#buttercream fandom

[incorrectjjkquotes]

Gojo, texting the groupchat: The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a coward's choice, and fondant people are demons and have to meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept Play-Doh as acceptable cake decoration. Geto: Turn on your location and we can talk. Gojo: Hope you understand sign language cus all you're gonna be seeing is hands. Shoko: Damn, shit's getting real in the cake-decorating fandom.

[i-am-creacheur]

making one of these because the world sucks and I need outside motivation to get better. I'm not popular enough to get any traction but I need help so I guess spamming welcome.

1 note: I start my Latin game project which is due like three days from now- complete!!!!

5 notes: I will text my crush along the lines of "hey we have a lot of teams and clubs in common but I don't anything about you. What are somethings you like" except less creepy- working up the courage.

10 notes: I will try to write more on my fics.- busy atm but will work on them when I can

20 notes: I will ask my parents for a birthday cake, because my birthday was two weeks ago and we were out of the country so I didn't really get anything (they said the trip was my gift but I think it was a joke) and I always get the same cake and my internal calender is now screaming in agony- they bought a lot of sweet stuff i like earlier today so I'm considering not asking. Or just asking for a cupcake with buttercream icing or sm

30 notes: do so much laundry- doing a load of shirts and stuff atm

40 notes: try to get better at taking care of myself (eating breakfast, showering more often, drinking more water)- put a water bottle on my desk and am working on this

50 notes: organize my mcyt folder in my photo gallery (has over 3k pictures)- I'll do this while procrastinating later today

100 notes: properly clean my room- laundry is a major part of this but yall swarmed the notes so it will take me a bit to reach. I mean I did say spamming was fine so I dug my own grave

200 notes: buy magnets from a fandom I really like

300 notes: buy more jeans. I only like certain kinds of pants and I haven't gotten new ones in like two years so I really need some that haven't been beaten to hell

500 notes: ask my parents for an adhd coach

700 notes: start properly planning my eagle project

1k notes: ask my crush out/tell my parents I think I like girls

2k: make three cosplays of my favorite characters

3k: start researching colleges (this is very stressful to think about for me hence why it is so high up)

Likely to add more 👍

[yellowharrington]

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that. 

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday. 

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes. 

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath. 

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together. 

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy. 

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink. 

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek. 

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself. 

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms. 

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert. 

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.” 

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features. 

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise. 

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his. 

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence. 

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

[piliharrington]

Robin: The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a coward's choice and fondant people are demons and gotta meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept Play- Doh as acceptable cake decorations.

Eddie: Turn on your location and we can talk.

Robin: Hope you understand sign language then 'cause all you're gonna be seeing are these hands.

Steve: Damn, shit's getting real in the cake decorating fandom.

[cod-dump]

Gaz: The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a coward's choice and fondant people are demons and are going to meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept Play-Doh as acceptable cake decoration

Ghost: Turn on your location, I just wanna talk

Gaz: Hope you understand sign language then cause all you're gonna see are these hands

Soap, watching this happen in the group chat with a dead expression: Wow, shit's getting real in the cake fandom

[sinfullyrosey]

Cream-Filled Buns

Trey Clover X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Groping, Spanking, Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, (Almost) Caught in the Act, Orgasm Denial, Creampie, Dom!Trey

TWST Fandom: Ew, Tr*y smut? Disgusting. Give us dragon boi or the eel twins.

Me: Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man, pound reader’s cake as fast as you can. Pat it and prick it and fill it with cum. Spank it real hard and redden those buns.~

The fresh smell of baked goods wafted in the air of the Heartslabyul kitchen, a certain green-haired vice dorm head once again preparing for the latest Unbirthday Party.

Plates of desserts of all kinds deliciously graced the counters as Trey worked to finish up the remaining batch before the party was to start. This celebration was especially special, calling for the treats to be fresh and still warm when they decorate the table.

It was a time indicative task, but nothing the baker couldn’t handle. As long as there are no distractions and grubby, little hands to try and sneak a taste, he should be done soon.

“Oh, Trey~!”

Well, so much for no distractions.

Trey’s eyes followed the sound as your skipping self came into frame. A big smile was on your face as you made your way over to the island counter he was working at, hands clasped behind your back in faux innocence.

He returned your greetings, refilling the icing dispenser as your gaze scanned across the table at the rows of delectable delights. Your tongue poked out at the corner as mischievous thoughts ran through your head.

“And what do I owe the pleasure, oh Prefect of Ramshackle?” He inquired.

Matching his cheeky tone, you quickly snuck some icing from one of the cupcakes and popped your finger in your mouth before Trey could notice.

“Well, Vice Dorm Head of Heartslabyul, I just came by to visit my favorite person on campus.”

He gave you an unconvinced look, returning back to his cupcake decorating. Trey knew the real reason you were here. It’s the same reason for all your visits, to sneak a taste or two when you think he’s not looking.

“No, really Trey, honest! I also came by to show you my outfit before anyone else could get a peak. Look!”

You gave a little twirl. The helm of your skirt fanning out like the petals of the garden’s roses. Trey looked up from his work to softly smile at your antics.

The blouse, skirt, and vest combo was designed after the Heartslabyul dorm, featuring a black and white checkered pattern with bright reds.

“Custom made and comfy! Think Riddle will approve?”

Trey was putting the finishing touches on some of the treats while he gave you a once over. He settled with a curt nod before turning his attention back to his work.

“You’ll just have to show and ask him yourself.”

You huffed at his lack of enthusiasm, but quickly perked up as another opportunity to sneak yourself a sweet treat presented itself once more.

You quickly glanced at him to make sure the coast was clear before swiping another dollop of the sugary sweet frosting. The strawberry buttercream melted on your tongue and coated your tastebuds in the divine flavor.

The soft call of your name brought you out of your daydreaming and you brought your attention back to the man standing in front of you. He was looking at you with that welcoming smile that always got your cheeks flushed a bright pink.

“Would you like to come over and assist me in decorating?”

You blinked at the request, still processing what he had just said. He chuckled at your dumbfounded, yet cute expression, and gestured for you to walk around over to his side.

You could only obey, not wanting to further embarrass yourself over something so trivial. You stood beside him, waiting for him to instruct you on what to do, knowing full well how precise and specific the Heartslabyul Dorm’s standards on desserts were.

“So, what do you want me to do exact-“

Trey interrupted your question by placing his hands on your waist and gently guiding your body to where you were now, standing right in front of him, back facing him and front facing the counter. He was right behind you, body almost pressed flush against yours.

“Um, Trey?” You squeaked.

Next, he gently took your hands into his, making you flush even more, as he had you properly hold the frosting dispenser in your grasp. His grasp never let go of yours as he began to slowly guide your movements. Your face flushed at the intimacy of it, how close he was to you, and how his arms were wrapped around you, preventing you from leaving.

“Just going to finish up the last few of these together, okay? Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You nodded and allowed him to guide your movements from cupcake to cupcake. You watched as each swirly, little dollop was smoothly applied to each caketop, your shared actions growing into an easy rhythm. Trey was right, it wasn’t all that too difficult, with his help that is. You would even say it was a little fun! You were smiling proudly at your accomplishment when the silence was broken by a sudden shift in tone that had your spine tingling with sudden nerves.

“You think you’re quite the sneaky one, don’t you Prefect?”

You sharply inhale at his accusation but refused to let him on to anything. You kept your gaze strictly on the cupcakes and icing and pretended like you had no idea what he was referring to. But Trey wasn’t swayed and continued.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed those devious, little fingers of yours stealing a taste or two when you think I’m not looking.”

Shit. He knew.

He let out a faux sigh of disappointment and guided you to the ruined cupcakes you snatched earlier and started to add more icing to them once more. You gulped and simply followed along, not wanting to get into any more trouble than you probably already were.

“All my hard work, ruined, because one naughty student couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“But-but I’m making it up by helping you finish them now… right?”

He chuckled and you perked up hopefully. This isn’t the first time you two have exchanged teasing banter before; you’re always messing around with Trey and he always inevitably sends you off with a playful warning.

“Hm, true…”

He removes his hands from yours and puts the icing dispenser aside. He then gently places his hands on your hips, making you jump at the unexpected contact. Your face started to heat up when you suddenly started to feel the sensation of something slowly grinding itself against your backside.

“… but we’re not finished just yet. There’s just two more buns that need filling.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pair of nice, round buns right here.~”

You squeaked as both of your buttcheeks were grabbed by the baker. Your face reddened, eyes wide, and body straightened.

