#chef with glasses and a suit

[cainballad]

Doing Ansel during the credits of EP Ignis poses everyone and makes Ignis stand up 🤭 (forgot to take a pic of Gladio 😭)

[tamtam-go92]

How I noticed I was getting older? I'm not into the young, energetic main character type of characters anymore, I'm more into the always tired of this shit, done with the world, middle aged uncle type of character.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Aggravating

Dad Bod!Miguel x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/CW: Smut. Smut in general. NSFW, PIV sex, office sex, teeth, hints at venom useage, a bit of pining(?) feelings! Body hair! Soft tummy Miguel! Dom(ish)!Miguel, a bit of bullying

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Blame @cupcakeinat0r for this. I really needed the distraction and our conversation is helping me a bit getting the creative among other things juices flowing!

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

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You had been... less than covert about the way you ogled your boss. On one hand, your Spidey mask was useful for hiding your eyes and face away from somebody's view; on the other hand, Miguel just somehow knew you were staring at him.

And... yeah. At first you were crushing on him, a young, single fresh-faced Spidey welcomed into a bigger picture suddenly comes face to face with the body of a Greek god. He swooped in to save you from a variant of Kraven before he could make a possibly fatal swipe.

After that, he admitted that he'd had an eye on you, such a promising candidate who just needed the right amount of guidance.

(The fact he has that gorgeous jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass plus those jaw-dropping eyes of his certainly helped you make your decision too.)

But you had been too much of a wimp to ever fess up, instead settling for pining in silence, throwing the occasional stare his way at his perfectly globed ass. (Seriously, did he purposefully design his suit to accentuate his ass or what?)

But the plain, flat-out ogling didn't begin until he began to gain more weight. Realizing his stress didn't have to be solely on his own shoulders, Miguel began to relax. He began to eat more, sleep more. Or, well, as much as a normal person should be eating and sleeping. You surmised he was likely dehydrated a lot, too...

Because once he picked up a steady diet (of what you didn't know, maybe he was a secret chef in the kitchen in addition to having the multiverse's greatest brain?) he began to look... healthier.

He gained weight, his formerly slim and perfectly cut abs and waistline began to fatten out, gain a delicious softness you wished to just lay your head over, or perhaps snuggle and squeeze.

Peter B made a joke to Miguel about comparing "dad bods" and god, when Miguel indulged him (mostly just to get him to leave him alone) he used his tech to have the top half of his suit vanish in rainbowy spiderweb-like patterns until he was naked from the waist up.

And... fuck. Your legs went weak at the sight of him.

Dark wisps of hair across his chest, spreading down his soft, plush-looking midsection to disappear beneath the waistline of his pants.

Even with that soft belly, Miguel looked built like a shitbrick house. Peter B had pouted, knowing he'd lost his little game before sauntering away, bragging about something along the lines of "well at least I have the prettiest baby mama in the whole multiverse!". Good for him, you had thought.

But very quickly as your eyes greedily raked up his frame, you realized he had been staring right back at you.

You very quickly rattled off some excuse and dropped off your report on your most recent mission, yanked your mask back down your face and scurried out of there.

Though you'd be lying if you didn't immediately shove your hand down your pants once you got home, playing with yourself at the mere thought of being pressed up against Miguel's soft-yet-imposing frame; feeling his dick (oh you just knew he was packing a monster, down there) stuff you full and stretch you out, the coarse dark haira brushing your clit with every slam of his hips.

You went to sleep thinking this was merely some kind of office crush, trying to force down the thoughts you had of your boss.

Little did you know, he often stole his own glances at you.

He needed to find a way to solve your little problems, soon.

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"This is what you wanted, isn't it, princesa?" Miguel grunted, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass sinfully loud in his dark office.

Your body was perfectly illuminated by the dim orange lights on his monitors; every curve, dip and deliciously squeezable part of your jiggling ass as he fucked you.

The sounds your pussy made as you swallowed him deep were the most lewd you ever could have imagined yourself making, especially the little sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours.

Your suit has been torn right between your legs, freeing your soaked, swollen folds to his lascivious gaze before he had crammed two heavy fingers into your needy cunt.

Your tits squished against his desktop, and a whimper comes from you when he settles over you, the weight of his body pressing tighter down around you.

You could feel the soft flesh of his belly mold around your back, almost like a hug. Almost like how he had your head trapped in a headlock as he bullied his cock into you and stuffed you full of him.

Your brain was so set on your one-track focus of how good it felt to just have him fuck you, to use you, that you barely registered a word he said.

Having his warmth surround you and fill you had effectively rendered you dumb.

You choked slightly when you heard him hiss in your ear, his sharp fangs grazing the soft skin; he squeezed his arm a bit around your neck and that's what knocked you back into reality.

You were here. In his office, bent over and having your guts reorganized by a man you had been pining for for months.

The pent up sexual tension had finally exploded when he confessed his own interest in you, and he met you halfway with a kiss that was all tongue and need; loud and messy.

Like how he was bullying his cock into your tight little hole.

"My dick that good, bebé?" He panted, leaning back away from you to grip your hips in his meaty palms, squeezing your soft flesh as he stared, almost mesmerized at the creamy ring at the base of his cock as it disappeared into your dripping wet pussy.

Already on the floor between you was a small puddle of your slick.

"So good that I fucked you stupid after just a couple thrusts?" He said, his voice gravelly as he tried to keep it even, to betray the fact he wanted to just rut into you like a mad animal.

All you could do in reply was whine, a breathy sound that was almost a squeak as you mourned the loss of his soft body surrounding you.

The sound of him relentlessly fucking you cunt was abruptly halted and he let out a shaky breath, staring down at you. "I swear... did I nick you with my fangs? Shit... Maybe we should stop--"

"N-no!" You moaned out, desperately trying to roll yourself back against him in his grip. "Please, don't! I just--I just need more!"

Miguel grinned as you flattened your hands on the table, desperately trying to fuck yourself onto his cock but getting nowhere.

"Ahhh there's my good girl. Doing so good f'me." He purred, leaning back over you once again, his arms caging around you, encasing you in his wonderfully soft warmth, the hair on his body tickling your skin.

His lips traced the shell of your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty skin;

"Wanna watch you take my cock all day. Gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a month--"

You made a long, loud mewl as he snapped his hips in suddenly, bottoming out so hard you felt him smash into your cervix; almost making you pass out from the force of it alone.

"This is what you wanted, sweetheart. Jus' giving it all t'you." He groaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he began relentlessly pounding into you once again.

[signedkoko]

Hi, hello, hey!! I just saw your Mammon x reader who calls him husband sometime and I loved it so much just- chefs kiss! If your willing, maybe a Vox x reader like that?

Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which you refer to Vox as your husband, despite the fact that you aren't married. Genderneutral reader.

It was your 7th anniversary, and as per he had planned out a lovely evening for the both of you

He made you breakfast in bed (one for himself too, so you could hang out)

Then you went out for brunch

A 4-hour couple spa retreat

And then he had a stylist ready to pamper you and prepare you for dinner

It was never a simple evening if it was anything important to you, Vox treated you like you'd been married your whole life

He never leaves the honeymoon phase

But at the same time, he's so distracted with the company and how well everything is going that he doesn't really think about change

Change is good, so long as it's for the better, but that's business talk!

The only change he concerns himself with when it comes to you is you being hurt or leaving him

If he can wake up every day by your side to you happy and healthy, then there's nothing to change

Vox gets to the restaurant before you just to make sure everything is perfect

Candles, a fresh bundle of flowers he bought right before, and a spritz of the cologne he knows you adore

When you looked around to find him and he waved you over, you dismissed yourself from the host

" Oh! I see my husband right over there. Thank you! "

As far as he was, he heard every little word

A snap of electricity sparks between his antennae

As you approach him, he is internally saving the audio and replaying it over and over in his head

' Oh! I see my husband—my husband—my husband—my husband— '

" Hell to Vox? "

The audio is turned down, but he's still replaying it as he snaps back to reality, a large grin on his illuminated screen

" Shit! Yeah. Hey, babe, you look amazing! "

Amazing was an understatement, but he was so flustered that you had almost caught him in his embarassing love-sick ways that he couldn't get his charm back on fast enough

Your favourite wine is poured fresh out of the bottle into a chilled glass by his twitching hand, but you're so long in conversation that you don't notice how shaky he is

Internally, he's already browsing for rings and setting up appointments with wedding planners

It's almost as if he just heard you say, 'I do', and there's no braking on this high-speed chase now

Author's Note - I really loved this prompt on Mammon, and it suits Vox a lot too! Thank you so much for requesting, I hope its met your expectations!

[prettyfastcars]

As sweet as blood-red jam | Mob!Lando

Summary: Lando could be many things given the nature of his job. Mean, commandeering, a control freak. But when he came home to you and the kids, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Your marriage to him was arranged of course, because that’s how things worked in the world you were both from. But love eventually grew between the two of you, and it did not stop growing. 

Themes: dad!Lando, fluff, smut, arranged marriage, domestic!mob!Lando, mild mommy/daddy kink (nicknames only), praise kink, housewife!reader, breeding kink

“They’re sleeping.” 

