#THE BREAD TASTES LIKE PLASTIC

[unhatched-skeleton]

Tfw you’re hungry but find the thought of the feeling of food going down your throat disgusting and all food tastes like someone else’s excrement

[an0rex1cprincess]

How to hide the fact you aren't eating enough from family, friends, partners etc;

Always carry a water bottle with you with a little bit of water inside, (not a clear one) then if you're forced to eat something, chew it and then spit it into the water bottle by pretending you're taking a sip of water.

Carry a plastic zip-lock bag inside your pocket, then just like with the water bottle, you can store food inside the zip-lock bag and dispose of it later.

Take food to your room and hide it literally anywhere then bring the empty bowl/plate back down later so it looks like you ate the food.

When nobody is home, you can get a piece of bread and tap it against a plate until the crumbs fall onto the plate, then leave the plate laying around somewhere obvious so that when you're family comes home they'll see it and assume you ate something while they were away.

If you can't avoid food and you're living with your parents, just do omad when dinner time rolls around and then don't eat again.

Talk a lot while you're eating with other people, ask a bunch of questions, lift the fork/spoon to your lips and right when it looks like you're about to eat the food, keep talking I swear this one actually works a lot because talking is a great distraction tactic to get people to stop staring at the food on your plate or questioning you on why you aren't eating it.

If you're ever going out with friends, tell your parents beforehand that you'll bring money with you to buy food, that way when you get home they'll assume you already ate while you were out.

Get really into baking and cooking for your family and friends, preparing new dishes for people will also make them assume that you're eating the food too, talk to them about the dishes you prepare, example: "I just made these cookies and had a few, they taste really good you should definitely try some. It's a new recipe I found online."

If you don't already, you should ask your parents to sign up for a certain sport, or just any active activities available this is a good way to get enough steps in and exercise, also if you join a sport you can practice said sport at home too and people won't be suspicious about how physically active you've suddenly become.

°•○☆Done!☆○•°

[as-rare-as-trees]

Achievement unlocked! I am one day closer to becoming a fungus 🥰 (I have unknowingly been using a mouldy deodorant for a significant amount of time)

[tame-the-lion-writes]

alpha!slasher!königx omega!reader

CW: implied murder, (and in bonus thoughts) implied kidnapping, non-consensual drug use

Damn pheromones.

If it weren't for petty social sensibilities, König would be clamping a hand over his nose to stifle the thoughts--and scents--running through his mind. In the past, it wasn't so bad. Alphas like him were drawn but could otherwise stand their existence(--at least until the addicting whiff of a heat). But omegas smelled so artificial these days; sickly sweet, like candy, or even worse--chemicals. Perfumes made to amplify the already-overwhelming smell of sugar. More like cough medicine hacked down with two bottles of water. And even a spoonful was far too much.

But the woman across the table seemed to flaunt that.

Silly thing--he thought. Pretty, by all standards, as omegas often were, but silly. Sure, he'd agreed to court her and bring her to a high class restaurant, just as his salary and rank could provide, but that cherry red smile on her lips seemed as plastic-ridden as the patch on her neck. Artificial enhancers. As he's learned in the past three and a half decades of being mate-less, it had become a staple.

No matter, though.

He'd get rid of the scent soon enough.

His date is going on and on about some topic he doesn't care about. Maybe commenting on the scars cutting through his face (though she doesn't seem to mind). Cherry red lips parting and teeth shining, but he doesn't hear a word. There's a gag waiting for her at the back of his car, anyway--and scent blockers ready to be forced down her throat. Did the police ever think about that, he wonders?--how scent blockers made it so easy to disappear without a trace? Stupid creatures hadn't learned to investigate without relying on their nose.

(And even if they had, he'd left no paper trails; he was a dead man walking, at least on paper, thanks to convenient career aspirations.)

But before he could reach on over, suggest an escape to elsewhere--(from life itself)--up came the sweet young thing holding a notepad in hand, apron around the waist, apologizing that the other waitress had clocked out for the evening, and that she was here to take over. And König's hand stops, hovering over the edge of the table, a light, unnoticeable tremble to it as he finally breathes in.

Subtle. Subtle.

Almonds. Cinnamon. Warm bread and butter.

He licks his lips subconsciously, tasting the warmth as he swallows.

König leaves the restaurant that night, still letting the other omega cling to his arm, but he returns a week later--(it's all he could wait)--alone because, "things just didn't work out." But of course, you take him at his word: he looks surprised to see you again, and squints as if to re-read your nametag. But really, he's learned your schedule, the make and model of your car. The license plate, registration number--the address of your apartment. (Of course he has--why wouldn't he?--) Not once have you left his mind. Because you're something new to him, new to occupy it--how strange; how precious.

-- And not too sweet.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

König continues to visit, and though you find it strange he goes alone--the restaurant is more popular with couples after all--you start to look forward to seeing him now and then. König's patient the first month or so, upping the frequency only little by little, because at first, he's convinced that seeing you from a distance every night is enough.

But patience only lasts so long.

He finally asks you out on a date, and you agree.

There's a few dates, really. (Can't have you disappearing from your friends' lives the moment you mention going out with him, after all.) A few dates before it happens.

You can't recall going to his house, or even his car. And you certainly don't recall getting into a bed that smells just like him (--cold metal, maybe iron, maybe from him--maybe from something else--)

You're about to unwind from the (admittedly warm and comfortable) bundle of sheets around you when König walks in, carrying a tray of freshly cooked food, and sets it down nearby. Before you can ask any questions, he's shoving his face into the crook of your neck. Brushing his nose against your scent gland--almost purring.

"K-König? Where am I? What are you doing--"

"Shh, Mäuschen. It's alright. You're home."

[jazzfromthevoid]

Me and my friend made a horrid creation called a fear sandwich, each ingredient is based of a tma fear.

1. The end: the bread, specifically the butt end of the bread that had been slightly burnt by the manufacturer.

2. The fleash: some kind of mystery meat. A horrid combination of a bunch of different meats.

3. The slaughter: a nother meat, but it has metal shavings in it.

4. The hunt: a mixed greens but it's poison ivy and grass. (With a bit of blood on it)

5. The desolation: a REALLY hot sauce, like inhumanely spicy.

6. The buried: an entire truffle. Dirt and all.

7. The dark: just squid ink. Way more than is necessary.

8. The lonely: a single very sweet pickle that does not go well with the rest of the sandwich.

9. The vast: a thousand island dressing that is actually just salt water. It's also really cold.

10. The corruption: very moldy cheese, it's just all mold, with maggots in the senter, as a suprise.

11. The eye: one of those toothpicks that goes through the sandwich holding it together. It also has a little olive with the capsicum in the middle of it on top. (The olive is uncomfortably moist)

12. The spiral: a very strangely cut onion that doesn't even really taste like onion, but you can't tell exactly what it tastes like, so you just sit there in mild confusion and terror of what you just ate.

13. The stranger: a sausage that you think is normal meat but is actually a vegan sausage.

14. The extinction: a very rare very endangered animal filled with micro plastics.

15. The web: what looks to be sesame seeds on the bread, but are actually very small spider eggs. (It's a delicacy in some places, it would be rude not to have it)

A million notes and I will attempt to make it. (Please don't I don't want to make this. I don't even know where to get half of these ingredients)

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny can i order banana bread with hard lemonade with max please. make it spicy. make it nasty. make it sloppy. make it fucking filthy😩😩 i fucking love you and all your works and i trust you with baking and cooking

the bakery menu

want to order something? then browse the menu to see what we have! as for this order, i hope that there's enough spice in this for you! i ended up writing this a little stoned, so i hope everything turned out okay!!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, recreational drug use (weed), reference to smoking & drinking, dom!max, counter/kitchen sex, high sex

you liked parties. maybe, not all the time. but once in a while there was nothing like being surrounded by people and drinking the night away before you slinked off to bed to nurse the eventual hangover. max didn't mind that you went out partying. he trusted you to not do anything extremely stupid that would hurt you or your relationship.

there was one rule, no hard drugs. neither of you needed the trouble that came with too much of a mind altering substance. even if he let you go out to party, he still worried about you when he couldn't go with you. so for your best interest, no drugs.

but there you were, seated on top of the counter in max's kitchen while he dutifully made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. you were still in your party clothes with one of his expensive jackets around your shoulders. you claimed that you were cold. you kicked your legs against the cabinets under you.

you giggled a little.

he handed it to you on a plate and said, "eat." before he grabbed a (plastic) cup from the cupboard above the sink and filled it full of water. he handed it to you, "drink. slowly." then rested against the counter, keeping a stern eye on you.

his blue eyes were piercing as he made sure that you did what he said. you already caused enough trouble tonight. from what your friends told him when they brought you home, you had a few too many puffs of a joint. max didn't think that weed was the devil, but he didn't want you doing anything reckless without him.

as a result he had his very stoned girlfriend seated on the counter and happily eat a pb&j sandwich. he then got closer and rubbed your bare knee. he leaned in and licked a speck of jelly on the corner of your mouth.

he said softly, "you have to be a good girl for me. listen and behave. i know it's tempting to want to be like the others, but i need to keep you safe. what would happen if you took too much and someone tried to hurt you?" he kissed you on the lips, tasting the sweetness of your late night snack on your lips.

"i was fine, maxie." you beamed as you felt his kisses pepper your face. you giggled and squirmed, it was cute. you only called him maxie when you were very intoxicated.

he felt a curl of possessiveness in his gut as he touched your arms. you looked so good in his clothes. maybe next time you go out, he'll make you wear a little reminder of him.

"my poor treasure.' he said, "you just have to be the life of the party. now, is there anything else you took?"

you shook your head, "nope. nothing else, i promise. i felt too giggly after the joint and then i ended up back home. but, honestly, maxie... i want you."

he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair, "oh i bet. i bet you thought about me on the ride home. you thought about my cock inside of you, i bet if left to your own devices you would've made a mess of the seat of your friend's car." he pushed up the skirt of the 'slutty' dress you wore that night.

you blushed and wanted to hide your face, which only made max chuckle. he pushed the skirt up further until your pretty blue underwear was on display for him.

he licked his lips, "tell me when to stop." he wanted to make sure that you weren't too high to know what was going on. he wasn't a monster.

you nodded and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. you said softly, "give it all to me, maxie." and kissed his ear before you fell apart in giggles. you leaned up against the cabinets and let max take off your panties. he left them dangling on your left ankle.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said honestly, he briefly looked to you and licked his lips.

you watched him take his cock out of his sweatpants, he could see you were already so hot all over. he spread your legs further as he got closer in between them.

his cock was decently sized, nothing to be scared of. nothing that would hurt you if he tried to jam it in. you knew the fantasy was a large cock, but you had you heard stories of bruised cervixes that max was just the right fit for you.

he braced his hands on either side of you on the counter as he slid his cock into your sweet pussy. it wasn't a painfully slow insertion, but when he got his cock to the root. he felt a sense of relief at the feeling of you.

he kissed at your face as he thrusted in and out of you. the tip barely out before he slid back in. he groaned through the kisses that he peppered your face with.

"mmm, that's it." he said, "you feel so good, my treasure. how's that head of yours?" he asked as he thrusted up into you harder. it was quick and hard rhythm.

you felt on cloud nine, with the two shots of vodka, all that weed and now the heightened feeling of having sex all made your head race with thoughts of nothing. everything kind of blended together in your mind.

you held onto his shoulders, your fists tied up in the shoulders of his white t-shirt. you were breathing heavily and felt your core throb. you whined, "max, ah. fuck. i couldn't stop thinking about you on the ride home. i was so fuckin' horny." you whined.

you got horny when you smoked, most would devour a pizza. you'd do that with ease but also want to be fucked until you were a fucked out pile of goo on the bed until you reformed into a human in the morning.

