk was pinching her thigh.

“Thank you,” the words twisted into a whisper from how dry his mouth had gotten just from looking at a single strip of skin. Licking his lips he tried to swallow, finding something to say besides the hollow echo of words he had managed.

“Oh it's nothing really, she's a doll,” Angel's eyes danced over the pages at her hand, “you lived in the city right?” even just the mention had soobins mind going back to the dull colorless house he found himself in when studying for his degree. It made him sick to think about raising meringue in a place like that, she was why he had moved back home, not caring how off-put the rest of the town was about him now.

“Yes, I did,” he sat back in his chair, one elbow still resting on the desk and the other laid out on the armrest. He was half turned to angel, lower because of sitting and now having her tower over him. And her damn thigh was there right next to him, knuckles twitching to brush over the smooth expanse of skin.

“Did you like it?” Angel had tipped her voice down to a whisper, the dim light needing the change when she had decorated the question in enough hope and worry. It wasn't as if Soobin’s answer would change much, she knew she dreamed of a city out there bright enough to blind the thought of home but it was hard to leave when it was all she ever knew, she didn't even know if she truly wanted to leave.

“I liked it enough,” soobin bit at his bottom lip, worrying over the question. It was as honest an answer as he could give. “But it wasn't home, not for me, not for meringue. There is nothing quite like the comfort of home,”

“Like this place you have here,” Angel lifted her chin, looking around the packed study with even more books and bobs. “That couch of yours looks too cozy not to nap on,”

“You should see my bed,” it was a quick response, one that didn't pass the filter connected to the bit of his mouth that kept him from saying anything embarrassing. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-”

But Angel didn't get the innuendo embedded into the words, she just nodded, “I should, I bet it's just as warm as the rest of this place, you have it at just the right temperature,”

The lack of sleep was making him loose, his finger drifting out to press right into the outside of Angel's thigh, pushing against the soft plush of her skin just enough to feel the heat from her, “you sure it's not you? You seem to keep warm enough,”

“Oh no, take it from a cake to know exactly when they walk into the right level of warmth. This is perfectly cozy,”

“You do feel…lively,” soobin drags his finger up Angel's thigh, reaching right to the hem of her dress, stopping right before it could go any further. The line he had drawn was like the roadmap to the realization that he should not be touching her like this. But it was incredibly hard to remember his mind when he felt this hazy; drunk off the lack of sleep and the sweet smell of sugary cake.

Angel felt the pad of his finger slip right up her spine, sink into her nervous system, and cloud her mind. Even if he had pulled away, flexing his hand as if that would sink the feeling of her warm skin into his palm, she could swear the touch was tattooed right there forever now.

She couldn’t forget it, not on the walk home, not when she showered the day away, not even when she climbed into bed. The moonlight slipped in through her lacy curtains, the soft gleam pulling her mind right back to the study. Her finger pressed right where she remembered him, circling the spot like she was tracing the shape of the yellowing moon on her thigh.

Even the moon made her think of him, a little lemon drop in the sky, her bed warm enough to picture what it would be like to snuggle up in his. Her fingers were too soft and not at all how she needed them to be to pick up her illusion. Pressing them harder into her thigh she felt an ache between her legs, centered right at the heart of her.

Angel had never felt such a pull to touch herself, not until the butter blonde boy was there just out of reach, so close to palming her thigh instead of just using the tip of his fingers. She wanted his hands all over her, they didn't even need to be warm, she just needed him. Needed his finger pressed on the tormentor's bud that called for him. But for now, she would have to make do, her hand pushed into her shorts feeling along the wet seam of herself never knowing that her body would crave someone so bad without even having tasted them like strawberry had said.

But the only thing on her mind was lemon drop, her hips rolling into her hand, the soft moans drawn out from a mouth so unfamiliar with this sound. Her body told her the way to move, and where to seek peak pleasure until she was a gasping mess, creaming around her dainty digits. Angel Cakes' new discovery was a calamity, highlighting a deep desire she didn't know she could hold within herself. A catastrophe; soobin had been the one to knock a tray of glasses to the floor, already so recklessly close to the edge until one push sent them shattering, angel couldn't clean the glass fast enough, left to never be the same again.

Soobin was no better, he was a cracked vase slowly leaking out in drips of sun-melted ice, he had to hold it together for work, for home; hastily wrapping fingers around the seeping seams only for his thoughts to pour out between his fingers. Because angel cake was spinning in his living room, twirling around with his daughter, giggling until they were a dizzy pile on the floor. His office door just cracked as he caught sight of angels' sweet lacy white panties, clinging to the curve of her ass. If he had knocked over the tray of her sanity, angel cake had taken a hammer to his fragile vase, smashed it until it was powered, and easily passed as dusting sugar on the treats in strawberry’s shop.

Soobin felt his addiction take its toll on him, every night the image of angel cake washed over his sleeping mind until he was reduced to nothing but a needy muddled mess of thruming joints. He couldn't go one day without his hand wrapped around his cock, working his wrist until he was spilling dribbles of cum onto sheets that needed her in them. It was worse when his order from strawberry came in, Kai handing the box over right at the doorway, picking up Meringue for her sleepover with Dumpling. The smell of the shortcake filled the house as soon as he shut the door behind them.

He was embarrassed to have such an obsession with angel cake, sure that she would cringe away from his desperation for her. So desperate he was standing in the kitchen with one hand down his pants and the other digging into the soft sponge of one of the cakes just brought over. The cream and crumb squished out between his fingers as he came, moaning into the empty space until the sound reverberated around him, the smell of her dancing around his body. He wanted her, needed her.

