#anyway enjoy the burnt food

[random-lil-illing]

i had a vision,,, asexual dps fans what do we think

[bellflower-goat]

Anyways why is it so tiring to make food

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[mirouie]

୨ৎ 'i think you're so good, and i'm nothing like you.'

tasm!peter parker x fem reader. | wc: 2.1k

↳ warnings: none

↳ tags: fluff, slight hurt/comfort, soft peter, he's too kind for his own good, reader thinks she's a bad girlfriend, lots of pet names

↳ a/n: the fact that i wrote this, 2.1K, in one go is actually crazy because i haven't been able to do this for the past four years?? tumblr has me in its clutches. also i don't really like how it ended, but it's 11 pm and i'm in desperate need of sleep. anyway, i hope you enjoy this! send me some more peter requests and i'll love you forever mwa <3

it's early in the evening, and peter's as jolly as can be as he hustles and bustles around in your small kitchen, making dinner while you're huddled under a fluffy blanket and wrapped up in one of his old hoodies on the couch, watching him sullenly.

you're not feeling so well, but now you're feeling much worse because you'd promised peter that you would make dinner; his favorite pasta, however earlier, you suddenly felt a tad bit too woozy when you stepped out from your room after a few (about five) hours straight of your eyes glued to your work computer. he assured you that he'd have no problem cooking tonight, no problem taking care of you, but that couldn't stop you from feeling terrible. he's making his favorite by himself.

peter probably senses your eyes on him with that tingle of his (spider-sense, he says, but you think it's funnier and cuter if you say tingle) because he peers at you over his shoulder and shoots you a lovely grin. he's looking much too happy, and you think he's doing it for your sake. he shouldn't be—he's just as tired as you are, probably doubly tired, but he's doing it anyway and you know there's not much you can do to stop him.

"hey there, pretty," he calls, tearing his attention away from the sauce he'd been stirring over the stove and focusing wholly on you. he even turns and leans against the counter. you preen at the pet name out of habit. "liking the view?"

you scowl at him from under the blanket, albeit playfully, and his heart does a funny tug upon seeing the way your nose scrunches cutely. it makes him want to stomp over there and kiss you stupid, though he knows you'd end up with burnt dinner, so he doesn't risk it (he'd be too busy kissing you to remember he's cooking).

you hum—you do like the view, but it's making you a little sad. and guilty. "i'm sorry, peter."

"sorry for what, babe?" he frowns.

"for feeling sick. i was supposed to make you dinner."

peter shakes his head so hard you think it might fall off his neck. "no, no, none of that, bub. no sorries. 's not you're fault you're not feeling well."

it kind of is, but you don't tell him that. "you're not supposed to be making your favorite food for yourself. it's supposed to be special, but it's not all that special anymore because you're making it for yourself," your frown deepens. "it just seems... intentional. and dull. not heartwarming anymore."

peter has to bite his lip hard to fight down the lovesick smile threatening to pull at his lips. you're being so lovely and adorable, he just wants to engulf you in a million kisses.

"it's okay, sweetheart, i've told you. trust me, i'm feeling plenty heartwarmed right now, and you didn't even need to cook me anything." with that, peter turns back to the stove, humming softly and leaving you still pouting at the back of his head.

it doesn't take long for peter to finish making dinner. you cook most of the time, but you're convinced he's the better chef between the two of you. soon, you're swept off the couch and seated at the kitchen island, blanket still around your shoulders. there's two plates of pasta in front of you and peter and he, ever the angel that he is, waits til you've had your first bite to start digging into his dinner.

you're unusually quiet all throughout the meal, and if peter notices that there's something wrong, he doesn't show it. he talks and you listen, and you're more than happy to. you don't have it in you to feel great at the moment, your unfortunate situation making you feel a bit more guilty than you should be.

peter's so nice, you think. he always is. he doesn't have a single mean bone in his body. it's a problem.

he's so nice and i'm not. i try to, but i can't always be as kind, or as understanding as him. i have bouts, i have times where i don't have the energy to act good. i get cranky when i'm tired, i lash out and say mean things, but i've never seen peter do that before and he's almost always more tired than i am. he always takes care of me when it should i who's taking care of him, and he never complains. he never complains.

you sigh, it comes out rough and frustrated. i'm such a bad girlfrie—

"what're you thinking about in that pretty head of yours, hm?" you must've been glowering too hard, because suddenly peter's fingers are curling around yours, gently prying them away from the fork you'd been gripping too hard. your half-eaten dinner suddenly looks unappealing, and it makes you feel worse than you already are.

peter's face, adorable and soft and understanding and concerned all at once, slides into view. there's a crease between his brows where they're knitted together, and you feel the urge to smooth it over with your thumb. you do so, and your boyfriend all but melts into the simple touch. his fingers slowly intertwine with yours.

"what's wrong, bub? are you feeling sicker? do you want me to get you some water? medicine?" you don't know if you want to smile giddily or slap him for worrying about you.

"no, i'm.. i'm feeling fine, pete, it's just— it's just.." you shake your head, attempting to pull your hand away from him as you feel the your eyes starting to burn, your throat closing up. you're starting to feel overwhelmed by his kindness, and the fact that you think it's stupid that you're feeling overwhelmed isn't making it any better.

"it's just?" food now forgotten, peter slips off of his chair and rounds the island to stand beside you, slotting himself between your thighs and cradling your face in his big, warm hands. you sigh at the feeling. "come on, sweetheart, you know you can talk to me. what's bothering you, hm? did i do something wrong?"

you couldn't disagree more. "goodness, no, peter, you haven't done anything wrong." you swallow thickly, but the words feel stuck on your tongue. "it's just..."

"you're too kind." you blurt out before burying your face into his stomach, embarrassed. peter blinks, confused. "i'm... too kind?"

"yes, and it's a problem," your voice comes out muffled and peter tries to pry you off so he could understand you better, but you stubbornly stay stuck to his abdomen. "you're too kind, and i'm not."

peter laughs, disbelieving. you think you're not kind? impossible.

whoever put that thought in your head, your boyfriend needs to have a word with them now.

"baby," peter's voice is saccharine sweet as he speaks, and you feel equal parts ashamed and infatuated. "baby, look at me."

you go, albeit a little hesitant. he thinks you're being ridiculous right now, acting all shy and nervous because you think he's too kind. ridiculous.

he wraps his arms around your neck so you're forced to rest your chin on his stomach, stuck looking at him in the eye. he sees your eyes flit nervously, heavy with guilt that's not supposed to even be there. he sighs. he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "what makes you think you're not kind, y/n?"

you shrug, trying to look away but his fingers only tilt your face back towards him. useless. "i don't know. i'm just... i'm just not, pete."

"why not?"

"because—" you're starting to get frustrated. "because i didn't make you dinner when i was supposed to tonight! i get mad and i yell, i complain about everything when i get tired, i'm stubborn and i don't listen to you sometimes. i don't treat you well enough like i'm supposed to, and i just don't understand why you're with me! i'm a bad, bad girlfriend, and i'm nothing like you, who's so nice and kind and caring."

you sniffle at the end of your rant, and a stray, hot tear runs down your cheek. peter wipes it away before you can.

he's silent for a while. you wish he isn't, you wish that he'd agree with you.

he doesn't.

instead, he dips his head down, nose nudging yours as he presses a sweet, sweet kiss against your lips. slow, gentle; he's kind even when he kisses you. you find it unfair. he's perfect, and i don't deserve him.