"oh yeah, did you look at photos of me?"

"yes, maxie." you purred.

"were they safe photos?" he asked as he leaned even more up against you. letting him get even closer to you. as if he wasn't already in your personal space.

you giggled, "of course! i didn't want to show my friends what you're packing down there." you had an assortment of nudes from him as he did for you.

he kissed at the nape of your neck, your thighs tightened around his waist as he bullied his cock into you. you were perfect like this, submissive like a little lamb. he chuckled, "good, don't want to cause an incident."

he continued to fuck you on top of the granite countertop in the kitchen. his thrusts were fast and it made you moan loudly against him. you felt your heart thump wildly in your chest.

it all felt so good. you clutched onto his t-shirt as he fucked you rapidly, "please, maxie."

"cum for me, treasure. i know you need it." he whispered in your ear as he continued to move.

you kicked out your legs a little as you came, your noise was high pitched but yet so sweet. it was painfully cute when you did it. it made him hot all over. you felt painfully good.

"good girl."

you held onto him tightly as he battered your pussy with a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you. you panted against his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

he said sweet nothings to you both in english and dutch which made you feel like jelly. you leaned up against him as he finished inside of you with a rough groan.

"my treasure." he purred as he slowed down to a stop. he held you for a moment, feeling your heavy breathing against his shoulder.

"maxie." you purred, still hot all over. the weed was still in your system.

he pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his sweatpants. he admired the bit of cum that leaked out of your poor cunt. it eased any possessiveness in his mind, relaxed him that he was able to make his beloved girlfriend feel good.

"c'mon, finish that water and we'll get you to bed." he patted your thigh before he pulled your pretty panties back up over your hips.

you nodded softly before you carefully got a hold of the cup and finished the rest of the water quickly. you could be good, for once!

-

the following week, max was being nice and helping you put your strappy sandals before you went out for the evening with some of the other partners of drivers.

when he got up from the floor, he reached over down the couch and grabbed a windbreaker jacket with his team, name and number on it. he put it on you before he zipped it up to the top, effectively hiding the suggestive outfit you were wearing.

he patted your shoulders and kissed your forehead before he said, "there, perfect. now remember, no drugs. okay?" he kissed you again, "you're going to be good for me?"

you nodded, "always max. but i am tempted to be bad again. if that means you'll fuck me on the counter again."

max smiled as he tapped your nose, his face close to you, "next time i won't be so generous. if you come home to me high again, i'm not going to be as nice."

you smiled at him, "then i'll be good then." you got up from the couch and embraced your boyfriend. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and felt safe in his arms for a moment, "no weed, no nothing."

"good, that's what i like to hear. now you for have fun, treasure." he kissed your cheek. he walked you to the front door before he saw you out. when he closed the door once you left, he palmed himself through his sweatpants at the thought of you.

he walked to the bedroom and searched in the back of the closet. he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and a blindfold. he walked back to the bed casually and placed them down softly.

just in case you decided to misbehave again <3

[octopiys]

what happens if honey (reader) is home alone and theres a break in? or she's in any danger and Simon's not there haha hypothetically what happens 👁👁

ohhhh anon I love what you're thinking here

Lost and Found

Cw: panic attack, violence, blood, death (but its deserved) [not proofread]

Simon goes out of town for his job. He was lucky, he said, too have as much time off for that long while as he did.

He'd only be gone a few days.

Yeah, a few days, you can do that, right? Easy.

You had a ton of leftovers and still more food in the fridge. You should have enough dog food to keep the bowls full outside, and you can still go out in the yard.

You're not on house arrest while he's gone. You can still do whatever you want.

So for the first hour, you sat on the couch, staring at nothing while the duck slept in the box, and Scraggle settles right in your lap, yapping.

What could you do while he was gone? You were overwhelmed with possibility. What couldn't you do?

You missed him. Tears pricked your eyes, stung the waterline, you missed him.

So you do what you're good at, and cook about it.

Kinder to bury your sorrows in the stove than in the ground. What can you make?

There's fish in the freezer. You're not sure what kind it is, but it's only labeled with "price."

What the price is, you're not sure. But Simon would've told you if there was something you couldn't use, right? Maybe it's an expensive fish. Bagged in vacuum seal plastic..... yeah, it probably won't be missed.

You're frying tonight. You've got bread crumbs and oil, and a spare lemon from the fruit bowl. The sun is setting, and the first piece comes off as a test.

You try some of it, hissing at how hot it was, before making direct eye contact with Scraggle, who suddenly seems like it's never been fed in its life. You roll your eyes and slide some to the cat with a quiet warning of "It's hot!"

The cat paws at the piece of fish, before launching in a perfect vertical off the counter, yowling it's head off. It leaps off the counter, does a lap around the room, knocks a few sheets off the printer, launches back onto the counter– you can't help but watch, there was no way to stop it– takes the fish in it's mouth, and darts outside.

You stand in the kitchen, alone and in disbelief.

You look around, as if Simon could've seen that whole fiasco, before laughing softly to yourself.

(Those cameras prove interesting videos when there's a lull in the mission, or there's quiet time in the safehouse. He'll wait for you to tell him about it first. The cameras won't be mentioned.)

The fish and potatoes come off the stove, and you make yourself a plate. You set it at the table, before going to put a record on.

Simon had forgotten he had those. They were stowed away in the garage, with a bunch of old boxes that he still couldn't bare to look through yet.

He hears some old tunes playing from inside of the house, and freezes, memories jolting back to stun him.

He's stumbled into the house, using the walls to push him along, feeling weak in the legs and soft in the head, spinning out of control, until he sees you humming along in the kitchen, the soft sway of your hips to the tunes of an old song he can't remember the name of. You're tasting cookie dough from a spoon, lost in the bliss of it all. At peace. Safe.

He swallows roughly, a sting at his eyes unfamiliar, the tightness in his chest suffocating.

For the first time in years, he thinks the words: I miss my mom.

You hadn't noticed him enter then, those weeks ago, nor had you heard him leave. You sway your hips, moving rhythmically to the instrumental soundtrack as you made your way over to the table.

You were sure Barrow was asleep somewhere, and the smaller mutt with her (inseparable, they were), and Scraggle was off somewhere, recovering from its zoomies. Just you and the music to dinner, then.

By the time your dinner had finished, the dogs were out for the night. The bowls were full, and new blankets were layed out.

You decide to take a bath tonight. Simon said you could use his bathroom, and you wanted to maybe try and take full advantage of it.

When was the last time you had a proper bath? You didn't have any salts, but that's okay. There were a few candles in the cabinet in the kitchen, and your bodywash would bubble up the hot water enough.

You hum softly to yourself as you slip out of your clothes and into the warm water with a sigh. Relaxation slips into your being as the water spills over every inch of you, your hair not touching the water. Your book, the old copy of the Hobbit, finds it's way into your hands as you pick up where you left off. The music is still playing down the hall.

The pony is in the river– something breaks outside. Scraggle must've gotten on your plate, silly you for leaving it out.

The brothers go after the pony, ladden with supplies, but Kili-

The music ends abruptly.

You freeze, hairs on your arms standing straight up. Your stomach flips with sudden anxiety, despite virtually nothing happening.

Obviously, Scraggle must've unplugged the cord after hopping off the table where your plate was. Yeah, that was it.

–pony, ladden with sup–

Ice floods your veins at the realization. You were supposed to be alone in the house. Scraggle hadn't come back inside before you locked the back door.

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, scrambling out of the tub as quiet, and urgently, as you could. You slip back into whatever you were wearing before, it didn't matter if it had been dirty or not.

Did Simon keep weapons in the house? There were steak knives in the kitchen. The main phone line was in there, too.

Simon had an emergency phone in his night stand.

Something smashes and you jolt, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you move to peek around the lower corner of the bathroom door.

Shadows dance along the wall and your heart skips a few beats, dancing in your throat.

Had he come to find you?

N- no, you were safe here. Simon told you, he promised you were- what was the emergency dial for this region? You didn't know, could it change? You had to find the phone, and something to defend yourself with.

You held your breath, skin damp, still practically half naked, before darting across the room to the nightstand, and pulling it open soundlessly.

Inside were a few cords, a notepad, moisturizer, and a flip phone.

Of course it was a flip phone.

You open up the contacts tab, cringing at each small beep made by the keypad, tucked in the gap between Simon's large bed and the wall.

>JP

>JM

>KG

>Work

What do you choose? Who were these contacts?

You hear someone laugh, and tears spill down your cheeks. You can't go back, you can't, he couldn't find you this soon.

The phone is dialing. You don't remember which one you picked.

It answers on the second ring. No one speaks.

"...s- simon-" Your voice wobbles out, just below a whisper. Something else breaks, and a quiet sob leaves your mouth.

"Honey? Why're you-"

Relief breaks across you at the familiar gruffness of Simon's voice. Thank God he picked up.

"Someone- someone's in the house- two people- I d- don't know what-" You stumble over your words quickly, trying to tell him everything all at once. You can't breathe. "Need- your help, please-"

"Someone's in the house?" You can hear him stand. There's a bite in his voice, like the edge of a dagger, or the cold of a glacier, immobile. "Where are you?"

"Y- Yes, Simon, please-" You hiccup, stifling another sob with a hand over your mouth. You tell him you're in between his bed and the wall.

"There's a lockbox under the bed. Can you see it?" He asks you.

You scoot a bit, and peer under the bed. It's practically spotless, the gap between the bed and the floor just large enough to squeeze in if someone needed to get under there. You locate the box.

It's on the other side, closest to the door.

"I- I see it-" You whisper.

"Get in there. There's a code-"

You'd have to put yourself between the box and the door in order to open it. They were just down the hall, how they hadn't made their way back here yet, you didn't know. Then they'd catch you, they'd catch you for sure if you left your spot right here, and drag you all the way back- they'd push you through the fields, and the miles of woods, oh god, they'd make you go back to him. They'd make you go back to-

"Honey-"

You're hyperventilating, thinking yourself into a hole. There's no way that you could see yourself getting out of here in the way you want.

"Honey!"

You snap back into it. Lockbox.

"S- Sorry- I can reach it, let me just-" You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and push yourself under the bed. You reach, and can't touch it, so you dig harder, push yourself a little more until your fingertips graze the cold metal of the box, and you tug it towards your, curling in on yourself to open the box.

You punch in the code, open the box, and–

A hand wraps around your ankle and yanks with a sick pop, pulling you out from under the bed. You scream, your phone clattering into the box. You see it close, watching in horror as the bed disappears from above you, your shoulder catching on the underside of the bed on the way out.

You immediately turn, fight or flight kicking in, and lash out, screaming. Your fingers dig into the man's throat, you can't see, before his arm rears back and strikes you across the face.

You don't remember hitting the floor.

You come to, the coarseness of the carpet scratching your back, rugburn. You twitch, blinking the bleariness out of your eyes before writhing, you're being dragged by your legs. You kick out, screaming, turning to grab the walls, or nearest piece of furniture. A book on the ground, you launch it at the head of the man, covered in a ski mask.

He yelps out, dropping you, and you scramble to your feet, head spinning, before you launch yourself back down the hallway.

There's a man in your house.

You find another man in Simon's room. He's got the box open at his feet.

You lunge at him, screaming, your mind blank with fear, or rage or- well, there are men in your house. They want to hurt you.

Who would care for your animals if you were gone?

You don't know how, but the gun is in your hands.