Soobin didn’t even remember the trip to Angel's shop's door, his nose pulling him along the crumb-dotted cobblestone, leading him right to the front doors, so willing to be eaten by the magic-laced girl inside. He could see her through the frosted glass windows, the closed sign turned to signal the end of her shift but she was leaning over the stand of shirts, fixing them in the way she wanted, her end-of-day routine. He could smell her, that buttery sweetness addicting, making him delirious. He wanted to sink his hands into her warm flesh, hold her tight enough so that if anyone saw they would know it was his hands that had been on her, that she was his, and his alone.

He pushed open the unlocked door, the ding of the bell signaling his entrance, that glance over her shoulder ruining him once and for all. “Hi! Did I forget I was supposed to come over tonight? I can pack up real quick or she can stay here-”

“No, blueberry took her- i- i-” he was struggling with the words, a stuttering fool standing in the middle of the shop like he'd come to beg. And he had, he would beg her till the end of his days to have one taste, to have her tear into him like she was peeling back the layers of his sanity. “I need you,”

“Oh?” she tilted her head to the side, the pure look of innocence smashing into him like a wave. He wanted to stain her, fill her up, and call her his.

Soobin struggled to swallow, every breath filling his lungs with her, she was right there on the tip of his tongue. “I need you,” his hand reached down to the bulge sitting against his thigh, hard, thick, and weeping for her.

If Angel Cake hadn't spoken to Strawberry about the zipper-level kisses she would have been confused beyond belief. But it had been all she could think of since then, what it would be like to lick up his body and know exactly what it was that made people so addicted. Because she was grappling with the fact that she was already falling down the rabbit hole of need, to finally taste him would be like crashing right into another world. “I don't know- I don't know how-” she was flushed all over from the confession because she didn't want him to leave, if he needed her she would mold herself to fit and fix any problem he had. Her lack of knowledge wouldn't hold her back, if he was a teacher she would be his best student.

“I'll show you, tell you everything you need to know,” he snapped the button on his pants, undoing the zipper releasing enough pressure to let out the most sinful noise angel had ever heard. She could feel her panties flooded with the cream that had been leaking from her for days now, always tied to the thought of him. If he felt even a fraction of how she did, Angel would make sure to take the best care of him.

“O-okay,” Angel Cake could feel her mouth water, her thighs pulling together, needing them closer to relieve the ache she felt. Soobin locked the door behind him, tugging Angel to a spot behind a rack of clothes. “Here get on your knees in front of me,”

Angel was fast to listen, sinking to the ground in front of him, hands placed neatly on the tops of her thighs, looking up at soobin with those wanting eyes. Just thinking about those plush lips warping around his cock was taking him out, and watching the tip of her tongue wet her mouth was excruciating. Soobin reached into his pants, pulling out his veiny shaft, the sheer size making Angel's eyes widen.

She didn't know what she was expecting but she was not expecting to feel empty at the sight. The top of him was shiny with a layer of leaking pre-cum. Soobin ran his thumb across his slit collecting the wetness to swirl around the tip, moaning at the way Angel's mouth fell open without realizing. “You can touch it,” he nodded, watching how Angel was gripping her skirt, crinkling the fabric trying to hold herself back.

Angel lifted a shaking hand, fingers brushing the side of him, amazed at the softness so much that she wrapped her hand around him and gave a tug. Soobins chest rumbled, his hand reaching out for the rack next to him, the hangers clattering from the force of his grip. “Sorry-”

“No, no you're doing good, just like that, slow and easy,” he nodded, biting back his moan when her wrist flicked again, “you can squeeze a little harder,” he whispered, his free hand finding itself around hers, showing her just the right amount of pressure he was looking for. Soobin's hand guided Angel's until he was using her hold as if it was his own, speeding up the pace.

Angel watches in amazement as soobins head rolls back, his brows pinched as he whimpers. She's never wanted to taste something or someone so bad, and now, with him right in front of her, she can't resist the temptation for what it is. Angel sits up just enough so that she can press a sweet kiss to his tip, a string of pre-cum still connecting her lips to him. Soobin lets out a shocked gasp, watching the way she licks her lips clean.

The taste is subtle, the sweet and sour mixed together only to draw Angel back in for more. She didn't even know what she was doing, compelled by the flavor to envelop him fully, the flat of her tongue licked up and around to collect more of the addictive fluid. Soobin’s knees go weak at the warmth of her mouth, hips jerking to try to chase the feeling, “Oh fuck just like that,” his hand still holding hers, working over the rest that wasn't pressed into her mouth.

Angel cake moaned around him, his bitter lemon taste mixing with the sweetness from his pre-cum. She wanted to swallow him whole, take more of him down. Soobin couldn't even think anymore, Angel's mouth trying to work further down, her hand stopping right at his base. Angel hollows her cheeks, sucking him down like its instinct, soobins groan taking over the silence and joining the soft wet noises. Soobins restraint breaks, overwhelmed by the way her mouth molds to his cock so perfectly, his mind working to imagine it's her waiting cunt. She takes him down so deep he can feel the back of her throat. It's enough for him to wrap his hands into her hair, fingers wrapping softly around her skull as he fucks into her mouth without warning. Angel moans, the vibrations going straight up his cock and making his balls clench. Her hands reach out for his thighs to keep herself steady, tears welling in her eyes, loving the newfound sensation.