"don't say that, bub," he whispers into your mouth when he pulls away, barely. "don't say that. you're a good girlfriend. the best one around."

he pecks you one, two, three times before he straightens back up, holding you closer than ever before. you don't quite understand the look he has in his eyes, but you think it's pretty close to 'hurt' and 'disappointed'. you feel terrible.

"is that what you really think of yourself, sweetheart?" peter's voice is small, a hushed whisper into the space between you. you can catch the hints of disappointment in his tone, and you deflate, thinking it's for you. you nod in the tiniest movement, looking away. you feel like crying again.

"oh, y/n."

strong arms weave under you and pull you into a bone-crushing hug, peter's face buried in your shoulder. you hug him back, and you squeal and wrap your legs around his waist as he hoists you out of your chair, crossing the three steps from the kitchen to the living room and falling into the couch. you grunt as you're buried under him, but you don't make a move to push him off and neither does he.

you stay as you are for a few moments, the soft breaths falling from peter's lips and brushing against your skin the only sounds filling the empty air. you're nervous—he hasn't said anything yet, and you think he might actually be mad at you.

until, "baby."

you hum, fingers gently squeezing at the nape of his neck.

"you're not a bad girlfriend."

"am i?"

"no, you're not. you're not a bad girlfriend, and you never will be." peter pulls himself away from you to look you in the face. you're almost shocked at the conviction spread across his features. you don't think you've seen him this serious in a while.

"you don't even know how well you treat me. do you know, that when i come home and i see you just standing there, i feel loads better like i haven't been tired all day? do you know that when you kiss me and hug me and tell me you love me, it's more than enough to make me feel more well-rested than when i sleep? trust me, baby, it really feels like that."

"and you say that you get mad and you yell and complain, and that's okay. that's okay, sweetheart, because it's normal. you're not some robot whose not supposed to feel anything. you're allowed to get mad, and you're allowed to not feel happy or nice when you don't want to."

you blink at him, at a loss for words. peter takes that as a sign to continue.

"i feel like that sometimes, too. when i'm tired, i get cranky and upset over the smallest things. i feel like tearing my hair out and breaking something."

you frown. "no, you don't. i've never seen you like that before."

"just because you haven't seen me get angry doesn't mean it hasn't happened before, honey," peter chuckles. "i get mad plenty of times."

suddenly, you're feeling embarrassed. he's right; you're allowed to not be nice and so is he. it just so happens that he's around to witness you during times like those, and he chooses not be around you during his own time when he's not feeling all that nice.

you sigh. with all things concerning you, he's as caring as can be.

"i'm sorry, pete, i didn't mean to feel like this," you say, looking up at him to see the same lovelorn grin he's always sporting around you. "what'd i just say, hm?" he says it all snarky and playfully snooty you have to laugh. "it's okay to feel that way. i'm holding nothing against you, babe."

"even when i ruined dinner?"

"you're still on about that? honestly, honey, i've forgotten that we even ate dinner at this point."

you roll your eyes. he smiles again. "but was the pasta good, though?"

"very. now come here and let me kiss you in apology."

"i've already told you that there's no need to be sorry, but if you insist."

peter flops back down and you trap him in his arms for the rest of the evening, smothering him with your love. he doesn't complain a single bit.

© mirouie ; do not copy, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[cryptfile]

☆ Loveseat, [ Carmen Berzatto AU ]

SUMMARY — After being in a relationship with Carmen, you cannot help but being extra judgemental when it comes to food.

WARNINGS — i’m currently rotting in hell, meaning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, +18 content, there’s a lot of, cursing, choking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of food and eating, hair pulling, fingering.

SIDE NOTES — This is my first post here, so hope you guys like it. English’s not my first language so if there's any mistakes in advance, i’m sorry. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me! I’ll leave my inbox open so you can suggest more characters! This takes place in an alternative timeline for own my liking, enjoy! x

Lately, Carmen Berzatto was not sure how he managed to get you.

To be completely honest, most of his friends seemed to wonder how he managed to pull the tattooer that adorned his hands with cool designs being that shy, however, when you started texting him photos of your daily food stating it was complete bullshit — He knew he had you in for a long time.

He would explain himself it was something casual at first. A few texts every now and then, swimming between a wave of bad jokes and tension he was sure he was imaging as he read through the texts you send at least twice, then, he would know he’d win you over with food.

Maybe that’s when you became so judgemental at first, after trying the lasagna he made for you after being so tired from working all day long, something else just snapped, even when he was done being near the fire, not even wanting to look at a plate ever again: He managed to spoil you with something good to eat anyways, making you moan in pure pleasure after craving some good food all day.

Of course it was important, can you even blame him?

He was not very vocal about it, hell, it was hard for him to even admit it even after being with you almost six months, but he loved the way you reacted to all his stuff. Even if it was something simple like scrambled eggs or regular pasta with plain butter, it was the way you groaned and grab the spoon licking the silverware clean, showering him with praises after when he was so used to be miserable in the kitchen.

“Open up,” he says before feeding you with the spoon. It was one of those nights where he was trying new stuff at your place, keeping you up till late seated on the kitchen counter close to him as he cooked, opening your mouth just to give an allegedly meaningful critique. “Any thoughts? Feedback?”

It was a wild ride for sure. A turbulent one as you closed your eyes all suddenly, the image burnt on the back of his head when you groaned savoring the taste like it was something else.

“Dunno,” you admit later on, trying to think on anything bad to say — “Need to have another bite before giving an honest answer.”

He smirks in response, repeating the same action just to hear you speak again. Being with you was something similar as his cigarette breaks, escaping from all the stress he usually gets in his life.

Silence again.

“Well fuck, you have me here. Maybe needs some more salt,” you think out loud. Almost trying to say something bad out of force as you knew he wouldn’t stop until he got an brutally honest answer. “The combinations of flavors though is really breathtaking, you outdone yourself this time. Could tattoo this risotto on me, no questions asked.”

Salt? He takes a bite himself almost immediately.

“It doesn’t need any more salt” he replies furrowing his brows in response. “We’ve talked about this sweetheart…”

“You wanted me to be a critique,” you admit almost offended, letting out a light chuckle before stealing the spoon from his hand in one swift movement. “I'm, being indeed, sincere here."

God. It was those moments that made him catch his breath, how the minutes passed slower and everything else seemed to blurry around the two of you. He cannot deny it, cause he loves the snarky responses, the way your mouth wraps around the spoon in a way that made him so devastated at the sight, head spinin’ with the thought of the things he already did to you, the memories that he seems to cherish so deeply.

He cannot stop either when his fingers toy with your hair, the strains sliding smoothly through his fingers. You seemed to enjoy it too, cause it's all it takes to make you forget about the food, leaning into his touch.

"Since when you became my main critique, hm?” he asks, placing himself between your tights as he invaded your space with nothing but pure confidence in his cooking skills. He knew for a fact, it didn't need any more salt. "Made you so spoiled you are a new expert here, baby?"

“Well, it’s your fault anyway" you defend yourself, narrowing your eyes at his words. "You're the one who spoils me rotten, always feeding me nice tasty stuff, keeping me up till’ late trying new things. I’m what you taught me to be, cannot blame for being a good critique. It is what it is."