There's blood, and there's a lot of it, and you can't tell how much of it is yours.

There is a man, in your house.

You rise shakily to your feet, heart thudding in your ears. You turn to the doorway of Simon's room.

You make your way out of the room, a heavy limp to your step, your hips ache in the curve of your legs, a dull pain muted by adrenaline.

No one. No one will hurt your animals. No one will hurt your house.

Lucky for you, the man meets you halfway. His nose is bleeding, and you raise your gun at him.

He stops, leaning against the wall as he smiles, the blood from his nose staining his teeth.

"Cmon, Baby, you don' know what yer doin'... Jus' drop the gun. I'll help you out, Baby, cmon Baby, jus-" He coos at you, like you're helpless.

There's a yowl, and a flash of cat, and Scraggle appears from almost nowhere, sinking it's toothy mouth into the man's ankle. He shouts out, hopping up onto one foot, flinging his other wildly. Scraggle shoots up into the air, before landing on its feet, hissing erratically.

The man starts forward towards your cat.

"Why you little-"

There's another flash.

You sink to the ground, your head in a pounding agony. You can't hear anything past the ringing in your ears, the loud screech leftover by a fired gunshot in close quarters. You can't hear, can't breathe.

You're bleeding, somewhere, you don't know if you can find out the source.

Scraggle curled up in your lap, purring and licking at your hand.

Did you see, mother. Did you see how good Scraggle has done. Defended the home front, all alone, no help at all, did you see how good Scraggle has done? Praise it, praise it mother, feed it extra tonight, Scraggle deserves it, bested the beasts by itself, it did-

Your eyes drag over to the body of the man in the hall, and you do nothing about it. A kind of satisfaction fills you, like sweet rot, mossy mildew in your chest. Your hand rests on Scraggle, who was completely unharmed.

There's a slight smile on your face as the medicine kicks in, and you nestle in closer to Simon. The questions will come later, sleep is now. No one hurts your animals.

You blink, and someone's crouching in front of you, cradling your head in his hands. You hum, tired enough to not bother opening your eyes. He opens them for you, shining a bright light, and you flinch back with a whine.

He's pressing his forehead to yours the second the light disappears, mumbling something you still can't hear.

You mouth his name, or say it, you can't tell, and lean into the warmth that is Simon. Your face is wet with fresh tears, and everything hurts, fix it Simon, please-

He pulls you into his arms, Scraggle brushing up against you, purring. You can't hear it, but you can feel the vibrations of your favorite little critter, trying to do it's best to help heal you.

You're carried to your room and sat in your bed, Simon wrapping your shoulder in bandages– when did he get those?– and looking at your ankle. You're sleepy, you lean against him, seeking warmth body heat and comfort. He wraps his arms around you, and you fall under, your eyes drifting shut as you start to snooze against him.

You didn't seem to make the connection that there was more than one person helping him out, no matter how they got there so quickly.

John sticks his head into the room as you fall asleep, spotting Gaz on the floor trying to set your ankle, and Simon behind you, holding your sleeping form.

"She alright?"

"Yeah, sir. Just a bit roughed up. Where's Soap?" Simon rumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

Scraggle jumps up on the bed, nesting between you both. Blessings and healing to mother, blessing to father-

"Takin' out the trash." John responds. "Mind if we crash here for the night, once we get it all cleaned up?"

"Not in the least. There's pasta in the fridge, Cap'n."

And no one calls you Baby.

masterlist

[lonelypep]

every smash bros character ranked by how good of a cook i think they’d be.

82: piranha plant

eating this dish will kill you instantly. turns out he spit some poison in there while no one was looking. and yeah, that sucks, but if you even accepted a meal from this guy i think you have bigger problems

81: ridley.

let’s be real, if you let this guy into the kitchen, you made a huge mistake. it’s like john mulaney’s horse in a hospital sketch: you never know what he’s gonna do next. you’re too focused on getting him out.

80: king k rool.

king k rool is many things. a king, a pirate, a scientist. but he is not a cook. he’ll try, but he has literally no clue what he’s even doing in the kitchen.

79: yoshi

yoshi will give you a dish and you’ll be like “what the fuck is this” and he’ll talk about how it was made from the finest newborns of his home planet. i’m deciding to ignore it but it’s really nagging at me.

78: sonic

sonic shouldn’t be on this list. because he wouldn’t make you any food. he’ll go to the local sonic and get a burger in about 3 minutes. it sucks. disqualified.

77: pac man

what can i say. it tastes like literal plastic. i don’t even wanna know how he made it. i’ll give it back to him but the nice thing about pac man is he wouldn’t give a shit.

76: bowser jr.

fuck this guy. he rage quit at making a grilled cheese. now there’s a literal canonball in the stove. now no one else can use it!! this is what happens when you spoil kids.

75: pikachu/pichu

these two are in the same category since they’d make the same thing. they’d get store bought french fries and fry them with lighting outside. it’s consistent, it works, just not really filling. and they don’t know how to make anything else.

74. wario

don’t get me wrong: he knows what he’s doing. he’s the burger king of smash. he’s this low because the burger is the most unhealthy shit you’ll ever have. eating it gave you chronic diarrhea, gastrointestinal issues, and permanently damaged your taste buds. but god fucking damn was it a good burger.

73. hero

he gave you a single piece of bread with butter on it. it’s not bad but…really dude?

72: olimar

he didn’t make you a bad meal, in fact it was one of the best here. but that’s because he didn’t make you something. it was the pikmin and he’s trying to pass it off as his own and the pikmin don’t know because they don’t speak english. 0/10: not fucking cool dude.

71: kazuya

honestly? i don’t trust this guy. i was too intimidated to even ask his name. from what i can gather no one even invited him to the party he just showed up and made a mediocre meal. what’s weird: someone came into the kitchen and claimed this guy killed their whole family. we never saw that guy again. needless to say, kazuya wasn’t invited to the afterparty.

70: link (botw)

don’t get me wrong here, link is a five star chef. he’s just really unsanitary. apparently he cut the meat and vegetables with the same sword he killed calamity ganon with. i don’t wanna taste that guy!! have you seen him?? not to mention he pulled the meal out of his pants. i don’t even know how it fit in there.

69: inkling

she made a pancake and i thought it was good! but i absolutely can’t condone this. inkling left so much fucking weird slime and shit all over my house. and got really competitive when she heard i was getting meals from everyone else. i hope they’re all ok.

68: ROB

it was so processed. the most processed food i’ve ever had in my entire life. it’s not his fault, rob is a great guy. but this tasted like literally nothing.

67: ice climbers

when they told me they were making dessert, i trusted them. but i let someone else taste test first. my best friend was sent to the hospital because of tongue frostbite. didn’t even know that was a thing. i made the ice climbers pay for it (they’re fucking loaded)

66: villager

he made isabelle do it. and she made something great! but i’m not giving this cretin credit for having the money to afford a five star chef. you don’t deserve it because you sold a shit ton of tarantulas villager!!

65: lucario.

dude got really mad and destroyed my kitchen. he’s REALLY lucky he got the burger PERFECTLY cooked.

64: male byleth.

like this dude knows how to cook. he can barely make chicken nuggets. he has to eat in the school cafeteria simply because he never learned how to cook a simple meal. but he’s a really nice guy. total himbo. love him.

63: ryu

i asked this guy what he likes to eat. big mistake. he then went on to say that his training regiment doesn’t condone copious indulgence (his words) and he lives off of nothing but protein shakes. you do you i guess.

62-61: fox/falco

these two went into the kitchen and came out with weird alien food. i didn’t eat it but everyone else seemed to enjoy it

60: greninja

when he first came out i was so excited. he came out with the most finely sliced food i had ever seen in my entire life. but it was soooo watered down. everything tasted like celery. how do you make crab taste like celery?? how??!

59-58: simon/richter

these guys both made the same exact fish recipe, came out at the same time, and proceeded to fight each other. i didn’t get to try any 😭

57-49: every fire emblem character.

genuinely, i can’t tell these guys apart. or their food choices. honestly, my bad. i’m sure they’re good. but where do i even start.

48: sheik

she doesn’t know how to cook. she kidnapped someone else. normally i wouldn’t put someone like that this high but a. i have gender envy b. it’s for the greater good (or so she said)

47: cloud

dude made a great sandwich but he kept screaming random noises while he did. personally, i’m just glad he managed not to destroy the kitchen. that’s a first here.

46: captain falcon

he promised he’d pick up some pizza but got into a car crash on the way there. eventually he got there after the car crash was all sorted out, but got into ANOTHER on the way back. i’m honestly kind of impressed

45: steve

steve could cook an absolutely fucking KILLER meal. he’ll even offer to do it for free. but you shouldn’t let him under any circumstances. he took 13 hours gathering materials and while the wait was, arguably, worth it, i never want to experience it again. (side note: we asked captain falcon to get some pizza while waiting which led to the aforementioned entry)

44: sora

sora doesn’t know how to cook but he’s by far the biggest name at this party. everyone fucking loves him. he’s friends with GOOFY. this dude hangs out with GOOFY. this guys has hung out with GOOFY AND jack sparrow. bad food but i could listen to this guy talk for hours about his story. i’m sure i’ll understand it all.

43-40: pokémon trainer

this guys organization is fucking atrocious. if he can actually get his shit together he’ll cook up some nice vegetarian meals, but that’s a big if.

HONORABLE MENTION: sans mii gunner

sans undertale is a world renowned, famous chef. his recipes are simple, but cooked with such love, care, and finess it turns a simple cheeseburger into a masterpiece. sans undertale would easily top this list. sans mii gunner is not sans undertale. he bought the real sans’ cookbook and thinks he’s some kind of cooking genius. and sure he’s got the recipes but none of the skill to actually make it.

39-38: samus/zero suit samus

hooray! we’re out of bad cook options now. samus is a great cook, but she’s so used to her alien delicacies she doesn’t know how to cook on earth anymore. shame, but i trust her to produce something edible.

37: shulk

he is really good at the grill. unfortunately, he refused to put a shirt on and made everyone a little uncomfy. that being said, he showed me the beach boys and i had never listened to them before. so he gets points.

36-35: pit/dark pit

these guys don’t know how to cook but the flew into the sky and killed some mythical bird for everyone to eat. i couldn’t have any, i’m pescatarian, but everyone else loved it.

34: bayonnetta

she opened a portal to a waffle house and a bunch of demons came flying out. she didn’t make anything, but honestly, absolutely legendary experience that was.

33: duck hunt

you’d think a dog wouldn’t bring anything meaningful. this would be false. that is the freshest duck i’ve ever seen in my entire life. (didn’t eat it: pescatarian)

32: king dedede

he made his legendary homemade mashed potatoes. everyone loved them. so creamy… weirdly perfect. too bad i hate the monarchy. sorry bud.

31: meta knight

meta knight is a great cook and should be higher. but i don’t want him to be. because he’s so fucking pretentious. he sliced all the food in front of everyone and wouldn’t shut up about radiohead. hate this guy.

30-29: daisy/peach

these two put all their private chefs together to make something for everyone. great catering, great food, but they didn’t technically make it. love them.

28: mewtwo

as if mewtwo wouldn’t just read someone’s mind and cook something. but it’s not mewtwo’s food…so…. sorry dude you cheated.

27: dark samus

she really surprised me here. she cooked up the most exquisite alien delicacies i’ve ever tasted in my entire life. should be higher. but unfortunately, i had to get a space parasite removed from my system by regular samus. honestly though… it was worth it.