Angel Cake doesn't know what to expect, lashes fluttering as he loses himself in the feel of her. It's a shock when his thrusts become erratic, his body trembling with a deep groan, sweet lemon cream spilling on her waiting tongue. Angel tries to swallow, unable because he keeps going, fucking his cum right into her still willing mouth, spurt after spurt following until he has to pull away. Angel gasps, sucking in gulps of air, mouth a mess of dripping lemon custard and saliva.

If she had thought the pre-cum had been addicting, she didn't know the effect the real deal would have on her. Blindly, she wiped the corner of her mouth, licking the cream she'd collected, humming as if she'd just taken a bite of the richest lemon bar. The sight and sound made soobin impossibly more obsessed with her, fingers going down her cheek, pulling her attention to his awestruck expression.

His head was clearing but it didn't stop the infection of her as it slipped well past his mind, into his bones, into his soul. He had heard about how easy it was to save a fruit tree if you cut away the rot fast enough; right at first sight. Angel cake had taken hold of every thorny branch on his tree and twisted herself in the sparse foliage, so deeply intertwined now that he wasn't sure there was ever a time when it would have been an easy snip to rid himself of this fever.

Angel Cake's face was a glistening mess of wetness when he squished her cheeks with one large hand, her pouting lips so kissable and pink. “Look at you,” a surrealistic sigh caught on the edge of his tone. He leaned down, needing a taste of the two of them, the perfect combination of bitter and sweet, angel's sugary spit mixed with his lemony custard making him powerless. And when he pulled away, letting go of angel's cheeks, he watched the way her lips stayed puffy, the illusion of dimples still there as her skin rose back, flushed a petal pink. “Did I do good?”

“You did perfect,” soobin brushes his nose along the bridge of hers, his eyes closing, breathing her in. He wanted to tear into her, squish his fingers into her, and memorize every little action that brought out a sound. But in his post orgasm clarity, he noticed exactly what he had done. He had tainted this perfect angel, filled her with more than just bad ideas but had fully gone in and let his uncontrollable emotions take over.

Even when Angel Cake had gotten home later that night, she couldn't stop licking her lips. She was lying in bed, wriggling in the sheets trying and failing to find a comfortable position let alone sleep. Her hand was stuck between her legs, on the verge of tears for nothing working to cave in a hunger that she was only now painfully aware of. She hated that she was alone, hated it more than she knew the feeling of his hands on her, knew that those long fingers would have been perfect to fix her problem as easily as she had fixed his.

The hunger triggered a compulsion within her similar to the one soobin experienced on his walk to Angel’s shop, her feet carrying her through the streets, half-dressed in her silky lace pajamas. The lemon drop moon cast its path down the cobblestone to Soobin’s front door. The cold unfelt against Angel's warm skin, and when soobin opened the door he could see the steam rising off of her heated body. The haze of it mixed with the backlight of the moon made her look like a true angel waiting right at his front step, outlined in the glow. She hasn't even come in shoes, her thick socks slouched around her ankles, her shorts pinched at her waist, and one tank top strap down her shoulder. He could see her pebbled nipples through the thin material, his lips pursing at the thought of wrapping around them. “Angel?”

He couldn't tell if this was one of his dreams, the kind that left him reaching out in a bed she never saw. “I think I need you now,” she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed by the words, not when she had seen him in the same state, begging and just as needy. Soobin rushed to pull her inside, ready to get her wrapped up in something to keep her from freezing if that was possible for someone so warm. He hardly had the door closed when she was pulling him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him into her space. She needed to have him in her mouth again and soobin knew he wasn't going to turn her away. His hands slid down her back, fingers digging into the soft skin, groaning into her sugar-sweet mouth, the sound catching in the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down greedily.

Angel didn't know what to do with her hands, her mind shutting off and following their natural way, slipping into his hair, the strands tangling between her fingers, his lemony sweet kisses taking over her mind as he slowly kissed her. But Angel was impatient, whining and rubbing her thighs together.

“What is it baby? Tell me,” he kissed down her jaw, intoxicated by the smell of her, so much stronger when she was so hot against him.

Angel reached down for one of his hands, guiding it like he had done for her, pushing his fingers until they slipped right against the silk of her shorts, “it's so achy,” she whimpered, “and all I can do is think about you,”

She was like a freshly wrapped gift left on the front step, the label perfectly signed with his name and his name alone. A sinful treat he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into. He dragged his fingers along the seam of her, the silk already spotted with wetness, “you want me to take care of you?” the husk of his voice was thick in her ear like syrup.

“Please- please,” her nods are erratic, hips rolling trying to keep him right against her tender clit. Her pathetic cry echoes in the living room when he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't keep his hands away for long, dragging her to his room, having her fall to his bed, right where he's wanted her. Her knees fall open, the heels of her feet digging into the mattress. She's a vision of her namesake, mewling when soobin hooks his fingers into her waistband and takes down her panties and shorts, sliding them down her legs and peeling her socks off, leaving her bottom half exposed.

Soobin is caught at the sight of her gleaming cunt, leaking arousal the color of royal icing, creamy and sweet, looking as if she had been stuffed full of him already. Nothing could keep him from getting a taste. He fell to his knees like this was a place to beg for forgiveness. But he wouldn't be sorry, not after he started his feast. Soobin licked a bold stripe up from her entrance to clit, groan ripped from him with only one drop of her. He wrapped his arms under her legs, holding her open and watching how his fingers dented her flesh, the plush of her spilling between fingers itching to stay there and mold her as his forever.

