#Sugary sweet baby cakes

[judesmoonbeauty]

*GASPS*

AGDJFKLGKGKFLAJSHFJJFK!!!

My cutie cuite cuppy cuppy cupcake sweetie pie 💕

[sweettoothdolly]

— Missjcake ❀˖°

[2tarbell]

one order for a vanilla birthday cake pleaseee!

kook!reader texting rafe “what position have you got her in?” when he takes too long to respond to a text

happy birthday, angel 💓

BSF!RAFE + KOOK!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

manicured pink nails tapped impatiently on the restaurant table. eyes glued to the bedazzled device with a glittery pout adorning her lips. this was so unfair. rafe would have a fucking conniption if she even thought about not texting him back. and now it’s been… seven fucking minutes? yeah, right.

the last time she left him on delivered for two minutes he was blowing her phone up and all grumbly the rest of the week, pounding her into oblivion for playing games. dont get her wrong; she loved it. being fucked within an inch of her life was her favorite pastime.

but now? rafe cameron was like the worst hypocrite known to man.

‘what position u got her in?’

‘Be so fr’

it brought a smile to her pretty face seeing his sassy reply. with a satisfied huff, she set her phone face down on the table. why not make him sweat? picking up her long island iced tea with a devious grin, she was right back into the conversation with her girls.

the table was alight with giggles and gossip — the pack of kook girls enjoying lunch together after before hitting the beach.

it was supposed to be an easy day, a break from all the confusion and feelings still swirling around princess and her tall, handsome “best friend”. and she desperately needed that. needed some semblance of normalcy before shit took off and everything on the island changed when the two most hated and loved rich kids finally get together.

so she didn’t even flinch when her phone vibrated once, twice, thrice. she only excused herself from the conversation with a smile when her phone buzzed in a rhythmic pattern — a phone call. bubbles of giddy excitement filling her tummy as ‘rafey’ showed on the screen with a point five angled photo of him looking pissed.

“‘kay— be right back, girls!” she sang, already standing with her phone in hand.

“he finally called you, huh?” melodie, a beautiful brunette in a lilac bikini top teased. the table giggled, all looking at princess and feeling a rush of girlish excitement.

“get your man, baby!” another girl, aliyah, borderline squealed.

princess flushed, feeling her body heat up at the prospect of rafe being ‘her man’. god, imagine! she waved them off embarrassedly, teetering away on her platform flip flops, pleasantly tipsy as she leans against the outside wall of the restaurant.

“hellooooo?”

her voice was sugary sweet into the phone, looking down at her nails and checking the polish for any chips. the warm timbre of rafe cameron’s voice rumbled through the speaker, directly pressed into her ear. she found herself wishing to feel his lips moving around the words and against the shell of her ear.

“you’re somethin’ else, dollface.” he mumbled and she could hear the smirk on his lips.

“aw, you didn’t say ‘hi’, rafe…” she pouted, biting back a laugh at the sound of his heavy sigh on the other end.

“hi. you’re somethin’ else.”

“hiii. why’s that?”

his laugh came through the speaker, all deep and settling into her bones like it always does. she hears the tick, tick of his blinker, meaning he’s driving somewhere in that big truck of his.

princess looks around at the marina, taking the sight of obx residents enjoying the still warm, early fall weather. hot enough to take a dip without the water being freezing yet. rafe continued on as she flitted her gaze around the area.

he ignored her question, instead asking his own.

“checked your location. you tipsy right now?”

a giggle escaped her glossy lips, head lolling slightly, “mmm, maybe… why?”

“go back in and pay. sent you one fifty.”

she froze, pulling the phone from her ear and seeing an apple pay notification. he always did this. not like she could just use her dad’s card or anything.

“rafe cameron—“

he cut her off, hanging up after and not letting her protest, “hey— pay and then come back out. know i’ll let ‘chu make it up to me, a’ight?”

it was like a reverse walk of shame — explaining to her friends why she was leaving early and why she was covering the whole tab. walking back out with her purse on her arm as the familiar rumble of his truck approached, petulant in the way her arms were crossed. he pulled up right before her, rolling down the passenger window and smiling in that frustratingly charming way. dickhead.

she hung up with a guffaw, not believing he actually showed up when she was hanging with her friends. the possessive gesture makes her heart jump then fall. very boyfriend of him.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, that’s how you talk to someone who just paid for your lunch? get in.”

she scoffed, amused at his gall. even more so at the fact she listened — shoes clacking against the pavement. rafe leaned over the console, opening the door for her. he looks good and smells better. that cologne she bought him for his birthday last year that he seems to be wearing a lot recently. an intoxicating smell that makes her feel drunker.

a plaid button up, rolled up to the elbow and exposing strong, veiny arms causes her mind to wander as he leans closer to her.

“hey, gorgeous,” that low drawl sends goosebumps over her body, paired with a half smile that’s so pretty.

comfortable in the seat she’s become so familiar with, he closes the gap between them. giving her a kiss so casual and natural, it makes her fluffy lashes flutter rapidly. sticky gloss transfered on his mouth that he doesn’t even wipe away.

she’s even more confused when flowers are thrusted into her arms. princess blinks at him like a fish — feeling a warmth settle in her chest at the sight of her favorite blooms wrapped haphazardly in brown paper.

“they, uh— they were in this ugly fuckin’ plastic. know you hate that so… yeah,” rafe shrugs it off as he pulls out of the parking lot.

princess decides this is technically a kidnapping. especially because she’s never been more confused and lost in her life.

he leans back in the seat, driving with one hand lazily, confidently. a glimpse of blue eyes at her and she’s smiling wildly, bringing the flowers to her nose to smell them. princess leans over and kisses his cheek, feeling drunker on the moment and smell of his skin.

“i— thank you, rafey…”

rafe takes notice of how small her voice is, how vulnerable. he nods, switching hands to rest one on her leg. large, warm palm soothing her and pulling her out of her mind before she can even begin to cause herself to spiral.

he clears his throat, squeezing the plush, smooth skin of her thigh, “cowgirl.”

her furrowed brow is adorable. looking up from the bouquet in her lap and over at him in question. there’s a drunken slowness to her, a haze. he hums and pushes his hand higher — marking a mental note of how easily her legs spread to make room for him.

“that’s what position imma have you in.”

[bubuslutty]

fluff, fluffy, sweet sugary fluff!!!

thinking abt how 141 will accompany their captain and his wife on a family outing with their little girl who's a year old.

they go to a shopping mall, that has a trampoline park inside, and end up getting themselves tickets for the toddler session in the morning.

it's sort of funny, four massive military dudes sitting down and changing their socks into trampoline appropriate socks and wearing their little wristbands with a tiny bundle of joy already excited to go join the party inside.

John's wife doesn't feel like jumping so she picks a table and sits, the men leaving their shoes and things with her. Before going in, John hands his little one to Simon to hold while he goes and gets his missus a drink and whatever slice of cake she wants to have in the meantime. When she's all set, he kisses her and goes back to his men.

They get checked in by an employee who asks them to show their wristbands and socks and says hello when he sees John's little one, already giggling and clapping, kicking her legs.

It's pretty noisy, the music they're playing on the speakers is loud, not obnoxiously so, and there's a parent with every single toddler in sight. It's adorable, how many little ones try to jump and bounce and end up falling.

John decides to put his darling down and see where her tiny legs take her, she immediately starts to waddle, holding onto the edges of some higher, flat, platforms, trying to bounce but when she can't seem to do it she looks for her daddy and calls, "Dada !"

Gaz laughs, "She wants your help, go on."

And John bends down and holds her little hands in his, using his knees to make the trampoline go up and down, not too much, she's too tiny and may fly away if he does it too hard.

That's how the rest of the 1h session goes, they follow her like hawks, actively circling her in such a strategic manner that no rogue adult accidentally jumps on her. They take their job very seriously, and it looks like even other parents have noticed as well. Some mums smile at them, while others when they accidentally bump into them when backing away say, "I'm so so-- Wow, you're huge!"