26: ganon

he was rude to everyone about his cooking skills and wouldn’t stop bragging. asshole am i right? but surprised everyone by grilling his god damn heart out. he’s a bad try hard but like go off i guess.

25: isabelle

she’s trying her absolute fucking best and she deserves the world here. amazing cook, we need to save her from the island.

24: little mac

dude went so hard. brought new york pizza ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK. ok, not literally, but he made a damn good pizza

23: snake

full disclosure: snake doesn’t know how to cook. also no one knows he’s an agent. but he has to cook to blend in so you BEST BELIEVE this man is going to COOK like his life depends on it.

22-20: young link, ness, and lucas

all these guys are incredibly mature for their age. surprised everyone at this party. i had deep and philosophical conversations with all of them about appreciating life. i fucking cried. oh and they made everyone sandwiches, and even took my pescatarianism into account.

19: rosalina

she brought weird space ice cream and i felt my mind expanding as i ate it. love her.

18: mr game and watch

he feels like everyone’s dad! and he’s one of those cooks who cooks in front of everyone. dude flung his meals onto everyone’s plates expertly. love him.

17: joker

originally much lower on this list, joker showed up at my house and attempted to make a grilled cheese and made the worst thing i’ve ever taste. then he said something about gru from despicable me and stood in the corner for an hour. originally i had him towards the bottom but then he doordashed five gigantic burgers, ate all of them in one sitting, and then made me an expensive curry that tasted fantastic. dude went hard.

it was at this point i realized i made a mistake with the numbers. like hell if i’m going to fix the whole thing.

22: zelda

she made some weird food but damn was it pretty to look at! crystals, magic power, i mean good vibes all around here.

21-20: pyra and mythra

i feel like i should put them here since they’re confirmed to be good cooks in the game. but between you and me, i didn’t invite them. i’d consider some entries before this to be better cooks but at this point i’ve been working on this list for 8 hours i do not wanna go back and fix things please i mean this whole list is a joke no one should take this seriously

19: banjo and kazooie

these guys can fucking cook. they’ve been living on their own for a while so it makes sense but it still surprises me. they made a really big stew and even brought free puzzle games.

18: wolf

GRILL MASTER. dude knows what he’s doing on that thing. i’ve never seen better spatula work. holy shit.

17: kirby

kirby came in with some weird blonde hair and made some FANTASTIC ribs (that i didn’t have bc i’m pescatarian). weirdly, gordon ramsey went missing the same day…. i’m sure it means nothing.

16: mario

dude made some absolutely spectacular spaghetti. but he kept talking about how great he is and it really off put some people. kinda weird dude.

15: dr mario. dude brought 50 apples to the potluck. guess he doesn’t wanna see anyone in the office. and he didn’t because we ate them all. take that.

14: min min

she brought some soup dumplings which a lot of people hadn’t had! love her. literally fantastic. she had a whole arm for cooking. that’s what we call efficient.

13: ken

he’s kenough. he is amazing at barbecue. he can cook things with his hands, juggle, also he’s just a fun presence. (i made him make fake meat burgers for me)

12: jigglypuff

she showed up with so many pastries. like so many. not only that, but they were decorative!! she put so much work into that. love her.

11: luigi

he tried to make spaghetti like his brother but a literal fucking meteor slammed into his pot and cracked it. tough luck. then he offered to pay and i refused, but went out and got me some really expensive spaghetti anyways! he’s such a nice guy!! shouldn’t be this high… but i love this guy so much. he’s trying his hardest and i respect that.

10: toon link

toon link didn’t actually make anything. but his mom came and made everyone a salad. and honestly! his mom is some great company. she had so many interesting stories about his childhood. honestly she added so much to the function

9: terry

he is the BARBECUE MASTER!!!! literally what the hell how is he so good! everyone at the party kinda stereotyped him but he’s really really progressive with his views which you wouldn’t think for a big barbecue muscle guy in a baseball cap but everyone loved this guy.

8: mega man

the MASTER CHEF!! literally. he was on master chef. he uses thin round blades to slice vegetables, heats things perfectly, has an instance knowledge of spices, just damn. this guy knows what he’s doing.

7-6: bowser and donkey kong

common misconception: everyone thinks these two would have no idea how to cook. but these are FAMILY GUYS HERE!! they’re providing for absolutely gigantic families, these fuckers know how to make a sandwich and they did. initially they started off making separate sandwiches but they have a really similar recipe and decided to work together. and i really respect that. also turns out peach is just bowser’s kids’ babysitter.

5: palutena.

everyone expected her to show up with some absolutely mystical food. naturally, she showed up with the literal ambrosia of the gods. holy shit. unfortunately, she didn’t put as much effort into it as she could’ve.

4: sephiroth.

ok this guy didn’t really cook anything amazing. but his sheer fucking commitment to the vibe is literally legendary. this man has a long as sword he cut 10 veggies at a time with. he heat them with magic world ending fire. when he was done in the kitchen he surrounded himself with fire and gazed menacingly at me. his sheer commitment to the edge lord aesthetic is truly exemplary.

3: incineroar.

THE GRILLING GOAT!! this man is a grill master. he was prepared to grill ANYTHING. and i mean anything. fish, veggies, meat, fucking grilled cheese. love this guy.

2: wii fit trainer

she made the most well balanced and healthy salad i’ve ever had. and she made it taste extraordinary. she can be a little intense about fitness but i’ve never had a healthier meal in my life. it immediately lowered my extremely high cholesterol.

1. diddy kong

he’s about ten. he made you a pb&j. he had homework to do, but he made you a pb&j. he didn’t have to. he wasn’t asked to. he just wanted to make you a pb&j. he could’ve done anything else but he made you a pb&j. what heartless monster wouldn’t accept it.

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh my goodness!! I absolutely loved your doll-sized! reader x König so so much. Could you perhaps make a part 2 where she tries to escape, but König puts her in the jar 😵‍💫 or maybe he punishes her by overstimulating her with his tongue…

Yes🤭😮‍💨

König x Doll Sized!Reader PT2(fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation, oral, cum play, captive, non-con

2.6k word count

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That night, you didn't sleep. You spend all night trying to escape from this closet. Breaking off the small plastic bar in your closet to see if you can break a small part of the door, looking for holes in the wall, nothing. You find yourself completely trapped within. With a feeling of defeat, you drop to the floor and curl into a ball. Tears fall from your eyes until you slowly fall asleep.

König wakes up early the next morning with a new found pep in his step. The fact he has you here, so close, gives him a rush he hasn’t felt in a long time. He enters his kitchen, going into the refrigerator and grabbing eggs to prepare for the both of you. On one plate, he loads it up with scrambled eggs, toast with jam, and sausage for you both to share.

He climbs back upstairs, opening his bedroom door, and locking it behind him. Sitting the plate of food down on his nightstand, he opens the closet door. There you are, in your purple dress, asleep on the floor. It’s obvious that you were trying to escape; he knew you would, but had hoped you would have come to terms with things overnight. Your closet is a mess and pieces of wood chippings are on the floor from the door.

König’s eyes trail over your body as he kneels down. Your eyes flutter open as you feel yourself being picked up. Panic sets in as you realize König has grabbed you in your sleep. He watches as you wake up in his hands. A look of dread crosses your face, upsetting König. He’s so used to you being happy to see him, now you’re acting as if you don’t even like him.

“I made breakfast for both the of us.” He says, sitting on the bed and placing you next to him.

The large plate of food is placed in front of you, the bread and sausage cut smaller for you to take bites. König’s eyes study your expression as you look at everything before you. He reaches out with the backs of his middle and pointer fingers, caressing the side of your face. You flinch slightly, but don’t make any sudden movements.

“Eat, kleine Maus.” König’s eyes follow the outline of your body in that dress. “It’s good, I promise. Those are chicken eggs with beef and pork sausage.”

You lean forward and grab a piece of the bread, taking a bite and smiling when you taste the sweet apricot jam. König lets out a breath he had been holding in, wondering if you’d eat. He loves to watch your mouth wrap around the pieces of bread. The way a bit of jam sticks to your upper lip.

Despite everything, you seem to have been able to maintain your cheery disposition. Not making any attempts to flee and actually eating peacefully with him. Of course, König is going to maintain a close eye on you, but he’s happy to see that you’re not freaking out.

Once you’re done eating you sit back with your arms behind you to prop you up. “Thank you for the food, König.”

“Of course. I’m happy you enjoyed it all.” His eyes study your face before speaking again. “You’re so beautiful. I’m so happy that you’re mine.”

You notice his other arm moving, your eyes falling on it and notice that he is rubbing his boner as he looks at you. An uncomfortable look crosses your face, remembering how he acted with you yesterday. König watches you as you fidget, he’s aware of your feelings but he doesn’t care. He’s horny and he wants to know what he can do with you.

“Undress, Maus.” He more so demands of you as he moves the plate of food.

“König, please don’t make me.”

“I don’t want to hear any back-talk. Take. It. Off.” His voice is almost a low growl.

You stand to your feet and begin to undo your dress, letting it drop onto the bed sheets. Avoiding his gaze, you look down at the blue comforter. The bed moves as König stands and fully undresses before you. Your eyes scan over every inch of his body, landing on his erection.

König reaches forward and grasps you in his fist, holding you as he lets himself get comfortable on the bed. As he settles down on his abdomen, he uses his hands to gently open your legs. He slowly rubs up and down your small thighs, enjoying how delicate your flesh feels. One of his fingers runs down your thigh lower and lower…until he’s slowly moving his finger up and down your tiny cunt. Your legs jerk in reaction to his massive finger rubbing your clit. An arrogant smirk crosses his lips as he watches you struggle to control yourself.

He adjusts his body to rest on his side so his free hand can reach down and stroke his cock. The finger that is slowly rubbing your clit moves to the side to hold your leg open for him. At first, he takes a deep breath, smelling what your natural musk smells like. With one deep inhale, he’s hooked. You smell better than any human he’s ever smelt before.

“Mein Gott, you smell wie eine Blume.” His German and English get mixed as his excitement grows.

You try to close your other leg to take away access to yourself. His hand moves from his cock to your other leg and holds it down. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

König lowers his head and swipes the very tip of his tongue over your sweet cunt, his eyes closing instantly. It was as if he had just eaten the sweetest cake he’s ever tasted in his entire life. The tip of his tongue is big enough to cover every inch of your pussy. He simply wiggles his tongue back and forth pulling precious whimpers from your lips.

“König, too much!” You moan loudly as your back arches.

“Mhm.” He grunts back to you.

The way your body moves as you become overwhelmed with pleasure is spectacular. His lips wrap around you and sucks lightly. In response, the muscles in your abdomen tense up and you lean forward. Your small hands press against his face trying to push him away from overstimulating you. He’s simply too big to move. With all of your might you try to close your legs, causing König to chuckle.

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” He says, pulling back slightly before diving back in.

Your breathing is heavy as you pant from his mouth consuming you. As you writhe beneath him, his cock twitches with excitement. All his mind can think of is slipping his cock into you, but logically he knows that he can’t. You’re so small he would rip you apart if he tried.

Electric waves of euphoria pleasure pulse throughout your whole body. Every little suck or swirl of his tongue pushes you to the point the pleasure is almost painful. There is no break, just constant ecstasy. You begin to shake your head side to side as primal moans escape you.

As you orgasm, König loosens his grip on your legs. He moves one arm back down to jerk himself off. His eyes watch you as your eyes flutter and roll back in your head. What a beautiful sight you are.

“Gott, you taste so good.”

While you pant, trying to recover, he grabs your body and moves how he’s positioned in the bed. He leans back against his pillows and holds you, bringing you to his cock. It’s almost the full length of your body and wider than you are. Seeing the comparison of you in one hand next to his cock in the other makes his mind run wild.