He announced cheerfully, shutting the door behind him as he walked into your library where you had been reading in silence for the past half an hour. 

You were a stay-at-home mom so the twins, your son and daughter, were under your care all day. And so Lando insisted that you get the evening off the moment he got home. He read to them and tucked them in for the night each night. It was part of his routine and he loved it. 

You placed your wine glass down and picked up the drink you made for him, handing it to him as he came over to sit down next to you on the large sofa. 

His eyes lit up at the sight of the well-deserved drink. “Oh you’re perfect, baby.” He kissed your forehead before getting comfortable next to you, sighing as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

“They’ve been running around all day, they went to see the horses,” You said, thinking about how energetic your kids had been during the day, “I thought they would pass out after dinner but they wanted to wait for daddy.” 

Your husband smiled, looking a little tired as he took a sip of his drink. You caressed his cheek with a gentle hand as he turned to give you a soft look with those gorgeous eyes of his. 

He looked more relaxed and comfortable like this, wearing nothing but dark sweatpants. As opposed to the authoritative figure he is during the day in his expensive, dark suits. Him in casual clothing like this made you realise that he was in fact just a young man, barely 25, who shouldered a lot of weight alone. 

Responsibilities, expectations, risks, reputation, legacy, and now his own family. You’d come a long way, the two of you. Only a couple years ago you were just strangers being introduced at a gala. And now you were young parents. 

You still remember the night you met him for the first time. How gently he held your hand and danced with you. How your engagement was announced only a few months after and the wedding happened quicker than you thought. 

You always thought that you would forever be strangers living under the same roof. Especially given his reputation of being a workaholic which made him such an influential figure in his line of work. 

But Lando proved you wrong. He actually took the time to get to know you early on in your marriage, he cared, he listened. He was good to you. Then a year later, you had the twins and Lando had been perfect. Perfect partner, perfect dad. 

“What are you thinking about, mama?” He asked softly, his hand leisurely caressing your exposed thigh. That golden chain on his neck shining in the dimmed lights of the library. No shirt so you shamelessly ogled his defined abs and muscles. He let you, with a smirk on his handsome face. 

You put the book aside and leaned a little closer to him, cupping his rough chin in your hand. He’d been growing facial hair lately and you liked it. “You work too hard,” You said softly. 

He smiled, leaning into the warmth of your hand as he said, “Just wanna give you and the kids everything you want and need. You deserve it.” 

He had given you everything. Houses, cars, chauffeurs, chefs, private planes, private trainers, cards with no spending limits, vacations. You and the kids were well taken care of. 

You sighed, sliding over and ending up perfectly on his lap. Lando finished his drink, placed the glass aside and grabbed you by the waist to pull you closer. “But we have everything we could ever want or need.” You suggested, “Take a day off. Or two. I’m taking the kids shopping tomorrow, come spend the day with us.” 

Lando gave you a faint smile, “Can’t right now, baby. Some important shipments are about to come in. I can’t afford a day off until it gets here.” 

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle and pull you closer. “But I barely see you.” You murmured. “The last time we had a date night was like, weeks ago.” 

Your face got really hot just thinking about it. Not just the date, but what happened after in the car on the way home… 

Lando smirked, surely also thinking about the same thing, grabbing you by the hips and gently moving you on his lap, rubbing you against his growing erection. You hissed in pleasure as he did. The soft, silky night dress you were wearing bunched up around your upper thighs, allowing you to feel everything. The shape of him, the warmth. 

“If you wanted a lovesick romeo who writes you love notes every morning then you shouldn’t have agreed to marry a man like me.” He taunted, teasing you and pinching your thigh. 

You reached out and grabbed his gold chain, tugging on it playfully, knowing how much he liked it when you did. “Unfortunately I like my men a little more corrupted,” You whispered, “Bonus points if they work all the time and don’t have time for me.” You sassed. 

Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Aww, what is it?” He cooed, “You miss daddy? Hmm? Does mommy need some extra love from daddy tonight?” 

You nodded. 

“Come here, baby,” He pressed his mouth to yours as his hands caressed your inner thighs. He kissed you like he was starving, while your hands reached down in between your bodies and eagerly lowered his sweatpants to free his cock. 

You whimpered into the kiss, against his lips as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking his hard cock, making him groan into the kiss before he pulled away and said, “Daddy missed you too.” He murmured, looking down to watch how your hand touched him just how he liked it. “Fuck,” He sighed, “That feels good, baby…” 

His praise gave you enough confidence to stroke him harder, making him groan and moan. You loved the sounds he made. And you wanted to keep hearing those moans so you carefully lifted your lower body off his, pulled your underwear to the side and slowly lowered yourself down on his cock, earning louder moans out of his sinful mouth as you sank down on him. 

You were wet enough for his cock to slide in, but your body still resisted just a little bit, enough for him to have to thrust up the tiniest bit to fully fill you up. You cried out as he did. 

His soft lips parted just a little, and you couldn’t resist leaning in and sliding your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered against his lips, stroking the top of his mouth as you lifted up and sank back down on his cock, making him growl into the messy kiss. 

“That’s it, baby… fuck yourself on daddy’s cock…” Lando’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs again as he gently thrust his hips up each time, setting a pace that had you both moaning and wanting more of each other. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, scratching his scalp and down his neck as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places inside you. 

Lando chuckled when he felt you clench around him. “We’re not using protection again, mama…” He spoke against your open mouth, breathless as you were, “You’re gonna give me another kid, huh?” He sounded cocky as he said it, like it filled him with pride. “Gonna let me fill you up again till you walk around all nice and swollen with my baby in you, hmm?” 

You whined, feeling him stretch you out each time you moved up and down his cock. “Lando… please,” You gasped as his hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. 

“Answer me,” He demanded, “You’re gonna carry another one for me?” His voice sent chills down your back. 

“Yes,” You whimpered, moving faster, impaling yourself down on his cock and whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his ridiculously pretty eyes. You couldn’t help but speak the thoughts of your lust-drunk mind, “I want you to fill me up again,” You mumbled, feeling yourself getting high up there gradually. 

Lando laughed, also lust-drunk, “I can’t wait…” He said, “Can’t wait to come home and find you dripping wet for me.” His voice gave away that he was thinking back to how needy you were for him all throughout your previous pregnancy. 

You whimpered, thinking about it as well. Some evenings he’d come home and you dragged him to the bedroom immediately. Some days you even called him and asked him if he could come home for an hour or two. Lando happily agreed each time of course. 

“Remember how sensitive you’d get? How needy?” He teased, holding you close. “How you almost cried each time I made you come?” He smirked, male pride all over his face. “Some of the best months of my life those were.” 

You whined, “Please…” You stared into his pretty eyes. 

“Come for me.” He growled in that cold, menacing, erotic voice. “Come for daddy…” 

And you did. Whimpering, squirming and whining. You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Lando kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him.

Lando came right after you, moaning and spilling inside of you, filling you up as you trembled and squirmed on his lap. You leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath while he held you against him, kissing the side of your face softly. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked after a few minutes of you two just cuddling there on the sofa. 

You nodded, “Mhmm, don’t wanna get up.” You murmured, sighing in bliss as you snuggled into his warm chest. 

He chuckled, “Okay.” He kissed the stop of your head. “I love you,” He whispered.

[sparklingblu]

Inferior Activities

Lia x M Reader

"How's the salad?"

"Oh, it's great" you answer as you try not to grimace after swallowing the lettuce that taste no different from paper.

"I made few twists to the dressing, you know. A family secret" The bald man winks as he takes another bite of the potato that would have turned to coal if it have been roasted a minute more.

Studying the plates of green laid out all across the table, you make a firm decision never to become a vegan. At least not if your father in law is gonna be your chef. Lia has warned his cooking skills are terrible but you didn't expect it to be this awful. The only tolerable content of the table seems to be the so-called vegan meat and even that's starting to taste lesser and lesser like meat with each bite. No offense to all those animal loving vegans out there but they really are missing out a lot in their life. You wouldn't have lasted a day if you have to survive without meat.

Your eye flicker up to Lia, seated across, to see if she's on the same page with you on the matter. She lazily plops a broccoli into her mouth, her eyes betraying no signs of disappointment. The corner of her lips twitch in a thin smile as if to mock your suffering. She looks contented even.

In the end, you only have yourself to blame. When Lia suggestsled you visits her dad on the weekends, you agreed with a simple nod. Sure, it's your first time meeting her old man but what could go wrong? Right?

Except that everything does. As soon as you enter the house, the first thing the dude asked you was your opinion on wildlife conservation. At first you thought he was joking then you find out he's actually very serious about the matter. Weather talk would have been a good starter. Seriously, who starts a conversation like that?

Then after seeing the dishes he has prepared, you find out making conversation is the least of your worries. He's your father in law and you have respect for him and all but this dude is horrible at being a vegan. If he calls his mushroom soup which tastes more like mushroom-flavored dishwater 'a masterpiece', you might as well consider becoming a chef. Who knows? Maybe you will even get a couple michelin stars.

You are thinking of a way to escape this organic hell and the constant ear rape about how billions of animals are killed per year for human consumption when Lia finally comes to your aid.