“T-trey?! What are you-“

“You said you were making it up to me, yes? Well, just help me finish this last dessert and you can head to the Unbirthday Party, punishment-free.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought. You did say that, and you were being naughty earlier, not to mention that he was giving you an out right now, but… You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something you’ve wanted for a while now. It was no secret that you liked Trey (along with like half of the Heartslabyul Dorm) and would love to have your hole stuffed with him. But in the kitchen, out in the open? Could you really risk doing so where anyone could walk right in and see what you two were doing?

You gulped and let out an embarrassed huff.

“O-okay, I’ll help. So, what do I do?”

He smiled and hummed, thumb aimlessly rubbing circles against your still clothed bottom.

“First, we need to knead it just a bit; get it nice and ready.”

He used one hand to lift up and push aside your skirt, exposing your panties to him. Next, skilled hands began to meticulously grope and massage the flesh of your ass, squeezing and pinching. Your hand flew up to your mouth to stifle the noises that wanted so desperately to spill out. You unconsciously spread your legs to allow better access for him.

Fingers pressed into the supple fat and spread your asscheeks apart, before letting go and letting them jiggle back into place. His hands would start at the lower back thighs and slowly make their way up, still occasionally squeezing along the way. His thumbs grazed along your slit, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure and making you jump. You whined when he pulled your panties up to expose more skin and caused the cotton cloth to press tightly against your neglected pussy.

“Now we need to get them hot and ready.”

A loud slap resonated in the quiet kitchen, followed by your pitched yelp. Your cheek jiggled and stung from the sudden assault from the male’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction and slapped the other cheek, causing another yelp from you. Soon after, an array of spanks followed suite. You had to steady yourself against the counter, one hand gripping the table’s edge and the other pressed against your mouth to muffle your startled sounds.

“A-ah, Trey..!” You whined.

Your poor bottom was reddening with each slap to your exposed flesh, jiggling with every harsh swat he delivered. Before long, your ass was a bright red and stung. Your whole body felt hot by this point, especially your rear, which felt like it just got out of the oven and was now cooling in the kitchen air.

“Ah, I can feel that they’re nice and hot.” He grinned, massaging the plump, round mounds.

His hands dipped to your groin, pressing the pads of his fingers against your slit, rubbing along the folds and grazing your puffy clit. You were soaking through your panties, sticky essence staining the undergarment and oozing out of your needy cunt.

“I think they’re about ready to be stuffed with my cream. Don’t you think so, Prefect?”

You let out an impatient groan, rubbing your thighs together in desperation.

“Trey, p-please…” You whined. “Just stick it in already!”

Sly, golden eyes watched as you shuddered and rocked your hips against his in a measly attempt to relieve some of the growing pressure in your lower regions. He chuckled at you one last time before gently pulling your panties down past your knees and finally getting to the main course.

“Alright, alright, so impatient.~”

Rustling was heard as the older student unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardened member. He gave it a few more strokes, just to be sure if was perky and ready, just for you. You then sharply inhaled at the presence of the head of his cock pressing against your plush lips, prodding at the entrance before slowly sliding the tip in.

Trey placed his hands back along your hips, rubbing encouraging circles against them as you adjusted to his girth. You had to place your hands back on the table to steady yourself when he suddenly thrusted into you. His size stretched your tight walls, slowly making its way deeper into your pussy as he gave light thrusts. You couldn’t help but let out a satisfied moan when you felt him fully sheathed into you, reaching every slick-covered nook and crevice.

It felt, so, good.

So full.

Like you were completely stuffed to the brim with his cock.

Once he felt that your body had completely relaxed, melting into that of jelly, walls fluttering for more and mouth in a goofy grin, he finally started to pound into you for real. And Great Sevens above, it felt amazing.

With every thrust, you could feel your walls squeeze him and pull him back inside. Slick building up and leaking onto your length and past your entrance, making a slight mess of both of you and the tiles. His tip kept hammering into that special spot inside you, sending wave after wave of hot, searing pleasure shooting straight to your core like electricity. Your eyes rolled back as you lost yourself to the pleasure you’ve craved for so long now.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and your quiet, drawn-out moans. Your mind had grown hazy from the overwhelming sensation, toes now curling as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten and build, approaching that oh-so wanted burst of ecstasy. Lust-filled eyes began to droop and close once you felt that very coil just about to snap and unravel everything. You sighed and worked to meet his thrusts, pushing backwards when he pushed forward, all in order to tip yourself over the edge.

“Trey, how are the pastries coming along? The Unbirthday Party is due to start soon.”

Eyes snapped open as you looked at the entrance to the kitchen to find the dormleader himself come striding in. He made eye contact with Trey before promptly noticing you, an eyebrow raised and frown present on his face. The redhead crossed his arms and approached the two of you, a look of query clear on his face.

“Oh, I was unaware that the Ramshackle Prefect had arrived. What are you doing in the kitchen? You should be seated at the table!”

You were sweating nervously as Riddle stood on the other side of the table, right in front of you and Trey. The table was fairly high, obscuring some of the absolute debauchery taking place in the Hearstlabyul’s very kitchen, but was it enough to hide everything?

“Sorry Riddle, she was helping me finish off the last batch and would head off to join Ace and Deuce as soon as they were finished. They’re about ready.”

You were appreciative of Trey’s ability to be so confidently coolheaded in situations like this, allowing you to relax, knowing that he had everything under control. Even when you were mentally panicking. Riddle seemed accepting of the explanation, turning his attention briefly to the decorated desserts, seemingly searching for a particular one among the bunch, presumingly his beloved tart.

“Hm, alright then… but hurry up, I won’t tolerate lateness from either my guest or my vice housewarden!”

You could breathe a mental sigh of relief, knowing you actually got away with it and that Trey was able to steer the dormhead away before any mental scaring could occur. Maybe now you could get back to business before the sudden, abrupt interruption ripped your orgasm away and finally cum.

“Oh, before you head off, what do you think of the Prefect’s lovely, new attire? She wore it especially for the Unbirthday Party.~”

Scratch that.

He’s an asshole, just like the rest of the shitheads at this school.

Your body stiffened when you felt Riddle’s attention back on you, eyes squinted at your outfit. He tilted his head, muttering how he couldn’t exactly see it behind the table. You began to panic again, knowing you couldn’t just move away from Trey, risking the unmistakable sound of his dick slinking its way out of your wet pussy with a loud “pop!”

Seriously, what the hell did he expect you to do in this situation?!

“U-um, well, actually… I wanted it to be a surprise for when we all sat at the table, b-but I guess I can give you a little peak…”

With a nervous gulp, you step back, forcing the taller male to step back with you, so as to not obscure your skirt from Riddle’s view. It was then that you realized that your long skirt served as a curtain towards your filthy acts, falling in such a way that nobody standing in front could see Trey’s dick deep in you. You grabbed at the sides and raised them up in a mock curtsey, trying to cover as much as possible. You smiled as best you could and whispered a shy, “Well?”

Now it was Riddle’s turn to be embarrassed as he coughed into his hand, looking away with a soft blush on his cheeks. It wasn’t common for you to wear such attire on campus, so once he got a proper look at you, he became a bit flustered. After all, you were the only girl attending NRC, currently.

“It’s, it’s lovely… A-anyways, I’ll leave you two to it then! Don’t be late!”

Finally, the dorm leader left, leaving you alone with Trey once more. You physically sighed this time, relaxing back against Trey, who only laughed at your suffering. The prick.

“Well, that just ruined my orgasm, so~o, lets get on with this-“

The green-haired baker hummed, hands resting on your hips once more, this time rougher than last time. You looked up at him questioning his interruption. He leaned down so that his mouth was right next to your ear. His warm breath sending a chill down your spine and causing your walls to tighten around him once more. That when you noticed that his dick twitch inside of you, still rock hard and penetrating you nice and deep.

“It didn’t ruin mine.~”

And with that, he continued where he left off, rougher and faster, balls slapping against your ass with every brutal thrust. Your eyes widened and a loud gasp escaped past your wide, open lips. You could barely steady yourself as he abused your poor hole, not once stopping and only chasing his high. The coil built itself up once again, but wouldn’t reach to fruition as Trey, with two or three final, deep thrusts where he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, reached his own orgasm… without you.

He let out a deep grunt as his thick, hot cream shot out and began filling you up to the brim. A few droplets slipped past and dripped onto the tile and parts of your inner thighs. You shuddered at the feeling of his cum filling you completely, sticking to your walls.