“I wish I could fuck you.” His voice drips with hunger.

König jerks himself off as he holds you close to him. The musk coming off of him consuming your nostrils. He brings you closer to him, his hand moving off of himself as he presses you against him.

“Lick it.”

With hesitation, you slowly stick your tongue out and swipe a quick lick over his foreskin. König pulls it back to expose his pink tip.

“Again.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see as you lick your flat tongue along the head of his cock. It tastes salty from all of the precum that has leaked down it. König lets out a moan as he feels you. It’s small, but the visual of you doing it is stimulating enough for him to cum.

“Use that fucking tongue.” He groans.

As disgusted as you are, you don’t want the giant to be upset with you so you rest one hand on his cock as you slick with passion, sucking lightly. König watches down at you with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way you’re eagerly trying to please him.

Right when he feels as if he is ready to cum, his doorbell rings. König lets out an annoyed sigh as he puts you down on the bed. He quickly stands, grabbing his pants before peaking out the window to see who it is. Once he notices the mail truck, he puts his pants on.

“I’ll be right back. I just have to sign for a package.” He leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him.

For a moment you freeze, your heart beating quickly in your chest. Now is the time. You walk to the edge of the bed, looking down at the distance to the floor. It’s at least a two-foot drop that could hurt you. In a rush your eyes scan the bed, noticing how the night stand has a safe next to it, causing a small stair effect.

Without giving it a second thought you rush to jump the small gap between the bed and the night stand. You steady yourself on the cold wood, walking over the remote and ash tray that rest on it. Getting closer to the edge, you look down at the black metal safe. The drop is big, but you know you can do it without getting hurt.

With a deep breath, you turn and drop yourself down slowly. Once your feet touch the metal a wave of relief comes over you. Not even looking this time, you turn and lower yourself down to the floor the same way. Now with feet on the floor, you run to the door, trying to fit underneath the gap in between the door and the floor. As much as you try, it’s not use, you don’t fit.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you rub your face with your hands. König closes the front door with the package in his hand and begins to walk up the stairs. He goes to his office and places the package on his desk in the office to work on later tonight. You can hear his footsteps approaching so you decide to hide up against the wall and just make a run for it once he opens the door.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait. It’s as if things move in slow motion when you see the door opening. Once one of his feet is past the threshold, you run. König isn’t stupid, he quickly sees that you’re missing from the bed. His eyes dart everywhere around the room when he hears you behind him.

“Stop!” he shouts at you as you turn into one of the open doors, hoping to use your size to be able to hide from him.

The room you ran into is his office, where he spends his time making things for you. König is hot on your trail. He isn’t going to let you go this easily. As he enters the room, he closes the door behind him.

“Kleine Maus, you’ve only made this worse for yourself.” He taunts as he slowly steps forward. “Now you get to sit in a jar instead of your comfortable bed.”

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine; you know he means it. The jar isn’t something you plan on experiencing. You look around for a place to conceal yourself until he moves on, looking at a stack of files. You slowly try to get behind the stack, but one accidental slip of your hand sends them all crashing down.

König turns in that direction and rushes to you quickly. “You’re not getting away.” He growls as he pulls the files over more to see you.

You run but before you can make any distance, König’s massive hand squeezes around you. This time his grip hurts. With all of your might you kick and hit him with your hands but nothing works. He doesn’t even look at you as he stalks over to his desk with urgent speed. You see a large mason jar and panic sets in.

“Please don’t put me in there König, I’ll suffocate.” You plead desperately.

“I drilled holes in the lid, I’m not a fucking idiot.” He says with irritation in his voice.

König lifts the lid up and drops you into the jar, your body hitting the glass with a ding. You look up as he closes you inside. He picks up the jar and holds you face level with himself, his gaze holding a lot of anger.

“Why did you try to run?!” He yells at you.

“I just want to go home.” You cry out and hit the side of the jar.

“No! You are home!” His shouts vibrate the glass jar.

He slams you down on the desk, once again rattling you. Your body falls hard against the glass as you look up. The rage you’ve feared is showing its ugly head. As you stand up and steady yourself, you watch König pull his pants back down, whipping his cock back out.

König stands and unleashes his anger out on his cock. His eyes travel all over your body, still tasting your sweet pussy on his tongue. You’re such a naughty fucking woman, a sweet little whore…his whore.

“Say you want my cum.”

“I want your cum.” You say quickly, this isn’t a time to try and anger him. Instead, you fawn instantly.

“Ja, du kleine Hure.” König moans out as he steps closer to the jar.

He stops to open the lid, bringing himself closer to the desk. His fist moving quickly up and down his cock as he aims it into the jar. Pathetic moans leave König as thick globs of his cum fall down into the jar, some falling on to you and covering your hair and face. You gag from the smell and sticky feeling as it covers you. His jizz fills the jar up to your ankles.

König looks down and sees you covered, disgusted with what he just did. A chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your reaction. “What? You don’t like my cum?”

You don’t respond, trying to remain calm so he will let you out. He isn’t going to though. You’re staying in that cum filled jar for the whole day, maybe even days. Maybe he will just keep filling the jar up, covering you until you’re consumed by his seed.

The warm cum sticks to your hair, slowly falling down your naked body. There is nowhere for you to sit or relax without having to sit in his cum. The small space traps the smell inside with you. It is absolutely disgusting.

König closes the lid again, tightly, trapping you within. He sits down in his desk chair and looks at you for a moment. Wondering how he can fuck you. What can he shove inside of you without hurting you? His eyes drift from you to the desk full of craft supplies. He notices a dried drop from his hot glue gun, picking it up and bending it. Just then an idea enters his mind, his gaze meeting yours with a mischievous smirk on his face.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。4:59 a.m. | bakugo katsuki

wc: 682 summary: bakugo rises with the sun, and runs.  contains: angst, swear word, there are cute moments at the start tho, lots of things are ambiguous and alluded to (you can make what you want out of it!), written with f!reader in mind but i don’t mention any pronouns, reader is shorter than him, aged up to when bakugo is pro. a/n: writing warm-up for bakugo! wanted to explore a side to him that touches on some deep issues (that are not explicitly stated, but hopefully hinted at enough!) and wanted to give a go at angst too!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Bakugo rises with the sun, at the crack of dawn. 

He slips out of bed quietly and lifts the arm you have draped over his stomach. You sleep on your side most nights, curled against him with your nose tucked into the crook of his neck, because he smells good. Or something. 

He snorts at that, hardly believing it to be true; you both use the same body wash and shampoo.

There’s a small sliver of light—the early morning haze peeking through—draping over the bed, over the pillows and the comforter, highlighting the softest parts of you. It’s routine by now, that without fail, he always tucks you back in; he readjusts your pillow to fall right under your cheek and pulls the comforter back over you until you instinctively snuggle back into it. 

His workout clothes are always laid out the night before: a vest with compression leggings and running shorts. So he dresses in it, puts on his training shoes by the door, and almost always, 30 minutes after waking up, goes out and runs.

The sun is barely shining yet, the sky a blend of purple and orange hues; the breeze is cool and Bakugo runs against it, passing by the still-closed bakery he knows he’ll visit later, after, on his way back home to you. 

It feels good, getting the sweat out and the adrenaline in. 

Step-after-step, breathing out, breathing in. 

Running through a waking city, past buildings and parks, a river near the outskirts—there’s a mental clarity that comes with all of it.

To be sane. 

For the people.

For the job. 

His watch beeps—he just hit a new running pr. 

On his way back, there’s an old lady by a fruit stall who always insists on giving fresh seasonal fruits, for being a handsome, young man protecting the peace. Or something.

(Whose peace?)  

But he always buys two—of peaches, pears, bananas, anything, because that’s what you always do. One for him, one for you. 

“We can’t just take it for free, Katsuki! We should buy something too…” 

And when he gets back home, plastic bag full of fruits and your favorite bread on-hand, you greet him with his protein shake and his breakfast half-packed. 

You smile, eyes lit up like the morning sun, and you tiptoe, hands reaching to clasp at the back of his neck as he tuts, “‘M sweaty,” but he’s grinning, and you don’t care.

So you kiss him, a small peck—the trademark of spending mornings with you. 

He sits with you for a bit, eats the half-plated breakfast you made him as you ask him how his run went, and he grunts, answers with a few words, but that’s how you know it went well. 

At the part he hates the most, by the door, half-packed breakfast in his hands, you say goodbye and kiss him again, to wipe the grump off his face. Or something. 

It doesn’t work, but he pulls you in for a second one, deeper, with more longing, just so you know what he’s saying. 

(I want to stay.) 

Every morning, it’s like this. 

Every morning, it’s like this. 

Until it isn’t. 

And when you’re gone, when you leave (when he makes you)—

He still runs. 

At the crack of dawn, through a waking city—past the still-closed bakery he’ll visit later, for the bread he knows you love because it tastes like the day he met you. The breeze is cool when he goes past the park where you had your first date, and the sky is a blend of orange and blue by the river where you first said ‘i love you’. 

He gets the sweat out and the adrenaline in, but there’s no fucking mental clarity in this. 

Step-after-step, he runs, hoping for some way to reach you, for some semblance of you in all these places you’ve gone to. 

And it’s all there, but it’s not you. 

When he breathes in and breathes out, by the old lady at the fruit stall, she hands him her gift of seasonal fruits and he still buys two.

[cinnamoneve]

𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐧.

eonian \ əʊnɪən \ (adj.) - continuing forever or indefinitely; lasting for an immeasurable amount of time

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: food always tastes better when it's shared with someone you love. even if you're too tired to appreciate it ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader doesn't like red bean paste lol (this is self indulgent because i do not like red bean paste. im sorry.) ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: i love domesticity i love boring things about being in love!!! in my mind gojo isn't sealed and nothing bad ever happens to him, he's eating taiyaki on the floor and happy ♡ please enjoy

satoru said he’d be home hours ago.

tracking him down when he was out on a mission was near impossible. you both agreed that if there was any kind of emergency, he’d definitely find a way to get to you. but if not, no news was good news with satoru’s work.

unfortunately, this made any type of planning difficult for the two of you, so you had to soak up all the time together you could.

by the time you had finished dinner, your appetite was gone, and you’d realized that the last thing you wanted to do was eat by yourself in the quiet apartment. you covered the food, as if a thin layer of plastic would help to preserve the presentation and flavor. satoru would eat when he’s home, and you’d join him, you thought.

mealtimes always made satoru a little bashful. he refused to eat without you, and would pout if you didn’t uphold your end of it as well. satoru firmly believes that food always tastes better when you share it with someone you love. whether or not it’s true, or whether or not you believe it yourself, satoru has an almost parasitic way of infecting you with every inch of him; so throughout your entire relationship, you can count all the meals you’ve eaten alone on one hand.

hidden beneath the five languages of love, there has to be a secret, sixth one that satoru has surrounding food. what better way to tell you he loves you than to cut your apples the way you like? or remember your takeout order? not to mention the sampling of any dessert place within a certain radius of his mission, just for him to steal a bite. or two. or three.

sharing a meal with satoru felt deeply intimate. with every bite from his plate, it felt like his love was devouring you at the same time. whole, or piece by piece, even. he had always wondered if you’d caught on that his sweet tooth developed after he kissed you for the first time. he’s just hoping to find something sweet enough to hold himself over until the next time he gets to fall in love with you again, and again.

collapsing on the couch, you drifted off thinking about what dessert he’d bring you this time. some type of pastry? a sweet bread, doughnut, or maybe a cake sampling? you wondered if he’d smear icing on your nose so he could kiss it off again, or how many kisses he’d steal between bites. or even, the gentle way he held his hand underneath your chin to catch any stray crumbs.

your daydreaming got the best of you, however, and you hadn't realized the time when you heard the all-too familiar sound of a key jingling in the door handle.

you sit up a bit and make yourself look like you weren’t fantasizing about a man who is already and desperately yours. you didn’t want satoru to feel guilty–he wouldn’t want you to stay up too late for him.

it’s around 3am when the door opens.

he looks wiped. your poor, pouty boyfriend melted in your arms when you met him at the door.