"So you're blaming me for being a caring partner?" he cannot hold the laugh back, pulling on your hair almost enough to make you look at him. “S’that what you’re implying here?” 

“Would never even dare to” you admit all innocence bitting the inside of your cheek, and Carmen swears you’re doing it just to get in his brain, to control every action in that twisted brain of yours, and he cannot stop himself to fall every time, pulling on your hair slightly rougher this time as he towers over you. “Just implying that you’ll ruin food for me forever if we keep this up.” 

“Not seeing what’s the problem with that” he simply replies as he stared at your expression, how the simple act of your head tilted backwards made his blood boil, the exposed skin of your neck pulling him like the polar opposite of a magnet as he looks down at you — “Don’t really care.”

He’s clearly enjoying that. The sudden proximity as his left hand travels through your side, gripping onto your tight as he gives a light squeeze, tracing invisible patterns against your warm skin that contrasts so much to the chef’s usual cold hands. 

He cannot possibly have enough of you as you melt into his touch, in the very edge of turning into a mad man as he grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you in a demanding kiss, tongue-tracing over your lower lip, almost asking for a formal invitation to finally invade you, his breathing colliding against your skin, holding you in place as he suffers from a burst of pure adrenaline. 

His hands betray him in no time, drawn by the sounds you make when he’s nibbling on that nice curve on your neck, allowing his hand to glide over your soft skin just to end up in your inner tights, fingertips just barely touching as he just watches over you, the sight of you being just enough, that nice smell on your skin when he kisses your neck, your perfume being all around him… it’s getting to him.

He quickly becomes all so vocal, when he’s finally reaching the fabric of your shorts and his touch leaves a burnt sensation behind, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Gonna’ ruin it f’ya, baby” he says in a low voice — “Looking s’hot all bothered already just for a few kisses, cannot help but spoil m’girl.” 

Of course he fucking loves it. He loves how he knows exactly how to make a mess out of you, touching just the right places, concentrated in your pleasure as he drags the velvety fabric of your shorts to the side, making you crave the touch of his fingertips before finally slide them beneath the fabric of your underwear, lips parted as he finally touches your entrance, taking his time with you.

“God, you’re so wet f’me already, so damn warm” he says in a low whisper, making you talk in between your erratic breathing words that don’t seem to mean anything.

It’s so good. The frantic feeling washing over him as his fingers move in circles over your clit, the almost unnoticible wet sounds filling the air of the kitchen as he places soft kisses in that very spot where your shoulder meet the curvature of your neck. He just knows exactly what he’s doing. How to get under your skin, how to make you run out of breath, and he simply grew attached to it, to the way your skin feels so smooth against his fingers and you act up minutes before beggin’ for more.

And when he finally buries two digits in your cunt — God fucking damn.

He cannot keep the facade, blue eyes drinking the sight of you in as you moan, hips moving against his palm watching how his fingers dissapeared in you, pumping slowly at first, enjoying the way your walls wraps around his fingers, the words that came out of your opened mouth in pure desperation.

“Bear,” you would say in an unsteady breathing “O-oh fuck yes, yes baby, please don’t stop, please-”

The hand who pulled your hair before now tightens around your throat, and he can see you smiling like you’re in fucking paradise before he presses against that nice spot in the side of her neck, cutting the suministration of air to your lungs slightly. Always so eager, making him try new things together even when he was used to an relatively calm, almost non-existant sex life when all his focus was on the restaurant, insisting on trying new things that he end up loving.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me, taking me so s’good” he praises you for a moment, obliging you to look at him when he talks “Lettin’ my fingers fill you up like this, a mess already.”

“That’s it baby, move those pretty hips, need you to keep fuckin’ y’self.”

Lewd sounds, his tight grip on your neck, your hips arching to find that perfect place for him to hit and it’s all it takes for the chef to bring you closer and closer to the edge, fingers curling inside your soaked cunt, moaned sentences that in his ear are only adding up fuel to keep flexing his muscles for you, to keep on stimulating you.

“Gonna cum,” you let him know, but he’s quickly shaking his head in disapproval — “Carm, please, need to-”

“You can hold a little longer, princess” he coos, his grip on your throat almost making you stop breathing completely. Fuck. Your vision becomes dizzy, and for Carmen, the view is nothing but pure delight in front of him. Your shirt raised over your stomach, you pretty little face all disorted thanks to the thrill, parted legs just to give him more space to work with, fighting for some air. He’s so damn greedy about it, knowing he’s the only person who can get you like that. “Hm, stop squeezing me like that baby.”

He chuckles lightly, your hands gripping into the edge of the counter, raising one leg over the table as you try to do what you’re told, to please him every single time. He’s torturing you, and you cannot blame him cause you made him like that, just like he spoiled you with food. All those times whimpering in his bedsheets, asking all shy if he can choke you while pounding into your cunt, cheeks red while riding him, whispering things about how thick he feels inside, how he’s stretching you out so nicely, made him confident enough to know exactly what you like.

Carmen Berzatto is a caring boyfriend after all.

“S’okay, sweetheart” he says moments after, placing soft kisses on your face, your skin glimmering against the lights of your kitchen, a light layer of sweat as you closed your eyes tightly — “Cum baby, let me feel you” he talks you through it, words coming to his mouth so easily now, the sound of his tone so raspy it makes you arch your back as you finally let yourself go, riding the orgasm and making it last as long as you can, your own pleasure being your only priority as his digits bury themselves in your cunt, pressing against your neck to make it more difficult for you, to fill your eyes with tears as you loudly moan his name.

He holds you place, the mess he made out of you in such short time, eyes following the way your body shakes in the glimpse of ecstasy, fingers still pumping inside you but at a much slower pace, knowing you’d be sensitive now, lips swollen, messy hair and ruined mascara.

“Willing to admit now i’m right?” he ask in a low voice, letting you breathe as he was still afected by you — “That it doesn’t need any more salt, smartass?”

You hum in response, chuckling at his stubborn remark, your hands gripping into his arm just to dig your nails in his tattooed skin, almost begging him to let you breathe a second.

“Get up,” he says, not harshly enough to be a command, but instead, a plea. “Bend over the counter baby. M’not done with you yet.”

And even being so sensitive, you cannot help but comply, looking at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes cause yeah, he made you a spoiled brat in terms of food, but you have definitely broke something else when it came to the intimacy he was now into.

Or maybe you just loved being his main critique.

[wheeboo]

hand in hand | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which you take your boyfriend to a work outing. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, a lil comfort WARNINGS. mention of alcohol and reader being a lil tipsy, just jihoon's love language secretly being physical touch w the right person, some self-doubt n insecurity on his side :(( WORD COUNT. 1.5k

requested by anon: woozi + #43 list 1 - #43: "I love your laugh."

notes: i promised myself i would try to write n post a fic for the event every 2 days but i'm def not sticking to that .. anyway i hope u all enjoy this 😔🫶 not entirely proud of how this was written dijdissnnd

join the 2k celebration!

Jihoon doesn't know why he's here, knowing that he doesn't share any hint of knowledge about finance and corporate interests. All of it makes him feel like he's a fish out of water.

The food is good, though. He won't lie about that. But the air reeks of alcohol and burnt meat at this point, and Jihoon is genuinely surprised no one has passed out drunk yet. He can feel the tiredness seeping into his eyelids as he peers around tensely, knowing that he definitely only exchanged a singular hi, nice to meet you with everyone before sitting down.