The trampoline park even has two basketball areas, which are empty, and so the boys take advantage of the fact and goes to throw in some hoops, and it takes nothing for everyone to get competitive. Which they're busy competing against each other, John takes his baby back to where mum is and gives her a drink to hydrate her a little bit, she was bouncing and bouncing and running a mock after all.

Meanwhile, the boys move to a place called airbags. It's a high platform with stairs on the side, right below it there's trampolines and a massive airbag where you land. It's empty, so it's safe for them to go with no fear of accidentally stepping or jumping on a little one.

There's three trampolines lined one next to the other, so they each take one, jumping at the same time. Johnny somehow manages to do a backflip and lands on his belly, Kyle a front flip and Simon just lands flat on his back. They laugh and go up the stairs again, this time Johnny looks at Simon and glances at Kyle, whatever silent communication happened between them went right over Gaz's head. So they both grab him and throw him into the airbags and he lands with a scream, "Oh, fuck off!"

Johnny laughs his ass off until he has to escape Simon's arms wrapped around his waist, trying to throw him over, "Oi, no !"

Johnny doesn't want to full on wrestle his friend up in a trampoline park full of babies so he allows the giant of a man to lift him, spin him and chuck him in the airbag, sinking down down until he has to make his way out on all fours.

John comes back with his baby and they keep playing with her until she gets tired, and eventually their 1h session ends and they have to make their way out of the trampoline park. John's missus is laughing at them, because they're sweaty and looked like they had way more fun than their baby. They all plop down on the chairs to drink water and dry themselves with some tissues, change their socks and wear their shoes back on.

John's little one is tucked in her pram, little belly rising up and down as she sleeps with her little hands balled up into fists. John gives her a little kiss on the head and kisses his wife right after, thanking her for giving him this, for giving him everything he ever wanted. It's sappy but true.

When they're ready to leave, John pushes the pram out of the park, his wife locking one arm with his and the other with Kyle as he talks to her about some series they both like.

Simon walks on the other side, his shoulders sometimes brushing against his Captain's when he peers down and check if the baby is still asleep, and it makes John warm everytime.

[pixelscutz]

random jjk headcannons ₊˚✩

nanami - huge fan of doja cat

i’m not even sure why, but for some reason, the lyrics of her songs always turn him on. i mean come on? he can definitely relate to all of her lyrics,, wait actually no that sounds wrong. I hope yk what i mean. 

itadori - loves being babied 

although he wants to be a tough and protective guy in public, trust me, when you two are alone, he loves to lay in between your thighs and hear you sing sweet words to him. now that is the closest thing he has towards heaven. 

megumi - secretly has a sweet tooth

“hell no, i’m not eating that sugary shit, do you think i’m trying to speedrun diabetes?” 

and thennn you’ll find him secretly eating the leftover cake on his bed at 3am.

nobera- used to believe in ghost stories 

tbh, she still believes in some of the ghost stories, i mean when she first found out about jeff the killer and momo she fell down a rabbit hole of worries and fears on what she would do if they randomly appeared one day. although she now knows they don’t exist, she can’t help but always take extra precautions

sukuna - loves being praised like he’s a toddler 

I mean, we already think this guy’s ego is pretty big, but come on? “oh sukuna, you cleaned the kitchen? thank you love, you did such a good job!” he would be rolling his eyes, but secretly he’s jumping and screaming with joy

gojo - loves ariana grande & sabrina carpeter

gojo def understands how to treat a women,, i mean have you seen ari’s and sabrina’s lyrics? they teach him a lot about how to treat a woman, - heck he even studies them.

itadori + nobera - love to troll kids on roblox 

i mean, although they do save people from monsters and supernaturals everyday,, beefing with a couple of kids online doesn’t do any harm..

megumi - huge fnaf kid 

i know i can not be the only one who believes in this, i mean, the entire lore fanctinates him. if you ask him what fnaf is about, he will give you a deep breakdown from start to finish 

megumi + gojo - thinks of gojo as a father figure but will never admit it

once megumi called gojo dad,, yeah and that’s when gojo found out what megumi thinks of him and will always tease him abt it 

sukuna - has a extensive skincare and hair routine

i mean come on? have you ever wondered how his skin is always gleaming, and his hair is so silky? it’s obious this man loves to take care of himself but he will NEVER admit it 

megumi + itadori - they secretly watch romance animes together 

this is the definition of bromance, and they always love gushing over who’s their favorite ship, the annoying characters.. etc etc. so far,, fruit basket is their favorite !

part two soon ? :> 

[holybibly]

My sweet bunnies, I am here to spoil you.

Unholy thoughts of the day: A feline pride of 5 luxurious predators is moving into the house next door, and perhaps a little sugary lamb is just what they crave for dinner.

You were never afraid of feline hybrids, despite their aggressive and overbearing behaviour. Or so you thought. When a pride moved into the house next door as a good neighbour, you decided to welcome them as warmly as you can. You even baked a cherry cake for their dinner, but who knew they'd want to eat a different kind of "cherry." And that's how your innocent, sweet "welcome" turns into a predatory hunt, where you are the prey and they are the hunters. And when they catch you, you will be their dessert.

You shouldn't be afraid of them, you proud little lamb; you're not afraid of anything, but the way they circle around you, towering over you and looking at you as if they'd never seen anything more delicious, fills you with pure terror.

"I-I think I should go... I just wanted to say hello." You bleat softly as a beautiful red-haired cat leans in so close you can feel his hot, wet breath on your neck.

"You look delicious." His tongue flicks out just long enough to lick your skin, and you squeal, stepping back and bumping into another guy—way above the one who just licked you.

"But we haven't met yet, have we? It's not polite to leave so soon after we've opened our doors to you, little lamb." The tall cat purrs softly and squeezes your shoulders with his big hands. His deep, husky voice sends a noticeable chill through your skin.

"Now, now, be gentle, Mingi; the baby is obviously used to being treated like a princess, am I right? Look at that beautiful long hair; I just want to run my fingers through it and squeeze it in my fist." Another guy leaned in until his handsome face was level with yours. "You have a beautiful mouth too; has anyone told you that, Princess?" He ran his thumb over your lower lip, purring sweetly as he felt it tremble.

"I... I was never told that..." You barely whispered.

"What a shame, but we'll fix that. I'm Wooyoung, by the way." But before you can answer, two other guys push him away and appear in your field of vision.

"Don't be afraid, honey, we won't bite." The taller one, with luxurious sensual lips, whispers softly. "You'll like it with us."

"Oh, we'll take good care of you, darling. How did you know we like cherry?" The blonde says, his eyes sliding down your body.

"I didn't; it's... it's my favourite flavour." You stutter as you feel Mingi press his hips against your ass, his hands sliding down your shoulders until they find their place just below your breasts. His touch is hot and possessive, as if you already belong to him.

You gasp loudly as you feel a thick, soft tail wrap around your thigh as you look from one boy to the other. Your eyes widening in fear as you see the predatory grin on the red-haired boy's face. He silently repeats "delicious,"  lewdly running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and shiny.

You almost want to beg them to let you go when the blonde in front of you catches your attention.

"How fortunate that it's our favourite too. Welcome home, dear. I'm Hongjoong, and this is my pride: Mingi, San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa, and we are so happy to meet you."

[cremedolle]

currently updating: prtygrl scent reviews 🍰🎂🧁

perfume oils

1. strawberry cake

my absolute favorite perfume oil of hers! it has a strong, sweet strawberry cake smell and i love using it with every single strawberry lotion, body oil, and perfume of mine! i loved it so much that i had to purchase it twice. i definitely need this scent in a body nectar + body milk version as well.

2. cozy sugar

i actually bought this one for my mom, but it has a soft and sweet sugary scent! it goes perfectly with any vanilla or cashmere perfumes / lotions!

3. cake pop

very soft & subtle!! it smells like a sweet vanilla cake + icing. i actually paired it with the pink sugar oil and they smelled so good together. i'll definitely be doing that more often

4. pink sugar

totally reminds me of the aqoulina pink sugar mist! if anything it smells a little better and it's not as powdery which can be a little overwhelming at times

5. sugar cookie

i don't like this at all... i didn't like the way it smelled in the bottle so i put some on my arm and it was okay, but then it just grossed me out?! i tried pairing it with my vanilla cashmere lotion + sweet tooth perfume combo and i still disliked it. i ended up tossing it, but so far this is the only prtygrl item that i disliked!