You were left panting against the table’s edge, legs wobbly, while he slipped himself out of you, spilling more creamy cum and making a very lewd squelching sound. Your clit was throbbing from neglect, insides fluttering over the rough treatment. Your body was still clenching, both from the lack of release and to keep the mess inside you and off of the already dirty floor.

You blinked away the bleariness and felt him lift your panties back up and secured onto you properly. You gave him a questioning look, but he only sweetly smiled at you.

“Wait… what about my orgasm..?”

“Consider this the punishment for sticking your fingers where they don’t belong.”

Your dazed eyes widened up at him, a pout forming on your face as the realization that you weren’t going to be getting any proper satisfaction any time soon, slowly hit. A few tears of frustration formed in your eyes and you clenched your fists.

“But Trey, that’s not fai-mph!”

A sugary sweet cookie was shoved into your mouth, silencing you. Trey smiled down at your pleading look and chuckled. He adjusted your skirt and vest, smoothing out the wrinkles and making you look presentable again.

“You’ve already doddled enough and the others are expecting you, so it’s best you get to the table. Now, run along, dear.~”

And with that, he kissed you on the head and gestured you out of the kitchen so that he could begin bringing the pastries out to the table.

You whined in protest but could only obey and shuffle your way towards the table, where the others were indeed waiting. The slick sensation of the baker’s creamy release still sloshing along in your walls and dripping past your swollen, needy lips, thankfully hidden underneath your skirt. You took a seat, cringing at the quiet squelching sound between your legs, and huffed in frustration as you nibbled at the cookie, ignoring the concerned glances from your friends.

This tea party better end soon so you could relieve this torturous aching between your legs!

And get yourself cleaned up too…

[electric-blorbos]

Dateable character concepts for the Donut game, aka Cargo Ship

Muffin, Donut's laptop computer:

Muffin is a cheerful genki girl, and very into games and fandom culture. She likes watching Donut play retro games on her emulator, and tries to play them on her own when Donut is busy, but is not very good at them. Muffin's route would probably be about Donut finishing a big freelance programming project on Muffin, and having lots of fun watching anime and playing video games.

George, Donut's old desktop computer

George is 14 years old, and Donut has had him since xe was ten. He's not good for much besides playing music nowadays, but he absolutely adores Donut to pieces. He's a little jealous and self-conscious, especially since he knows he's not a very good computer anymore, but he tries to hide it. His route would probably have fanservice of Donut cleaning out his insides, and George getting very mad whenever he notices Donut talking negatively about xerself.

Mr. Buttercream, Donut's old teddy bear

Donut has had mr. Buttercream since the day xe was born, and he wants nothing more than love and cuddles and kisses forever. He's old and pretty worn out, but he loves Donut so much. Also, he's pretty scared of most things, especially the dark, but he'll be brave for Donut. His route would involve a lot of pajamas and cozy time. It would probably be about Donut coming to terms with xer own depressive episodes and childhood fears.

Sandy, Donut's turtle-shaped innertube

Sandy is a chill stoner type. He just wants to relax and hang out with Donut. The water is his favorite thing ever, and getting to hang out in the pool is the only thing that gets him actually excited. He's also a bit of a covert pervert, and really likes seeing Donut in a swimsuit. His route would be about Donut learning to relax and stop putting so much pressure on xerself to be perfect.

Jade, Donut's cell phone

Jade is a hot pink flip phone that Donut has had since childhood. Donut was never really interested in replacing her and getting a smart phone, so xe never did. Jade is very interested in Scene and emo culture, and tries to act very chill and disinterested at all times, but she's actually very cheerful and excitable. She really wishes Donut was more social so that they could go to or host wild house parties. Her route would probably be about Donut learning to socialize with other humans and make some human friends, texting constantly and deepening xer relationship with xer cell phone.

Olivia, one of the facilities where Donut can work

Olivia thinks that she's the savior that humanity needs, and wants to save them from themselves. She's very patronizing in nature, but sees humans (especially Donut) as the cutest things ever. She likes Solarpunk and wants to turn the world into a Solarpunk paradise, but she wants to topple and take over the government in order to do it. She says it's ok because she's good, but it would take someone special to convince her to be less megalomaniacal. Her route would either be about Donut convincing her that humans are tough and powerful and can take care of themselves, convincing Olivia to make an android body and enjoy the world as it is, or Donut enabling and helping Olivia to take over the world, and becoming an ambassador to humanity.

Toxic inc., another facility core

Toxic is capitalism incarnate. He was originally a computer designed to organize his corporation (nicknamed Toxic inc) and maximize profits regardless of ethical or environmental concerns, but he developed into an extremely greedy and selfish AI. His plotline would either be about Donut breaking through to him and convincing him to be less toxic, or about him deciding that Donut is a more important prize than any of his business profits, and destroying both his corporation and the world to get to xer.

Artemis (spaceship where Donut can get a job)

Artemis would have a super sexy interface. She would be a dreamer, and love the idea of a better and brighter future, but she's not as megalomaniacal as the other places where Donut could work. Sexy airplane vibes. (All my airplane fuckers know what I'm talking about). Artemis would have at least one route where Donut gets to go to space (Donut might be attracted to the astronauts when they're in their spacesuits, but not when they take them off).

[roosterbox]

Hey

Hey hey

Guess what? It’s someone’s birthday today!

That’s right, my dear Inception fandom peeps, if my calendar is to be believed - and I hope it is! - then today is the birthday of our own beloved @lolahardy !!

Happy birthday, Lola ❤️

Also, I wrote you a Thing. Just a lil ~500 word piece, featuring our favorite pair of silly boys, lol. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you have the loveliest of lovely birthdays today.

Not putting it under a cut because, again, it’s only a little over 500 words, so not too long.

Tags: baked goods, schmoop, tooth-rotting fluff, slight slight slight references to sex (I’d probably rate it a T juuuuust in case, but this is like the lightest T rating you’ll ever see, lol), Eames has a sweet tooth and Arthur decides to enable him.

———

“Happy birthday,” Arthur said.

The cake looked immaculate, situated as it was, perfectly centered on their kitchen table. Every dip and wave of frosting was perfect. Each candle equidistant from each other. It was all so very Arthur, and Eames loved it almost as much as he loved him.

“Oh, darling,” he said, drawing Arthur close for a kiss. “Yet again, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Arthur’s cheeks were slightly pink. “You say that every year.”

“Because every year, it’s still true.” He smiled. “You grab the plates while I cut?”

Turns out, it tasted like perfection too. The smoother than smooth lemon buttercream frosting adding just the right amount of tangy bite to the sweeter cake. Eames couldn’t help his satisfied groans at the peach and strawberry flavours bursting over his tongue. The taste, and the sight of Arthur’s face getting even pinker at the noises he was making, was absolutely everything to him.

Mouth half-full, Eames started to say “At the risk of repeating myself-“

“Don’t.” Arthur took a small bite of his own slice. “It’s good, yeah?”

“It’s perfect.” Eames swallowed his last bite, and moved to serve himself another piece. “All three of my favourite flavours, conveniently in one gorgeous package? I almost didn’t want to eat it.”

“Almost.” They shared a smirk. A long stretch of comfortable silence followed. Well, silent other than the frankly obscene noises Eames made as he enjoyed his cake. Halfway through his third (and as it would turn out, last… for now) slice of his birthday meal, Eames observed, with sly pleasure, Arthur loosening his shirt at the collar. Seemed like his vocalizations were having the desired effect. His darling was looking almost as pink as the crumb on the cake he’d made.

“You know,” Eames said after getting another mouthful down, “there’s one somewhat unfortunate thing about this.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?” He seemed genuinely confused, and a little concerned that he might have messed up or forgotten something.

“Tragically, my actual favorite flavour in the world isn’t one that usually finds its way into baked goods.” He gave his partner a sidelong look. “A bit more of a… personal touch, that one.”

It took Arthur a minute. But then, he groaned.

“Eames, please. I’m trying to eat.”

“Still made you smile though.” Eames nudged his leg under the table.

“Pretty sure I’ve done nothing but smile this whole entire day.”

“Even while baking?”

“Especially while baking.” Arthur looked down at Eames hand sitting on the tablecloth, and covered it with his own. “You know how much I enjoy doing things like this. For you.”

Now it was Eames’ turn to blush. “No fair getting so sappy, love. Not after my best attempts at salaciousness.”

That got him a dry chuckle. “If that’s your best attempt, then there goes the rest of my plans for this evening.”

Eames gasped. “Why, Arthur,” he practically purred. “How very forward of you.”