“i missed you, love,” was all he managed to croak out before exhaustion hit him, nearly leaning on all of you with his weight to keep himself stable.

“i saved you something to eat, satoru,”

“oh, thank you. i love you,”

he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead after mumbling the confession, and shuffled his way into the kitchen. not even halfway in, his legs called it quits and he resorted to sitting down on the cold floor.

“i don’t think i’m moving from this spot”

“i’ll join you, honey,” you spoke softly, almost nervous that your words would shatter him. 

you leaned down and helped him take off his blindfold. he ran his fingers through his hair, eager to loosen it up and relieve the tension building. 

you notice a white box wrapped in delicate twine. 

“can i take that from you? where can i put this?”

satoru rubs the day out of his eyes. “anywhere’s fine. this shop near me today is known for its taiyaki. i couldn’t remember which filling you liked, so i got them all. we don’t have to eat them now”

satoru had watched you order taiyaki before, on numerous occasions. for a man who can remember every detail of orders from restaurants you like, there’s no way in hell he could ever forget which filling you preferred. chalk it up to exhaustion, maybe, or his own selfish intention of eating the ones you don’t like.

you grabbed the box and put it on the counter, silently.

satoru watched your every step as you carefully reheated the dinner you made. although, a puzzled expression crossed his pretty face when he saw you reheating two plates instead of one.

“you didn’t eat?” he asked, almost whispering.

“hm?” you almost didn’t hear him. “oh, no, satoru, how could i? i wanted to wait for you”

he rests his head on the cabinets behind him, gently pouting away from you.

“it’s late, love, you could’ve eaten without me.”

his voice was sincere, but you knew his words weren’t. eating alone would’ve been the straw that broke the camel's back, he realized, and he regretted his bold-faced lie the second the words left his mouth.

all you did was continue to heat up your plates, a soft smile adorning your tired features. satoru looked at you like you were made of an ornate and delicate glass, something precious to admire but never touch. you were almost a heavenly treasure, tonight especially, and he couldn’t help but watch in silence.

you grabbed your plates and sat with him on the floor, just enough to be close but not in his personal space. extending out your legs to get comfortable, satoru gently laced his long, spindly legs with yours. anything to be in your space.

“eat up, it’s hot,” was all you said.

satoru did as he was told, grabbing the plate from your hands gently so as to not burn himself.  

���thank you for the food,”

you sat in silence for a bit, just enjoying the meal you made and each other’s presence. usually, satoru is buzzing to tell you about work missions; the kind of curse, how his students did, if he had to dramatically save them (and how cool he looked doing it too). tonight was different. you’re not sure if something happened or if he was just too tired to even bring it up, but you still wanted to ask.

“do you wanna talk about your mission today, satoru?”

“mmm, there’s nothing to talk about, babe,” he added between bites, “it was super lame and long. i missed you the whole time, though”

“thinking about me with an ugly curse in front of you, how romantic”

“ah, hush, you know what i mean,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his leg against yours. “how about you, how was your day?”

you finish your meal and set your clean plate on the kitchen floor with a big sigh. 

“booooring,” you shifted closer to satoru as he finished up as well, “i had no work to do, so i just hung out here all day.”

“mmm, sounds fun though. a day to do nothing, i mean” satoru put his hand on your leg as he looked off at the floor. 

he wondered how he’d spend a day off. his first thought was to spend it with you, and the next, would be to take his students out. maybe to an expensive shop nobara wanted to see so he could spoil her a bit, or take yuuji to some movie he’s begged someone, anyone, to see with him. or actually, the day could be spent finding megumi a quiet bookstore in a quaint and cozy town so he can truly soak up some alone time.

naturally, his thoughts go back to you, and how you could spend the time together. god, the possibilities were just endless. a day trip? a movie marathon? a romantic day together filled with any type of date you’ve ever wanted? he didn’t care. a day in bed with you would be a day fulfilling and well-spent.

not once did he consider spending it alone. he was selfless like that, but also selfish like that. 

you grabbed his plate and stood up to put it in the sink, grabbing the pastry box on your way back to joining him on the floor.

“doing nothing is fun, i guess, until it really isn't. it’s lame being alone,” you say. you sit a little bit closer to him than before, throwing out your regard for satoru’s personal space. if anything, his hand on your thigh was an indication, a blinding one, really, that you should be closer to him.

satoru’s leg finds yours as his hands reach for the box. 

“what, you miss me or something?” 

his ridiculous question forms a reluctant smile on your lips. you look at him as he gently holds one of the taiyaki between his teeth, passing you the box and avoiding eye contact.

“hmm, maybe a little,” you answer, grabbing the box from his lap.

satoru takes a bite and looks at you, exaggeratedly offended.

his mouth is full.

“only a little?” 

“yeah. just, like, a teensy bit”

satoru sighs dramatically after he swallows his first bite.

“and to think i brought home your favorite filling too, from a famous taiyaki shop”

you meticulously pick out one of the crispy fish from the box, hoping you guessed the filling correctly.

“i thought you didn’t remember my favorite,”

satoru stops chewing for a second to mull it over.

“c’mon. did you really believe that?”

“hehe, no,” you giggle, “you’re not good at lying to me, you know”

“whatever,” he groans, finishing off his last bite.

biting into yours, you realize you picked wrong, and the taste of anko fills your mouth. you stop chewing immediately.

“blegh, i got a red bean paste filled one,” you moan.

“i’ll eat it, baby,” satoru grabs the fish and the box from your hands. he picks out another. “this one is chocolate filled, and this one is custard. i wasn’t sure if you liked matcha, but i got a couple of those too,”

you grab your favorite from the ones he pointed out, and scoot up to kiss him on the jaw.

“thank you, satoru, this is sweet.”

“i don’t even know how you function without liking anko,” satoru replies, “even if it’s a red flag, you’re so welcome,”

you both continue to eat your treats together, commenting on how the shop lives up to its reputation. satoru helps you to your feet as you begin putting the leftovers away for the night.

as you turn to the bedroom for your long overdue sleep, satoru doesn’t follow.

“coming to bed, honey?” you ask.

“i’m gonna clean up a little. you don’t have to wait for me,”

“leave it for the night, satoru, it’s been a hell of a day,”

if one person cooks, the other cleans. it was an unwritten rule in the household. satoru liked keeping a clean house to maintain a clear mind, but he was relieved to hear tonight was the exception.

he turns off the lights and finds you on his way to the bedroom.

“thank you for waiting for me tonight, my love”

“i only did so the food would taste better, you know,” you laugh back.

“i’d say it was worth it then.”

if only food could taste this good forever, could be this sweet, you would wait a million years just to sit with satoru on the kitchen floor.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[kk43mi]

HII I LOVE YOUR POSTS SO MUCH

Can i order a somno with scaramouche x fem reader where he sees her pure and innocent form and then completely looses himself to the look of you?

Thank you for reading this and if i can, could i be the 🐑anon?

yas sheep anon! writing is so hard so this one is kind of rusheddd , but dont get me wrong I did try! hope you enjoy anon

purity┊scaramouche

PAIRING ┊ scaramouche x f!reader GENRE ┊ smut WC ┊1.5k+ WARNINGS ┊ cussing , i will call wanderer, scaramouche! , somnophilia , non-con , stalking , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ selling baked goods , always trying to serve the best customer service to your buyers , there would always be a regular coming. little do you know that buyer always had impure thoughts of you. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! also modern-au (?) im sorry if this one isnt really goooddd, sorry for the delay too!!

you were a baker girl, always selling fresh pastries and doing the best you can to serve the best customer service for your buyers. you had the best bread in sumeru and people loved it! you were practically well known for them.

you would see regulars here and there, always loving to talk with them whenever they came to stop by to grab something to eat on the go. but this customer you had, came most than others.

scaramouche, he came almost everyday...maybe twice that day. however, you found solace in his tranquil company, occasionally deriving enjoyment from his presence. yet, deciphering the thoughts occupying his mind proved to be a bit challenging, not that it really mattered to you.

"hello! the usual?" you would always flash that smile of yours to him while waving. he gave a small nod. you would prepare his order, before presenting it to him in a neatly arranged plastic bag.

scaramouche grabs the bag, your hand slightly grazes his and he flinched. "bye! hope you enjoy!" scara nods and pays you before leaving the store. walking back to his abode, his face brightens up with a red.

"she touched me...she touched me..." repeatedly saying , that scene would always reminisce in his mind, wanting to feel that touch again. your hands are so soft, he sometimes thinks you were made for him.

how did this even start? it's quite simple. nahida suggested scara to try out this new place, a way to try and socialize and experience more taste buds! naturally, he harbored no intentions of consuming it himself. however, since nahida also expressed an interest, he set out to purchase it.

walking in the building where the bread nahida desired was settled in, he waits at the line, groaning in annoyance, too noisy, and too crowded. he was never a fan of clustered places. as the line shortens its finally his turn.

"one moment sir!" a voice from the other room can be heard. and scara waits, observing his surroundings a bit before a figure pops out of his view from the side, turning his head, his gazes intertwined with yours, and its as if its the most breathtaking thing hes ever saw. you.

"hi! sorry for the wait! im currently the only one working here so things are quite tough to get around!" you let out a chuckle afterwards. his mouth was slightly agape, no words leaving his mouth as he kept his gaze at you. your voice flows as smoothly as a captivating melody, and the grace of your countenance is truly majestic. "soo, what would you like..?"

"the...the special." he said in a quiet tone before shifting his hat to cover his top half face. "got it! ill pack it up for you right now!" before grabbing the tong and picking up the freshly made bakes.

did you always have that smile on your face? it was beautiful yet he felt the need to want to wipe that smile off your face, wanting to ruin it. the thoughts getting to him...were a bit too wild now. realizing it himself he shakes those thoughts away.