6. flower fields

i also disliked this when i first smelled it. it smells kinda weird in the bottle? i put some on my arm and i ended up liking it though! it's like a fresh flowery scent and i think i might use this with my daisy dream by marc jacobs perfume.

7. warm cream

a creamy vanilla scent that goes good with anything vanilla scented and more! i personally love layering vanilla scents with something strawberry or fresh like.. it smells so good to me! if you want to play it safe for your first purchase, i definitely recommend!

body nectars

1. strawberry vanilla macaron

my faaave body nectar from prtygrl! it has a heavenly sweet strawberry scent and when i put it on my body i was literally glowing. it's also strong too and very long lasting. pair it with the strawberry dream eos lotion + daisy love by marc jacobs you'll smell edible. i'm literally obsessed with this scent and i desperately want this in a shimmery version / a shimmery body milk as well! if you're a sweet strawberry lover then you will love this 100%!

2. brown sugar baby

omg how do i describe this.. it smells like a brown sugar syrup to me? something thats in a sweet yummy drink? that isn't bad at all because it smells delicious and edible! i love pairing this with vanilla scented perfumes and also the cinnamon buns body milk! this is easily my second favorite body nectar.

3. pink sugar

smells pretty much the same as aqoulina pink sugar mist. this smells a bit more powdery than the perfume oil which i don't mind since it's soo nice. it's also very light and not a very strong scent which i find nice to layer with!

4. strawberry milkshake

so delish and truly smells like a real strawberry! i can also smell slight milky notes too and i jus love it. it's also subtle and perfect for layering as well so i enjoy using this with my strawberry cake perfume oil + other strawberry fragrances that i own!

5: strawberry shortie

this definitely smells like strawberry shortcake / a strawberry pastry! it has a warm cake scent + the perfect amount of sweetness thats not too overwhelming or overly sweet. this is perfect for the people that want to smell like a strawberry pastry, but one that may not be overwhelmingly sweet.

6: marshmallow fluff (sparkly)

i actually don't smell much marshmallow? honestly, it smells more like candy + a little vanilla. also, i wish i saw more glitter on me! the nectars are packed with glitter but i don't really see it, luckily everyone else does though! i have the sweet tooth perfume by sabrina carpenter which also has marshmallow notes, so i'm definitely gonna try to use both together and see how i feel about it later!

7: glazed donut (sparkly)

totally reminds me of a sweet maple bar with a hint of brown sugar! i'm so in love with this.. if you're looking to literally smell like a donut this is perfect for you! i also suggest using this with eos vanilla cashmere lotion or prtygrl brown sugar baby body milk.

body milks

1. brown sugar baby

smells exactly like the body nectar. these have a thick consistency and once rubbed it, it's just as shiny as the body nectars! i love using this on top of my vanilla cashmere eos lotion + vanilla scented perfumes / cake pop & warm cream perfume oil.

2. cinnamon buns

would you believe me if i said it smells like a freshly made cinnamon roll? my first impression of it is a strong cinnamon scent, but after putting it on it a lot like sweet cinnamon rolls! once again, perfect for using on top of vanilla cashmere eos lotion + warm cream perfume oil.

[icarusredwings]

What things smell like according to Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine. A series of smell based headcanons. Do with these whatever you want :)

People:

Ororo: burnt marshmellows, rain, chunky chocolate chip cookies, protien shakes, spansih rice, chillies, and cocoa butter. She always smells great.

Scott: cucumber shampoo, the remaints of a bonfire the next day, fresh dry cleaning, axe shower gel, lavender sheets

Jean: caramel latte, lavender sheets, vanilla spiced chai, books, mint ice cream, fruit smoothies, stinky hair product, lemon poppy seed muffins, sassafras

Hank: Books, sanatizer, various chemicals, a very specifc fur dander, kinda musky but in a 'im covered in fur and sweaty' kind of way.

Rouge: "Dolly Parton", brick and concrete dust, cherry blossoms body spray, freshly engraved wood, strawberries and milk conditioner, spicy gaucamole and freshly sizzled sausages.

Gambit: tv static, a fresh deck of cards at the casino, spicy jumbo, gin, lime jello, hair gel, "suprisingly good actually"

Kurt: brimstone, smoke from franckinsense, myrrh, a less smelling dander then hank, Holy chrism oil (olive oil and Balsam made by catholic priests), metal, and blue raspberry. Fur/ beard pomade sometimes for special ocassions.

Morph: even when changed he can smell is sandlewood shampoo, he smells like how "Jack Outta smell", latex, pine and cedar, clear nail polish, "that ugly quilt that your grandma kept on the back of her couch that was the warmest, softest thing you've ever slept with."

Charles: Old man fart, metal, chalk, shoe polish, nutmeg, wool, "a trusting hug", books, mahogany, expensive champagne.

Laura: "teen spirit", a shitty cheap "girl power" deodorant that doesn't do well hiding the sweat, apples and peaches, kinda woodsy.

Wade: Cancer, gun smoke, citrus dish soap, blood, oranges, taco sauce, infected skin once in awhile, red dye 40, slight over cooked and crispy apple pie, sugary cereal

Puppins: wet dog, dog dander, oatmeal senstive skin puppy shampoo, chicken, "the dirtest trash she can find to roll in on her walk"

Althea: Old lady, way too strong perfumes, butter biscuits, tea, peppermint candies, more cocaine, "baby powder", lanvender linens, cotton and daisy's Landry detergent.

Feelings/emotions:

Big/serious lies: smell like Gasoline and salty sand near the sea.

Small fibs/playful/ teasing lies: smell like Anise

Lies with decent intentions/are bent truths: smell like honey

Those two are easily mixed up.

Innocent (the person truly believes it. Ex. A child saying dinos are real) truth: smells like thick vanilla creamer.

Filling, whole truths (the person knows for a fact its a truth) smells: like fresh baked rolls/buns

Cancer smells vary like: urine, nail polish remover, some people have a pungent semi sweet smell like rotting fruit, and tar is another smell, depending on which part of the body. If already in late stages, one can smell like cadavers. Even spicy almost.

Pregnant people vary in scent but he can smell the rise of different hormones: Some hormones sweeter then other. If you asked him he would say cinnamon or dying roses. If you're later in your term the scents are more soft like lotion or custard. Lemon ussually.

Serotonin; cheese, lemon cakes, fruity, a bit light, and flakey like a pastry. Marshmellow fluff.

Dopamine; sweet fresh coffee, doritos(?), cocaine. Don't ask why he knows what cocaine smells like. He was alive during coke cocaine.

Endorphins; Sweaty Sex, mint, dark chocolate, violets, chemicals, varies by persons pheromones

Oxytocin; "playful cherries", freshly washed cotton pillows, the warmth of a bath, skin on skin hugs, strawberries

Joy/relaxation/relief: Jasmine, vanilla sugar cookies, fresh soup.

Anger/disapproval/hurt: smoke, the back end of a cigarette, spicy curry, iron, blood, "spoiled raw chicken left out too long"

Fear/excitment/anxiousness: Adrenaline smells like oil, paint, salty pretzels almost.

Tears: Oceans, lillies, fresh water lakes

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— or, lando wants to make your birthday special from the start

+ aka. some short and sweet fluff about lando celebrating your birthday with you . considering this a little gift to the absolutely wonderful @wintfleur who turned twenty today !!!! happiest of birthdays bestie ,, i love you so much !!!

you're unsure of the time as your eyes slowly blink open, heavy with a good night of sleep. birthdays, you believe, are the perfect excuse to wake up whenever you feel like it, no alarms necessary.

just as you push yourself up onto your elbows, a loud yawn escaping your lips, the bedroom door moves ajar to reveal a smiling lando, hair still messy and tousled like it normally is in the mornings.