He checks his watch for the time, and also mindlessly checks the time on his phone too as if it was going to miraculously display a different hour. But it doesn't. It's still 10:34 PM, and Jihoon contemplates how much longer he must endure this social ordeal as he'd rather be in the comfort of his place...

...with you.

Jihoon barely processes the way his face lights up when his eyes land back on you emerging from the restroom. He's already picking up his body from how slouched he was sitting down moments ago. A small smile stretches across his face, momentarily erasing the look of social exhaustion.

His eyes follow you until you sit yourself down in the seat next to him, a cute, eager grin plastered across your face. Jihoon catches the slightly flushed look to your features from some of the drinking you've done earlier, but it only adds to your charm even more.

Under the table, he feels your hand sliding into his even while you're goofily greeting everyone for the third time tonight, fingers intertwining together as if you've never left. Jihoon's heart does a little jump at the touch, glancing around the table to see if anyone has noticed. But everyone seems too engrossed in their own conversations to pay much attention.

Jihoon knows that you're popular at work, and it's hard not to see why. The entire restaurant glows at the sight of you, or perhaps that's only what he sees.

It kind of makes him wonder if it was really necessary to let you drag him along. He hasn't contributed much to the entire outing except for being able to fill an empty chair. And yet, you were very excited to invite him as your plus one when everyone else only brought themselves.

But then again, he doesn't seem to mind that much𑁋he gets to hold your hand, gets to steal endless glances at your face and watch you enjoy yourself, knowing that at the end of the night you'll be coming home with him, and that's enough to make this evening bearable.

There's a squeeze to his hand, and Jihoon glances down before flickering back up to your face. You're peering at him with sleepy eyes, a lopsided smile, a small bit of dried sauce at the corners of your lips. Yet, there's some worry in there etched between the lines. He knows it's directed towards him.

He squeezes back your hand reassuringly, and before you can say anything, one of your coworkers taps on your shoulder to redirect your attention. Jihoon hardly catches what they say, but the laugh you let out a minute later is music to his ears. It's a hearty, genuine laugh that fills the air around the restaurant; it's the only sound he could discern among everyone else's' laugh.

However, his chest tightens ever so slightly, and his smile falters a little. His grip on your hand tightens subconsciously.

"And didn't Y/N have to hide under Seokmin's desk? Just because they were eating when it wasn't their break?"

"But I ended up getting in trouble anyways!" Your hand lets go of Jihoon's briefly to swat playfully at your coworker, then it isn't long until your hands lock together again. He really likes it when you do that. "And it's all because Seokmin couldn't keep his mouth shut!"

Jihoon doesn't know how much longer the conversation lasts because he's too busy playing with your hand, tracing aimlessly along the lines of your palm with his thumb. There's a nagging feeling tugging at the seams of his mind that's a bit too hard to brush off. He continues stealing glances at you, catching the way your eyes sparkle as you listen intently to another story from a coworker.

You look happy, genuinely happy, and a part of him wants nothing more than to keep that smile on your face.

When it was finally time for your coworkers to all start leaving one-by-one, Jihoon finds himself lingering near you, practically hovering as you bid your goodbyes and exchange your hugs with everyone. By the time it was the two of you left outside the restaurant, you trail towards your boyfriend laggardly, nearly collapsing on him in the process.

"I'm so tired," You mumble into his shoulder, before pulling away and reaching for his hand. "Think I'm going to pass out when we get home."

Jihoon just chuckles quietly. "But you had a lot of fun, right?"

A dreamy curve makes its way across your lips as you nod.

"Hmm, yeah," You reply lazily, somewhat tipsily. "Lots of fun."

The cool night air brushes against your skin as you walk together, the streets quiet and empty save for the occasional passing car. Jihoon can feel the weight of exhaustion in his bones as well, and the weight of your body leaning on him only adds to it, but he doesn't mind.

Your hands swing back and forth together as you stroll along the sidewalk, the soft glow of streetlights casting gentle shadows around you. Despite the tiredness, a warm contentment settles over Jihoon.

"Are you okay?"

Jihoon turns to you. "What?"

"I asked if you were okay," You repeat, a bit more softer this time. "You were just a bit quiet earlier."

He blinks a few times.

"Ah," is all Jihoon could respond with right now, because he doesn't know exactly how to answer that. He's fine, he knows he is, but there's a bit of unease in each step he takes.

You hang your head low to the ground as if in guilt. "I'm sorry for kind of forcing you to come with me. Just wanted your company, you know?"

Jihoon just shakes his head. "No, it's okay." Then he brings his eyes down too. "Seeing you happy made me happy. It was worth it."

You smile at that, just barely, though you swear there's still something else he isn't telling you. But you don't press on though, choosing to let some quietness roll over instead. The heaviness in your head had manage to slither its way to your own footsteps. You really can't wait to finally sleep.

Jihoon's grip on your hand is somewhat loose. Even though on the outside it may appear normal, you've held his hand one too many times to know when something is amiss.

"I don't... bore you, right?"

You stop in your tracks to face him. "Bore me?"

"It's ridiculous, I know," Jihoon says bashfully, immediately regretting asking that. "It's just... You were laughing a lot earlier. It's been a while since I've heard you laugh that much."

Your eyes wander over him, peering at him as if he's said the most strangest thing ever. Then you let out lighthearted scoff, letting yourself step closer to him.

"Hey, look at me," You urge him, tugging slightly on his hand for him to bring his eyes up to you. "Please?"

And so he does, meeting your gaze with a flicker of confusion. You hold his eyes for a few moments before you start to struggle, almost like you’re in a staring contest. Then a blush creeps up your cheeks, blossoming across your face like a freshly bloomed flower. A soft, nervous giggle escapes your lips, starting as a quiet chuckle before growing into a hearty blend of laughter.

For a second, Jihoon is a bit puzzled, before he feels a laugh of his own tumble out of his chest. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're cute."

"And that... makes you laugh?"

"It makes me happy," You answer witfully. "You make me happy. And just because I'm not laughing doesn't mean you're boring me."

Jihoon just gazes at you both dazedly and fondly, and the more he does so, the more it has you giggling even more. It could be from the alcohol earlier and it's a sign that you should really get back home this instant, but he's simply just standing there like a confused toddler, and you're happy.

"And your laugh... Gosh, your laugh," You continue on, and there's an affectionate look in your eyes. "I love your laugh. Please laugh more like that around me or I will go insane, Jihoonie."

A small grin spreads across Jihoon's face. "Then be cute, like you are now."

"Deal," You quip tauntingly, bringing his hand up to your lips to place a small kiss on before the two of you continue strolling down the sidewalk.

The silence takes over for some time, a comfortable silence that isn't heavy or awkward this time, only the tapping of your shoes against the pavement and the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze filling the space.

"I love your laugh, too."

You pick your head back up, gazing at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. "What did you say?"

Jihoon hesitates, before smiling bashfully.

"I said that I love you."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi @armycarat2612

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[celesteleoves]

“YOURE SWEET, so you seem like you’d like sweet things like this.”

ೃ࿐ katsuki bakugou x shy!fem!reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety, katsuki being down bad for u secretly (ooc katsuki) otherwise: fluff.

summary: in which katsuki figures out he is not the only student in class 1.A that likes a certain, sweet food every once in a while.