"Dad, we are nearly done. Why don't you go make your signature smoothie? I haven't got the chance to taste it since I left for college" she suggests and the old man's eyes twinkle with maddening joy.

"Oh, of course! How could I forget that? It was your mother's favorite" his tone turns solemn at the mention of his late wife but you are too focused on the idea of finally getting some breathing room to care. "Two smoothies. Coming right up! You will absolutely love it" He winks at you again and leaves the table.

You drop your utensils and exhale in relief. "Finally. I was gonna turn into stone if I hear one more second of his animal talk"

Lia chuckles. "I get used to it after living with him for 18 years. He's actually a really sweeet guy. He just tries to focus on something else after my mom passed, I guess"

If the fact is supposed to make you feel sorry, it doesn't work. But you are not gonna tell her that. "How do you survive with this kind of food all these years?"

"It wasn't always that bad" Belle protests. "And sometimes he even cooks meat. But his skills get rusty with old age"

"Yep, I'm never becoming a vegan"

Lia pouts in annoyance. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad"

"Suits yourself"

"You just hate vegetables in general"

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance. "Look, who's trying to follow her father's steps"

"Whatever" Lia finally gives up, pushing up her glasses from her nose. "I'm still hungry you know...."

"Maybe we can go to McDonald's or something later"

"No, daddy" Lia's voice turns low and sultry. "You know exactly what I want"

You look around in a panic to see if her dad has overheard your conversation. Thankfully, the guy's busy cutting carrots on the kitchen counter.

"Lia, I told you not to call me that in public. Especially not when your literal dad is right here" you warned, though you can't deny the fact that hearing her call you the name get your blood flowing backwards.

"Oh, come on, daddyyyyy" she pushes on, stressing the last word to make it sound even more fervorous. "I know you secretly love it"

"Look, babe. I love the name but this isn't the right place. Seriously, your dad's right there"

"So what?" Lia puts her elbows on the table, propping her chin in her palms. "Don't you enjoy a little risk?"

"Come on, babe. Not right now. I will make it up to you when you come back"

"But I want it now" Lia whines, the pout reforming on her lips. "Need to taste daddy's big cock. Need it shove down my throat"

"Lia...." you hiss, becoming aware of her tone, increasing by the second.

"Daddy pleaseee" she gives you those bambi eyes she knows you can't resist. "Let me suck your huge cock. I need you to fill up my mouth with your hot cum. I have been a good girl, haven't I? I deserve my reward" Lia runs her tongue along her top lips to punctuate her wish.

With the way her words get your asleep mamba waking up, you already know you are fighting a losing battle but you still need to be the one in charge here. "Alright, fine. But-"

"Oops. I drop my spoon" The metal hits the floor with a loud clang and Lia immediately dives down the table. It's an overused trope. You have seen it in hundreds of porn videos and you are no stranger to it. But you have never thought you would be in a similar situation and this time, the risk is very real. Her dad is not a paid actor who would pretend to be oblivious at the scene which would soon unfold.

"Is everything ok?" Lia's dad shouts from the kitchen counter, now washing.....are those eggplants?

"Yes, mister! We are gold!" You replies, hoping he would stay focused on his veggies.

You look down and find Lia already kneeled between your legs, a flicker of amusement in her eyes behind those glasses. Her lips curve into an impish smile. "Just stay still and let me do all the work, daddy" she whispers, her hands already working on your zipper. With one swift pull, she opens it up, revealing your red underwear underneath. "Oh, daddy's wearing my favorite colour today" Lia muses as she grabs your cock over the thin fabric, her thumb tracing slow circles. "Daddy, you are already so hard"

As much as you want to prolong this pornographic session, her dad is not going to be in the kitchen forever and you don't want to give him a heart attack. "Babe, enough teasing. Make it quick" you warn and her thumb rests on your head, pressing down on that sensitive spot she only knows. You let out a half-formed moan, not daring to be loud.

"You know the magic word, daddy. No need to be so formal" she presses again and you grit your teeth.

"Start sucking my cock, you slut" you calls her by her favorite nickname, which intsantly gets her engines revving.

"Yes, daddy" she release her grip, pulling down your underwear. Your rock hard cock springs out in a flash, hitting her spectacles. "Someone's eager" Lia chuckles, placing her brown locks behind her back, preparing for the main course. Her left hand close around your base, pumping it up and down in an agonizingly slow pace. She looks at your cock like it's something glorious, something she should be worshipping. But that's not so far from the truth. If this slut wants to choke on your cock, you are gonna permit it happily.

"Daddy, you are so big" Lia mutters dreamily, her free hand fondling your balls each at a time. The combination gets your mind cloudy, basking in the pleasure you nearly forget the whole point of this.

"I don't see you sucking my cock?" Lia stops her movements at your words and you nearly reget telling her to stop. But that doesn't last long because Lia instantly starts obliging to your command.

"Patience, daddy" With that, her rosy lips seal around your tip, taking you partly into the warmth of her mouth. Meanwhile, her hands grab your shaft, working in unison with each drag of her lips. The twist of her fingers along with her tongue that swirls around your slit gets you throwing your head back, letting out a graon. Then you quickly recompose not to expose yourself.

Lia doesn't seem to be bothered. Getting caught seems to be the last thing on your mind as she slurps on your head with fevorous vigour. Like it's the most delicous lollipop she has ever tasted. Her tongue gathers up any pre cum that leaks from your slit, taking it straight down to her stomach. She would takes anything your cock has to offer.

Every moment or so, you would check on her dad, making sure the guy's still busy brewing his organic potion which contents are starting to get weirder. But as long as he's busy, you don't care what he's putting into that blender. It's the best for him and you. You doubt the old man would be as merciful to you as he is to wildlife if he finds out his daughter is giving you head under his table.

But the task proves to be harder because Lia's dad would throw you ocassional glances and you have to put on this stupid grin everytime, which is not so easy with how Lia's sucking you off. Now she has taken half your cock into her mouth, her cheeks hollowed with unfathomable suction. Her hair sways with every bob of her head, forming silky waves of hazel. All the while, she keeps her eyes on you behind those circular frames, those pools of black seems to be asking if she's doing a good job.

"God, Lia....just like that" you grip the edge of the table to compensate for not being able to rejoice in the bliss of Lia's wet hole freely. Your head darting up and down as you keep watch on her father as well as enjoy the view between your legs.

Your shaft is now ringed with red as Lia leaves tarces of her lipstick mixed with her saliva while her lips glide smoothly along your cock, making it a red wet mess. Not like you mind. She can keeps messing it up all she wants.

Her tongue action doesn't waver either, licking up any available part but escpecially under your tip to tackle your weak spot each time she takes you in. To add icing on the cake, she has her left hand wrapped around your base to pump the lengths unattended by her mouth, not leaving out any throbbing vein.

You are helpless against her attack, the only action from your side to keeps grabbing the tablecloth into an unshapely tangle. And even that's starting to fail at holding back your moans.

A loud whirring sound fills up the place as Lia's dad starts brewing all those green stuffs in the blender. He gives you a thumbs up and you smile back, shammming excitement. The sound of the blender blades reminding you of the disguisting smoothie you will soon have to drink.

However, Lia takes advantage of the noise by taking your whole length down on her throat, the loud gagging sound lost in the echoes of spinning blades. You take the chance to make any audible sound that would let you express your euphoria. A moan. Then two. Then a couple more. It no longer seems to be ending as Lia devour your cock like a hungry animal, hitting the back of her throat each time she deeothroats.

Drops of saliva litters the ground. The evidences of Lia's godly work. Gags after gags escape her mouth in rhythm with your moans. However, escape won't be suitable here with the way your cock is blocking her airway. But that isn't a problem because she would choose your dick over oxygen.

The blender keeps whirring and Lia keeps choking on your cock. Her glasses now tilted at a strange angle from the force of her movement, the temple hanging on one ear only. Currently, her vision isn't as important as the taste of your dick on her tongue.

Lia finally pulls back, trails of saliva running from your tip to her lips. A waterfall of saliva staining her white shirt. Her tongue rolled out and her temples dripping with sweat.

"Daddy....am I...good?" she pants like a bitch in heat, all her lipsticks all gone.

"Very. But you gotta finish what you start my little slut"

"Yes, daddy. Feed me your thick cum. I want it all"

"Then come and take it"

Lia dives back on your cock, immeditaely swallowing your whole length. You groans out at the burst of pleasure, her throat constricted around your shaft. Lia holds her position, her nose pressed to your pelvis for a few moment before pulling back, just to start fucking her throat on your cock again and again.

The sound of the blender stops and you hear the clink of glasses. Turning your head, you find Lia's dad pouring the green liquid into two glasses. It would only be a few minutes before he comes back.

Lia seems to realize to because her lips form an airtight seal around your head and her hands satrt pumping your shaft furiously. Using all your willpower to hold out from finishing earlier leaves no strength left to withstand Lia's final assault. Your cock starts throbbing and soon you are spilling your cum into her mouth. Some reaching her tongue, the other flowing straight down her throat. Lia's fingers keep twisting back and forth and you empty the last drops of your protein rich fluid into her welcoming hole.