"ah, so you're finally awake," he teases, wasting no time in making his way over to your side of the bed. "i've been popping in and out every ten minutes for like, the past hour."

lando stoops down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulls back with a fond smile. as he takes in your barely awake form, you swear you can see the amount of love radiating from his features; it's damn near golden, and you bask in his glow. 

"happy birthday baby."

"thank you," you smile, puckering your lips up for one more kiss. lando would have to be heartless to deny the birthday girl, after all, and so he grants your wishes instantly. 

"as much as i'd love to stand here 'nd keep kissing you, i have something i need to do. someone's special day, apparently."

lando’s expression is mischievous, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he slowly backs towards the door. 

over the course of your relationship with lando, you’ve learnt one very crucial lesson: never question him. especially not in moments like these, when he clearly has a trick or two hidden up his sleeve. and so you allow him to slink away, your curiosity piqued as to what he could have planned for you.

gentle clattering and a few mumbled curse words provide background noise as you slowly wake up further, the haze of sleepiness lifting the longer you sit upright. phone in hand, you scroll through the barrage of birthday texts and messages from your friends and family. a wide smile tugs at your lips as you allow the excitement of the day to bubble below your skin, electric and bright.

you sniff once, then once again, as a sugary, warm scent floats through the half-open doorway. you can hear lando hiss a little as the sound of a pan clashing into the sink prompts a laugh to escape you.

it doesn’t take a genius to work it out: he’s cooking. what he’s making, though, is still to be revealed. it’s far too late for him to think about baking a cake for you, yet the scent is no where similar to his usual breakfast of eggs or toast.

“you okay?” you call out, mirth lacing your tone.

“perfect!” comes lando’s response. “just stay put, gorgeous, i won’t be long!”

convinced, you do as told. and god, is it worth the wait.

lando swiftly reappears, an adorably out of tune ‘happy birthday’ accompanying his arrival. a large gift bag hangs from his wrist, and balancing precariously in his hand is a plate of pancakes.

they’re quite clearly homemade, a little uneven in size and shape, and topped with copious amounts of fruit and cream. baby blue candles are stuck into the top of the stack, the flames flickering mildly, and you think you could cry.

lando has never made you feel anything less than the luckiest girl in the world, but in this moment, you truly have no idea what you’ve done to deserve him.

he places one foot in front of the other, all of his focus directed to delivering your birthday breakfast to your lap safely. as his song comes to an end, lando presents you with your pancakes, his bright grin another sweet side.

the gift bag is placed onto the ground, and lando perches next to you on your bed, hand resting on your knee above the bedsheets.

“happy birthday, baby,” lando says, voice sincere. “make a wish.”

and when you blow out the candles, you don’t even need to make a wish; all you could ever want is right in front of you.

[radioisntdead]

Too sweet

Alastor x gn reader,

Warnings!!

Mild ooc, reader is dessert themed also kinda imagining they have eyes that resemble 1930's animation but that's just me, casual backstory drop in the middle that's just never brought up again, death, pacing is a little off, Alastor is prepared with angelic steel this time! It does not help whatsoever!

Song: Too sweet

It wasn't a secret that Alastor strongly disliked sweet things, it wasn't a complete hatred but he wouldn't willingly eat any, he preferred bitter things.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

You were as sweet as pure sugar, with that oh so charming smile of yours, your big ol' cartoony eyes, eccentric and positive attitude, not to mention you were quite literally dessert themed, Cake themed outfits, frosted purses, phone case adorned with spackled frosting, sprinkles and charms.

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

You were the most recent addition to the hotel, a few of the hotel's residents didn't quite understand how someone as sweet as you could've ended up in hell, it was theorized that maybe it was an act, a honey coated trap that would lead to the hotel demise or something.

Baby, I can never tell

That was thrown out rather quickly when you kept the same sweetheart persona even when alone, it was just how you were.

How do you sleep so well?

It was concerning to a certain few hotel residents when it was discovered that you had a thing for the Radio demon,

The way your eyes would linger on him for a moment too long, the way you would gaze at him love evident in your eyes.

You keep telling me to live right

Husk gave you a warning one night at the bar, you were sipping on a drink that had more sugar then any drink should, he was cleaning up the bar.

"Look kid, Alastor is a bad decision, this won't end well for you."

"I know." You had responded, twirling around that sickly sweet drink of yours

You weren't naive like your personality seemed to make people think, you knew Alastor was a bad idea, bad news, he was a cannibalistic murderer for heaven's sake!

To go to bed before the daylight

But it was alright to have a small crush that you wouldn't act on, it'd pass eventually but for now it wasn't bad to fantasize about dancing with him, cooking together or about doing something unholy like handholding! Nothing would become of it, you didn't have a good history with relationships anyways.

But then you wake up for the sunrise

Charlie was supportive of your little crush, she had found out about it after accidentally overhearing you drunkenly tell Angel Dust about it, that sugary little drink really did a number on you.

She decided she would try to push you and Alastor together, gently, She was such a great wingman!

After all Alastor tolerated you more than anyone else in the hotel so that's a indication that you might have a chance right? A truly slim one but a chance nonetheless!

You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

When Alastor began enjoying your company a little too much for his liking it was like he, from his prospective had been thrown into a horror movie and trapped with little to no way out.

He enjoyed some of your antics and reactions.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

You were helpful around the hotel, helping out with advertising, you'd proofread scripts he had written for his radio broadcast, every time you went out for a treat you brought back some type of pastry or snack for the hotel residents, in particular you'd travel all the way to cannibal town to pick up something for Alastor, you didn't have too, but you did.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

As time went on the feelings didn't fade, especially since Charlie heavily suggested that the two of you should work together on hotel related things, and that pinwheeled into the two of you spending more time together, getting closer, and eventually you began to avoid Alastor, you had a tendency to ditch the people you were fond of in a way usually in a cruel fashion, you didn't mean too, truly! But you did and you didn't want to risk it with Alastor for his sake and yours.

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

You were a known partier back in your day, you died back in the heights of the roaring twenties where you had the money and privileges to go to lavish parties where anyone who was anyone could attend much like the parties Gatsby held in the great Gatsby, you lived what some folks thought the roaring twenties were all about, Flappers, speakeasies, parties and short-lived prosperity.

You were in your twenties, rebellious and reckless, drinking any drink given to you, playing around with people's emotions with those sickly sweet words of yours, taking whatever substance you were given, and a year before the stock market crash, you were found dead on the dancefloor poisoned by a former darling of yours who didn't like that you had left them because things were getting 'too serious' for you.

You didn't handle death well, and in order to keep at least some of your sanity you went to hurling yourself onto the hellish party scene, frequenting speakeasies, trying to keep some sense of what you knew, repeating harmful cycles, but you couldn't do it forever.

And so you gave up the party scene around the mid 40's, burning bridges and leaving behind many scorned people behind.

You were more unstable back then, but you had improved, at least you thought you did taking up the sweet attitude by a couple notches, switching from drinking alcohol each day to drinking sweet smoothies or milkshakes.

You cleaned up your act and you were continuing to keep it clean especially as you checked into the hotel.

No one there knew about your track record and you would like to keep it that way.

But while in this world

The avoidance didn't last long since Alastor cornered you asking why and you blabbered out your feelings in one big ramble.

And that was that.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

Charlie was ecstatic to learn that you and Alastor had gotten together, Others were concerned particularly Husk, his bets were that either Alastor would end up owning your soul, you'd become just as twisted as Al or you'd end up dead.

None of them would end well for you.

My coffee black and my bed at three

The two of you were opposites, while he took his coffee black and bitter you loaded yours up with milk, sugar and whatever other toppings you wished, when he stayed awake for multiple days in end you snoozed away at night, when he was threatening someone who was messing with the hotel you were trying to defuse the situation with sweet words.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor didn't like sweet things, but he didn't mind you and your sugary sweetness, infact you could say he was growing a little bit of a sweet tooth.

Just the sight of your sweet little smile was enough to cause a slight ache in his heart and that fact that you could be called his now was just wonderful!

You're too sweet for me

He could see himself getting used to all this sweetness, he just needed to make sure no one knew that.

I take my whiskey neat

You smiled, listening intently and sipping on your sweet alcoholic drink while Alastor recounted an encounter he had, a glass of whiskey in his hand whooshing around as he spoke.