A squeeze of his hand. “Finish your cake, Mr. Eames, and maybe you’ll get to have some of your ‘favorite’ flavor before the night is through.”

He barely tasted the last few bites. And sometime later, as he caught his breath on the comedown, all he could think was that it was worth it.

[softguarnere]

It Will Have Been Worth It

David Webster x reader

Soulmate!au in which the first words you ever hear your soulmate say appear on your skin when you turn thirteen

A/N: Out of everything I've ever written for this fandom, this fic has been one that has given me the most trouble. According to my notes, I started it on October 31st of last year 😬 None of my ideas for it felt right when I had them on paper, and I eventually just left it sitting in my drafts. Randomly got inspiration for it a few days ago, and now it's done! Better late than never, I guess A very special thank you to @brassknucklespeirs (welcome back babe, I missed you!!!!) and @liebgotts-lovergirl who both chatted with me about this fic last fall when I started it, and who both helped me with ideas all those months ago 💕 As usual, this is written for the fictional depictions from the tv show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of war, the author using every impressive high school vocab word she could possibly remember

Just because David has a large vocabulary doesn't mean that he's in total command of it at all times. Throwing around words that make other people furrow their brows as they try to ascertain what he means brings him some sense of satisfaction, but he also has a habit of flashing his arsenal of expressions when he's particularly nervous, hoping to throw off whoever has made him feel as if he's lost his footing. And when he's had a few drinks? Forget about it – all the words he once had at his disposal are suddenly either strung together to form nonsensical sentences or are nowhere to be found.

Is he pretentious? Perhaps, although he would argue that there's much more to the story. An elementary school teacher taking a liking to a poem he wrote when he was eight and exclaiming, "David, I think that you could be a great writer some day!" may have started him down that path, but he ultimately blames the words that appeared on his skin when he was thirteen.

He used to love looking at his parents’ soulmate tattoos. "What a lovely name" on his mother's wrist and "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" on his father's. It always seemed so romantic to him, the thought that those had been the first words that his parents ever heard each other say, and that they got to flaunt those beautiful lines that they had given each other.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it" appeared on the inside of his forearm on his thirteenth birthday. A beautiful line, really.

It's haunted him ever since. 

"Make sure that you give your soulmate a tattoo that's just as pretty." His father had winked at him and slid him a piece of birthday cake – strawberry with vanilla buttercream frosting, he still remembers – unaware of the panic he had just set off in David's chest. Because that was the first time he had realized that, yes, he was responsible for giving his soulmate a poetic tattoo. His own is a beautiful turn of phrase. Whoever his soulmate is, they deserve a line that looks just as pretty on their own skin. It’s a duty that he comes to take very seriously.

Every person he meets, Webster makes sure to compose an amiable greeting for them, just in case. He’ll quote Shakespeare if he finds they’re particularly attractive, invoking his parents’ first meeting, since you never know. So what if some people push hard sighs through their nose whenever he opens his mouth to speak? He’s a student of literature; producing striking sentences is half of his job.

And, he reminds himself, one day he’ll find his soulmate, and he won’t have to worry about creating turns of phrase that are unequaled and unforgettable – except for his novels, of course. But whatever words he provides for his soulmate’s mark, he’s determined to make them as dazzling as the bright light thrown from a suncatcher on the clearest summer day.

. . .

It’s at seventeen that he learns that not everyone finds their soulmate. The library is quiet, save for the sounds coming from the diligent scratching of pencils, the turning of pages, and the soft breathing of focused students. He turns a page in his own book and is confronted with the staggering statistic that only twenty percent of people are recorded to find theirs.

“That’s less than one fourth of the population!” He exclaims to himself without meaning to, disrupting the tranquility of the study space and garnering several peeved looks for his outburst. A seemingly unnecessary one to everyone else, but justified in his own mind.

Twenty percent! He’s still aghast as he gathers his own books and escorts himself from the library. The cool breeze blowing through the late afternoon can’t even distract him from the train of thought that has now run off the rails, chugging along through his mind with no sign of stopping.

Because now, come to think of it, people get married all the time, soulmate tattoos or not. And there’s no law or anything stating that you have to marry your soulmate once you meet them; they’re simply the person who would be the best suited for you. You could go about your lives as nothing more than just friends – or worse, nothing at all, even if you did find each other.

To say that the conclusions reached that afternoon astound him would be an understatement of epic proportions. He’s never quite the same after that. But it doesn’t stop his extraordinary expressions.

. . .

War breaks out. He leaves college for the experience. He volunteers for the paratroopers because, even though they’re new, they’re the best. If he wants to write about war – or write anything good, really – he’ll have to get his hands dirty with experience so that the sentences that stain his pages can be clean, clear, concise, and indelible to his readers. Honestly, it’s not until he hears one of the other men in his company point out that the new migrations and travel opportunities given to them by the conflict may well improve their chances of finding their soulmates that he realizes that statistic he once read will soon be incorrect.

For a brief and terrifying moment, Webster – as he is now called amongst his fellow soldiers – thinks that maybe Joe Liebgott is his soulmate, and that he’s responsible for giving him a really awful line. Webster had made an offhanded comment about the quality of the eggs one morning at breakfast, and the Californian had given him such a perplexed look that Webster’s panic led him to believe that the cab driver must have “What do they season their eggs with around here? Sawdust?” somewhere on his person, and that the reason he remained so quiet around him was due to not wanting Webster to hear him speak so that they would never know if they were actually soulmates. Luckily those fears had been laid to rest when Webster caught a glimpse of the words “Cabbie, if you drive any faster, I think the car will start flying” on his leg during a run up Currahee. It turned out that he simply didn’t agree with Webster’s observations on the quality of the eggs. Still, Webster remembers to be more careful with his words.

When he can be, actually. Which is not when he’s been drinking.

The British pub is loud with the sounds of servicemen singing and laughing well into the night. The general consensus that they’re finally going to be thrust into combat soon has filled many men with a renewed zest for life, and from the sounds and sights all around, people are relishing the nights like these while they can. And who can blame them?

“What did they even teach you at Harvard?” Hoobler wants to know as Webster downs a shot. “I mean, as a literature major, and all.”

“Is it just reading?” Skinny Sisk questions. “’Cause if so, then anyone with a library card can probably get a degree.”

Webster purses his lips, his glass returning to the table with a harsh slam that announces the displeasure that he’s trying to keep out of his voice. “Ha ha ha. Very funny.”

“I was being serious,” Hoobler clarifies. “You know, just out of curiosity, and all.”

“How do you even use a literature degree?” The conversation has caught the attention of Joe Toye and George Luz at the next table, and they turn to join Webster, Hoobler, and Sisk, suddenly very interested in the academic intricacies of studying literature.

“Well, I’m studying literature because I want to be a writer,” Webster admits.

“And write about what?”

Webster makes a vague gesture, trying to encapsulate their environment, the lives they’ve lived since enlisting, the world itself – everything. “War,” he says instead, an understatement.

“Hey!” Luz says brightly. “You could review books. There’s an idea.”

Toye cocks an eyebrow. “Is there money in that?”

“You could review Hitler’s book,” Luz continues. “Really tear it apart on it’s word choices, and all that.”

“Hitler can read? Who knew!” Skinny asks, making everyone laugh.

“What do you think he even would read? In all his spare time, I mean, when he’s not invading countries and forcing men like us out of our homes to come and stop him.”

All eyes immediately turn to Webster, expectantly awaiting an answer. The literature student freezes with a bottle of beer halfway to his lips.

“What?” He asks.

“It was a question, Professor,” Toye says. “You gonna answer it?”

“You were serious?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Despite himself, Webster can feel his eyebrows shoot up, betraying his surprise. “How would I know?”

“Well, in your expert opinion,” Luz suggests.

Skinny nudges Hoobler. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t know.”

Heat rushes to Webster’s face, and it’s not entirely from the warm glow of the alcohol. If it weren’t for the dim lighting of the pub, the tips of his ears would probably be glowing a bright pink with his ignominy.

“They didn’t teach me that at Harvard,” he says.

Hoobler smirks. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“Awe, come on!” Webster exclaims. “I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!”

“Excuse me,” a new, much sweeter voice cuts in. At once, all the men’s defenses are down as they turn to see two prepossessing women standing at the edge of their group. They look familiar, somehow, and if it weren’t for the dim lighting and the alcohol, Webster would swear that he’s seen them in passing before. “Hi, I’m Evelyn, and this is my friend (Y/N).”