You close your eyes, breathing hard. The relief is instant as much as the build up is agonizingly blissful. Lia releases your cock with a pop and lick up the remnants of cum on the tip. You are too lost in the euphporic finale you totally forget the perilous situation you are in. When you realize, it's too late.

Lia's dad is near the table, two glasses of the green smoothie in his hands. His face is a mixture of shock and distress as he stands rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on her daughter's face a few centimeters away from your spent cock. His mouth opens but before he can speak, Lia chimes in.

"Thanks for the meal daddy. But I don't think I'm going to need the smoothie. I already have dessert"

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

[hopepunk-priest]

Project Zomboid OCS are so funny cause they're always either like

1) This is Kit, he/they. He used to work as a chef but he hated his job, but now that the zombie apocalypse has freed them from their work, they're on a mission to collect and make all the recipes they can find. He has a family, extensive backstory, and explanation for every perk I gave them. He survived 2 days and died because he forgot to take glass out of their feet and bled to death.

2) This is Shitt Buttholio, she only wears underwear and the Spiffo suit head. She exclusively kills zombies with a rolling pin. Currently into January.

[mead-iocre]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

leah bringing spoiled!reader with her to new york for a work event. spoiled!reader with her hermès bubblegum pink birkin 35 with palladium hardware and her baby pink prada patent leather heels. the restaurant was lovely, highly-rated, and expensive– exactly suited to reader's taste. the chef's tasting menu was $500+ per person with wine pairing. reader and leah were in for a feast with the 10-course menu. seared shrimp, fennel mousseline, sauce bouillabaisse and more; but reader's favourite was the pan roasted filet mignon, coupled with celeriac “bone marrow” and an aromaful red wine-shallot sauce.

best believe this girl will always tip the servers (!!!!!). when the bill comes ($1410+ thanks to the domaine de la romanée-conti la tâche grand cru 2016 bottle of wine that reader insisted she had to try, but did not even finish a glass of) reader would proudly exclaim "I've got the tip!" and leah would just chuckle, all sweet and endearing, handing the waiter her amex card without even glancing at the bill. like "aw that's nice of you, baby"

reader would clumsily open her bag, digging through her chanel lipglosses, bottle of tom ford perfume, organic mints, various bottles and tubes of hand creams and face mists and such, to find her wad of hundred dollar bills neatly clipped in a stainless steel, custom-made money clip with her initials of course. she'd pull out four hundred dollar bills and hand them to their waiter with a sweet "thank you, sir!".

leah watches as she smiles, clearly very pleased with herself, tucking the stack of hundred dollar bills back in her birkin. Her sweet girl. "look at'chu lil sugar mama"

she practically preens at her praise. "I actually withdrew it from your card, lee"

pulling out her chanel hand mirror, quickly retouching her lipgloss. "can we stop by the bank before we head to soho? might need to withdraw some more"

"...well, I guess it's nice that you're so generous, baby"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

tip your waiters folks!

[petriwriting]

My Chef - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: You stay the night at Theo's, he makes you dinner. Oneshot. Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Little-bit of soft Theo. Established relationship, Sad-about-his-dead-mom-Theo.

A/N: You're telling me fannon italian!Theo can't cook pasta? Nah. Based on a scene from the movie chef. Bonus: Here's the recipe. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJUiWdM__Qw

It was a quiet evening, you were at Theo's house, luckily his father hadn't bothered being home all weekend. Otherwise, the house would have been an un-ideal place to be with his father around. but the house was silent, apart from the Nott house elf, who was tidying the halls, despite Theo telling him to take the night off. You were wearing Theo's jumper, laying in his bed. You'd been relaxing. Since school was out for the summer, there wasn't really much else to do. You had mentioned you were hungry, and without much notice Theo disappeared into the kitchen. It was sweet, he said he could cook for you, which he had never done before.

You wandered through the halls of his house, looking curiously at how sterile the house seemed. There wasn't many family photos, or really much decoration. One photo was of Theo and his father, which made you smile slightly seeing it. As you made your way into the kitchen, you were met with the smell of fresh pasta.

Theo was kneading the dough, although he was unfortunately making a mess. He smiled as he greeted you. "Hi," he said softly. you sat at the kitchen counter, watching him work. "This part isn't as fun." He said. "Well it looks like fun." you chuckled. "Do you want to try?" he asked. "sure." you washed you hands, rolling up your sleeves and standing in front of the ball of dough on the counter, you were watching Theo's hands as he demonstrated. . .

Theo stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you, sprinkling some more flour over the work surface. "just like this." he said softly, taking your hands and guiding your movements. you flushed slightly, feeling the warmth of your cheeks from being so close to him. You could smell his scent, it was a mixture of tobacco and cedar.

"Okay, my arms are a bit sore now." you admitted. "Maybe it isn't all that fun." you said. Theo chuckled. "I'll take it from here then," he said happily. you turned to him, he was so close to your face. You wanted to kiss him, but didn't, instead taking a bit of flour and tapping it onto his nose. He laughed, playing along after wiping himself off.

"that was rude," he quipped jokingly.

You continued to linger around the kitchen, watching Theo as he cooked. You had no idea previously that he could cook, as it wasn't a skill that most men have.

The smell of fresh garlic filled the home as your stomach growled in hunger. Theodore Nott would make an amazing housewife, he was kind, attentive and he could cook. It made you feel warm and fuzzy to think that he would, in fact made an excellent husband one day. After some time, he broke the silence. "have a seat," theo said finally. "I'll set the table for us."

You follow suit, taking a seat at the large dining table. watching as Theo set two plates on the table, napkins, and cutlery. he even grabbed two glasses to pour each of you a glass of wine to pair with the dinner, finally lighting a candle, just for ambiance.

A relaxed afternoon had now blossomed into a somewhat romantic date. you were not complaining at all.

"Thank you for cooking, Ted." you said, before taking a bite. It was sweet, it wasn't very often that Theo would lean into his italian heritage, although on that night you were very thankful for it. "Of course," he says. "Buon appetito." 

As you took your first bite, it was delicious. you were in awe, each flavor complimented each other perfectly. "oh merlin." you exclaimed. "This is delicious!" Theo smiled, watching you enjoy his work he was quite pleased with himself.

you finished up pretty quickly, sitting at the table with Theo. before too long you were sipping wine together. "Where did you learn to cook like that?" you asked curiously.

"Well," he said, slightly stiffening up. "My mother taught me to make fresh pasta as a child." he explained, "It's one of my favorite memories with her." he said somewhat sadly.

"Oh. I'm sorry." you said quietly. "It's alright." he insisted. "It's nice to honor her memory." you were silent, letting Theo speak, it was relief for him to finally be able to talk about it with someone who actually cared. you were happy to listen to him talk about his mother, or anything really. "I think she would have really liked you." he admitted. you smiled softly. "I would have loved to meet her." you said.

This was Theo's soft spot. "I wish she could have met you," he says, softly, looking down. You didn't want to pry, or come across as cold, so you rested your hand on his and rubbed his hand with your thumb gently. The two of you enjoyed your meal, and the glasses of wine. You were quietly because you were eating, and because it was genuinely a good home-cooked meal which you hadn't had in a while. after some time, You got up from your seat walking over to Theo, giving him a hug. a genuine embrace, which Theo melted into immediately.

"Thank you for dinner." you said softly. "It was really delicious. I didn't know you were secretly a chef," you smirked. This earned a chuckle out of Theo "Well, there's a lot most people don't know about me." he said. "But you aren't most people."

"yeah?" you asked, just wanting to hear him talk. when he opened up, which he rarely did from being scolded for it so many times in his life, it made you feel closer to him. "Yes."

"I don't think i've ever told anyone that before- About my mother." he admitted. "But it's different with you."

"why is that?" you asked. "Because i'm in love with you." he says simply, standing up, looking at you deeply. He was playing with your hands. you were smiling. it was a blissful moment. He was memorizing the contours of your face in the candle-light. he looked at you as if he would never see you again, soaking in the feeling. "And..." he said, very matter-of-factly, his more outward cocky attitude showing a bit more as he relaxed. "you know what they say," you looked at him, pretending to be confused. "What do they say?" you retorted. "Kiss the chef." he smiled softly, leaning into the embrace to kiss you, melting into the moment. It was a sweet and romantic kiss that you'd find in romance novels.

"I love you." he whispered. "I love you."

[cainballad]

Let’s dance 😈

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Handle With Care - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Reader and Aaron meet for the first time before she starts as a full-time nanny for Jack.

Notes: Hopefully will be at least 5 parts! I'm excited to be writing again :)

Word Count: 4.6K

I always believed in new beginnings, but as I stood on Aaron’s doorstep, rolling a suitcase in one hand and a Vera Bradley duffel bag in the other, I was tempted to question my resolute thinking. It had yet to fail me. Not when I was hardly eighteen and living on the other side of the country, vying for my spot at the esteemed culinary arts program. And not when I’m twenty-four with a stint as the private chef

Professional chef turned nanny–for my father’s beloved mentee, no less. My parents, ever supportive and ever loving, practically held an intervention when I showed up on their suburban door step a fractured shell of the bubbly daughter they dropped off at the airport. 