My coffee black and my bed at three

It was after a hotel game night mixed with alcohol, the two of you were tired and intoxicated, you were a giggly drunk, laughing at the most mundane things, Alastor was escorting you to your room and much to his surprise it was a challenge as you would stop every few steps to laugh at how the crack in the wall looked like a giraffe or how that stain on the carpet looked like a birthday cake!

You're too sweet for me

By the time he had finally gotten you to your room he was exhausted, you kicked off your shoes leaving them on your floor as you dived into your bed, reveling in the comfortable blankets.

Alastor rolled his eyes as he entered your room leaning down to pick up your discarded shoes to properly put them away in your woredrob, he intended to leave to his own room but you reached out your arms to him making grabby hands, he walked over and leaned in to see what you wanted only for you to suddenly grab him, pulling him down and covering him in the blankets before promptly passing out with your arm wrapped around one of his.

You're too sweet for me

He was going to get up, he truly was but he hadn't slept in hell knows how many days now, and the bed was warm, before he knew it his eyelids were drooped. His shadow thankfully decided to close the door to your room.

I aim low, I aim true and the ground's where I go

The next morning he was greeted by you humming while gently petting his fluffy ears, he wasn't sure you knew he was awake at that point, but he rather liked having his ears petted, at least by you and it wouldn't hurt to savor this moment for just a few more minutes before the two of you would have to deal with the duties that the day held for you.

I work late where I'm free from the phone, and the job gets done

Alastor preferred to have his radio broadcast aired in the morning but sometimes he wouldn't get the chance too, [Maybe he indulged a little too much in his morning time with you]

He would air around eight pm and sometimes you would hang around his tower, doing whatever activity you had brought along until he was done and the two of you would walk back to the hotel, maybe grabbing a bite to eat.

But you worry some, I know

Other nights you would turn on the radio in his room and curl up in a blanket on the leather chair he had, closing your eyes and listening to his oddly soothing voice.

But who wants to live forever, babe?

Alastor didn't particularly believe that heavens gates would accept sinners even if they were redeemed, but nothing is impossible and he, although he doubted it, could be wrong and the Hazbin hotel could be a success in redeeming sinners left and right and you were one of the residents checked in for redemption.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Alastor moved a piece of your hair away from your face, careful not to disturb your sleeping position on his chair, he could admit to himself that he had gotten attached to you, and he couldn't just have his darling little partner leave him behind to fraternize with the winners above now could he?

The rest of you like you're the TSA

He picked you up from the chair and moved you over to his bed, tucking you in.

If anyone in this damned place could get redeemed it was you.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

And Alastor, well he wasn't the type to be looking for redemption or redeemed, he was even less of the type to blindly follow someone somewhere even if it was you.

He did wish he could see his mother who obviously was in heaven but that simply just wasn't in the cards for him, it was tragic but he did murder people, he died while burying a body after all!

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Alastor cut into the dead deer he had just sat on his table, he was about to take a bite when he caught a glimpse of you shooting up from his bed looking around in hasty panic before you visibly calmed at the sight of him, with one of your signature surgery sweet smiles that caused swirls in his heart you bid him a good morning.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Alastor strolled into the hotel after a day of errands, only to see everyone cluttered together looking at something you were holding that he couldn't see, you noticed him and waved him over, grinning as you held the red creature in your arms that looked strikingly like Alastor, you went on a small tangent about how you had found the little guy while taking a stroll around the hotel.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

In all honesty he wanted to hurl the creature out the window but you were stubborn in saying that the two of you should keep the catlike creature immediately dubbing it as your son much to Alastor's displeasure.

Until that day

He and the little creature begun a little rivalry, whenever he had his arm around you that thing would try and headbutt it off.

On the plus side you had taken to dressing the little one up in ridiculous little outfits, usually to match you or Alastor, from dessert themed outfits to Alastor's signature suit.

The creature did not like being dressed the majority of the time as the little thing felt it was taken less seriously thanks to the outfits.

It was right, when the little one would strut around the hotel he was usually awe'd over by Charlie and Sir Pentious.

I'd rather take my whiskey neat

Time flew by as extermination day drew closer, preparing became the focus in the hotel, coating weapons in angelic steel, in particular you had a axe that you covered with dessert themed charms finding it funny, because imagine getting taken out with a dessert themed axe of all things!

My coffee black and my bed at three

You had just barely convinced Alastor to prepare to use an angelic weapon, borderline begging him to do so, you didn't know what you'd do if he got taken out or injured because he was too prideful and foolish to use angelic steel in some way.

You're too sweet for me

He just couldn't say no to you when you looked at him with those cartoonish eyes that reminded him of 1930's animation and surgery sweet smile!

You're too sweet for me

It was the night before extermination, everyone was ready, living this night as if they were going to die tomorrow, which they probably will but they had something to fight for! You indulged on the classic surgery sweet drink that you always got, sipping on it as Niffty declared Alastor king roach leading to you chuckling.

I take my whiskey neat

It was the time where everyone retired, laying in bed you gently brushed a hand through his awful haircut, the two of you chatted about what could happen tomorrow and what the two of you would do afterwards because obviously the two of you didn't intend on dying.

You let out a yawn, deciding to call it a night you gave Alastor a light peck before laying your head on your pillow.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Alastor channeled his inner Edward Cullen and watched you sleep, blanket curled around you, that little creature was snoozing by you, dressed in a onesie that you had obviously put on him.

He didn't say it often, or at all honesty but he adored you, the only sweet thing he would willingly indulge in.

He would do anything to protect you, you would survive the extermination, he would make sure of it.

You're too sweet for me

He, infact did not make sure of it.

It was during his little encounter with Adam, the first man had gone to attack him but you had ran in, taking the hit for Alastor.

Resulting in a large gash in your stomach, blood pooled around you as Alastor got a few hits on Adam before turning to you, clutching your body as shadows overtook the two of you, taking you to his radio tower.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor scrambled, his usual composed self gone as you were actively bleeding out, he tried to stop the bleeding but you had already lost too much.

I take my whiskey neat

He held you as he demanded to know why the hell you would jump Infront of him.

You simply smiled, lifting your hand to touch his face, you said three simple words that would be your last, the last thing you saw was Alastor's strained smile.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Husk was right, it would end one of three ways, either Alastor ended up with your soul, you became just as twisted or you died.

And many died that day, the hazbin hotel lost two of its residents, Sir Pentious and you.

Sir Pentious had died for his friends and you had died for the person you loved, sacrifices that landed the two of you into heaven.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor sat in his newly built radio tower, that damned creature that you had brought by his side.

He had managed to survive the hotel collapsing, good for him, unfortunately the person that brought him there didn't survive, and now he was stuck with Alastor, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing anymore.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor despised sweet things, they were filled with sickly sweet sugar that would leave cavities behind in it's wake, even after being brushed away it would still leave some damage like you did, you left him like you had left others before only this time it was unwillingly, you were the sweetest thing he'd ever known, he made a unfortunately decision to get attached to you and now he paid the consequences, he would be unintentionally haunted by you, reminded of you every time he saw the portrait they hung of you in the hotel along with Sir Pentious or even with the cat that looked like him.

He wouldn't be making the mistake of falling for someone again that was for sure.

It's not like he could if he wanted to anyways.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote it all in one day, I didn't write it because I got tired but the reader is totally fighting people to go back to Alastor, just "I JUST DIED AFTER TELLING HIM I LOVED HIM, THAT IS TRAUMATIZING"

[slamminslamminmcgill]

breeding kink joel is infecting my mind he won’t leave me alone. imagining him slowly rocking into me after filling me up to keep it inside and then we just go to sleep like that. wrruf wrufruf arf:3

BARKBARKBARKBARK i gotchu :3

warning: breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy

“Nghhh, shit… So fuckin’ tight, kiddo… Gon’ milk me fuckin’ dry… Yeah, c'mon, boy, give that pussy to your Daddy...”