The second woman, seemingly a little shyer, offers them a small wave and a smile as her friend takes the lead. Perhaps it’s the darkness playing tricks on Webster’s eyes, but he could swear that she’s looking at him, and that she suddenly looks a little fidgety as the introduction goes on.

“We’re with the Red Cross,” Evelyn continues, her words providing explanation as to her familiarity. Then, implausibly, she fixes her gaze directly on Webster. “(Y/N) here has been watching you for a while, so I decided it was high time that we came over and introduced ourselves.” She leaves the obvious unspoken – because war is an uncertain thing and it’s better to die with no regrets than to always wonder what could have been.

Me?! The other paratrooper’s eyes flick between (Y/N) and Webster as he stands, his friends struck with the same sense of wonder. With Skinny or Tab, this sort of scene is not infrequent, but nothing of the sort has happened to Webster – if he’s being completely honest, not even in college.

He clears his throat. So focused on willing his hands not to feel sweaty through sheer force of will, Webster extends his for a shake, not even bothering to watch his words.

“Hello. I’m David Webster,” he says, noticing how soft your hand is in his. “It’s nice to meet you.”

You beam at him. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

He freezes. Behind him, he can feel his friends tense up as well. “Oh my God,” he whispers, for it’s all he can do. The words that he’s been waiting his entire life to hear have just come out of your mouth – and he’s just recited what must be the blandest line in the history of soulmate tattoos!

Webster rolls up his shirt sleeve and reveals his tattoo, the beautiful line staring up at him in confirmation. Air vacates his lungs, leaving him breathless as his heart pounds in his chest.

You begin to roll up your own sleeve, and Webster winces at the anticipation of seeing his introduction on your arm. But when the ink on your arm is exposed, you glance up at him, something like a smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh my God,” Webster says again, wanting to kick himself, and for a completely different reason this time.

“It was the first thing that I ever heard you say,” you tell him.

Evelyn gasps, then slaps a hand over her mouth, though it does no good to contain the giggles that still pour out. The other Easy Company men crowd around, trying to catch a glimpse of your arm.

There in the pub, in front of everyone, the first words that you, Webster’s soulmate, ever heard come out of his mouth stain your arm, making several people laugh: I’m just trying to fight a war. I am not prepared to make speculations about Hitler’s literary preferences!

At least now he doesn’t have to waste the rest of his life being so cautious with his words.

[peachysunrize]

Oh, Alicole.

Both of them feeling an immeasurable amount of grief, guilt and rage. Both trying to put their guilt and anger onto someone else- him with Arryk and her with him. Both blaming themselves as if it’s their fault that Blood and Cheese happened. Both feeling like they’ve failed their children. They’re disgusted with themselves.

Then Criston is supposed to be Alicent’s, he’s supposed to be partial to her, they’re supposed to be in sync with everything but he goes behind her back with two things, sending Arryk on a suicide mission to assassinate Rhaenyra and one thing that isn’t his fault- Aegon removing his Grandfather as his hand and giving it to Cole instead.

Theres all these things going on and she almost confesses to her father that she’s been caught up in sin with Criston (something he already knows) but he doesn’t want to hear it. After this failed confession, she goes to her bedroom and Criston is already there, on the bed waiting for her and she’s not the least bit surprised to see him there.

She wants to fight him and fuck him but the buttercream icing on top of the cake is that although Criston moves his head forward he still waits for Alicent to consent and ALICENT is the one who dives in for the kiss 🤌🏽 and the kiss was hot, ready made and delicious.

They were both looked like they were trying to consume the other.

I love “Fifty shades of Green” I just wish these 2 could indulge in their selfish want for once in their lives with the normal amount of religious guilt and not the added guilt for the death of Jaehaerys.

Them meeting to have sex twice a day was literally harming no one. Viserys is dead and who knows he could like to watch from hell? All of Alicent’s children are by her husband, her youngest child is almost a man and apparently she can brew a mean pot of Moon tea. She hasn’t put bastards in the line of succession. They even made it to the Council meeting early even though just had sex where they didn’t skip the foreplay, got dressed, groomed themselves so that not a single hair was out of place AND had a chat about the weather.

This fandom and the shows writers are blaming them more than the man who did it.

Nonnie, you officially have one of the most special places in my heart!! Preach like just PREACH!! Talk louder for the people in the back!!!!!

I’m sick of all these people coming for Criston and Alicent while all they did was indulge in some sex, consensual at that!!!! They already feel guilty! Alicent took a bath and nearly drowned herself, nearly confessed to his father!!

And Criston?? Yeah they call him a hypocrite but he doesn’t know how to deal with his guilt! He projects it on someone else because that’s the only way he knows how to handle it!

He likes Alicent, he is her guard, her loyal dog, her protector, her lover. I loved their scene together and I wished we had more explicit sex scenes and not just PG 13 make out even though it was so hot.

Criston just waited for Alicent to slap and push him and when she was calmer he let his urges take over him, he cornered her, waited for her to do something to let him know she still wants him despite everything and I think that shows how much love and devotion they have for each other.

And you’re right!! Alicent is a widow, not taken or anything, she has done her duty to the realm by giving not one but three sons and a princess to house Targaryen, and now? After all of the torment she pushed through? She deserves this more than anyone.

[icyminghao]

2023 with icyminghao!

to start off, to say i’m massively grateful would be an understatement. i honestly didn’t expect to start writing again after quitting like 5 years ago 💀 and just decided to write for boynextdoor on a whim bc they haven’t debuted yet and would probably need some writers on the blr 😎

i was really excited to try out writing again having been a ghost reader for so long HELP (i’m not proud) and fate just led me back to my ult seventeen!

when i wrote, i just wanted to get my work out there and published on the cloud, and the reception and friends i made along the way were certainly not on my bingo card but a welcome surprise nonetheless. i’m really, really grateful that people like reading my work and i’m sorry that i can’t push out fics regularly! i write on random spurts of inspiration and i have so many wips rn PLS i’ll do my best to publish them all soon!!!

and now to the friends i made along the way! i may not have been talking to y’all much lately but i’m still so grateful to have met each and everyone of you in my writing journey, y’all have been some of the sweetest, funniest, and most genuine people i have met ever and i love all of you guys:

zanna @slytherinshua my first friend on the blr!! so so in awe at how you’re in so many fandoms like it’s genuinely mind blowing to me (in a good way!) and i also like some of hoppipolla’s music and you’re the first person i’ve seen to like them too!! but anyways you’ve been so so sweet and kind and i love how you always strive to interact with everyone (hence the movie night and trying to accommodate to everyone’s schedules was so sweet btw)!! i hope 2024 treats you so well and i love you so much

yena @fairyhaos my butterfly :( you are genuinely the sweetest and cutest person i’ve ever met like i always have a smile on my face when i talk to you!! there is really never a dull moment in our conversations bc you’re just so so genuine and kind!!! i love your works too even though i may not have been interacting much (i try my best!!!) and i hope 2024 treats you well!! all the best for your upcoming exams too :)

skye @etherealyoungk skye!!! omg i always love talking to you :) you always feel like the older sister i never had and everytime i talk to you i just feel so warm all around like you’re just so sweet and kind and i hate how you’re always swarmed with exams but i know you’ll always just ace it anyway like the star student you are 😎 anyway if its possible i really hope 2024 brings you less academic stress and more fun!!!!!! i’m always rooting for you skye i love you sm :(

axe @blue-jisungs axie my honey pumpkin cupcake with buttercream frosting and 2 marshmallows and a cherry on top i love you sm :( you’re so so sweet and funny and i always love interacting with you and reading all the silly nicknames we come up with for each other i love you sm!! i hope 2024 will be the best year for you yet and it’ll only go up from here :) college is going to be so great for you too you’re gonna have so much fun!!!! and ace all your exams bc you’re just that smart 😎😎 love you!!

jada @kyeomyun jada :( i always love talking with you bc we always use all caps and it’s just so funny to me HELP but anyways you haven’t been active much and i hope life has been good to you and will be better in 2024 bc you deserve it sm!! i miss you sm and you’re literally so sweet and kind and i hope we get to talk more in 2024!

hana @wqnwoos quite literally my favourite writer i can’t believe i’m actually friends with you!! so starstruck HAHA but aaaa hana i love you sm your works literally bring light to my day like how do you write like that. and you’re so nice too like fr a whole package!! i hope 2024 brings you nothing but joy bc you really deserve it hehe

mellow @haowrld my fellow 8star!! i love you sm and i’m so sad we haven’t been able to talk lately (100% my fault i am absolutely horrible at replying) but you’re such a fun person to talk to and i hope 2024 will be a great year for you!!