Five years later, I’m sleeping in the same bed. I had nightmares about leaving once again. And yesterday I gave up that bed for a full-time position as Aaron Hotchner’s live-in nanny. Aaron, who I never even met, is my father’s protege. He knew him as a whip-smart, young lawyer from a family Law dynasty at Quantico. My father took him under his wing and even after his early retirement from the BAU they would get together for an annual work lunch. 

I was nearly finished with my final year of the Los Angeles Culinary Arts Program when my fathers called to say that Aaron’s wife was murdered. I remembered thinking how lucky Dad was and how brave Daddy had to be. With one day off saving the world and the other left to hold down the fort with an awfully anxious only child daughter. 

One year later, I was unemployed and completely blacklisted from the culinary entertainment industry for reasons beyond my control and without my fault. I gripped the suitcase, my chipped fingernails so jagged they punctured my skin. 

Aaron had a nice house with a manicured front lawn, a big wrap around porch, and a fully furnished backyard. Clearly, he was a man with a lot of education and a lot of smarts to top it off. He worked hard. It showed, these neighborhoods of Arlington, Virginia weren’t cheap. No wonder my dads were dying to relocate to Georgia. 

The door swung open before I could work up the courage to ring the bell or knock on the dark cherry wood. Aaron answered. He wore a dark green men’s quarter zip that was pushed up, showing off his forearms. His dark, charcoal gray watch shone as he let me into his foyer. 

He had a foyer.

And a house that smelt like warm cinnamon and musk. 

“Y/N,” Aaron said, nodding to me with a smile, “Please give me your bags. And we’ll go sit and chat before Jack comes. His grandma is still in town and brought him to the zoo.” 

I complied. There wasn’t a need for me to protest. And clearly, by the looks of those forearms, he would have no problem handling my bags. I only brought a single suitcase, a duffel, and five boxes of books. Aaron’s mother-in-law, Lorriane, had been staying with them since Haley died a year and a half ago. But her husband broke his hip. Apparently, Aaron had added a mother-in-law suite for Lorriane and judging by the looks of his home, the suite I’d be living in for the foreseeable future was twice the size of my studio in LA. 

“Thanks.” I said, grabbing a seat on the brown fabric sofa, “My dad said I had to say hello to you for him. He still raves about you. Like all the time.” I chuckle, watching as Aaron hands me a glass of iced tea. 

“Marty’s a good man. He and Gideon built the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Our team is in constant debt to him.” Aaron spoke so formally, gesturing for enthusiasm with his hands. 

“Yeah, well. He’s always just been dad to me.” I smiled, the man I knew showed up to my field hockey games even if it meant holding office hours there. He was the most there dad I could ask for– maybe it was neck in neck for the both of them. 

“So Jack?” I said, breaking the silence. “How–how’s he been?” I couldn’t help but wonder. My dads had a close friend who helped them with their surrogacy journey, so while I didn’t have a mother in the traditional sense, the woman who I’ m half of  was still alive and in my life. Debra was more like an aunt to me, fun and spirited and eternally youthful. But I still had her. 

Unlike Jack, who’s Earthly ties to his mother were shredded in an horribly violent way. 

My dad hardly ever cried, but when he called and told me that Aaron’s wife died I could hear it in his raw voice. Aaron’s a man cut from the same cloth a Dad; stoic and responsible. He was a wall of somber trepidation, but somewhere deep inside I could make out the man that wasn’t cataclysmically destroyed. 

“Jack is…he’s a strong kid. I put him in therapy after it happened. He still goes once a week. Laura, she’s his therapist. She’s wonderful. Truly has helped Jack work through all this.”

“That’s good. That’s really good, Mr. Hotchner. It seems as though Jack has a solid foundation here.” I say, unsure what to say exactly. I can make an omelet six different ways, yet it’s lost on me to know what to say to a widower with a little boy. If I had to bear even a fraction of their grief, I’m sure it would break me. I would crumble. But these two boys? They’re a good man in the storm. And I know in my bones, it’s entirely Aaron’s doing. If that man is anything, he’s steady. 

“It’s Aaron. Please, Mr. Hotchner reminds me of my father.” He cringes, the lines on his eyes creasing, “Your dad said you’re a professionally trained chef? Unfortunately, Jack’s still squarely in the dinosaur shaped chicken nugget and baked tater tots phase. It’s been a struggle to get him to try anything new…for…for awhile now, if I’m being honest.” 

I nod, thinking that Jack’s food discouragement might stem from losing his mom. “Well, the way I see it, Jack lost his mom at how old? Four and half? That’s when we’re starting to really know what we like and don’t like to eat. His life was turned upside down and shaken all around when you lost her. So maybe he needed some consistency in a world of chaos. Not that your home is chaotic, it’s lovely and clean and happy. It’s just…loss…”

“Losing your mother as a toddler really fucks up your life.” Aaron says. He speaks so definitely, as if he means everything so ardently you could cast it into stone. 

“Yeah.” I add, somberly. “But I think we can get him to branch out. Make it a game. I’d love to cook with him. I can get him kid-safe tools so he can be involved in food preparation and cooking. Oh! Maybe Jack and I can have a garden. I’m sure that will get him eating vegetables and fruits.” 

Aaron’s neutral expression slowly transitions to a soft smile. He thumps his fingers on the wooden table, as he looks out through the deck. I could feel him glance back at me and then to the yard again. 

“I think that a garden would be lovely over on the side. It’s far enough away from the pool and patio.” Aaron offers, sipping his tea. It’s sweet tea, too sweet for me. Working in kitchens throughout my program has trained me to not only tolerate black coffee, but to actively seek it out. He smiles, his grin defining his face. “Good idea.” 

I feel heat at his praise. I like doing well, who doesn't? But after a series of mishaps and bad luck, an 'atta' girl is my Hail Mary of the month. I simply nod. “Simple things to start so he can see some quick results. I’ll get him super involved in it. Make him feel like he’s a part of a team.” 

“I work a lot. My team flies across the nation, as you know. It takes me away from here for days on end. It was getting too much for Lorriane. And how her husband broke his hip.” Aaron shakes his head, “Honestly, you couldn’t have shown up here at a better time.” 

He runs his pointer finger over the water rung pooled on the coasters. “Jack’s a very easy kid. Reasonable. But shy. He was shy even before Haley…even before last year. I’ve brought him to the pediatrician because he stopped talking for a while, but she said that we’ve all survived an immense trauma and our brains simply process and live through that trauma differently.”

Sitting there, I couldn’t help but think how lucky this little boy is. His dad was running up the hill; pushing that boulder up and up and up for an eternity. It must be an awfully lot to carry, without anyone to share the load. 

“Yeah. I’m sure it is? Is he going into Kindergarten after the summer?” I ask, wondering if Jack went to Kindergarten on time or if Aaron and his grandma kept him home when they lost Haley. 

“Lori, Haley’s mother, taught preschool for thirty-five years. She told me to keep him home for a year, let him be a little bit older and get the help he needs to heal and then send him. So I listened. I think that was one of the only decisions I made as a team this year.” 

Sympathy must have colored my face because Aaron’s demeanor shifted quickly. He sat up, sipping his iced tea and wiping his hands on his jeans. “So basically your weekdays are around 8am-7:30pm. And occasionally on the weekends when the team does have to be on location But recently, I’ve been trying to transition to a more leadership position at headquarters. Hopefully, that’ll mean less traveling.” 

I quickly journaled the hours down in my notebook. Live-in nannying hours are not for those looking for a job to allow them the life of leisure. Naturally that couldn’t possibly be true for a position whose main coworker is a five and a half year old boy. 

“Alright. So that’s summer hours. We’ll need to brainstorm lots of stuff to do all day. Maybe the library?” I write a small note to get ideas and have them approved by Aaron.

He nodded, “Yes, summer hours are a lot, but Jack will be going to a couple camps that his therapist recommended. So you can get a couple hours each day to yourself. I am ready to compensate accordingly. Between my new role at the BAU and other personal investments, we live comfortably. How’s $2,500 to start and then we’ll discuss a raise in the future. And naturally your room and anything you may want to eat or have will be covered by me.” Aaron says it again in a way that leaves no room for argument. He must’ve been a great lawyer; no wonder dad adores him. 

“That’s quite a lot of money.” I’m shocked and my face does a horrible job of hiding it. “I’m not a professional nanny. I’m good with kids. Really good. But I don’t do this for a living. This is you doing me a favor because if it wasn’t for you, I’d be a waitress at my dads’ country clubs” I cringed, my mind instantly filtering in an image of me serving one-time sorority sisters bottomless mimosas for an Easter Brunch. 

“I apologize if you though that it was up for discussion, Y/N. Your first month’s pay will be $2,500 each week. And then it will increase to $3,250 each week. If I’m asking you to work 13 hour days plus one weekend a month? I better be paying you that much. And you’re still on Marty’s health insurance?” 

I rolled my eyes, of course dad mentioned that to Aaron and of course Aaron double checked. Aaron just might have Marty, JD beat when it comes to thoroughness. “Yeah, till I’m 26. And that’s like…a year and change away.” I say, implying that it’s not up to me, or Aaron even, to know how long I’ll be with him. I wasn’t sure if I would ever venture out to LA again; not after what happened that sent me back here for good.