-

with a sugar eating quirk, sato was most definitely the person you’d rely on for fulfilling your sweet tooth! everyone in class 1.A knew that he was often stacked with different saccharine or sweetened dishes.

what everyone didnt know, was that you had a knack for baking yourself. of course, you kept this to yourself incase someone didn’t like your creations. you couldn’t even fathom how embarrassing that would be if it were to happen.

the anxiety of watching someone bite into your dish, face scrunching up at the taste, made you want to vomit. so, you never let ANYONE know about this guilty pleasure of yours, often only baking close to when everyone was tucked away into their dorms.

it was 10 pm, a wednesday evening when you decided to cleanse your need to make chocolate cookies. simple, i know, but you still enjoyed making easy things like this.

as you rummaged around the kitchen, headphones plugged in as you softly hummed to music, pulling out items that you need, you failed to hear the sound of footsteps making their way towards the dim lit kitchen.

the oven went off with a ding, you smiled and pulled out the cookies. your grin growing wider when you noticed they weren’t burnt, oddly shaped, or not baked at all but instead were perfect.

you huffed as you placed them on the counter, grabbing a stool and sitting snugly while examining and separating each cookie from the other.

as the kitchen door was pulled opened, you jumped. your eyes widened as you stare towards the doorway.

“huh? the hell.” katsuki bakugou grumbled at the sight of you in the kitchen at 10 pm, on a school night, by yourself. his head tilted as he examined your hair that was tucked away in a messy up-do, lips parted in shock at the sight of him and eyes widened.

he turned his gaze to the pan of cookies you had infront of you, eyes shining at the food. katsuki would never admit it, but he quite liked chocolate chip cookies. it was probably the only dish that fulfilled his sweet tooth.

“chocolate chip cookies, huh? you seem like the type of person to like sweet things.” he moved towards you as you sat there, speechless.

katsuki pulled a stool up beside you as you smiled softly at him, trying to appear as friendly as possible since he normally is never this calm… or nice.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you raised your eyebrows as he turned his attention back to you.

“you’re sweet, so you seem like you’d like sweet things like this.” he said, almost too quiet for you to hear but you noticed the way he kept his eyes trained on the food.

a flood of heat made its way onto your face as you shyly smiled, “here, i made too many cookies anyways.”

you held out the now less hot cookie to him as his lips turned upwards slightly as he took it from your hand. he bit into it, eyes immediately widening at how good the cookie tasted.

your heart dropped as you watched his expression, the fear you had of someone not liking your dish was coming to life. you felt your breathing pick up as he chewed – your heart feeling like it flew out of your chest and-

“shit, this is really good.” his ruby eyes moved to connect with yours as your nerves calmed.

“thank you, bakugou.” you grinned as he let out a small smile.

“anytime. can i have more?” he seemed to get shy as he asked that question, fearing you’d make fun of him for dropping his big, tough guy persona around you just for a damn cookie (an incredibly good one in his defense).

“y-yes! of course, take as many as you want.” you scrambled with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

katsuki looked at you with admiration and fondness as you hurriedly picked up a few more cookies just for him.

if it meant staying up past his bedtime every night just to be here with you, eating chocolate chip cookies, bakugou katsuki would do it every night.

—

a/n: i was gonna post this on valentine’s day but then i forgot! anyways, i’m back 😈

a/n pt.2: im sorry for my recent absence here and my infrequent posts, I’ve been struggling with some personal issues but please do feel free to send requests, etc. ily all.

[naturesapphic]

She’s Always Here

Mommy!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: kinda age regression, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/n: this is for my pookie wookie :) @iwantscarlettandlizzie I love you and I hope this helps you feel better!

“Oh Darling, what’s the matter?” Wanda asked as you stood there in front of her, looking exhausted. You just came back from work and you were burnt out to the brim. So much was going on and you couldn’t handle it all right now. You just needed Wanda.

You didn’t answer Wanda’s question with words, you just shrugged your shoulders and looked down at the floor, tears burning your eyes. Wanda gently lifted your chin with the tips of her fingers and gave you a loving smile. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change into a nice pair of pajamas while I fix dinner hm?” She said softly and you gave her a weak nod.

She smiled as she watched you go upstairs to change, once she heard the door close she went into the kitchen start making your favorite food for dinner. After a bit, you came down the stairs with your comfort stuffed animal in your arms. You went into the kitchen to find Wanda working hard to make dinner so you decided to head into the living room to turn on your favorite movie.

Wanda heard the tv playing and smiled to herself, realizing that you were in the living room. About thirty minutes later, wanda was done with food and fixed y’all’s plates. She grabbed the plates and headed into the living room where you were sitting at. She smiled when she saw you cozying up on the couch with your stuffy. Wanda set the plates on front of you on the coffee table making you look up at her.

“I made you your favorite sweet girl.” Wanda said smiling, making your heart beat faster. You sat up on the couch and held your stuffie close as you started to eat. Wanda sat down beside you and ate with you while y’all watched your favorite movie. After y’all were done Wanda grabbed the plates and went off back into the kitchen to wash them. Before she could go any further she heard you whisper her name.

She turned around to see your tear filled eyes watching her and she felt her heart break. “Hold on baby. Let mommy put these up.” She said referring to the dishes and she quickly went into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink and she sped walk back to you. She sat down beside you and you quickly got in her lap making her giggle. “Oh hello my sweet baby!” She said as she wraps her loving arms around you.

You blushed at her words and how she was looking at you. You hid your face in her neck and could feel the vibrations of her chuckling as you laid your head on her shoulder, your chest against hers. “Feeling a little better angel?” Wanda whispered against your ear as she rubs your back. “Yes…” you whispered back, not really in the mood to talk and Wanda knew.

She didn’t push anymore questions out and just continued to hold you close to her. She would give out little reassurances every now and then and that always made you feel better. She would say things like “I’m yours.” “You will always be mommys girl.” “You’re my perfect baby.” “Such a good girl.” “Mommy is so proud of you.” And more. You closed your eyes and heard Wanda hum a song which made you unknowingly fall asleep.

When you woke you were on the bed with Wanda laying beside you. She noticed you woke up confused and gently hushed you. “Shhhh shhhh…I’m here baby. Mommy is here…you fell asleep downstairs. Plus it’s past your bedtime anyway darling. Go to sleep now for mommy…she’ll be right here when you wake up.” She says calmly, her voice making your eyes close. You felt her pull you closer to her and her humming starts again, making you fall into a deep sleep but before you do you hear her say. “Mommy loves you to the moon and back. My precious baby.”

A/n: this is for my pookie @iwantscarlettandlizzie ! I hope you enjoy my love :)

[atlasscrumpit]

Yandere Hannibal x Reader

It had been a long time coming but Hannibal finally had what he craved for so long, he had you.

He stood by your bed and watched as you sleeped peacefully.

Everything had gone exactly according to plan, your apartment sold, your stuff moved here and everyone you knew thought you were dead.

He smiled and gently ran his hand along the side of your face. You groaned and slowly woke up to see him.

"H-Hannibal...?" You whispered in confusion.

"Shh, don't be afraid." He said, still touching your face with his cold hand.

"What's going on?" You asked as he smiled, it was cold and held no emotion.

"Well, you found out my little secret, didn't you? On your way to Will to tell him and beg him for safety." He said as you paled and stared at him, your life ended here.

"Hannibal... Please, don't do this." You whispered making him chuckle darkly.