"here you go sir! i made sure to pack them nice and neat so they dont get all over the place." there you go again. flashing that smile. he snatched the bag and paid for what was needed. "enjoy your bread!" you yelled out as scara was already out the front door.

its been months now ever since that encounter. its like a spark awoken in him. he would want to see what your face would look like, covered in his cum. he would want to see you cock drunk, always begging for him to pleasure you more and more. he couldnt get enough, his hand wasnt enough. he needed the real thing.

when you were done with your shift, you close down the shop, packing up the left over bakes for you to take home and eat. turning off all lights before locking the entrance. of course how would scara get to see you if he didnt know your schedule?

he studied what you do everyday, what time you work, your breaks, and when you end. even knows the direction to your house. sure he didnt have the courage to just talk to you normally other than just ordering plain old bread is what he would describe.

locking up your shop, you now advance to your house. walking while the streets were quiet, though, sumeru was quite safe, so you didnt worry about anything! but little did you know scara was in the shadows, following you, admiring everything you do. sure you heard a couple footsteps, but shrugged it off as a dog or what.

reaching to your humble abode, you take your keys, unlocking the door before turning the knob to enter. but it didnt matter to scara, he knew which rooms was yours, going to the window associated to your room, he watches as you enter in, flicking on the light as you now took off your pants.

you were a "home is where the pants arent" type of person. it felt more relaxing to dress down indoors, especially since you were alone – the comfort of solitude made you feel relaxed at last, after a long day of serving and selling, you were exhausted. scara would always enjoy the view of your panties shaping out your ass.

the wild thoughts occupying his mind again, wanting to stuff his fat cock inside your cunt, pounding into you mercilessly until you couldnt walk for days. different positions, never stopping until you pass out. these thoughts accompanying his mind, a growing tent forms in his pants.

taking a hand to shift the harden shaft around to ease the pain. it was just aching to get out of his pants. he couldnt wait till you have fallen asleep, then he would do whatever he could to you.

charging your phone then being in the comforts in your bed, tucking yourself in before closing your eyes, falling into a deep slumber. taking this opportunity, he picks the window, before sliding it to the side to jump in. making sure his footsteps were light as a feather to not wake you up.

scara observes the room, inhaling the room that was covered in your sweet scent. looking at your sleeping figure, he comes closer, to admire your beautiful face. hopping onto the bed to have a better view. "fuck.." he couldnt contain his excitement any longer as he rubs a finger on the outline of your cunt.

making you wince a bit, he slides the panties to the side, looking at your bare cunt now. the sight makes him drool, wanting to devour it already. but it has seem his dick was really impatient. twitching in place already with precum on the tip staining his pants with a wet patch.

unzipping the jeans, his dick springs to life, hard and erect before he glides it against your folds. the sensation makes him grunt in pleasure, your heat making his body shudder before lining himself up to your hole. bottoming out when he fully sheathed himself with your walls. he harbored an intense desire to shatter your innocence.

groans falls from his mouth as he tried to contain them in order to not wake you up. his breath quivered, and at last, he began to stir. snapping his hips at yours, skin slapping skin echoing thru the room. his pace was rough, the feeling of you walls clasping around him felt so pleasurable to him.

balls slapping against your ass and his thumb pleasuring your clit. he was too focus on your pussy to even notice his pounding was harsh, it could wake you up. but he took the risk, trying to reach his high. thrusting turning sharper and harder each time his body connected with yours if that was even possible, it left little whines from your mouth, making scara more eager than ever to continue.

he couldnt hold it in anymore, his moans escaped his lips, grabbing your soft mounds to massage the flesh, and another hand, under your knee to push it up for a better angle. he was in so deep, pounding, thrusting, and pearls of sweat falls down from his forehead. taking his phone out from his pockets, pressing the record button. making sure your pussy and his dick disappearing into you was in view.

feeling your walls tighten around him, he figured you were bound to cum soon. his thrust getting sloppier and pace was slower, he continued on, wanting to reach his limit, and inject his cum into you. hes imagining more vulgar things he would do to you. sex up against the wall? yes. you tied up while he eats you out? of course. him fisting your hair and fuck facing you? thats his favorite.

minutes passed and he was close, and with one final push and groan, he cums inside your pussy. gasps and pants emitting from his lips as he tried to regain himself. he stilled himself in you for a bit before pulling out, cum gushing from your pussy and pooling under the sheets.

he smiles at the sight before his dick scoops up the remaining cum, fucking it back into you. a couple more breathless pants before he moved his hips again. this sure was going to be a long night.

the next day you would wonder why there was a strange smell from the sheets, and why your thighs were sticky.

requests open!

[luveline]

JADE!!! Hi!

Could I request some birthday morning fluff with Eddie please? I’m gearing up to be delulu and single on Saturday 🥲

hello!!! I hope u have a good birthday and you enjoy!! 💓 fem!reader

Eddie made your cake himself. It tasted good when he tried the bits he shaved off, and he went very carefully as he iced it with buttercream, so it looks nice, too, with swirls from a poorly constructed piping bag and shift red cherries perched around the perimeter, 'Happy Birthday' in sloping font across the top. It isn't a professional result but it certainly isn't bad. 

He's very excited to share it with you. 

You're sitting at the table in a nice dress, though you asked him to stay home, and, much more shyly, asked him if he'd make you dinner. Eddie was more than happy to try, and even though the wine in the pasta didn't quite cook off, the garlic bread was perfect (as garlic bread tends to be) and you enjoyed it. He could tell. 

"You ready, beautiful?" he asks. 

"Yeah! It better be one of those triple layers with buttercream," you tease, "if you got me a cheapie we're gonna break up." 

"Yeah, right," he says. He puts the cake down on the table carefully, hand poised at the top of the blue plastic covering. 

He yanks it up. "Tada. Made by yours truly. The buttercream tastes good 'cos it's like, full butter, and the cake was good, but if you don't like it I can totally get you a fancy one from Leaven."

"You made me a cake?" you ask, pressing your lips together, your eyes watering. 

"Christ!" he says, putting the lid down to open his hands for shoulder grabbing. "Don't cry, what the fuck?" 

"You made me cake," you say, sniffing, blinking so the glassy eyes don't progress to tears. 

"Yeah, with love and everything, you wouldn't believe it. You're not supposed to cry, though," he says. 

"What am I supposed to do?" 

"Tell me how good it looks." 

He's bent at the waist to hold you, perfect height for your tight hug. You throw your arms around him, kissing his shoulder as you praise, "It looks amazing. I love you, I love you, you made me a cake." 

"You told me you wanted a homemade dinner, sweetheart." 

He nudges your head back, kisses the corner of your mouth, and steps away to grab a knife, forks, and plates. You make a happy sound and pull the cake toward you, your awe clear. It makes his heart race. 

Eddie offers you the knife. 

You take it but hesitate, knife an inch above the buttercream. "It's so perfect I don't want to ruin it. How long did it take you? It's amazing." 

"Nothings gonna make me happier than if you cut a piece and enjoy it," he says easily. It took him nine hours and that's not any of your business. 

You bite your lip but can't hide your smile as you cut a big wedge of cake, sliding it out on the flat of the knife to deposit onto your plate. One of the maraschino cherries falls off of a buttercream swirl. 

"Do you have a fork?" you ask. 

Eddie passes it over. Thrilled, you cut a mix of soft looking sponge and thick buttercream, too much for one mouthful, and take a bite. Your eyes flare wide, hand held over your mouth to say, "Eddie. So good! It's delicious, here." 

You offer him the rest of your forkful. He ducks down to eat it, and you're bluffing, it's not nice enough to look as happy as you do, but he loves you for loving it, and he's trying to kiss you before he's swallowed. You make a noise of disagreement with your mouth closed, but you melt a little at his kiss. 

"Happy birthday," he says adoringly. 

"Thank you." You take another fork of cake. "I can't believe you made me a cake, you dork. You're the best boyfriend in the world." 

"I thought that was what you wanted!" 

"This is exactly what I wanted." You can't seem to decide between cake or kisses, but eventually you choose cake, puckering up. "Thank you," you say again as he pulls away. 

"You're welcome. Are we sharing?" 

"No way! Get your own piece." 

He'd usually complain, but he's just happy you're happy. He grabs another plate and cuts his own slice without complaint. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

hallo! Could I request Comfort prompt 11 for Bruce Wayne? Your writing always makes me smile.(except when it supposed to make me sad, but I like that too)

Thank you!! Posted from mobile, so sorry for any mistakes!

Warnings: None; this is pure fluff

The office was empty and quiet, and had been for a while. You waved your hand periodically to trigger the motion sensor of the fluorescent lights when they winked out on you. It was late, and you had already been there far longer than you meant to be. You sighed, weary, leaning back against your desk and propping your chin up on your hand. Your eyes were beginning to cross; you felt like you'd read the presentation slides a hundred times, but they didn't feel finished.

You groaned as the lights winked off again, but before you could move, they suddenly flickered back to life. You frowned, and then--

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You screeched at the sound of Bruce's voice, whirling around in your office chair. He bit the inside of his cheek and raised a penitent hand, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. You huffed in annoyance, pressing your palm over your pounding heart as you settled back down in your chair.

"Don't...Do that."

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized, walking closer.

"And I know exactly what time it is, thank you."

"What's got you here so late?"

"Proofing the slides for tomorrow."

"Still?"

"I don't think they're ready."

Bruce sighed softly, pulling a chair from another desk up beside yours.

"Here. I'll trade you."

Your brow furrowed in confusion before you broke into a smile at the sight of a bag of takeout.

"Oh, Brucey," You cooed, "You do like me."

He snorted, reaching out and picking up the laptop.

"I'll give these a look while you eat."

You leaned over, pecking his cheek before opening the bag--the hot aluminum dish, wrapped hunk of bread, and a smaller dish with a side salad. Your stomach growled as the scent filled your nose. You popped open the lid, stabbing your little plastic fork into the piping hot baked ziti. You pushed it around a little to let the heat out before glancing guardedly toward Bruce. He had a solid poker face: eyes darting from side to side as he read, brow drawn slightly, lips pursed...Until they moved:

"...Stop staring and eat your dinner."

"I can eat and stare."

"You can, but you aren't."

"The pasta's hot. I'm letting it cool."

Bruce cut you an unimpressed glance, but his lips twitched with a smile.

"Anything?" You asked, nodding toward the laptop.

"I've had time to read one slide. One."

"And?"

"It was perfect." He nodded toward the dish again. "Eat."

You took an obliging bite, groaning softly at the taste.

"There's water in the bag, too."

"I freaking love you," You mumbled around the mouthful, fishing into the plastic bag for the cold bottle. Bruce huffed a soft laugh through his nose, murmuring, "Love you, too, honey."

"How'd you know I'd still be here?"

"Lucky guess. You get singleminded when you're worried about work."

"I think singleminded is a bit strong."

"You're in the office at 11:30 on a Tuesday night, proofing slides that I'm positive are perfect. That is the definition of singleminded."

"I'm committed to my job, I like my job."

"I'm not knocking it, honey," Bruce soothed, smoothing his hand over your knee. "I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself as well as you take care of your work."

"Mm, but if I take care of myself, what'll you do all day?"

Bruce laughed, raising his hand and gently tweaking your nose.

"I'd have time to learn to play polo."

"You want to play polo?"

"Alfred suggested it." He chucked you gently under the chin before beginning to turn back to your laptop.

You leaned in before he could get too far, pecking his lips gently. Bruce smiled, chasing your lips for one more kiss before refocusing. You watched the mask of concentration fall over his face again, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Eat."

"You're so cute when you concentrate."

"I am not cute."

"Bruce Wayne is a cutie patootie."

"If you call me cute one more time, I will put typos in these slides."

[marigold-hills]

Oh I am so jumping in here.

Can you give us a dreamy summer wolfstar first kiss/get together, but put it in YOUR nostalgic summer. Like whatever that means for you. Where are they? What are they eating/drinking? What is the air like? The lighting? The smells and sounds?

I humbly bow before your altar take my compliments on your prose and pacing and metaphors as my offering 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hey! Loved this ask. It completely run away from me. Hope you enjoy it! (Also you said altar and offering and well. Those words clearly stayed with me.)

It’s wine and bread, a fancy cheese selection from Tesco’s. A little plastic pot of olives. No blanket, because they’re not tourists and don’t mind a bit of sand as seasoning.

The storm is coming in.

They can see it, across the vastness of water, darkening the horizon and stretching through the sky like spilled ink.

Recreating exactly how it was the first time, years ago:

Remus had said there’s a storm tonight. We should go and watch it.

On the beach? Sirius had asked, a bit bewildered. The wind was already picking up, and the logistics of sitting out in the open during a downpour didn’t enamour him.