But the thing about food is that everyone wants good food, no matter where they live. And right now, the ones that wanted something good in their lives, lived in a lovely Colonial home on Moss Avenue. 

“I guess there’s no arguing with you, prosecutor.” I say, my voice increasing just so that it balances the line between teasing and something else…something else I should be too ashamed to admit. 

It elicited a smile from him and all of the sudden it was completely worth it. Aaron finishes his tea, and places it into the sink after dumping the remaining ice chips down the drain. 

“Non-negotiable. It’s in your contract. Along with a health insurance package should you need to go off Marty’s name. Plus all that tax information that I’ll get you someone to walk you through it.” Aaron explained. 

“Thank you.” I replied, grateful that it was both all above the table and that I would be given the resources to help me figure it out. Looking at the pile of paperwork in my lap, I was sure that if Aaron didn’t offer legal literacy assistance I would be way in over my head. “That’s wonderful. Really.” 

“I just…I just want my son to be a good kid with a good childhood. That’s all. I want to be there for him and if I’m not there, I want the next best thing there. You know?” Aaron said and I’m not sure if it’s a plea or statement. Or if it was stuck somewhere in the middle; lost at sea like Aaron was himself. An island unto himself, drifting as the tide rolled in. 

I break the silence. “What was Haley’s favorite meal?” 

Aaron smiled. His eyes, crinkling again. “She had chicken piccata on our first date. And we ate it at our wedding. And when she found out she was pregnant with Jack she made it for me.” I nodded, understanding the important link between food and memories. 

“Let’s make it. For Jack and you and Lorianne to share tonight before she leaves. It’s going to be a big transition for him to go from having grandma all the time to me, someone very new.” I expressed, hoping that I didn’t sound bossy or as if I wanted to parent Jack myself. 

“That’s a lovely idea, Y/N.” Aaron sighed. “But I never was much of a chef. I wouldn’t know the first place to start.” 

He leaned his hands against the table, a slight smile breaking the formidable since that had fallen between us in the moments before. I smiled back, standing from the table to reach my tote bag. 

I pulled out an apron, the kind that criss crossed over my back. It was denim blue with a canvas front and large pockets. 

“Move over,” I said, tying my apron, “It might be your kitchen, Aaron, but for tonight you’re kicked out” 

The chicken ended up being more chicken piccata adjacent than a true representation of the dish. I mixed a seasoned blend of flour and spices for the dredging. Then, butterflied and pounded the chicken breasts into thin pieces. 

Aaron’s kitchen was spacious and airy. There was a large island with barstools on one side and lots of pantry and cupboard space on the other. I stood at the island, dredging the chicken in seasoned flour before placing it nearly on paper towel lined trays. The chicken, thinned and butterflied, didn’t take long to cook in the oil and butter. 

I let the skillet heat up till the oil, butter, garlic, and capers produced a mouthwatering aroma. Aaron gave me a bottle of white wine, imperative to make the sauce taste even better. I added freshly squeezed lemon juice and lemon slices to the pan sauce, letting the brown bits cook a little bit more. I scraped the edges of the skillet, incorporating the sauce even more. 

I placed the chicken back into the pan, letting it absorb the lemony, garlicky flavor of the sauce. The sauce thickened, forming something that was similar enough to chicken piccata. I added a bit more butter to the pan, along with some lemon. I figured that it would stretch a little bit more for some sauce for the pasta on the side. 

The chicken was simmering in the pan and the pasta water nearly boiling, when Jack came home. He looked like his father, but must have gotten his lighter colored hair and eyes from his mother. 

Aaron walked into the kitchen with Jack, his hands resting on Jack’s shoulders protectively. Jack’s shy demeanor was evident as he peered over at me. I smiled and waved as I finished the pasta. 

“Jackie, this is Ms. Y/N.” Aaron introduced me to the young boy, who stood shyly by his father. “We talked about how Grandma Lorraine needs to go back home. And we’re gonna have a friend come and live here.” 

Jack nodded, his little mind clearly spinning and spinning to make sense of all this. He was clearly well adjusted, even for losing his mother at such a young age. 

“Hey, there Jack!” I smiled. “I made a good dinner for you and your dad. I heard you went to the zoo with Grandma. I love the zoo. Especially the tigers.” 

Jack nodded, eagerly walking around the kitchen island to talk about the zoo. “Yeah,” he said, “I liked the monkeys. They were funny. The babies were learning to climb and jump.” 

I nodded, plating up some food for Jack. “Super cool. They’re kinda like little people. The way they act and play.” I placed the plate on the counter. “I used the Cars plate. It was way too cool not to.” I crouched down and whispered to Jack, “Just make sure your dad doesn’t swipe it. Between you and me I can see him eying it from here.” 

Aaron chuckled, reaching high to grab not one, but two plates. He handed one to me before telling Jack to go sit for dinner. “You’re joining us. It’ll be good for us to get to know one another.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nothing you do would be an intrusion. And it’s good for Jack to see that we’re friends. He’ll be more trusting of you.” 

I nodded, understanding that it was very important for Jack to become used to me. Especially considering Aaron’s job could take him away for days at a time. 

“Alright.” 

Aaron nodded. “Sit. I’ll get your plate.” 

There was an understanding that washed over me. An understanding that Aaron was the kind of man that didn’t ask for things. He was simply used to things he wanted being carried out. I envied that security. Maybe if I had even an ounce of it I would still be hacking it out in LA. Or maybe I wouldn’t have needed to figure it out because I would’ve figured it out already. 

Jack and Aaron went back and forth, swapping facts about dinosaurs. Jack was squarely in the dinosaur phase. Five minutes in, and I already had promised to help him find a dinosaur coloring book, with dinosaurs besides just the “cool ones”. 

“Uncle Spencer says that some dinosaurs had heads as big as a car!” Jack said, practically shrieking with excitement as he recounted all the facts a certain Uncle Spencer had told him. 

“Uncle Spencer’s so smart. And he’s a kid!” Several of Jack’s stories started with the aforementioned Uncle Spencer and I couldn’t help but wonder where the connection lay. Especially if, like Jack claimed, Spencer was a child. Sometimes some cousins are so far apart in age they’re more like an aunt or an uncle. Perhaps this was the case.

“Spencer is on my team.” My face must have shown my confusion. I always wore my emotions and thoughts on my sleeves, something that failed me several times over. Most notably when my friends in LA would get hit on by men at bars in the most vile of ways. One of the blessings of being deemed unapproachable by men was being left alone, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t burdened by their lack of tact in seducing women. “And he’s 28…yes about 28 now, and has been on the team since he was 23. He’s brilliant. Jason Gideon, who worked with Martin, scouted him when he was hardly 21. His mind works in ways that are simply unexplainable.” 

“Which means he must have some pretty sick dino facts?” I ask, my question causing a prickly smile to appear on Aaron’s face. Jack giggles, he must enjoy seeing his father smile. It seems that even though the boys find themselves moving alone, smiles are few and far between. Especially from the elder Hotchner. 

“And three phDs.” Aaron cut the rest of Jack’s chicken, sliding his plate over and reminding him to at least try the vegetables. “It’s like these kids are getting younger as fast as they are getting smarter. Sometimes I just look at Spencer and my knees hurt. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would beat him in anything athletic. Even though he’s much younger.” 

I raised my brow instinctively, smiling. “Was that a joke?” I deadpanned. “My dad said you made two jokes the entire time he knew you. And the first was…”

I stopped myself short. But it was far too late. Aaron, like myself and my father, knew when the first joke he made to my father was. His wedding day. My father had long retired, and moved his mind and soul far, far away from the BAU. He trusted Aaron and Gideon to handle it. Instead he decided to live as himself, freely with his husband and their daughter in the suburbs.

If there was one thing that I shouldn’t have done the first night working with a nanny family consisting of a widower and his son, it was to bring up the marriage of the widower. 

When Aaron married his late wife, Haley. My fathers attended, but I didn’t even remember. It must’ve been one of those times that Nana would sleepover. I remembered it was painting nails, ordering Chinese, and watching Walker, Texas Ranger and Family Feud. I remembered it as falling asleep to my Nana’s snoring as Home Shopping Club glowed on her ancient TV set and waking up to her chocolate chip pancakes. My father remembers it was the first time his young protege made a joke. And Aaron remembers it was the day he married the love of his life. 

“Daddy?” Jack said, cutting through the silence, “I don’t like veggies. They’re too mushy.” 

“Don’t eat them, bud.” Aaron, murmured, his voice laced with a guard that I hadn’t noticed till now. It was careful, like he crafted each tone and cadence before he spoke. “We’ll figure it out, Jack. Come on, let’s show Ms. Y/N her room. Where she’ll be staying.” 

Each sentence is clipped and calculated. I nod, smiling as Jack stands next to his father. 

“I’ll clean up.” 

Aaron nodded, thanking me as he took Jack up to get ready for bed. Minutes later, the kitchen was back to normal and a couple extra meals were packed away for leftovers. I left a note on the counter for Aaron in the morning. 

Lunch is in the fridge.

I always like to make extras! 