Joel’s breath was hot against your ear as he rutted into you with all his body weight. He had his arms around your back, keeping your limp body squished up against his in a tight bear hug. You appreciated the extra support, since you’d squirted out about half your brain cells by now. For an old man with self-proclaimed shitty knees, his stamina was impressive. At this rate, you weren’t sure which was coming first: him, or all your bones turning into goo. Your arms and legs were flaccid, barely sticking to his back with all the sweat and body heat between you both. Insightful conversation was long gone for you, and in its place was incoherent babbling. “Oh, fu-u-ahhh, my gah… my god, fuck… D-Daddyyy…”

“That’s right, baby, Daddy’s here… Daddy’s—mmm—Daddy’s right fuckin’ here… All the way deep inside you, boy… Such a good boy… Makin’ Daddy feel so good, pretty boy…” Joel’s softly-spoken, sugary sweet words were the icing on the cake, a cake that you’d overstuffed yourself on, and were now in the midst of a sugar crash.

Even through the onslaught of overstimulation, your hoarse vocal cords croaked out a quiet appreciation. “A-Ah, hah… Tha-... Thank you, Daddy…”

“You’re welcome, baby boy…” Joel speckled kisses on your temple, down your jaw, and along your neck. You felt his hips stutter, a telltale sign of impending climax, and he inhaled sharply. “Ooh, fuck, Daddy’s gonna cum, baby… Got a big load for my special boy… Gon’ fill you up so good—shit! Shit!”

Joel squeezed your body like he was trying to pop you, and came with a feral growl that resonated deep in his chest. His cock throbbed and spilled inside you, his cum filling what little space there was between your skin and his. No matter how smart and self-assured you were in your day-to-day life, Joel Miller could wreck you, leaving you nothing more than a well-used sex doll plugged with his seed.

But he’d never leave you like that. Pulling out of such a nice, warm, not to mention filled-up hole? Blasphemous. He wouldn’t dream of it. Plus, he had to check in on you. “Still with me, baby boy?”

The rush of post-sex endorphins always left you a giggly mess. Smiley and loopy, your limbs flopped onto the mattress below. “Hehehe... yeah! Yeah, I’m—ah!”

You were cut off when Joel thrust his hips just an inch or two forward, just enough to make you squeal like that. It made him laugh. "What? Gotta keep it all in, baby." His scratchy beard nuzzled against your cheek and he sighed. "Comfy?"

“Mhm.”

“Yeah? I’m not too heavy for ya?”

“Mm-mm…” You yawned. “I like it… Feels like a weighted—" He thrust his hips again, making you squirm and whimper beneath him. "Mm! W-weight... weighted blanket…”

Joel chuckled, "Good. Cause I'm not pullin' out til morning." He swept some of your sweat-drenched hair out of your face, and smooched your glistening forehead.

"G'night, kiddo."

[hoernypie]

Cake

tags: kinktober, wam

Was it funny when you sat down on the cake that you and Satoru were supposed to bring for the Halloween party? Not for you, tho 'toru couldn't hold his laughter - seeing your pissed face after you dirtied yourself not too long after showering. Was it hot how you blushed when he started licking the icing off your thighs and butt? Definitely for Satoru. "Stop, it tickles", you whined feeling his tongue deliberately licking your skin, tracing the swirls and patterns the cake had left behind. The softness of his touch and the gentle caress of his tongue against your skin was… oddly comforting. Before you could realize what’s going on, he spread your legs, his hot breath fanning against your heat. “Need to clean my baby,” he murmured as the sweet icing mixed with your juices on his tongue. Feeling his tongue between your folds couldn't hold back the soft moans that slipped from your lips. You felt how your body responded, your hips bucking slightly as the pleasure grew. His hands held you firmly in place, his thumbs caressing the soft skin as his tongue moved deeper and you just knew that both of you won’t go to the party. The sensation of Satoru's tongue dancing around your clit was exquisite, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His grip on your hips tightened as he felt you getting closer to the edge, his tongue moving harder against your clit while gently sucking it. The room was filled with the sugary scent of the cake icing, now melded with the sweet aroma of your slick. As the pressure in your belly built, your legs quivered. Satoru hummed proudly - being the only one to always make you cum. With a final, lingering lick, you moaned loudly, pushing your hips back, pressing your pussy into his face. He looked at you with a smug smile, a mix of satisfaction and mischief, before kissing his way up your body, leaving a trail of sticky sweetness behind. "Guess we'll need to shower you again," he said, licking his lips, savoring the taste of you lingering in his mouth.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Stable Girl!Joel and Sunshine

Joel trying to take care of her pregnancy cravings and needs. Massages, carrying her to see how the horses are doing, I googled how to make oatmilk ice cream and it could be doable, just need like butter or cashews to make it creamy ♥️♥️ I like the idea of Joel being taught how to do it by hand♥️ just for her!

Ah Strawberry ice cream?!

Love Language

pairing: The Stable Girl-Verse!joel miller x f!reader (Sunshine)

rating: F (talks of pregnancy/symptoms, joel is perfect)

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHH this SENT me anon 😭 the strawberrrriesssssss 😭

the stable girl masterlist | joel masterlist

“Again?” Joel’s voice sounded from behind you as you sat at the dining table in the middle of the night, scarfing down the chocolate cake Ellie baked as a “congratulations” for your newly announced pregnancy. You froze as he flicked the light on to get a better picture of the scene he was walking in on—you in your nightgown, your belly as round as a watermelon, chocolate frosting on your mouth.

“I had a craving,” you meekly justified your current state, bringing an amused grin to his face as he walked over, sleep tousling his hair and softening his eyes. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he pulled up a seat beside you and plucked your fork from your hand and shoveled a piece of cake into his mouth. “Who said I wanted to share, huh?”

“My apologies,” he smiled as he lifted a piece to your lips, his lazy grin growing wider as he watched your lips wrap around the fork, cleaning it off. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip to collect the chocolate frosting that rested there before sucking it off with a satisfied hum. “I love seein’ you like this.”

“Yeah?” You laughed and rolled your eyes at the compliment. “I’m sure I look like an absolute goddess right now.”

“You do to me,” he crooned, his hand reaching down to rub over your stomach through the cotton of your gown. “Carryin’ my baby. You couldn’t look more beautiful to me than right now.”

“You’re awfully sweet for being woken up in the middle of the night,” you cooed back with a smile, pinching his chin.

“One more bite and then you’re comin’ back upstairs with me,” he ordered, reaching for the fork to feed you a satisfying final bite before doing the same for himself.

Obeying his command, you let him take you back up to bed for the night, your sugary craving now satisfied and a new, sweeter craving dawned—a craving for Joel’s arms wrapped around you, lulling you to sleep.

“How’s baby Miller doin’?” Joel mumbled against your shoulder as he kept his lips pressed there, holding you from behind and rubbing your stomach.

“Starting to kick a lot,” you chuckled through your sleepiness. “And they apparently have quite the sweet tooth. I haven’t stopped craving sugar since the third trimester started.”

“Oh, I know,” he chuckled and hugged you closer. “Can’t wait to have her here with us.”

“Me neither.”

Joel stood in the kitchen, a piece of paper in front of him on the counter with a messily scribbled recipe he’d jotted down courtesy of Maria. With the cake long gone by now, you’d gone days without something sweet to fulfill your cravings. Though you didn’t make a fuss over it, Joel took it upon himself to remedy the situation with an attempt at homemade ice cream—strawberry, thanks to the community garden’s latest impressive harvest.

“Oof,” you came waddling inside the house from the backyard, your hands still wearing your gardening gloves as they supported your lower back. “I think I’m getting too pregnant to take care of my flowers,” you pouted as you found yourself a seat at the dining table to watch Joel as he shuffled around the kitchen. After a beat of no response, you huffed out, “Hello? Am I a ghost?”

“Huh?” He turned around with a frantic, flustered expression and seemed to just now realize you’d come inside. “Sorry. I’m just…why are recipes so damn hard to follow. What’s the damn difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon?”

“Well, one’s bigger,” you chuckled and found the strength and energy to stand up and waddle over to the sink, your gloves coming off so that you could wash up. Peering over his shoulder, you nosily studied what he was working on before catching a glimpse at the recipe sheet. Though his handwriting wasn’t the cleanest, you could clearly make out “Strawberry Ice Cream” as the title. “Are you making ice cream?”