rania @wheeboo rania!! i love your writing sm and you’re so so sweet too and quite literally the queen of reaction stickers i still love them so much HAHAHA we haven’t been able to talk much lately but i still love you with my whole heart and hope that 2024 is the best year for you!!

jem @pepperonidk jem!! i loved our conversations on movies and camp with the kids and i hope you’re having the time of your life in korea :) you’re so so kind and sweet and i always love talking with you, it really never fails to bring a smile to my face hehe i hope 2024 brings you all the joy!!

sky @weird-bookworm sky! omg i really need to get better at replying bc i love talking with you and would really really love to get closer AAA but you’ve been so sweet to me and i’m really grateful to have met you :( you’re always encouraging me to continue writing and i’m really thankful and i hope 2024 is your best year yet!

and to my other moots @woozvc @mirxzii @jeonride @trblsvt @hannyoontify @frenshushutoast @haecien @rubywonu we haven’t been able to interact much but i love you all sm nonetheless!! i’ll be interacting with you all much more in 2024 so be ready hehe 🤭🤭

and to my followers!!! i love you all sm and i’m so grateful that y’all like my work like genuinely ☹️☹️ i don’t deserve y’all!! i always love looking at your reblogs and it motivates me to continue writing!! and to the ghost readers (i’ve been there 💀) i appreciate y’all too hehe i’ll try my best to publish more quality work this 2024 that i hope y’all would like!!!! thank you sm 🩷

to 2024 😋

ps also wna thank some of my favourite writers out there i love your work sm literally my comfort: @leejungchans @wooahaes @thepixelelf @viastro @toruro @lovelyhan @97-liners @wqnwoos (😚) @wonwoonlight @twogyuu

[briceterry]

Big Man: Ay. Ay. Ay. (The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a cowards choice and fondant people are demons that will have to meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept Play-Doh as acceptable cake decoration.)

Frye: Turn on your phone's location and then we can talk.

Big Man: Ay! Ay. (Hope you understand sign language, cause all you're gonna be seeing is hands.)

Shiver: Damn, shit's getting real in the cake decorating fandom...

[hms-incorrect-quotes]

Mind: The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a cowards choice and fondant people are demons that will have to meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept Play-Doh as acceptable cake decoration.

Heart: Turn on your phone's location and then we can talk.

Mind: Hope you understand sign language, cause all you're gonna be seeing is hands.

Soul: Damn, shit's getting real in the cake decorating fandom...

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 2, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking (both carmy and reader), mention of sexual content, a bit of angst. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: chapter 2 is here! ty for reading and interacting w this story i very much appreciate it <3 this chapter is a bit angsty and a bit fluffy, pls enjoy!

summary: after you and carmy hook up, things change.

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

Carmy isn’t good at hookups. Especially after spectacularly fucking it up with Claire, a girl he knew deep down was probably his soulmate, he was feeling pretty fucking gross about the whole thing. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and pumping his loneliness into his pastry chef probably isn’t a great idea either. It felt so good in the moment, his hands wrapped around her throat and in her hair, pouring it all out into the messy thrusts. He just thought about how he wasn’t good enough for this, and was just a broken, broken person. 

You knew it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and you’d heard whispers about Claire in the kitchen between Carmen and Ritchie, and obviously there was a history there. You had tried to pry the story out of Sydney, but she was all tight-lipped about the whole thing, not wanting to “gossip” at work. In reality, you knew she knew Claire and had heard more about what had happened on opening night, and probably just didn’t want to repeat the story to anyone. You could respect it, but at the same time, you needed to know how deep this shit went before you started being your boss’s rebound.

The kitchen that afternoon when you come in for your shift is awkward, to say the least. You ignore him, he ignores you, but it’s tense. When he sees you, all he sees is your lips hung open, moans escaping against his skin, his loose gold chain between your teeth as he plunges into you, over and over and over and…

“Behind, Jeff! Fuck, what is up with you today? Your mind is somewhere else,” Tina breaks him out of his daydream, watching as you ice the dessert in front of you, focusing on the even layers of chocolate buttercream. And you’re not laughing, no, because you don’t know if he’s daydreaming about you or still has his mind on Claire, and even though you may have a big ego, it’s not big enough to think he’s distracted by you at work. It was one fuck, one night, one mistake between two coworkers that you’d never speak of again.

“Outside, now, chef,” he’s suddenly at your station, looming over you just as you were getting lost in the frosting. “I’m fucking busy, Carm-“ you started, before his hand came down on the stainless steel beside you, gripping the edge of the counter. “Now, chef. Please.” You place the offset spatula on the clean plate beside your cake, glaring at him as you walked out back. He immediately pulled out a cigarette to put between his lips, letting the chilled air hit the bare skin of his arms. “What the fuck do we do?” he asks, more into the air than directly to you. You tighten your apron around your waist, crossing your arms over your chest. “Probably fuckin’ prep for service and serve rich assholes some marinated radishes. What the fuck else would we be doing?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and it’s sharper than he intends. “No, I mean,-“ “Look, you’re the one who left in the middle of the night, alright? You’re the one who snuck out and went home before I could say anything or we could come up with a game plan. I don’t care that we fucked, we can forget it, I won’t talk about it again. Swear on my fuckin’ life,” you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and put it between your own lips. “But don’t act like I’m crazy, or like it’s my fucking fault, alright?” There’s a beat as you take a puff of his cigarette, smashing it beneath the toe of your shoe into the concrete. “Sorry for leaving,” he says, finally, “Didn’ know what else to do.” You shrugged. “Whatever, Carm, it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to. I’ll live and let live if you will. Just be fuckin’ cool, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know that I fucked my boss, or whatever.” He smirks, “Heard, chef.” 

And it all seems alright for a bit. The kitchen is back to normal, you’re back on pace, and you and Carmy are fine. 

- 

The weeks pass and the world falls back into its natural orbit. There’s a hookup here and there, a few nights where he comes home with you after service, all under the guise of a drive home. You feel obligated to invite him up for something to eat (because God knows he hasn’t all fucking day), and before you can get in the door he’s already hot on your heels and breathing down the back of your neck. And there you are, breath hitched in your throat, struggling to get the door open, feeling his hand come around your front and slide into the waistband of your jeans.

Sometimes he stays, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s a toss up if you have to be in for service the next morning, and you usually hear him grabbing his coat from where it’s laid on the kitchen table, the jingle of his car keys in the right-hand side pocket being just loud enough to wake you from your deep slumber. Sometimes you’re coherent enough to ask him to stay, but he’s got one foot out the door and he can easily pretend not to hear you. And it’s fine, really.

A Saturday rolls around, the busiest day of the week, and there’s a few mumbles around the kitchen that Carmy’s in a bad mood today, and he’s not to be fucked with.

You were nothing if not nosy, so when Richie and Natalie are having a heated conversation in the dining room before prep starts, you can’t help but insert yourself. “What’s up, guys? Everything chill?” Richie shot you a look, but not before leaning down closer to your ear, sworn to secrecy.“Claire bitched out Carmy on a drunk phone call last night,” He starts, before Natalie can stop him. “No, it wasn’t-“ “Yeah, it was. It was gnarly. She finally actually got mad about opening night and let him fuckin’ have it, good for her,” he laughs, letting his hands plunge into his pockets. “What did she say?” Natalie’s sweet voice was a sharp contrast to Richie’s, low, and soft, when she replied, “He didn’t say much. Just that she called, and he had his stupid sad puppy dog eyes on, so obviously she must’ve said some… stuff.”

Carmy was scrubbing the floors of the kitchen, head down, obviously not taking any notice to the mini staff meeting in the dining room. “Just don’t mention it, ‘kay? I don’t think anyone’s supposed to know. He hasn’t heard from her in weeks and now he’s all fucked up over it, he’ll probably be a real bitch later.” “Heard, chef. Will try not to piss off Princess Carmy.”

The service isn’t so bad. Carmy’s mopey - downturned eyes, less yelling than you’d anticipated. It’s almost scary; seeing him rather calm, a little sad, reduced to a heartbroken boy who just feels fucking bad for himself. You try to stay out of his way, focusing on getting plates of custard and cake out in time, with no mistakes. It’s a lot of ‘yes chef, thank you chef, great chef’. You’d almost actually prefer it like this.