Angel let out a sharp gasp the second his mouth was attached to her aching center, thighs trying to snap shut around his head, held in place and forced open as she arched her back. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her breathing only coming out when she slipped out moans. He was devouring her, licking her clean like he was enjoying the frosting before the cupcake, sucking deeply on her clit just to watch her tremble.

Soobin does not care about the mess he's making of her, face dripping with his Angel's cream, moans of delight vibrating against her puffy clit. He doesn’t even notice the way she's writhing beneath him, only that he's now faced with the most delicious meal he has ever had. Moaning into her, slurping up all that she has to offer trying to pull forth more of her sweet cream. And he didn't have to try hard, not when she needed him so bad already, the bubbling building in her lower belly so newfound and yet never before so intense. Angel cake feels like a balloon ready to pop, one deep long suck on her clit has her seeing stars, her orgasm washing over her as swiftly as a needle prick, causing her to come undone. The gush of her arousal keeps Soobin’s mouth right against her, his persistent licks only pulling him in more.

He was a desperate mess, working away at his pants, rutting into the mattress as if that would curb his insatiable hunger. He needed to be inside of her, filling her up with his lemon custard, fucking her senseless until she was begging to stay right here in his bed and never leave. He wanted that, to keep her as his, not just press his hand into her thigh and leave that lasting mark. No, he needed to claim her as his in the best, most lasting way. “Do you want me inside you Angel?” he pressed the flat of his palm into her pelvis, relishing in the way he felt himself sinking into her skin. “Right here, filling you up, making you mine-”

Angel had never felt so empty, not until he pointed it out, solving a problem she never thought she had. Her mewling response was a mix of pleas and whimpers. She didn't care what he did so long as she could have him near, and if he could fix the burn in her belly he could devour her just as well as tear her apart.

Soobin lifted Angel's legs enough so that the backs of her knees were slotted against his inner elbows, one hand reaching down to guide his dripping cock to her waiting entrance. Angel does not expect the pressure of being pushed into, her gasp caught on a half-open mouth of pure bliss. Every slow tantalizing inch stretches her out, her body instinctively clenching around him trying to suck him in. “Relax, baby,” he whispers, his hand sliding up her stomach, up under her tank top to reveal her breasts. He rubs at her skin, soothing her tense muscles until he's sunk all the way into the hilt, her body melting and molding around his.

Soobin waits, catching himself from letting go, letting their bodies adjust to each other. But Angel is impatient, rolling her hips, not even realizing she's trying to fuck back onto him, only that she needs some kind of friction. But soobin is slow to pull out and even slower to push back in, eyes connected to the spot they meet at. Her body was like clay beneath him, so easily shaped into the perfect temptation. Every drag in and out coated his cock in her cream, mesmerizing him, numbing his brain.

Angel could tell the difference in him, that split second that makes his eyes go hazy, hips snapping into hers making her body ripple from the force. “you were fucking made for me- do you feel how deep I am-“ he’s slamming into her, the lude sounds of their wetness mixing; echoing with their moans. All the veins in his hands straining from the hold on her soft sides.

He was pressed so deep into her she could feel him hitting a spot that made her hips sink, her hands reaching out to hold his hands, needing the comfort not knowing what was building inside her. so much more intense than when it’s her fingers or even just his mouth. “soobin im-im-“ she can’t even find the words looking for something that she didn’t know existed until just now.

“we can cum together- I’ll fill you up make sure to pump you full so you know exactly where I'm going to put our baby,” he moves his hand down to press his thumb to her clit, triggering her to jolt, the walls of her pulsing around him before she’s falling apart.

Angel's body is a tightening mess, her back arching, cheeks flushing as she comes undone for him. The pull of her body to his makes him shudder, his whole body falling against hers needing to be close, needing to smell the vanilla sweetness of her skin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he holds back his strangled moans. Slow languid thrusts push his lemon custard cum back into her, needing to make true to his promise to have her full of him and only him. Needing to mix together their cream for the perfect bake.

Neither of them knows what's happened to them, only that they are a tangle of limbs, wrapped up tight enough that Angel can still feel the pulse of his cock deep inside her, still pumping into her never having cum so much in his life before then.

Angel feels boneless when he pulls away, her whimper making him chuckle. “I just need to see your creamy pussy again,” the sight to behold better than before now that he knows the wetness is more his than hers. His fingers dragged through her sensitive cunt, collecting the mess to shove it back Into her, fucking her on his fingers for a second. He lifts his fingers in front of them showing Angel the sheer amount of cream coating the digits. “If I could bottle this flavor I would,” he licks them clean before leaning over to shove his tongue into her mouth, needing her to taste what he’s found as his new obsession.

Angel swallows down the cum, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, twisting legs and burrowing in closer. “you taste sweeter than I thought you would,”

“Did the thought of it keep you up?” he asks, nose brushing along the column of angel's throat. “because thinking of you while being alone in this bed is hell, I need both of my girls under my roof to feel complete,”

“both…” the sound of the word was heavy in her mouth. Not in an uncomfortable way but in a way a piece of chocolate sat on her tongue, melting and sweet, craving to place another one as soon as it was gone.

“Both.” The finality of the word is better than the buttery sheets he’s pressing her right back Into.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! thank you so much @izzyy-stuff for helping edit this for me ily ily ily @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles for betareading this a bit, but special special thank you for mae who gave me a lot of these ideas in the first place, her perfect mind came up with the cake like reader with indenting skin and helped with the conversation with strawberry and angel <3

[heartfullofleeches]

Coworker: Why is every demon, monster, ghost, whatever here obsessed with you of all people??