"Killing you would make a lot of sense, no loose ends, clean break and no one would know. Afterall you have a track record of suicide attempts." He said, your stare trying to hide how terrified you were.

"But, I decided against that because I don't think life would be quite so entertaining without you. For a long time I've planned this out, long before you found out my secret. I never realised how empty this house felt before I met you and you left to go to your own home..." He whispered, stroking your hair gently.

"So, what are you going to do?" You asked, your voice laced with fear.

"Well, to everyone else you're dead, my dear. A tragic fire in your apartment, burnt everything, including your body. I cut your hair, that way they would find some DNA. I also didn't enjoy the long hair, I like it nice and short to see your face." He said as you stared at him in horror.

"What... What the hell have you done!?" You shouted before he quickly reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, the action quick and strong, quickly cutting off your air supply.

"I don't appreciate that tone, and I don't appreciate yelling in my house. I will let you breath if you keep your mouth shut, understood?" He asked as you gripped his wrist and nodded a little.

He let go of you and you sat up, gasping for air.

"Now, I could've just killed you very easily just now. But, I didn't. So, what do you say?" He asked, tilting his head as you stared at him in fear.

"T-Thank you." You whispered making him smile.

"That's a good girl. Now, there's going to be some certain rules here, my dear." He said, as you continued to stare at him.

He rested his hand on your thigh.

"You're never to leave this house, you are to listen to me, do as I say and I'll treat you better than you've ever been treated, my dear. Luxuries, pleasures, wonderful food...whatever you want." He said, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.

"Hannibal... Don't do this, please. My family, my friends..." You whispered as he sighed and held your face in his hand.

"I'm all you need now." He said, it wasn't comforting in anyway.

It was a threat.

"No... I'm not doing this." You whispered before getting up and rushing for the door.

Hannibal was up in a second, pinning you against the wall as you cried and tried to break free.

"Shh, Shh it's okay, sweet girl. Calm down for me." He whispered in your ear, he knew exactly how to manipulate you and get you exactly where he needed you.

You stopped fighting as you cried softly and panted.

"There's a good girl, there's no need to struggle." He whispered, his hand slowly reaching up back to your throat and squeezing it.

His body pressing you against the wall.

The way he squeezed your throat was just enough to let in enough air.

"No need to panic, relax I'm not going to let you die. But, I'm in control here. You are mine and you're going to listen to me or I won't hesitate to cut the oxygen off to your brain for long enough to paralyse you. I'm going to let go, you are not going to struggle and you are not going to scream." He whispered into your ear as you nodded a little.

He loosened his grip, his hand still on your throat but enough for you to gasp for air again.

"That's it, nice slow breaths for me." He whispered, backing away and letting you turn around.

He had to stop the growl that left his throat when he saw the bruise forming on your neck.

"I know you're afraid... But, you're going to be okay, more than okay." He said as you stared at him, he looked at you and sighed softly.

"Come here." He whispered, opening his arms, you slowly moved forward and hugged him, breaking down in tears.

"There we go, my dear. Let it out, I know it's a lot to take." He reassured you gently stroking your hair.

You cuddled into him as you sobbed, a sickening smile forming on Hannibal's lips.

"You'll have a lovely room to yourself, I'll cook every meal, you'll be treated like a princess, my dear. Do not fear me, sweetheart." He whispered, his hand slowly gripping your hair.

"Either way, you couldn't escape even if you tried."

[random-lil-illing]

who you gonna call?

THE DEAD POETS!

This is inspired by a post from @blakenation1 , where they talked about modern! dead poets dressing up together for halloween :] i hope you like this!

no speedpaint this time, unfortunately, since the video of it is too big to upload :(

[crazy-only]

the grid meeting your parents ! (fluff)

pairing: f1driver (hamilton, norris, piastri, russell, tsunoda, verstappen) x reader

premise: how six f1 drivers would interact with your parents ! (fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff)

preface: YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET AHHHH like seriously i don’t understand how im getting this much love just writing my horny/love-deprived thoughts but nonetheless i’m close to tears ╥﹏╥ thank you !! anyways who should i write for next ? a pt. 2 with the other drivers ? enjoy <3

hamilton

babe would be experienced with this, know all the right things to say, and when to just nod and pretend like he agrees with your parents. even though he’s been through the same motions of ‘meeting the parents’ a few times before, he knows you’re the right one for him, so lewis will take this opportunity seriously.

that means bringing bags of designer clothes, perhaps a watch for the dad, and, of course, an expensive bottle of wine (he still hasn’t disclosed the price to you (｡ŏ_ŏ)). your boy’s classy and will match his attire to yours. and maybe get your mom to crush a bit on your mans as well. but don’t worry, boy is loyal!

✦✦✦✦

norris

aww i think bby acts confident about these sorts of things in front of friends, but when it’s just the two of you, he shrivels in your lap, anxious at the mere thought of meeting your parents.

he doesn’t want it to go wrong! he needs you for the rest of his life, so he spends days before the actual event asking you what your parents’ interests are, things they would ask on the big day—lando panics big time. and on the day he actually meets the parents, he realizes it was all worth it, because now he can spend the rest of his life with you! (*ˇωˇ*)

✦✦✦✦

piastri

okay this boy knows his personality is special. he knows he can’t exactly be as straightforward as he would prefer to be because there’s a big chance your parents would take it the wrong way. so, as he gauges your parents’ tolerances to sarcasm, jokes, etc., he grows more confident. at first, baby will be quiet, but with time you’ll be dragging oscar away from your parents just because they can’t stop talking so much!

✦✦✦✦

russell

similar to hamilton, this man is ✧classy✧ and makes sure it seems that way. whether it’s a casual dinner or a barbecue, george dresses up in a suit, all pretty, because he wants your parents to know he’s serious! don’t take him wrong though, he’s not afraid to get on his knees to help your parents out. sink is broken? baby is inside the cabinet fixing the faucet as we speak. need more charcoal? he’s already gone back to the gas station to pick a bag up (he’s an f1 driver, i mean what’d you expect?). and don’t worry about if your parents approved of him or not, he’s got ‘em asking when he’s coming back!

✦✦✦✦

tsunoda

aw yuki would be so shy meeting your parents. his relationship with them would be more sweet than anything. less chatting, more jokes! if he burnt the dinner he was supposed to cook for your parents (low chances, but bear with me), yuki would be close to tears. he takes it very seriously!

thankfully your family would laugh it off, and yuki would start laughing as well. if the power went out, jokes would float around the dark room and your parents would see how much he cares about you as he grabs blankets and tea for you. (≧﹏ ≦)

✦✦✦✦

verstappen

baby could simply care less about your parents. all he wants at the end of the day is to be with you. his heart only wants you! how can you blame him? ( > < ) for this reason he tolerates your parents. if they happen to be nice, then he’ll get along great! if they’re not his style, he’ll still pretend like they saved his cats from a near-death experience (eating the wrong cat food).

as long as he has you, max can meet a hundred sets of rude parents and still be happy. <3

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Babysitting Their Kid-Selves

I threw this together in a haze on Discord uhhhh enjoy thank you to @windalchemist001 for putting the idea In My Brain

------------------------------------------------

HEARTSLAYBUL

Riddle - struggles between wanting to help his youngerself have positive experiences, but also knows that depending on how old he is, it might just be super stress inducing. Finds a middle ground in giving his younger self an "easy" assignment and then giving him the time of his life, 10/10