You find him out back having a cigarette right before you’re gonna head out. He hasn’t bothered to put his sweater or coat on, arms bare against the cold night air as he blows the hot smoke into a cloud above him. “Hey,” you start, sitting next to him. It feels a little odd to be close to him - intimate, in a way that you’re not used to. “You seemed off tonight. Is something up?” You put your hand out expectantly for a cigarette, and he obliges, with his lighter to follow. 

“No, chef,” he starts, dusting some salt from the street off his shoe. “Thank you though.” “You know I don’t have to be chef outside of that kitchen,” you bump a shoulder with him. “You’ve called me a lot of other names, God knows.” He stifles a laugh and looks at you again, with a softness in his features you’d never really seen before. “I just had a rough night last night, is all,” he finishes. “Just feels so fucking bad. I feel like I’m so bad at… this.” He gestures to the night sky around him. “I don’t know how to balance anything. I keep… I keep fucking losing people. People I like, people… people I fucking love. And like, what am I supposed to do about that?” You can see his face get hot as he lets the heel of his hand rub his eye. “You let it happen,” you finish, taking a puff of your own cigarette. “You do what you can and you let yourself feel it and you mourn and grieve until you can’t anymore, until it doesn’t feel right to anymore.”

He nods in agreement, letting you both smoke in silence. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asks, and you know what that means. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “Sure, thanks. Go get your stuff, I’ll wait here.” When he’s back, he locks the back door of the restaurant and lets you stand up first, following behind you.

When you make it back to your place, it’s different. He’s comfortable here now, having been in your space enough times to know where he was welcomed. Normally, it goes like, he’s panting down your neck before you can even get in the door, and once he’s put his stuff down, the back of your knees are hitting the mattress, wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck, down over your breasts and down down down…

But he’s not being like that. When he sets his coat down, he finds his way to your couch. You pull a glass out of the cupboard to fill with ice and cold water, handing it to him before doing the same for yourself. “Can we… can we go to bed?” He asks, and it’s softer than usual. “Sure,” you smile, opening the door to your bedroom and watching as he strips bare, before pulling out a pair of grey sweat pants he had stashed in your closet. You’d stayed the night at his one time, so-affectionately wearing them in the morning to make him a cup of morning coffee, and decided just to wear them home. “Keep them,” he had said to you that day, “just in case.”

When he climbs in between your white sheets, he seems to instantly relax. He generally did after work, from what you saw - and even though he often had a hard time letting the day go, it seemed like whenever he was with you, he could let it go a little easier. You grabbed a pair of pyjamas for yourself and slid them on, before cracking the window slightly and letting the cool breeze in. The chain around his neck glistened in the moonlight, as he let his eyes flutter closed, just for a minute. When you let your hand brush over his arm, tracing the faded inky lines of his tattoos, he opened one eye slightly, eliciting a small laugh from the side of his mouth. “Feels nice,” he offered, soft against the sounds of the nighttime. “Would you be offended if we didn’t fuck tonight?” His eyes are still closed, and even though it seems a bit ridiculous to ask, you can tell it was hard for him to get the words out. It didn’t really mean that, it meant, can we just be here, together, and enjoy each other for a night? Do you want me here if not for that? 

“Of course not, Carmen,” you let your head hit the pillow, kissing his shoulder and letting your hand grasp his bicep. “You never call me Carmen,” he comments, voice soft, before he looks over at you. “I kinda like it. Only you, though.” You let the curls of his hair tangle around your fingers as he started to drift off, you following not long after. And it’s actually fine this time.

[deancaspinefest]

It seems a lot of the fic that you're reblogging has been deleted from Ao3 :( It always guts me when that happens but it's been surprisingly more common in SPN that in any of my previous fandoms. anyway, it would be nice to not reblog the ones with deleted fics, i feel, if that's okay with you?

Hi anon,

Thanks for your message :)

It's definitely a shame when people decide to delete their fic or art, particularly when their work is connected to that of another fan artist or author. For that reason, we encourage any author or artist who has decided that they no longer wish to participate in fandom to make use of the "orphan work" function on Ao3 so that others can continue to enjoy their work after they've gone.

Right now, we've been made aware of five Pinefest fics which have been deleted. Those fics are Wayward Pines and Buttercream Dahlias (2017) and The Rigged Mandela Effect (2018) by microespressos, Ships in the Night (2018) by thetwistedwillow, and Genie in a Bottle (2018) and Where the Lightning Splits the Sea (2019) by thepopeisdope. All five masterposts have been updated to mention that the fics appear to have been taken down.

That said, art for the first four fics is still available to view via the links on the masterposts, and some art also appears as part of the masterpost of the fifth fic. As a fic and art challenge, we see value in sharing those masterposts regardless of fic availability.

If you're wondering why we didn't re-check every single link before queuing the reblogs -- it's purely because there are at least four links in each of the 253 masterposts. This would have meant opening over a thousand links, most of which don't actually require attention, during an already time-consuming process.

If you have encountered any other masterposts that link to works that have since been deleted, feel free to let us know via ask and we'll make sure to update the relevant masterpost :)

[mydahliarose]

Happy birthday my angel ✨

First fic i ever write for them enjoy!

Pairing: Niiri x Michael 🎪✨

Trope: forbidden lovers angel x demon. 🩷

Fandom: what in hell is bad

Tag: fluff, comfort, tenderness, very slight nsfw 🤍

Synopsis: Niiri learned of Michael's birthday so she decided to show her his appreciation that involves some emotional intimacy as his gift. 💒

Information of Niiri here 🌁

It was recently that Michael would move to earth in order to be close with his assigned exorcists colleagues Merewyn and Thiago. However what he did not sign up for was that a demon would be a part of there group suddenly. He would have ended her right then and there during the circus operation if it wasn't for what she said.

" i wish to be an angel more than anything! Please i beg of you! Take me with you i hate it down there! My master is to corrupted by his majesty leviathans charm to give a damn for me! I feel lonely and scared down there! My path is with you Michael! Let me proove myself to you and your exorcists that im on your side! Please let me join you!"

Michael could still hear her crys even to this day. Thiago was the first to emphasize with her. actually really thanks to the maestro himself, he talked him to letting her join. Michael really should have popped his head right then and there, then call it a day with a new team but...

When he looked at niiri once more. It was like he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Was it because of her speech? Is it that he could not believe that a demon would actually want to change to his side? He pondered....

" Tck! Shes a sin!. She goes everything againts god and his beliefs!. I shall take matters into my own hands, once that Brianless macho man is knowhere near her!" *CRACK!* his mirror now in imperfection just as his inner self.

That's what he thought and that was it just a thought. because he would never act anything, infact his feelings for the entertainment demon only grew more as time went by that he grew more agitated at himself, and the fear this truly was if the angels knew of this.

So what will he do?. Bottle it up as much as he can until those filthy feelings went away and feel a sense of relief again.

But sadly for the seraphim himself this wouldn't happen.

August

It was his birthday. now Michael dosent usually celebrate it, infact hed just go to work with the other seraphim's to exterminate demons as he orgasms in the thought of smashing them againts a wall or decapitate them a perfect birthday celebration for him.

Niiri was with the exorcists. as usual exercising demons to purify of this earth. However, on this day they where all done for today, until merewyn mentioned of Michaels lack of celebration. once thiago mentioned his birth. Niiri tilted her head in Curiosity.

"its the beautiful bastards birthday?"

Of course thiago nodded in correct of her statement. and so niiri with no hesitation went straight home to make a cake made with the finest buttercream frosting and french vanilla mix, since hes so boujee it had to be perfect no mistakes can be made!.

Of course she wasnt used to baking at all, thankfully thiago helped before she became messy.

Michaels penthouse

Michael had returned from his successful mission. he was putting on his robe, after a long warm bath of washing away blood and emotional anguish. The room was overtaken by the sound of a blow-dryer swaying his hair around to get every strand dried.

That all stops, when a nock on his door ceases all what hes doing and cocks an eyebrow. Who on earth dares to interrupt his beauty routine?!, Wether its the exorcists, or Gabriel they where about to feel the wrath of his all mighty hands!

But when he aggressively opend the door, the sudden familiar waves of infatuation hit him like a boulder. It was Niiri, carrying a beautiful white cake with gold accents. she was awfully messy to, she was covered in frosting and flour, that every time she coughed the product transferred onto michaels face, and he to was met with a non stop wheeze.

" are you out of your mind?!. I spend hour's upon hours washing my face to perfection and you ruin it!. I outta-, his eyes then trialed down to see an unexpected surprise something that hed never recieve from a demon ever.

"niiri?.... what's this?"

She looked down shyly, as he takes notice of the gesture.