Fast Food Reader: ....

-

Bathroom Succubus - high off her ass: Fuck, Fuck, Fuck- I'm scared, Y/n!

Fast Food Reader - possibly stoned as well: We do this together on the count of three... 1...2...3... Bloody Mary

-

Fast Food Reader, dumping a box of bracelets they made during their shift in the ball pit: Made some more bracelets for you guys- Don’t fight over them or I won't bring more tomorrow-

-

Fast Food Reader, scrubbing blood out the mascots fur: I know I can't really stop you from butchering people, but could you please stop bathing yourself in their blood??

[Lambchop quietly stands up - dunking their head in the bloody water so Reader has to start over]

-

[Fast Food Reader places a cup full of mop water on a customer's table]

Customer: What the fuck... What the hell is this??

Fast Food Reader: The dirty water you're going to drink. Right before you apologize to our janitor for that shit you pulled with them earlier.

[The Janitor runs off to the janitorial closet to write another love letter they'll never give]

-

Fast Food Reader: Happy birthday, Twister!

[Throws a gift box in the clown's party room and sprints off]

Twister: A present? For me???

-

Deer Kidney Guy/The Weeper: So cold....It's raining again.....I miss you....Please let me in...

[Fast Food Reader throws a blanket, an umbrella and a picture of themselves out the drive-through window]

-

Fast Food Reader, carrying a box of stickers and magnets to the ice cream machine: Since I don't really go home anymore I brought you some stuff I used to hang on my fridge- Thought you might like some decoration, R.

Ice cream machine Ghost: heheh.... Hell yeah

-

Fast Food Reader, laying their head on the Storyteller's lap: Could you tell me the one about the overworked cashier who finally gets some sleep without a nightmare for once again?

-

Fast Food Reader: ......Fuck if I know.

[punk-octo]

I haven't seen anyone comment on Belle and Wise's fuck ass kia soul and I think we should for a couple of reasons

1.) In a futuristic world with robots and cool cars getting a 2 x 4 box with wheels is the most "we have no money and found this on Craigslist for 1000 dennies" option they could of possibly chose

2.) It's completely kitted out to be an advertisement for, what was before the story, a dying video store that is just a front for their criminal work which is insane. Also, why does it have a speaker like an ice cream truck or news van? What are they broadcasting? Full length movies?

3.) And, finally, why the fuck is their car SO LOW???? They couldn't have possibly bought it like this they must of gone in and lowered the suspension themselves multiple times. Literally one tiny speed bump would ruin the entire car. This can't possibly be road legal.

This concludes my petition to get the proxy siblings a new car that's not their custom kia soul thank you

[creativeboxesblog]

Grab Their Attention and Glow Up Your Sales: Custom Beauty Cream Boxes in the UK

High-street stores and online retailers are overflowing with beauty products. So, how do you make your luxurious night Custom Beauty Cream Boxes or revitalising day lotion stand out? Bespoke boxes are your secret weapon.

For more details visit us: https://www.tumblr.com/creativeboxesblog/748831159418519552/grab-their-attention-and-glow-up-your-sales

[gremlingottoosilly]

I've been scrolling on your blog for 1h I can't get enough, anyway Konig x shy baker reader he met her when a friend of his dragged him into her bakery and reader is afraid of his long staring gaze across the room like he want to kill and eat her but he's just head over heels for her.. 🩷

You just look so...perfect. Innocent, sweet, soft, just like the pastries you're making. Konig isn't the one to eat sweets, he usually considers it childish and strongly believes that sugar makes him more active - which is false, but he goes off - but he gives one look at your soft hands that are busy with decorating some elaborate little cupcake, and he is ready to buy the whole shop. Horangi was the one to drag him here, talking something about having the best puff pastries and little treats in the whole town - but Konig is almost sure he was actually talking about having the best baker. He stares at the way you spread vanilla cream over a cake, and he wants to lick the excess cream from your hands. He looks at the way your chest sways under your silly branded apron, at your tender hands carefully holding the spoon, how you bite the inside of your cheek while concentrating on decorations...and Jesus fucking Christ, this man is down bad. Like, bad bad. Horrendous. Enough to get a custom order of a cake each week just so he would have a reason to stop by your bakery between deployments. You really thought he wanted to burn the whole place down at first - he is just staring at you for whole 5 minutes, usually even longer, before you finally have enough and he is ordering. It's always such a weird array of orders - all salty pastries you have and an occasional cupcake because he is afraid you might think he hates your sweets and baked treats while he is simply trying to flirt. This guy literally spend hundreds every day just because he can't master the confidence to ask you out. It's a good thing that your number so happen to accidentally fall into one of the boxes, right? (you don't have to know that he already spends hours in your apartment, watching you sleep. sweet, precious baker ladies don't need to know about this)

[multiversefanfics]

Girl Of My Dreams

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order.