Trey - he's burnt out from being the oldest, and from momming Riddle, and from taking care of the dorm. His kid self is being told to go play outside and don't get hurt (which his kid self obeys, and comes in when he's hungry and that's about it) very laissez-faire bc he can't be bothered. He knows the other boys in the dorm wouldn't let his kid self get hurt anyways, especially Riddle, who likely ends up taking the brunt of the responsibility 7/10

Cater - hehe yeah his kid self is Traumatized, he brings him to play video games/teach him to skate board/intro to Not Sweet snacks and ends up getting a kid trauma dumping to him. Or. he sees his kid self and nopes out, immediately asks anyone else to take care of him because he's gonna go :sparkles:cry:sparkles: but you don't need to know that. Either 9/10 or a 2/10

Deuce - Awkward at first, but honestly, just does what his mom did for him, smooth sailing, 10/10

Ace - "hah, I'm the best babysitter in the world, only the coolest kids can handle me. Think you have what it takes?" <- secretly really good with kids but only because he had his big brother as a role model. He also knows now all the tricks his big brother used on kid him so he has some fun being that to himself, as much as a handful as kid self is. 8/10

SAVANNACLAW

Leona - Sees how hopeful his younger self was, knows that Savannaclaw knows better than to fuck with it, leaves his child self in community care and leaves bc he doesn't want to reminded of the love he didn't recieve when he was little 10/10 for looking out for both of their mental health

Ruggie - oh my god he adores younger self, teaches him everything he knows, uses his "adorability" to his advantage, but also uses Leona's cash to buy ingredients for a food his younger self rarely got to try as a treat. Honestly, 10/10

Jack - He's a little awkward around his kid self, asks Leona for advice, gets none, asks Vil for advice, Vil ends up Momming and taking over sorry baby Jack. N/A he didn't give up the child intentionally but he also didn't really get to babysit

OCTAVINELLE

Azul - Oh hell no, like at first its like "look how far of come" but the self loathing immediately takes over again. Kid Azul's only saving "grace" is the tweels who terrify the baby by accident but are actually really soft and caring with him. Azul just makes sure his kid self has something to hide in bc "nobody wants to look at that" 2/10

Jade - Knows What He's Doing, and he's going to treat his kid self as gently as possible because he knows what's coming for him in later years :) 10/10

Floyd - Does fine until the kid cries and then pawns his kid self off to Jade 6/10

SCARABIA

Kalim - He's a big brother, but he's not big brother, you know? He likes to make sure the kid has fun and feels safe but he forgets to take breaks and give him water and oh god now he's on a magic carpet bc child self has to go to the bathroom and they're on the WRONG side of the dorm. Very caring, very loving, a little airheaded. If he takes his attention off him he wanders off. Jamil usually has to step in, but neither of them want him to. 7/10

Jamil - In a similar boat to Leona, but instead of leaving his kid self to someone else, he ends up going off campus with his kid self and lets him beat him in races/video games/ dance offs/ etc. so he can feel like he's the best at something for once. They end up cooking together, and honestly it heals adult Jamil a lot too 10/10

POMEFIORE

Vil - Carries a bit of contempt as well as admiration for his younger self. There is a part of him that wishes things had gone differently. Vil likely ends up keeping his kid self in his room all day, but while they're in there, they do all the things Vil remembers wishing he could do, like throwing a tantrum, finally having his feelings about Neige be validated, making a mess, eating whatever he wants, etc. etc. It's just it takes half the day for him to get to that point, before there's a break through it's almost pure ice on adult Vil's side with his kid self just sitting on the bed. 6/10

Rook - Doesn't want anything to do with his kid self, knows his kid self is self sufficient, tells him to not talk to anyone and leaves him alone. ???/10

Epel - Epel uses his kid self as an excuse to go get messy and dirty and play all day. He WILL blame his kid self for any accidents that may occur inside of Pomefiore. Kid self finds it unfair but funny, but can be bought back with some apple slices with caramel. It's a lot of fun, but a lot of clean up. 8/10

IGNIHYDE

Idia - Blames his younger self for the whole ||Ortho|| thing and uh. Would probably lock him out of his room. Ignores/pretends he doesn't exist. Kid Idia seeing ||Ortho "alive"|| would probably have him breaking down. 0/10

Ortho - .....

DIASOMNIA

Malleus - Can't handle his kid self as much as he insists that he can. Probably does something that accidentally triggers himself (both versions) and Lilia has to take over before there's a major melt down. They do have ice cream together after. 5/10

Lilia + Silver - I'm Waiting, Sorry

Sebek - Doesn't want to take care of his kid self. At first he thinks it's cool but then his kid self is biting everything, asking so many questions, getting close to Malleus without permission, showing off his adorable baby side, and kinda hates big Sebek purely because he has magic "already". (Sebek was canonically a 'late bloomer' with magic). He gets Too Stressed and then also gets more pissed off when Silver seems to do a better job baby sitting, but Lilia runs intervention. uhh. 3/10

hhhhhhhhhh bye Tag list: @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[fangirl-dot-com]

Carlos Sainz - You don’t like spicy food?! Then why the heck do they call you Chili? 

Aw guys imma cryyyy – this is the last part of Besties for the Resties. I have enjoyed every single moment of writing these. Sorry if the last few ones were short, I’ve been using all of my brain power for finals and for the Christmas chapter! That one is going to be a doozy and I’m hoping it’ll hit almost 10k words: because y’all deserve some good writing! 

I honestly don’t know when this story is set. I have tried to write all of these for races before the summer break. So that being said, on my master list I am not writing a chapter for the Barca Grand Prix – so this chapter will be during that time! 

For one last time for this series – I hope you all enjoy! 

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED] 

Remember that comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated! 

The sun beat down on the top of your head as you lounged and napped in the hotel pool. The Spanish Grand Prix was right around the corner, but you had time to relax and get your tan on. The water lapped at your limbs, cooling you off as the sun felt as though it was getting hotter. 

Kelly had told you time and time again to put on sunscreen so that you wouldn’t burn. You definitely did not want to drive a Formula 1 car with sunburn. At least you weren’t as fair as Max was. You thought that he was a vampire or something. His skin automatically turned pink if he was outside too long. You guessed that’s why he always wore his Red Bull Cap. 

Quiet splashes sounded at the opposite end where you knew Kelly and Penelope were playing. It was nice to hear their giggles as they tossed a beach ball around. To your left, however, you could hear the men talking about the cars and whatever part made more downforce, which was close to bringing you out of your light sleep. 

Apparently when booking the hotels, Red Bull and Ferrari had decided to get rooms at the same place. Which led to you, Penelope, Kelly, and Max finding Carlos and Charles already at the pool. You were glad that they were pretty good friends, because if it had been Esteban, well, you shivered at what might have happened. 

You were a bit bummed that the other drivers’ hotels were much farther away. Because you would have asked Lando, Oscar, and George to come over as well. You had already asked Daniel, hoping that Alpha Tauri would have placed him with you and Max. But sadly, he had his own hotel where he was staying with Heidi. Which made sense, if your significant other was here, you’d want to stay with him too. 

You tried to block out any conversations about the cars, but they were getting too loud. You sat up on your floaty as you looked around. Your eyes adjusted to the bright light after having been closed for a while. 

“Good morning,” Max laughed as he looked at your discombobulated appearance. 