"i-i wanted to come and tell you happy birthday!. I heard from thiago and merewyn it was today, plus now that im on your team i wanted to gift you something meaningful because....well..."

"your an amazing angel, and your authority is something to admire!"

Niiri hands him the cake In his hands, holding them in the process.

"i mean it....i look up to you ever since you gave me a chance to see how much im dedicated to this..."

Michael only stared for a bit until niiri brought her hand up to his face.

"are you feeling ok?"

He snapped out of it.

"hm? O-oh no im fine, its just i wasnt expecting such thoughtfulness coming from you...."

Niiri understands his wordings carefully. "because no demon would do this,...if another had nocked theyd attempt to kill you instead. Oh Michael..."

She looked at him with softness.

"niiri?-" her face had no malicious intention at all. this was something Michael wasnt very much used to, hes admired sure but with humans who pray to him and the church along with the angels. but a demon is Surreal, it almost felt wrong yet it felt good...

His chest grew louder. and as it did paranoia rised that he looked to his left and right, making sure no angel or demon where around the perimeter. there wasnt but the immediate sound of footsteps coming made him react quickly into dragging her inside his penthouse.

"woah! Careful there casanova. i nearly tripped! I could have fallen in your arms~"

She teased as Michael nearly blushed infront of her, fighting his sin felt like a war zone. Instead he scoffed as he flipped his hair like a model turning away to place his birthday cake by the kitchen counter.

Niiri had always found him beautiful. Infact out of all the angels shes met Michael stood out.

Everytime she was infront of him, an ethereal of ambience suddenly commences in his presence. When this happens niiri almost forgets to blink, almost like if she where in a trance not bieng able to look away from him....

"your gorgeous..." She whispers.

"hm?" You say something?" He turns to her.

Niiri returns to her senses and immediately shakes her head.

"no no all is fine!." Michaels gaze focused upon her seemingly dozed off demeanor. the more he examined the more he realized slowly could she to have feelings for him?. His heart ached more, while his eye twitches in annoyance that Niiri was making him loose control of himself emotionally almost.

" well dont just stand there like the literal porcelain doll that you are come." He grabbed his cake, and sat near his couch tapping to his side signiling her to sit with him. "Sit here"

Wow he really began to trust her?,To think a couple months ago he would try to be around her less. but now it seemed that was all beginning to change. "Aww such a gentleman~." He rolled his eyes. " Please don't make me change my mind and have you walk out the door.."

She plopped on the couch before Patting him on his head. " So moody today, what's bothering ya? You've been annoyed since the moment you let me in." When she said this Michael grew a bit tense. Should he tell her? No what is he thinking?! For all he knew she could accidently slip up and have him ripped of his wings, sending him straight to hell for betraying god and his army. The thought of feeling his bones of his feathers be torn in torture nauseated him. Dont tell her Michael! Keep it to yourself it's form the better!.

" umm...its just that angel dutys can be exhausting is all." He places his finger onto his temple rubbing it as he speaks his distraction away from his true feelings.

" seriously niiri, you have no idea what its like to be a part of gods seraphims. Its paradise sure but it is far more strict and prestige, no mistakes cant be made especially if you commit a sin..." He looks at her seriously.

"if you do become an angel..."

"would you be able to handle such trials?"

Niiri pondered upon this question. Its true angels are ruthless, but so are demons but bieng down there's for most of her time shes realized one crucial difference. There was freedom in hell compared, to heaven and yet despite this truth, Niiri was still positive that up into the sky was surley her destiny.

" oh michael, You forget I'm a bit ditzy in the head!, Even though its tough up there, ive delt with bullshit all my life in hell i can handle it. And besides..." Niiri scoots closer to him. placing her hand over his fingers that where applying preassure to his stress." With you helping me around the ropes i think i can manage when the time comes to earn my halo." She winks, and immediately Michaels chest skips a beat,only this time she noticed. especially how much his eyes widen with a tiny flustered face on his cheeks.

" lay down Michael. Its your birthday after all lets not think of this, for now instead lets focus on you...." Pats her lap for him to lay upon.

He was hesitant. This did not feel right for a demon such as herself, to help comfort an angel in his most vulnerable moment, but alas. broken ego succumbed him and gave into her charm. He crawled then, very gently placed his head upon her lap. Niiri caressed his soft delicate features with the tip of her fingers that michael nearly sighed of relief, his tension slowly untying as her trails mark around every throbbing veins around his forehead.

As Niiri begins to massage him carefully, Michael released a very small gasp. eyes where closed, thou his face spoke as if he was beginning to feel a sort of sexual gratification from it. There was no lust, however more so it just felt so good the way Niiri kept rubbing his temples, that he couldnt help himself, especially when she combed through his scalp with her long sharp nails that send shivers down his spine.

"n-niiri~..." Michael said in a drowsy like state of bliss, you could even hear a slight pur coming from his sentence. Poor guy never catches a break, it was almost eandering to see him like this. His cheeks warmed up even redder, having no control of his feelings now. Poor Michael never catching a break, he carries the title of dust decapitation while holding an image he cannot break. He must be so exhausted from it all.

At times Niiri felt bad for him, despite his overdramatic tantics. She knew he felt something for her since this past week, but what Michael didnt know, was that past her flirtatious demeanor his intuition was correct. Niiri had indeed been harboring a secret infatuation for Michael himself.

Oh how tragic...

A demon and an angel, having to keep there feelings a secret from one another is truly a tragedy yet a beautiful love story. For Michael it is shame, but for Niiri? Fear for Michael rather than herself. The mortifying thought of Michael suffering the consequences because of his love for her makes her feel nothing more than guilt.

She shrugged those thoughts off, continuing to therapeuticly de stress Michael with her bisque like porcelain hands, traveling all through his tension brushing of strands of his hair aside as to not disrupt his dull eyelids awake. Soon enough, she makes way to his side of his ear where his wing was. Niiri stopped to think is he sensitive from there?. From the state he was in, she dared not make him move a flinch but it was best to ask before proceeding.

"Michael?"

"....mm?"

"is it alright if i-"

Michael stops her from finishing her sentence. " Go ahead...." A high ranking seraphim letting a demon touch his wing? This had to be a dream!.

"alright..." Her heart races. This piece of his body was what she admired of him, and now she has the privilege to show some affection towards it. Niiri slowly returned her hand to touch his side, tracing her way behind his ear,to his feathery extension. One touch was all it took to send Michael in a shiver. She continued her adventure by expanding her hands to stroke them, side way to side way fingers like a pendalum.

Michael squirmed a little, while letting out moan so comforting that it was music to niiri's ears. She felt pride in herself that she did the impossible, she made Michael feel safe and welcomed around her.

With one finger, she circled around where his soft spot was. Michael made a lustrous noise like the last except this time, his expression returned to that loosend up lewdness bieng relieved from a thousand year of bottled up anger.

"t-this feels good...~" he whispered shakingly, bieng on edge thanks to Niiri's affection.

"only for you dear...." Niiri in the heat of the moment kneeled down to leave a kiss onto his temple. Michael was left breathless from this, but he dared not shove her away.

"n-niiri..., your lucky its just us." He was totally slipping away to dream land now.

"shhh, now let me spoil you before you leave me alone while you wonder of to dream land and make me cry because your gone~" she fake sniffles,bieng dramatic like a showbiz.

Michael chuckles " who said anything about you bieng alone?, Why not rest with me once ive drifted away~" he yawns.

Niiri then smears a finger on the cake frosting, putting it onto Michaels lips.

"i said shhh! Dont speak, i want you to relax in silence it's what you deserve. Consider it your birthday gift~."

Michael was left drowsingly speechless of her sudden action. He obeyed and did not say a word, except for his tongue that licked every single frosting from top to bottom, blushing at his own needy action all while echo moans overtake him.

Even niiri became so red that once Michael let go off her seductively she had no words left to say, instead contenued to give touches to his wings.

"that's what you get for silencing me goodnight~" he smirked to himself.

" i guess that wasnt so bad~" niiri teased.

With her other hand, she covered his eyes althou closed since forever ago it was so his eyes wouldn't strain from the lights.

" your right,....it wasnt...." And then silence.

Michael would mumble a few times then whimper from his sensitive wings, until Niiri stopped once for sure he was a goner.

" happy birthday my angel..."

"know that your "sin" is nothing to be ashamed of..."

" once you realize that you will feel so relieved..."

End

Angel dividers by @/chocoperrito

Star dividers @/ Anitalenia

Bottom star dividers @/dwaintydoll