It was another boring night shift at a small diner you work at, outside of town, you leaned against the counter waiting for anyone to show up. It was a slow night and you hoped for any type of human interaction even someone asking for directions, you tapped your fingers on the counter groaning as the cars outside continued to pass by “Hey, Y/N if no one comes, in the next 20 minutes we’re going to close up.” Normally the diner was open 24 hours but on nights like this one, you give some time and then close if no one comes in. You nodded your head and started wiping down tables, you knew no one was coming in so you might as well stay busy for the next 20 minutes. Just as you were wiping down the last table you looked at your watch and saw that there were only 5 minutes left and then you could close. Soon the bell rang above the door you internally groaned but when you turned around you came face to face with a very gorgeous and mysterious man, you smiled over at him and grabbed a menu asking him to follow you to the table. "Can I start you off with something to drink?" He looked at the menu for a bit then asked for coffee you nodded "I'll give you a few minutes to look over the menu and I'll be back with your coffee." You smiled sweetly at him and turned to walk away; you watched as he intently looked at the menu trying to decide what he wanted to eat, slowly and gently biting his bottom lip you couldn't help but stare at him, he was gorgeous. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of his voice "I think I'm ready." You strolled over notepad and pen ready he told you his order along with a glass of water. You smiled once more and nodded "Of course, I'll be right back." You walked over to the window and told the cook to make pancakes with eggs and bacon on the side. You took him his coffee and some cream and sugar just in case he wanted it which he didn't use it. Soon his food was done, and you decided to make a cute smiley face with strawberries and blueberries on top of the pancakes and take it over to him. "Enjoy, if you need anything I'll be right over there." He couldn't keep his eyes off of you but still nodded so you knew he understood, you walked over to the bar and sat down, and your manager came over and handed you the keys to the diner "When the last customer leaves lock up for me." You nodded and patiently waited for the man to eat his food you kept looking over periodically not because you were impatient, but because you felt his eyes on you, and you couldn't shake it. You went over to check on him one last time and noticed he only ate half of his food "Do you need a to-go box for the rest of your food?" He nodded and took a sip from his coffee "I'm sorry for staring, you are just really gorgeous." You felt your cheeks heat up, and you couldn't help but smile "I'm sorry was that creepy?" You shook your head "No, it was very sweet." You smiled once more before turning around to get him a box and his receipt. Just then the bell above the door rang you looked behind you and saw a muscly blonde guy along with another muscly dark-haired man "I'm sorry but we're closed." The dark-haired one came up to you holding his hand out “Hi, I’m Sam, we’re just here to get our friend we’ve been looking for him for a while now.” You looked at Sam and it hit you “Wait a minute, are you?” You looked between Sam and the blonde one “Are you the Avengers?” They nodded “It is amazing what you guys do, so you must be Steve Rogers?” His smile was so perfect you could literally see it sparkle “Yes and this is Bucky, I'm sure he was too shy to tell you, his name." You made eye contact with Bucky; it was an odd name, but you liked it for some reason your gaze went back to Steve "Do you guys want some food to go, on the house?" Bucky raised an eyebrow "Didn't the cook leave already?" You nodded and shrugged "I know how to cook." They all shared a look "Actually, we have food at home, maybe next time." You handed Bucky his to-go box and receipt. "Have a good night, guys." They all waved, and you locked the door behind them.

The next couple of nights, Bucky came in at the same time and ordered the same thing each night, to the point where you would have it ready for him when he came in the next night. Tonight, he came in with Sam and Steve and you didn't want to embarrass him, so you pretended not to know his order. "What can I get you guys?" Bucky furrowed his eyebrows but then kind of got upset, did you forget about him already? Did you not like him anymore? Which was far from the truth, you were head over heels for him, but you didn't know if he felt the same way, so you ignored all of your feelings and stuck to doing your job. After you collected their orders, you went over to the window to place them. Bucky watched your every move and once it looked like you weren't busy, he got up from the booth and walked over to you. "Y/N what was that about?" You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow "What are you talking about?" He tilted his head at you "Not knowing my order" Your shoulders slumped, and you stood up straight "I didn't know if me knowing your order would embarrass you in front of them and that's the last thing I want to do." Bucky smiled slightly trying not to seem so happy "I like it, don't worry about embarrassing me I do that enough on my own." He winked at you and returned to the table. You brought over their order and went back to where you were sitting waiting until they were done since they were your only customers, when they were done you took the check over and did something really bold in your opinion, you wrote your phone number down on it with a winky face. You sat with your back to them so they wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face if you got rejected. All of a sudden you hear the guys 'oohing' like teenagers, and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed, but soon you feel a hand on your lower back, you look over and it's Bucky "I'm not really a phone guy, but for you I will try." He patted your back and went on his way. For the past couple of days Bucky has been texting you nonstop, asking how your day was going, if you were hungry, and making sure no one was messing with you. You stopped texting him for a couple hours because you got busy at the diner, just as you were about to text him back and apologize, he walks in the diner looking for you a huge smile spreads across his face when he sees you “I’m sorry to just pop in, I got a little worried when you didn’t text back.” You smiled and poured him a cup of coffee “It’s okay, it got a little crazy in here and I couldn’t text back, but my shift is almost over you wanna do something?” He nodded taking another sip from his coffee “What did you have in mind?” You shrugged and thought for a minute “How about you come back to the compound with me and we can watch movies and talk” You scrunched up your face “Movies and talking don’t really mix” He chuckled slightly and leaned his cheek on his hand “What I meant was, we talk and get to know each other while there’s a movie playing in the background that we are not paying attention to.” You smiled and nodded “Sounds like a plan.”