Have a nice day

Y/N

Aaron returned, without Jack. “You didn’t have to do the whole kitchen. I don’t expect that. This isn’t a housekeeping job, it’s taking care of Jack.” 

“I don’t mind. Being a chef…or I was a chef, as much as a pain in the ass cleaning and dishes can be sometimes it’s a good way to finish it all. I don’t know…I don’t make sense.” I chuckled, trailing off in a rambly way that fully gave away my nerves. My previous blunder had shaken me, especially since Aaron seemed completely unnerved, even though I knew it stung.

“I suppose, sometimes I used to stay late to do all the paperwork, even though the interns usually will do it for us.” Aaron wipped his hands on his pants.“Anyway, let me show you to the room. I had it cleaned over the weekend and put Lorianne up at a hotel for a couple nights so there wouldn’t be any issues or crossover.”

Aaron led me through the rest of the house. It was neat and tidy and I didn’t expect anything else from someone like Aaron, even though he does have a young, energetic son. There was just something meticulous about him. Something so put together and careful. And then there was me. Messy and complicated and unsure and terrified. Anyone would be that after having the carpet pulled out from under them. And I couldn’t name a bigger carpet than having to bury your life. 

There was a locked door that led to what Aaron explained as my private area. “Jack and I won’t come over here. From the time that I get home in the evenings, or frankly, some days, till I leave in the mornings is your own. This is your spot in the house, but my housekeepers that come twice a month will clean in here, if you’d like.” 

I nodded, grateful for that added bonus. The small attachment was the size of a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette with a nook tucked into the corner with the windows. The furniture matched the rest of the house, clearly Aaron had spared no expense to add this attachment. The queen sized bed was pushed up against the wall and nestled into the corner. Next to it was a nightstand with a lamp. And, as I turned the corner, was the crowning jewel. 

“Are those built–ins?” I asked, staring in disbelief. “Those are so gorgeous. I have like, easy, a ton, of books. God! Can I use them?” I turned, practically jumping from joy as Aaron chuckled reluctantly. 

“Of course. This room’s yours.” Aaron must’ve carried my bags into the bedroom while I was cooking because all of my belongings sat on the floor near the set of love seats and armchair. “I’ll leave you to get settled. 8:30 okay for tomorrow?” 

I nodded, stunned beyond belief as I opened my boxes of books. Aaron handed me a set of keys, one to the house, the shed, and the other to my area of the house. 

“You’re the only one that has a copy. If you want others made, I’ll cover the expense.” Aaron explained. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night,” I replied, hooking the keys onto my set. “And thank you for this room. It’s nicer than my apartment in LA.” 

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, “Of course, I think Jack'll be very happy. It’s been hard to trust others. With him, honestly…Jack’s all I got left.” I had known Aaron for about three hours, heard stories of his skill and professionalism and talent for years, but he wasn’t someone that I had known, let alone even met. But in those three hours, I could count several times where I saw a sliver of emotions.

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Night.” 

“And Y/N?” Aaron said, stopping me as I reach down to start shelving books, “Food does hold memories. You’re right. I needed it. We did. Jack and I. He needs to remember her.” 

“Food has memories.” I said, shrugging, “You’re gonna have to learn I know more than you think I do.”

Taglist

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @pear-1206 @this-is-calm-and-its-anne @little-jana @pastelpinkflowerlife @sarcasm-and-stiles @ilovefictionalmennn

[clawsdevour]

last customer

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, osamu x reader, fluff, not proofread

⠀ೀ * : ,,,

it's cold and frosty out as you made your way down the concrete sidewalk to the brightly lit restaurant. the snow's starting to pile up, each snowflake landing on your flushed cheeks before you're under the roof of the address on your phone.

stiff fingers gripped on the doorhandle as you pushed it open, the warmth of the restaurant immediately rushing towards you as you sighed out of relief as the bell rang at the top of the door.

the ringing caught the owner's attention from the kitchen. sticking his grey head of hair out from the kitchen doorframe, he looked at you with confusion before checking his watch.

"um.. hi!" immersing yourself in the heated restaurant as you stood by the door staring back at his figure.

"hi, i'm sorry we just closed.." his brown eyes peering back at you from his watch with concern as he noticed how cold it must be outside.

"oh- i'm sorry.. i thought i'd arrive before your shop would close," looking down at your shoes wehre your toes are absolutely frozen despite having fluffy socks on before turning your body towards the door that showed the chilling winter night through the glass.

right when you were about to head out as the bell rung due to the movement of the door just slightly moving, the owner calls back at you while you heard the restaurant's air vents turn on.

"wait, since you've come so far in this freezing weather i might as well whip something up!" his deep voice shouted from the kitchen, catching your attention.

you felt bad since he was almost done getting ready to close, but you couldn't turn down his offer. his face was as grey as his hair with a slightly worried expression plastered on his face.

"..okay, sure! i'd love that," your lips jolted into a big smile as the blush on your cold cheeks lit up.

turning your back away from him, his fingers got to work and started scooping up some fresh rice to wash.

his other hand gestured at you to have a seat right in front of him where you can watch him work his magic.

"soo.. what would you recommend chef?" putting your arms on the table and leaning in to examine his skills at work like a curious cat.

his brows just so slightly raise when he notices your gaze upon him. looking up from the rice pot he mumbles out a mmm.. to think, what would be nice and warm to suit this weather? he thought to himself thinking about what would be the best to offer.

"hmmm i'd say the salmon yaki onigiri. it's got a crispy fried outside with some delicious fresh salmon on the inside," his droopy eyes giving you a gentle smile as he works relentlessly at the rice.

pouring out the starchy water to refill the pot before he plugs the wire into the rice cooker, he's leaning on the counter to make some small talk.

"what brings you here so late? and in the freezing snow?" taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair.

"just felt like trying a new restaurant.. in the middle of winter," you can't stop holding eye contact with his deep brown eyes that drew you in.

pausing for a second as you two stared, you had to break it up, "..oh! i'm y/n by the way. nice to meet you..?"

"osamu miya, like atsumu miya's twin brother" nodding his head as he took a rag to wipe his wet hands with before walking into the fridge to grab fresh orange salmon out.

"you're gonna love this dish," placing the slab of fish onto the cutting board while taking out his knives to sharpen.

masterlist here

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Take Your Nanny To Work Day

Without a shadow of a doubt, you could safely say that Mr. Wayne adored, doted on, and loved his children. They were the apple of his eye and the wind beneath his wings. Yet, when you appeared in his office on a Friday afternoon with his three youngest children, he was very unimpressed. 

Per usual, he said hello to the kids, smiling, kissing, and hugging them, and—in an also not unusual way—he pulled you to the side to scold you. He had told you before not to bring them while he was working, so you pointed out that it was his lunch period. 

“You can’t possibly be working during lunch, Mr. Wayne,” You said with a sly smile. “Especially when you so often encourage your children not to overwork. That would be hypocritical of you.”

There, he had little to no argument. 

Though, proudly, he could say there was a lot of irritation with you. He told you to walk ahead while he spoke to his secretary, more than likely moving meetings around so he could spend more time with the kids.

The Wayne Enterprises cafeteria was nice. With fancy glassware, plates, and the nicest selection of foods, the whole place just looked like a Wayne got their hands on it. It smelled wonderful, too, like the best chefs in the world were in the kitchen cooking away. All around the huge room were floor-length windows, and Tim demanded a table near one of them as you waited for Bruce to come down. Duke, who wasn’t one for demanding things like his older brother, asked in some agreement if all of you could sit by the windows. 

“Yeah, Damian wants to sit over there, too,” Tim said. Looking at Damian, it was clear that the little boy hardly knew what was happening.  

“Well, since you asked so politely,” You sarcastically remarked. “I think we might as well.”

Tim ran over to the window with Duke following suit, pressing his face against the glass as he looked down at all the people. Walking with Damian in hand, you looked down at the people below. You hadn’t noticed before just how high up you were, and it made you a bit dizzy as you realized it. 

Sitting, you urged the two boys to join you and their younger brother, but they were quickly caught up in an intense game of I Spy. Clicking your tongue, you instead turned your attention onto Damian who was busy playing with a new Blue’s Clues toy Mr. Wayne had gotten him. You played with Dami until you heard the boys start getting loud. 

“No! I was talking about that one,” Tim exclaimed. 

You were quick to correct him. “Timothy, inside voice.”

He mumbled an apology before turning back to the window. You admired the boys for a second and, now and then, played I Spy with them. It was nearly perfect until you heard it, some ladies and a man talking about you. 

“They don’t even look like they have the same father,” said a man’s voice.

A lady snickered before saying, “What would you expect? Just look at her.”

You wanted to get up and yell at them, but that wouldn’t be a good example to the kids. Plus, you could practically hear Mr. Wayne lecturing you if anything of the sort happened. Shaking it off, you went back to paying attention to the boys. 

At least, you tried to. 

They were still talking about you, and, even after your harsh over-the-shoulder glare, they weren’t stopping. The three of them stripped you down until they could only talk about the same things over and over. That was fine with you, as long as they were only talking about you. 

Suddenly, they were talking about the kids and you thought about ignoring them as you had with their conversation about you. 