You groaned as you sunk into the water, cooling off the rest of your body. The three of them just laughed as you swam over to the stairs. Pulling yourself up, you stepped onto the warm tile and made your way over to where they were sitting. You took the offered towel from Charles and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“How are you not burnt?” Max questioned, shocked at your skin that was void of any redness. 

Your shoulders raised before dropping, “Genes? Also you woke me up. Do you have to be talking about the upgrades.” You grumbled, sunglasses hiding your closed eyes as your head tipped back. 

A scoff left his lips, brows furrowed under his bucket hat. “You needed to wake up anyway. You’re going to ruin your sleep schedule.” 

“More than it’s already ruined,” Charles pipped, looking at the shared laptop on the table. 

You turned your head and looked at Max, “Can we order food and drinks or something?” 

Max nodded, getting his phone out. You told him what you wanted, but were interrupted with a scoff from Carlos. Max turned, looking a bit annoyed. 

“Everything all right mate?” Charles asked, trying to diffuse the situation. What the three of you didn’t see was Carlos looking at the menu on his phone. 

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done. He quickly held up his phone. “I was scoffing at the menu. Everything seems too spicy.” Max melted back into his chair, but you were completely confused. 

“You don’t like spicy food? Then why the heck do they call you Chili?” Max and Charles laughed at your question. “What? I’m just super confused.” 

Carlos let out a laugh of his own. “No chica. A fan gave me a hat that had chili peppers on it. I guess it just stuck. Kind of like your name.” 

You crossed your arms. “It’s my manager’s fault. He’s the one that started calling me kid in the first place. Then Christian somehow found how, then Max, then my strategist, and now everyone calls me that.” 

Charles pondered for a moment before speaking, “And why is that?” 

You pouted, “Cause in Formula 4 I was the shortest there, and Vito said I looked like a kindergartener who snuck into the middle schooler’s field trip.” 

The three men started to laugh while you continued to pout. 

“It’s really not that funny,” you pouted. “So why are we talking about upgrades? We’re supposed to be enjoying this relaxing time.” You leaned back into your chair, closing your eyes once again. 

Charles started, “Well, on our cars they seem to be doing much better this year with pace, but it’s still not as fast as we’d like it to be.” 

You hummed, thinking about what it could be. “It could just be the balance distribution on the corners and such.” You leaned forward again, now hunched over as you looked at the laptop. Your head jutted toward Max. “How much are we allowed to help.” 

“As long as we don’t talk about specifics of the car, then we have free range, oh – thank you,” Max was replying but got cut off by a waiter with the food that was ordered. 

Drinks were passed around as well as lunches. You quickly grabbed one of your tacos and bit into it. The juices ran down your mouth as you tried to wipe it away. A towel was quickly thrust in your direction. You nodded in a thanks as you swallowed and wiped your chin. 

“So, does the car feel unbalanced in the corners?” you questioned to the two Ferrari drivers. 

“Non, the car feels good. Our pace is just not where we want it.”

You thought for a moment, “Then it might be the breaking or the overall strategy and tires. You two just need better strategists.” 

Carlos ran a hand down his face. “That is what we have been trying to tell them. But every years it’s ‘Oh, they will get better’ but then they don’t.” 

You nodded at this information, before taking another bite of your food. A thought popped into your head. 

“Could be the new design of your front wings,” you paused before adding, “or the gearbox.” 

“The gearbox,” Max said at the same time as you did. 

Charles snapped his fingers as his head turned towards his teammate. “That might be it.” 

You added, “If the gears don’t shift quickly or effectively, then you’re losing time in the laps instead of gaining. Especially when you downshift.” 

Carlos looked at you with amusement, “You really know your cars.” 

You shrugged as you took a drink of whatever fruity thing Max ordered you. “I thought about quitting F3 at one point to become an engineer for the cars.” 

Max cocked his head. “Why didn’t you though?” 

You smirked, “I kept winning.” Charles choked on his drink at your bluntness. “I also didn’t have enough money to go to school for a degree. Thought it would just be easier to continue.” 

Charles gave you a sad-ish smile. He knew what it was like to not have enough money to really pursue your dreams. Arthur knew that even more so. He was honestly glad that you didn’t give up or were forced to quit. Then Arthur wouldn’t have met you, he wouldn’t have met you, and so on. 

You brought him out of his thoughts, “Or the problem with your car might be just that you simply aren’t fast enough to catch us.” You shot the two rival drivers a wink before taking another sip. 

Max shot you a wide smile. “That might be it as well.” 

Carlos and Charles rolled their eyes, but both had a smile on their face. Once your food was finished, you stood up, making your way back to the pool. This time, it was Kelly and Penelope’s turn to get some food and drinks, and maybe a nap for P. 

You turned to the three before you got in. “Can someone play mermaids with me?” 

“No.”  

Y/n.89 has posted

they wouldn't play mermaids with me

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1

liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet, and 95,204 others

landonorris if I was there, I would have played mermaids smh

y/n.89 its ok -Charles ended up playing with me and P charles_leclerc yeah, after you threatened ME

y/n-lover petition for Charles to play a mermaid in Barbie 2 if they make one

y/n.89 yes charles_leclerc NO

danielricciardo max got sunburned didn't he

kellypiquet yes y/n.89 that would be correct, lobster right now carlossainz55 he hasn't leaned back against his chair in 15 minutes

maxverstappen1 why does Charles get a good picture and I don't

y/n.89 CAUSE HE PLAYED MERMAIDS charles_leclerc yeah, I played mermaids - take that verstappen maxverstappen1 I will RUN YOU OFF THE TRACK christianhorner please do not

box_box_official this is just y/n's world and we're just living in it

AND THAT'S A WRAP - I LOVE YOU ALL!! ON TO THE REGULAR SHOW

AN: This will be the last chapter until Christmas!!

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog @treehouse-mouse

[hfhxjdndnnrnt]

Luffy x reader head-cannons

Kisses ALL THE TIME there is no escape literally anytime and anywhere

He loves pda and doesn’t care what others think

Loves hugs!!! Hug him first!!!

Midnight snacks are a must for every night 😭 he will wake you up if he is hungry so you two can have some quality time

His gifts are the best because he is really sentimental and thinks about everything

He doesn’t really get jealous but when he does….

Will do anything for you no questions asked

Probably knows you better than you know yourself

He thinks you’re probably a princess

Needs ALL of your attention

A literal golden retriever boyfriend

He doesn’t really have any experience with his love life so everything you guys do will be a lot of his firsts

This boy wants everyone to like you and to be your friend

His friends are your friends or his crew in other words

Your date nights usually include food like 99.999% of them

He doesn't tell you things about him for a really long time because he just never thought about it

The moment he saw you he had heart eyes for you and only you

He made it his goal to have you as part of his crew

Cuddles are life with him you two are always touching each other

Pinky promises

He thinks more of you than anyone else

He doesn't know how to cook

You two had a cooking date and he lit the store on fire and burnt everything please don't let him try cooking again

He has tried making pancakes for you but they looked like burnt hamburger buns and smelt like coal?

Sanji’s worst nightmare is him in the kitchen and cooking for everyone

Anyways I hope everyone enjoys I might make more i don't know

[jumpingfluffy]

IT FLOPPED ALL OF THE SUDDEN IM SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

anyway enjoy this burnt food <33 @thewhiteguy !!

istg i have more alternative designs than the refs by this point holy he-