You finish up your shift and of course, Bucky is there waiting for you. It made you feel safe, and you liked it. You got in your car and Bucky got in his, he was driving in front of you toward the compound since you didn't know where it was. Finally, you two got there, got some snacks, and sat on the couch, you turned toward him "So... tell me about yourself." You start to list things that happened in your life knowing it doesn't even come close to what he had to deal with, the two of you sat there talking and laughing for hours. "Oh, is this your new girlfriend, Bucky?" Her voice laced with sarcasm and hatred even though she doesn't know you. "What is this one, number 75? Don't get too comfortable you won't last long." By now your fists are balled and your teeth are clenched, how dare she say that shit to you "Enough, Sharon." Bucky gritted through his teeth; you picked up your bag and put it over your shoulder. "This was fun, but I think I should go." And just like that you turned and walked out the door and got into your car, you don't remember your drive home but all you know is you got home, and Bucky has been calling and texting non-stop asking if you're okay, instead of responding you just turn your phone off and go to sleep.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @kandis-mom

Divided Credit: @firefly-graphics

AN: I hope you guys like it, at first there wasn't going to be a part 2 but I tend to ramble so now there's gonna be a part two

Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 2

[fear-is-truth]

How would Patrick react to you getting pregnant?

getting knocked up by patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; unplanned pregnancy (duh), intrusive thoughts, suggestive, not proofread at all

a/n: i finished writing this then forgot about its existence lol. anyways, safe sex is important !!

if you’re already married:

patrick’s reaction to the pregnancy would be shaped by his obsession with image. being 27 and married, he’d likely face pressure from his colleagues. he’s the quintessential wall street yuppie: the suit, the power, the status. kids? they’re just another box to check for the perfect american dream.

he’d flip from denial to forced enthusiasm, playing the role of the expectant father. he’d talk about starting a college fund, buying a bigger apartment, even hiring the best nanny money can buy. it wouldn’t be about the baby itself, though—it’s about appearances. patrick would treat the pregnancy like he treats his designer wardrobe: another accessory to show off.

in private, he’d still be unraveling. he’d resent the disruption to his routine, the messiness a baby would bring. but he’d also feel trapped. divorce or walking away isn’t an option—how would that look? his friends are your friends, after all. patrick would pour his insecurities into overcompensation, obsessively showering you with gifts and planning every detail of your life.

but behind closed doors, he would remain emotionally unavailable most of the time. he’d throw himself into his work, his gym routine, anything to avoid facing the reality of impending fatherhood.

he’d have a mental meltdown over your body changing—obsessing over how “the weight is distributed” while simultaneously marveling (inappropriately) at how your chest looks fuller. (“…better than any breast implants”), the way your skin glows, but also how your clothes fit differently. he doesn’t even try to hide his vanity. “you’re still beautiful, obviously,” he adds quickly, “but maybe we should talk to a trainer after the baby is born. just to make sure you bounce back quickly.”

he’d absolutely flip between moments of pathetic awkwardness and his usual cold arrogance. for example, he’d randomly caress your growing belly, but then suddenly blurt out “your… tits looks great, but do stretch marks happen to everyone?”

he’s constantly offering unsolicited opinions about your diet and fitness routine. he’s the husband who insists you on buying expensive organic groceries and then criticises you for craving something as mundane as ice cream. but when you do cry about it (because hormones), he panics and makes the whole situation awkward.

if you dare deny him sex because of pregnancy hormones, patrick would sulk like a child. but then quickly bounce back to showering you with gifts to stay on your good side.

patrick’s jealousy of your attention is borderline absurd. he starts competing with the baby before it’s even born, constantly reminding you of his accomplishments.

maternal clothes for you are only the best—chanel, hermès, and gucci maternity collections. he refuses to let you look frumpy. if you wear anything “off-brand,” he’ll throw passive-aggressive comments like “are you trying to look like a suburban soccer mom?”. also, he’d browse catalogs and stores for gucci, armani and burberry baby clothes.

the nursery is black & white and minimalist—think pristine white walls, sleek italian furniture, and splashes of gray for “warmth.” no toys that clash with the aesthetic. he insists on vitra rocking chairs, fendi baby blankets, and a custom crib.

patrick spends hours making sure the initials won’t spell something embarrassing and that the full name looks good on a business card.

he’d pick out names that scream “old money”. for boys: theodore, alexander, nathaniel. for girls: charlotte, victoria, isabelle, madeleine, genevieve, anastasia.

his obsession with control would bleed into the smallest details. he’d blast his favorite music at your presence—huey lewis & the news, whitney houston, or talking heads—arguing it’s “good for the baby’s development,” while monologuing about how these artists represent true genius.

he’d talk to your stomach, but awkwardly, fumbling over words in his usual detached, overly-rehearsed way: “your dad’s a very successful man, you know… i hope you inherit my bone structure.”

if it’s an unplanned pregnancy:

if you’re not married, holy shit… the stakes are different, but patrick’s reaction is just as selfish. first of all, the pregnancy is absolutely. his. fucking. fault. patrick hates wearing condoms (would sometimes straight up lie about wearing one) and he always tells you that nothing “bad” will happen—until it does.

his immediate response would be to downplay the situation. “are you sure?” he’d ask flatly, trying to buy time. his inner monologue would be a chaotic swirl of paranoia and blame—his mind races with possibilities: is this some gold-digging ploy? a mistake? could it even be his? and he even has the audacity to ask “are you sure it’s mine?”

the next stage would be denial. patrick doesn’t deal well with reality when it doesn’t serve him. he’d try to act as though nothing has changed, refusing to acknowledge the pregnancy in conversation. he might even subtly suggest that “it’s early days, we don’t have to make any decisions yet,” thinly veiling his hope that you’ll take care of it and spare him the inconvenience. but when it becomes clear that you’re keeping the baby, his panic would fucking escalate.