Joel whipped his head over at the sound of your bright voice, your smile wide with delight.

“Yeah,” he sighed, disappointed that his surprise had been ruined. “Was tryin’ to keep it a surprise until after supper but—“

You tugged him into a hug so tight he worried for a moment that you’d crush him.

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his neck as your face buried there. Joel chuckled and peeled himself from you enough to look you in the eye, his smile soft as he studied the appreciation written all over your face.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughed, leaning in to peck your lips. “Might fuck it up.”

“I have full faith in you,” you assured with your thumb and index pinching his chin. “Especially when I call Ellie in here to help you because I need that ice cream, my love. More than I need anything.”

“Oh, anything, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned playfully jealous in an instant. You laughed and stroked over his beard until his pour turned into a smile.

“Fine, almost more than anything.”

“Thank you,” he smiled into the kiss he planted upon your lips before tapping your ass lightly. “Now what were you sayin’ when you walked in?”

“Oh, I was just saying I don’t think I can look after my flowers anymore. My back is so sore these days—“

“Is it sore now?” He slid his hand up to rest on your lower back, his warm palm soothing over the aching muscle. When you let out a sigh of relief and rested your head on his chest, Joel felt a frenzy of affection swarm in his belly. “Baby,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let me take you upstairs and fix you a bath.”

“No,” you objected, lifting your head off his chest. “I really need to fix up the nursery. Baby girl is gonna be here in six weeks.”

“I’ll get someone else to do it—“

“No, you already got someone else to cover my shifts at the stable, and the garden, and now you’re trying to take away my nesting?” you playfully scolded him, a smirk on your face.

“I just hate seein’ you work too hard. You’re already workin’ a miracle by bringin’ my baby into the world,” he frowned a bit, something he’d only ever let you see. “I’ll leave you to your nestin’ but not until you sit in a hot bath. Your back’ll thank me later.”

“Fine, it’s a compromise,” you grinned and pulled him down for another short but satisfying peck. “Okay, I’ll go upstairs for my bath while you and Ellie finish the ice cream.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Later on that night after having spent at least an hour in the bathtub and twice as long fussing over the nursery, Joel forced you to relax at the dinner table, bringing you a plate of the most tender roast you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god,” you beamed as you looked from the plate to his eyes. “You did this?”

“I’ve been workin’ on my cookin’,” he shrugged bashfully. “It ain’t exactly fine dinin’, but I thought you deserved a fancier dinner than what I normally throw together.”

“You—“ You grabbed his chin and turned his face towards you, your smile still bright and beaming. “You are the love of my life, Joel Miller.”

Joel looked touched, his smile soft and sweet, just like him—or at least the side of him that you knew.

“And you are my life. Everything I do, everything I got—“ He placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed. “Everything. It’s yours.”

“Don’t make me cry on my food,” you chuckled and wiped the tears that filled in your waterline. “It looks too good to ruin.”

Joel laughed. “You started it.”

[buckgasms]

Hear me out please… Princess cooking for Daddy🥰 I feel like that would be cute and romantic🩷

Hi lovely!! Yes I like this idea a lot!!

But what would princess cook?? It has to be something perfect and all of Daddy's favourite things so it's gonna take a lot of work.

Imagine hours scouring Pinterest to find just the right recipe and then the right one appears and you get so excited, planning a secret shopping trip to get all the ingredients and picking an evening when you haven't got any other plans.

As well as the main course you decide to bake a lovely cake as well, all sweet and sugary just like you.

When he comes home the house smells amazing, and you've laid the table with candles and his plate is full of beautiful home cooked food.

You rush out of the bedroom in a pretty dress with a bit of flour still on your cheek and his heart melts and his tummy flares with desire.

Beaming with delight you rush over to him and accept his kiss on the lips, giggling as his thumb brushes away the flour on your cheek.

"You been busy Princess?" He mutters, a smile on his lips as you smile shyly.

"Uh-huh, I hope you're hungry..."

His eyes flick down at your body and he grins, "starvin' angel."

🍲

You are beaming with pride as he licks the spoon clean, another satisfied growl leaving his lips as he finishes his dessert.

"Princess... That was fantastic, thank you so much..."

You practically leap out of your seat and move to perch on his waiting lap, accepting kisses from him as his arms snake around you.

"Did you really like it?" You whisper, playing with the buttons on his shirt, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Baby, you know what I'm like with food, I'm a fussy ass right? Plus I can't cook a damn, so this is amazing..." He pats his stomach and you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Although, I am still a little hungry for something sweet..."

"You want more cake?" You start, making a move to get up and find him something else, but he holds you more firmly and fixes you with a lust filled stare...

"No baby, I was thinking something else... Hop up on the table for me and I'll show ya..."

[seeingivy]

sweet nothing

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: talks of grief, references to hidden inventory arc, satoru just being in love, megs + tsumiki babies

an: giving love to one of the best songs on midnights. also idk where I procured this emo at like 1 in the afternoon but here we are

--

You give him the book after the two of you settle Megumi and Tsumiki into bed, in the few minutes of peace you and Satoru get before you both nestle into your shared bed. You hike your knees to your chest as he picks it up, a confused look meeting yours when he reads the title. 

“On Grief and Giving?” 

“I took Miki and Megs to the bookstore today and I thought you might like it.” 

“A book about grief? I’m not grieving.” 

You look over at him - sparkling blue eyes rimmed with red, the usual sparkiness in his voice gone for the past few days, and no smothering, smushy cheek kisses every morning. You scoot over and he opens his arm up, tucking you into his side. 

You whisper the words against his neck, your hands placed on his body, tracing out the lines of his biceps. 

“He doesn’t have to be dead for you to be grieving him, Satoru. The person we knew is dead and the reaction is all the same.” you whisper. 

Satoru frowns, his hand going back and forth on your lower back. You know he hates it, when you try to talk about it. When anyone does. 

“Just read a few pages. See if it’s your thing or not, okay?” 

He looks into your eyes for a few seconds before nodding, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. And when you leave to drop Tsumiki and Megumi off at school the next day, he reads the first page and promptly stops. 

Grief stays the same size. Life begins to grow around it. 

He thinks it’s stupid. 

--

from y/n 

you: don’t forget to bring strawberries home for froggy cake please!! 

satoru: okay love. anything else? 

you: that big fat ass 

satoru: got it :D 

you: you ruined it. 

Tomorrow marks two years since Tsumiki and Megumi have been staying with you. And of course, in your ultimate corniness, you’ve convinced all three of them to make a cake with you. And because you can never say no to Tsumiki and Megumi’s suggestions, you’re making a strawberry froggy cake. Because Tsumiki wants to try to make a little frog with frosting and Megumi just wants to eat the strawberries off the cake. 

He makes a mental note to drop by the store on the way home from his meeting with the higher ups and then his parents. Maybe buy some balloons or flowers or something to accompany the strawberries you asked for. He knows you said it was supposed to be a lowkey thing, just the four of you eating the cake together, but your annoyance doesn’t beat your surprised face, so he must. 

Satoru stops by the coffee shop first, making it a clear point to be late to his meeting with the higher ups for a very stupid reason, and gets a sugary caramel latte. He can hear your voice in his mind - berating him for picking something so sweet - but persists anyway. 

And as he leans against the counter, waiting for the cup with Satoru scribbled on the side, he takes in the shop, watching the people going around. He had never been too big on people watching, but it’s Tsumiki's favorite pass time at the park, pointing out people's silly outfits or how close and far they’re sitting away from each other. 

He spots two little girls, making little beaded bracelets in the far corner while their moms both nurse a warm cup of coffee in their hands. They have their hands wrapped around the porcelain, like they’re sequestering the heat from the glass. 

On the left, a young couple, nervously twiddling their fingers and cracking their knuckles as they make conversation - cheeks glazed pink and wobbly voices marking their conversation. They’re both dressed nicer than usual, clearly trying to impress each other. 

And in the far corner, leaning against the chair, is Suguru Getou. 