Remus, undeterred, prepared a backpack. I know a place, he said, we’ll be hidden from the rain. Trust me?

And Sirius did: with his life, with his time. Followed him off the main promenade and across the dunes until they reached a hidden spot of sand: a bay, of sorts, with a railway bridge backed into the cliff side. The arches of its support beams only faced open towards the water, secluded otherwise by brick and clay.

“Used to come here with da, when I was a kid,” Remus told him: “there are fossils in the clay if you know where to look. Come out after heavy rain best, maybe we’ll find something tomorrow.”

They set up under one of the arches. Remus built a stone circle at the mouth of it, stacked it with sticks and driftwood he’d collected on their way. Set a crumpled wad of receipts from his pocket on fire and used it as kindling.

“Impressing me with your caveman skills here, Moony.” Sirius had known, of course, that wild streak within Remus, seen it shine through sometimes when he let his guard down, but this was something new. Large hands stoking the flame as it slowly engulfed the given wood, eyes alight with its reflection. Sirius felt a pull at his navel like a fishhook: handle me like this, the pull said.

He’d made a mistake, maybe, following Moony back to his parents’ house for the summer after their graduation. A miscalculation of how much he could stand watching him, in the summer heat, with sea breeze curling his hair.

Red wine, a couple paper cups. Sirius didn’t like it then yet: not like he pretended to, and it was a cheap bottle from the middle shelf. The aftertaste was sharp, it stayed on his tongue and the insides of his cheeks - dry, clinging.

Cheeses Remus had cut into cubes. Pungent Stilton with dark blue veins, Brie, white skin coating the creamy interior, fruity Wensleydale filled with cranberries.

They sat side by side by the fire as the storm hit. The rain a heavy curtain in front of them, the wind making their fire dance erratically. Sirius had never seen it like this, surprised by the intensity of the smell of salt in the air. Despite the cover, a thin mist of spray hit his face when the wind blew just right.

Remus had made him a canapé of sorts, spread a chutney on a finger-torn piece of sourdough and topped it with the Stilton. He ate it in one bite. Asked for another, just like it, the taste round and warming, somehow.

“It’s the chutney,” Remus said. “There’s chilli in it. Try an olive.”

A new thing, this, being presented with food like offerings. Remus watched each bite Sirius took with an intent, as if they were eating something rare and costly. Like this, with the storm above them and the fire in Moony’s eyes, Sirius felt each mouth full was something precious, something to be cherished. A worship, and he wasn’t sure if he was the god being praised or the offering on the altar.

They’d almost finished the bottle when Remus asked want to swim? With such wonderful abandon that Sirius didn’t even hesitate. Yes, he said, and they took off their trousers and shirts and walked hand in hand into the water.

The first crack of thunder rang out when they were knee deep. Remus laughed, free and loud like a curlew, head thrown back into the falling rain. The sky turned white with the lightning and Sirius thought it’s you, that needs to be worshipped.

Moments like this, though, something Sirius didn’t know: it’s too easy, for thoughts to be said aloud.

Remus turned to him like a trap closing. “Is that right?”

“You look like a god of the sea.”

(Another break of thunder, a wave sweeping into them, rough with the storm but soft like a touch.)

Remus took his hand, pulled him further into the water. There were raindrops caught in his eyelashes, and Sirius realised I’m close enough to touch them. He did, shaky fingers, as lighting lit them up. The water made Remus’ curls heavy and darker, sat on his skin in a fine sheen. “I want to lay you out onto the sand,” Sirius thought-said, “trace the path of every raindrop.”

“You’ll be at it for hours.”

“As long as you’ll let me.”

The first time they kissed, Remus tasted like salt.

NOTES:

I feel compelled to point out: everyone. Please don’t drink and swim! Don’t swim in the storm! Especially not in the sea.

I don’t know how I didn’t realise before you’re the person who wrote The Homecoming of Sirius Black??? I LOVED it. Honestly the fact that you enjoy my writing feels like such a massive compliment.

[brain-of-rain]

Chapter 2

Opps this is turning into an actual thing I guess. CW/ first blurb has descriptions of bodily distress and implied death.

This is all he's ever wanted. An opportunity to save people, the chance to truly make a difference. This is all he's ever wanted, it’s all going to be worth it, he's going to save people. The man’s face pulls itself into a familiar, strained, smile. Sweat pools on his pale skin, some dripping to the cement floor. Muscles twitch and grapple with his shaking frame, a fast, disorganized heartbeat drowning interrupting the room’s silence. Fire tears through his joints, a deep throbbing burn, synced the angry rhythm of his chest. His body demands too much from overburdened lungs, breaths heavy, long, and almost insufficient. Air moving in and out, slow like stagnant water, dry like desert sand. 

A modified truck rumbles down the passage, cloth sweeps the ground behind it, concealing a misshapen figure resting in its extended bed. Silence drapes over the man, his body suddenly quiet, focused entirely on the passing form. Copper and the taste of stale bread follow as the truck turns a bend and disappears.

This will not kill him. He is going to survive. There is so much left for him to do. Surrender is a luxury he cannot afford. 

The work truck sputters out, its rattle silenced by the turn of a key. Kafka and Reno disembark, occupying one of the many empty spots near the entrance of the Defence Force parking lot. It’s been 10 days since they passed the written exam and were invited to attend today’s practical, and a month ago Reno was introduced to Godaigo.

Ichikawa exclaims at the sight of the Tatchikawa base. Its size is far greater than the bases he's seen previously. “This place shares a building with the Japanese self-defense Force’s camp.” Kafka explains, “In emergencies, they work together to dispatch officers all over Nishi-Tokyo” The explanation immediately proves itself true as Ichikawa looks around.  “There's a lot of officers here. If you transform here, you’d be done for.”

Rather than worry, Kafka redoubles his determination. “Can’t chicken out now! I'm in it to win it! Playing it straight! No corners are cut when Kafka’s here! Alright, Ichikawa, let's move on, I don’t want to be late.” “Hey, old man!” A sharp voice overlaps Kafka’s hype sesh. Reno pokes his mentor, “Sir?” “YOOOOO! Old man! Listen up”

“Sir I think she's talking to you.” “Yes, obviously I’m talking to him. Old man, you must move that rusty truck so I can park. Don’t be so dense” A blonde girl snarks nearby. The arrogant tone was only amplified by the gleaming limo behind her. Veins throb with Kafka’s rising blood pressure “Old man? OLD MAN!? I'll have you know I’m only 32! Thhhirty twooooo years young!” “Yep,” she speaks, popping the p “Just as I said, Old man. Now enough sniveling, move your car or I'll move it for you.”A blonde strand from her pigtail twisted around her gloved index finger in an unbothered motion. The following silence reverberates throughout the empty parking spots nearby. Highlighting the vast sea of free space she could choose instead. “Why my spot blondie?! Look around are you blind or something?” “Sure, but I want to park there. Today my lucky number is 5” She scoffs as though it were the most basic knowledge, pointing below the truck at the stenciled 55. “Luuckyy NuMbErrrrr!?” Kafka grinds out, blood pressure reaching critical heights. “What's the deal with this snobby brat? Come on over here this youngster is going to teach you a lesson in manners you little-” “Shut up I'll move it myself” In an instant her top was unbuttoned, Kafka and Ichikawa racing to cover their eyes. But rather than skin, a familiar suit was underneath, a smaller version of Godaigo’s, a Defense Force suit. In an instant, the van was hoisted up, one-handed, and tossed like a plastic cup across the empty stalls. Sliding 5, 10, 15 feet away on its side before skittering to a halt. “Not the company car! What did you do!?” Kafka cries, both his and Reno’s face contorted in horror.

 “Who- Who in the world are -” “Examinee no. 2016. Kikoru Shinomia. My hobby is slaying kaiju and don’t you forget it.” She boasts, flicking one ponytail in a cocky manner. “All that aside, old dude, you reek of kaiju.” “W-we work in kaiju disposal.” Ichikawa saves. “What are disposal workers doing in a place like-” THHRUuump- an echoing creek then bang interrupt “What the-” “Up you go” Kafka hefts the truck upright, a feat near impossible for the unenhanced. “He must have a private suit as well! How did he-” Shinomiya sputters indignantly. A disappointed Ichikawa pinched the bridge of his nose behind her. ‘’Examinee no. 2023” He contorts his face into a cocky sneer “Kafka Hibino. And don't you forget it, little missy.” “GAHHHH NO please forget my name forget it! forget it this instant!” Kafka cries, face flush with embarrassment as Kikiro Shinomia mocks his placement. 219th out of 245 in the physical tests. Her ranking is an impressive 5th. Unfortunately for Kafka, not only are the other recruits observing his humiliation, but an officer as well. Godaigo glances at the scene below him, a concerned expression thankfully concealed along with the rest of his towering figure, crouched behind a building around 100 meters away. The scene is shocking but not entirely unexpected. Kafka has been training hard, likely harder than he has for any of his previous attempts. This is his last try after all.

The kids this year are a different breed. Any other year Kafka’s performance would have landed him in the middle of the pack. It's inspiring to witness such a driven batch of young hopefuls. And Kikoru is here this year as well. Godaigo can’t believe how much she has changed since he last saw her. After her time abroad, she has become, taller, faster, stronger, and this boastful side is new. Godaigo is snapped out of his musings by a Kafka-like scream. Peeking over the building he sees the man’s prone form after getting beaten down by Kikoru’s guards. Ichikawa ran over to support his mentor as the blonde strode away. “Oh, why does it have to be those two fighting out of all the recruits.” Godaigo fusses, a hand uneasily running through his thinning head of hair. “Officer, you aren't supposed to be here.” The stern voice sounds from the roof above, emotionless and commanding as always. “Captain Ashiro!” Godaigo scrambles, mimicking a position of attention as best he can while remaining concealed. “It’s good to see you, ma’am. How is your day going? Lovely weather isn't it? Perfect day for a walk-” “Officer Godaigo, you’re observing the recruits.” She says, no room for debate. “Yes ma’am.” The big man looked suddenly much smaller in her presence. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, “Kafka is trying again this year, I think he might make it this time.”

Captain Ashiro sighs. “Vice-Captain Hoshina just informed me.”

She never cared that Godaigo was out here, she knew who he would bring up and what he would want to talk about, yet, she spoke to him anyway. 

“It's rare to find someone so driven. Trying again and again no matter how many times he fails. When Kafka told me he was giving it another go… I saw a spark return to him. I hadn't seen him like that in a long time. He’s himself again, for the first time in a long time.” Godaigo pauses briefly, checking the captain's near-emotionless expression. “That man is driven by something powerful you know? Even with all my years on this Earth, I have yet to cross paths with anyone so furiously determined.” “If that were true, why does he continue falling short? That furious determination doesn't matter if he never shows results.” “Maybe so, I think it depends on how you look at it. No matter what you do to that man, knock him down a hundred times, take away everything he owns, whatever horrible thing you can think of. Anything short of killing him will only make him work harder. That tenacity, his spark, is brighter than ever because of this exam. And you know what…” He looks again at the captain, eyes meeting the back of her head. “I think he can make it this time, truly I do.” A silence falls over the two, Mina Ashiro staring down at the field as if inspecting a street mutt for fleas, trying to decide if she can afford to take it home. The captain has always been more of a cat person. “Don’t let them see you out here” Her controlled expression snapped back to Godaigo. “I would appreciate you not distracting the recruits.” “Yes ma’am!” Godaigo straightens a final time at the captain’s retreating form. As she disappears, a memory strikes, coming and going fast as a snake. The absence of copper and stale bread pulls his face into its favorite form: a smile.