he might lash out, picking fights over nothing or disappearing for hours at a time to “work late” (read: spiral into his usual vices—drugs, violence, torturing sex workers).

he’d start compensating in weird ways. he’d lavish you with gifts—jewelry, designer clothes, a bigger apartment—anything to make you think he’s excited, supportive even. they’re attempts to placate you, to make the problem go away without addressing it.

in private, patrick would unravel. his inner monologue would become a torrent of rage, fear, and morbid fantasies. he’d think about running away, faking his own death, or worse—doing something drastic to ensure the pregnancy never reaches full term.

the idea of fatherhood would gnaw at him. as a child of divorce, patrick is deeply insecure, and the thought of raising a child dredges up unresolved feelings about his own father. the self-loathing buried under his narcissism rearing its head. he’d compare himself to his colleagues and realise that many of them already have kids—or at least talk about starting families. peer pressure.

this sense of competition would push him to overcompensate. he’d brag about how “ready” he is, throwing money at every conceivable solution: top-tier obstetricians, prenatal yoga classes, nursery designers. he’d try to mold himself into the perfect father-to-be, but only because he wants to win.

but patrick being patrick, his selfishness bleeds through. he bitches about your mood swings—“it’s like living with a completely different person”—but also refuses to acknowledge his role in them.

he spends hours staring at himself in the mirror, wondering if fatherhood will make him less attractive. he starts paying extra attention to his skincare routine, convinced that stress is causing him to wrinkle.

[sweetimpurity]

c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights. 

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to. 

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register! 

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again. 

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes. 

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles. 

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze. 

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight.  Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up. 

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two. 

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp. 

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies. 

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts. 

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.  

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone. 

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles. 

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up. 

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy. 

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough. 

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love. 

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick. 

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can. 

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him. 

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting. 

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him. 

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced. 

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What they like in other people

Marko

- creativity

- Absolutely HATES the idea of blending in

- Hence why his jacket is so different from his brother’s jackets

- He’s drawn to creative people who outwardly express their creativity with their appearance

- This is why he loves the board walk!! There are TONS of people who dress originally and In an unapologetic way

- I think one of his biggest struggles with being a vampire is that he can’t be outside during the day, and it’s not because he misses the sun or the warmth, it’s because thats the time of day people are usually outside creating wall murals, doing chalk art, painting landscapes.

- He misses interacting with those artists

- So, if he is at the board walk and just so happens to see someone set up with an easel, painting the lights of carnival rides, you BET that boy is going to introduce himself

- And find out everything there is to know about you

- And try to convince you to stay in Santa Carla forever with him

Paul

- Music taste

- Paul is a music snob

- He will totally judge a person based off the music they listen to, and will, on many occasions, choose his victims based off their poor music taste

- His favorite place on the Boardwalk is the record store

- It’s run by this older lady who shares Paul’s love for music

- He goes in at least once a week to say hi, and discuss music with her

- I feel like her name is Gretchen, but Paul insists on calling her Gretch

- He usually sits behind the cash register and talks to her in between customers

- And if it’s one of those nights where Paul can’t sit still, Gretchen makes him unload boxes in the back room and set up any new displays

- She LOVES to play matchmaker with Paul

- Because she is the only record store around, she knows the music taste of most people who live in Santa Carla

- So she try’s to find Paul a date, by matching up his music taste with a regular’s

- This usually doesn’t work out, but she LOVES to try

- *whispers* “look at her Paul! Isn’t she lovely?? And she listens to Motley Crüe!”

- He went on one date that Gretchen set him up on, and it didn’t end too well….so he swore he would never do it again.

- Let’s just say that the girl smelled a little TOO good and he couldn’t stop himself from having a taste

- He cares too much about Gretchen’s companionship to ruin it with him loosing control and eating all her customers

Dwayne

- kindness

- The boys don’t get shown a lot of kindness because…you know…they kill people and stuff

- But that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings!!

- Dwayne might be the silent, stern type, BUT if anyone shows him the tiniest bit of kindness this man will become your devoted follower

- He may be a vampire, but he remembers what it was like to be human, and how easy it is to be selfish and just plain mean

- He also remembers that kindness is a choice

- And the kindest people tend to be the strongest

- Being kind to him is one thing, he might keep an eye out for you on the boardwalk in case you find yourself in trouble, or change your tire if you get a flat.

- But

- If your kind to Laddie?

- Maybe he got lost and you helped him find his way back to the boys? Or bought him a ice cream? Or maybe even helped him reach an arcade game he so desperately wanted to play?

- Oh boy.

- You just found your self a guardian watch dog angel. Trust me when I saw NO ONE will lay a hand on you or look at you the wrong way EVER and live to tell the tale

- And if you just so happen to be his type?

- Well, I hope you like Santa Carla because you won’t be leaving

David

- courage

- He admires someone who can stand there ground

- Who can get in the face of a surfer nazi and tell them where they can stick it

- Who won’t put up with Paul and Marko teasing them, and will dish it right back to them!

- Who won’t be intimidated and has no problem telling him and the boys “no” with a smile on their face

- Someone who doesn’t give a flying you-know-what about what anyone has to say to them about hanging around him and his boys

- Their confident in their decisions, even the bad ones

- When offered a drink from that sparkly bottle they give him a wink, and take a huge swig!

- And PROMPTLY spit it out all over their prized poster, because like HELL will you be tricked into doing anything you don’t want to do