He nearly sprints to the other side of the shop when he sees him. Short hair, a man bun tucked neatly at the back with weirdly misshapen bangs and brown eyes. He can feel his heart racing, pounding even and the perspiration growing on his clenched fists as he moves closer. 

And when he reaches their table, standing way too close and looking straight into his eyes, he realizes that this is not Suguru Getou. Instead, a kid that bears far too much resemblance to him. But his eyes are rounder, his nose isn’t as pointy, and he is not a murderer. 

Satoru takes off and runs straight out the store, forgetting about his cup of coffee that’s getting cold in the pickup area.

--   

Yaga and the higher-ups' voices drone out in the back, as Satoru wracks his head. 

Why did he think that kid was Suguru? Suguru is dead. 

And it only now occurs to him, that for all intents and purposes, he really does think he’s dead. But he knows he isn't because Satoru let him walk free. Because he had to clench his fists and swallow hard to walk away the last time he saw him. 

But the man he knows is dead. Your voice is echoing in his head. 

“Satoru, are you paying attention?” 

“I mean, not really.” 

They all pinch their noses and groan, starting the lecture he’s sure they were giving him all over again. And it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. 

We want you to take more missions, there aren’t that many special grade sorcerers available. We want you to spend more time teaching, you're not doing enough. A long list of we want, we want, we want. 

And when the higher-ups trail out of the meeting, disdainful looks on their faces, he turns back to Yaga, who frowns at him. The question is on his tongue. He can’t bring himself to ask it. 

Do you ever think you ask too much of me?

He understands. He tries to. That he is the strongest sorcerer, that there’s no one like him. That he may have infinity, but he knows they forget the inner parts of him aren’t untouchable. That he’s still a person, that he’s still soft. 

Tsumiki’s shiny report cards make him beam with joy, fighting with Megumi keeps him up at night, and getting to hold you at night is the only thing that keeps him grounded sometimes. 

That sometimes the smell of blood never leaves his nose no matter how hard he scrubs in the shower, that when he sees a boy who looks like Suguru, the wound he thought he patched over feels like it’s freshly bleeding. 

But that doesn’t matter, because…

“You should be taking more missions. People are getting spread really thin.” Yaga says, clearing the dust off his desk. 

…Because he’s the strongest. 

--

As he drags his feet to the Gojo estate, he can’t help but survey the crowd as he walks there. Three girls with the same hair color as Getou, two boys with the same eye color, five people the exact same height, but none of them are Suguru Getou. 

When he reaches his parents house, pulling out the long black chairs he uncomfortably sat in for hours as a kid, his mind wanders even farther when they start talking. 

This time, he’s imagining. Daydreaming. What it would be like if he wasn’t the one gifted with the limitless and infinity. If jujutsu sorcery didn’t exist. 

That he’d have more time, be more free to do what he wanted. Make chocolate pancakes with you every morning, before the two of you walk together to drop off Megumi and Tsumiki to school. You’d work normal jobs - maybe he’d still be a teacher, a normal one - while you would do something that was entirely too impressive. Like saving lives or writing books or working at a non-profit. 

You would both go to Tsumiki’s first school dance together and take so many pictures that she’d walk away all embarrassed, red in the face. He’d go to every single one of Megumi’s baseball games, you’d both be the parents that are way too decked out, way too enthusiastic about their kid. 

Satoru would help you collect vinyls and when Tsumiki and Megumi were long gone and the two of you would put them on and dance in the kitchen humming. You’ll get wrinkles at the same time and your hair would gray so the two of you would look like pale-haired ghosts together. 

He zones back into what his parents were saying, their bored eyes glazed on him. And he doesn’t pay attention, because it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. 

They want him to be around more, because he should know how to take over the estate. They want him to meet with other clans, so he can help them with other deals. A long list of they want, they want, they want. 

And he walks out, he wonders if his parents want the life he imagined for himself, the way he wants it for Megumi and Tsumiki. If that was the life Suguru would have lived, if things were different. 

--

When he makes it home, the sun is sinking into the sky against the house, the sky an array of golden hues. And when he pushes his key into the lock, he’s met with one smiling face and two grumpy faces. 

You march over, flicking Satoru’s cheek as he moves closer to you, grabbing onto your hands. 

“Those strawberries better be hidden in your pants or something.” 

He feels his face pale as he remembers that in the loop of things he’s been thinking about all day, he forgot to get the strawberries for froggy cake. And the balloons and flowers and everything else he wanted to give the three of you. 

“Satoru. We really wanted strawberry froggy cake.” you whine, reaching up to rest your hands on his face, squishing hard. 

He reaches for your wrists, pulling them down from his face and looking down at your joined hands. 

“Oh well, I’ll just go grab them with Megumi or something.” 

He watches you pad back into the kitchen, not even phased by his shortcoming, as you place a hand in Tsumiki’s hair. She’s very focused on frosting her little frog in the center of the cake, her eyebrows knit in concentration. He makes his way in, leaning over the counter as he intently watches the three of you. 

“What if we all go to the store and pick up strawberries?” you say, a hand resting in Megumi’s hair. 

Megumi directs off of you and to Satoru, glaring at him. 

“Did you seriously forget the one thing we wanted you to get?” 

“Megs, don’t be mean. It’s always fun to go to the store together!” you respond. 

“I’ll let you pick out anything you want, kid.” Satoru mentions. 

Megumi gives him a satisfied smile, hopping off his seat to go yank his shoes on. Tsumiki follows suit and you give Satoru a glowing smile as you drag the three of them out, hands intertwined as you go to the store. 

--

And at the end of the day, in the few minutes of peace the two of you get before the next day, Satoru’s staring at you, memorizing the curve of your nose and the shape of your eyes, and the way your hair falls against your face. 

You bring a hand up, cupping the side of his face as you whisper in the dark. 

“You okay, Toru?” 

“What do you want from me?” 

He watches you frown and pull back, your hand shaking against his face. 

“Are you mad at me, Satoru?” 

He brings his hand to the back of your neck, bringing you back closer. He’s resting his forehead against yours, savoring the warmth that gathers in the back of your neck on his hands. 

“No. No, no. I just…I want to know what you want from me.” 

He watches you scrunch your forehead, as you ponder the question. 

“I mean. I’d really like it if you didn’t leave the toilet seat up all the time.” 

He cracks a smile, rolling his eyes at you, as he reaches for your hand to bring your knuckles up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss, noticing the sweet smile that spreads across your face when he does, and drops your hand. 

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N.” 

“I mean. I’m not sure what you mean. It’s just small things, Toru. Like we should go on walks together sometimes in the evening, I think that would be nice. And we should watch all the Harry Potter movies together, like do a marathon and not sleep in between. And I’d really like a big diamond ring, circular cut, six pronged with a golden band.” 

Your hands, still resting against his face, are now meshed in with a spray of salty tears and a whimpering Satoru. You instinctively bring him forward, tucking his neck into your face as he cries into your shoulders. 

His tears are coating your neck as you run your hand through the white tresses of hair, whispering against his forehead. Imploring for what’s wrong. He doesn’t respond and the tears subside after a few minutes, his frame still shaking in your hold. 

“I’m not that attached to a golden wedding band, Satoru. I can do silver.” 

He laughs, pulling his face away from your neck to run his hands through your hair. 

“Gold is okay. I like gold.” 

“What’s wrong, Satoru? Tell me.” 

“Nothing. I just- that’s really all you want from me?” 

“I mean, yeah. What else would I want?” 

Satoru leans forward, pressing his lips against yours as he nearly cries into your face again, hanging off the ends of your lips. And you’re not sure what it means, what any of it means, but you let him - cry into your arms, hold you through the night, and make you breakfast the next morning. 

In truth, Satoru cherishes the fact that everyone may ask the world of him, but all you’ve ever wanted from him are sweet, sweet nothings. 

When you wake up the next morning, padding into the kitchen to make breakfast, you’re met with a box of strawberries, a sticky-note pressed on top. I love you, written in Satoru’s scribbly handwriting. 

Life has grown around Satoru’s grief. And it looks like you.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog  @platrom  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome  @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”