“And the braids in that boy's hair!” It was obvious they were talking about Duke who had just had his hair done the day before and was so excited about it. Bruce was proud of himself, too, because he’d spent the whole day at the barber shop learning ways to maintain the braid. Their conversation made you decide you needed to say something when they said, "He looks like he doesn't belong, and neither does that loud black-haired boy. There has to be something wrong with them."

Standing, you put Damian next to Tim and Duke. “Stay here. Understand?”

They looked confused, but, since your voice was sharp and serious, agreed. Sucking in a breath, you stormed over to the table behind yours. 

In a low voice, you said, “If I hear one more goddamn thing come out of your mouth about my kids, I will take you into the kitchen and wipe the floor with all three of you. Maybe not you—” You pointed at the man with the thick round glasses. “Harry Potter, you look like you have streaks in your boxers.”

The three of them were red in the face, ready to scream at you before a voice cut over theirs, “Is there an issue here?”

Looking up, you saw Bruce standing there with his hands on his hips. The three at the table began to stumble over themselves, denying all accusations before you could throw them. It wasn’t until Damian noticed Bruce and ran over that they stopped. 

“Daddy!” The boy laughed as his dad picked him up. 

Duke and Tim ran over, too, both of them latching onto their father. It was then the three people at the table made their excuses and left. You tried to follow after, but Bruce snapped at you to stay. 

“We’ll talk about it in a minute,” He said. “Come on, let’s get these kids something to eat before they start biting our arms off.”

Giggling, the three boys playfully chomped on the two of you as you grabbed the trays and hopped in line. While standing in line, you tried to explain what had happened to Mr. Wayne, but he quickly quieted you. Again, he reminded you that everything would be discussed later. With a huff, you decided to change the subject for now since he was more than likely blowing you off so the kids wouldn’t have to hear. 

“Can I get some cake,” Duke asked. 

Bruce ran a hand over his cheek and smiled, “Sure thing, buddy. Tim, do you want one?”

“No, I want ice cream,” He said as he was already pulling the small bowl of ice cream toward him. 

Damian chimed in, “Me too, please!” 

Once the kids got what they wanted and were sitting at the table eating away, Bruce pulled you off to a hidden corner of the room to talk while still able to watch the kids. You were still fuming with rage, hardly able to hold back the story when he finally gave you a chance to speak. Bruce didn’t seem phased by what you had said, and you wondered for a second if he even cared.

“I see,” Was all he said when you were done.

“That’s it?” You said, shocked. “That’s all you have to say after I’ve told you about how racist and cruel those people were being?”

Bruce glanced over to the kids before looking down at you cooly. “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Don’t patronize me, Mr. Wayne.” You shook your head, about to step away because you felt it was obvious that he wouldn’t be any help. There was hardly a step taken before Bruce grabbed your arm and pulled you back. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, but I was being serious.”

“You’re such a…” You thinned your lips, not wanting to get fired so soon. When you looked up at him there was something about him that you liked way more than you should have. Sucking in a breath, you said, “Fire them, make them write a letter apologizing to you, Tim, and Duke personally—Something of the sort! Send them to a whole HR class about being prejudiced. Something to get the point across to them that what they did was inexcusably unacceptable.”

Mr. Wayne nodded as his eyes went back to the children at the table. You looked back at them to see them giggling as they happily ate their food. It made your stomach churn that anyone could talk about such sweet children in such a way. Shaking your head, you quietly added, “Make ‘em regret it.”

“I will,” Bruce said, reaching up to squeeze your shoulder. “But what about you?”

You looked up at him. “What about me?”

“What they said about you, what did you want done about that?”

You hadn’t thought about that—Really, you had nearly forgotten that part of their conversation. Shaking your head, you told him that nothing needed to be done about that. You were a big girl, you could handle a couple of insults. It was the kids that needed to be worried about. 

Bruce was silent for a few seconds before slowly nodding his head. “We should head back to the kids.”

You wanted to be speechless because, after all that, that’s how he was going to end the conversation. Nonetheless, you nodded and followed him to the table. The kids were glad to have you back, catching you up on all they had talked about in the short time the two of you were gone. 

After lunch, the five of you headed back up to Bruce’s office so the boys could say goodbye to their father in a more private setting. When the hugs and kisses were done, Mr. Wayne pulled you close to tell you that the situation was already being dealt with. You wouldn’t have given it much thought if, as you were leaving, you didn’t see the perpetrators shamefully walk into his office. Looking back at Mr. Wayne, he gave you a quick wink before shutting the door. It wasn't long until you heard loud, muffled yelling.

 Maybe your boss wasn’t as annoying and pompous as you thought.

[harleehazbinfics]

OMGOMGOMGOMG HOW WOULD CHIEF CANNIBAL READER X ALASTOR REACT TO CHARLIE DAD COMING TO THE HOTEL

Love Rival??

A/N: POLLING IT RN, ARE WE MAKING THEM THE OFFICIAL RIVALS??? AND ALSO DO WE DESERVE A KISS? CUZ THIS CHAPTER IS THE CLOSEST WE WILL EVER GET TO INTIMACY

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

The day finally came when Lucifer, Charlie's dad, would come to the hotel. So, out of consideration for your friend, you hosted a dinner party to leave a good impression on Hell's King himself.

So, you busied yourself in the kitchen for the past hour trying to whip up as much and as fast as you could, given the limited time you had been offered.

Everyone was gathered as they would on any regular day since you had started preparing breakfast. However, today they brought a little bit of... class~. They wore their best outfits seeing how special this event started to be and wore suits and dresses to dinner.

After everyone was present and settled themselves down. You appear before them donned in your chef's uniform, an apron wrapped around your waist stained with sauces and your hair curled, tied into a bun inside a hairnet. You introduce each dish that was placed down in front of them by Alastor's shadow puppets.

"Ooh! This pasta are incredible! Compliments to the chef!" Lucifer exclaims lifting his head and grinning at you.

"Oh, thank you!" you replied while gave him a polite smile and nodded your head.

While you we were wiping Niffty's face that was covered in the ragu with a napkin. Lucifer turns to Charlie and says, "Say, do you always eat together like this? I wouldn't mind staying here if that were the case."

While he was laughing at his own jest. Alastor, who sat opposite of him, glared at him not even being subtle about it. "It's a shame that his majesty has so many important matters to deal with. He hasn't even come to see how his daughter was in a while and finds his only reason to stay is through my companion's cooking," Alastor jabs at him while delicately cutting the meat on his plate that you especially made for him.

Lucifer splutters nervously as he aggressively denies the deer's claims. Lucifer watches as you approach Alastor's side and pour him his drink, seeing your heart shaped manic eyes ogling him while Alastor exuded a softer aura around him.

"Hohoho," Lucifer laughs in revelation before raising his own glass, "Uh, chef dear? Could you also pour me a drink?"

You raise eyes towards him, eyes turning normal before giving him another smile before coming over to his side. Lucifer gives Alastor a smug grin as you poured him the wine and sees how Alastor narrows his eyes at the blonde, as if asking him what the hell he was doing.

"So, you uh.. you made all of this by yourself?" Lucifer trying to start a conversation with you and keep your eyes off Alastor.

"Why, yes! Given I only had an hour to prepare, this is the least I could do," you reply with a small smile.

You didn't find it odd that much that this very important person was talking to you so candidly. You didn't really mind that much given how well he complimented your cooking so, all of his antics flew passed you head as he continued conversing with you.

By the time Lucifer decided to go home, you all gathered at the door to send him off. After he gives Charlie one last hug, he steps closer to you. All of you were confused at his actions especially what happens next.

"I'm sorry for my sudden intrusion then. I'd love to try you cooking some other time," he says with a flirtatious smile after he kisses the back of your hand.

Your eyes widen open as Alastor's ears peel back while giving the blonde a snarl. After he disappears, Alastor wipes the back of you hand on his coat and takes you to his quarters to get rid of the outrageous' sent off of you.

While in the bath as he scrubbed you down without batting an eye at your naked form. He takes the stained hand of yours and bites down on it with his sharp fangs deeply causing it to bleed.

"You belong to me. Got it?"

🔗TAGLIST:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff

[berriblossom]

->Modern AU, like organized crime Fatui Buisness AU, reader is considered amab, power dynamics, you are his "dog", sugar daddy pantalone, warning for gore, blood, violence, and slight mention of collars, Fatui is a crime syndicate and the Northland bank will always collect what is in fair exchange of debt. DNI: (this is written by masc NB, so don't fetishize this pls, minors pls dni)<-

The empty restaurant with dimmed lights set a "mood" for its guests. Most glamor at the amount of detail on the pantings that hang on the wall. The guests even ignorantly claimed the false portraits to be original. Like these fools have never seen a well organized dinner set either.

"Oh, is that a Doyung Orginal?"

"My look at the engraving on the plates!"

"My goodness the wine is to die for, has to be a Mondstat staple!"

Yes, the quality and attention to detail were incredible, even in the late hours for special guests to come by and have "chats" with the staff. With the owner, head chef, and hostess standing still for him.

For a specifically special guest, he was on his way for a special meeting with the staff. The court of Fontaine never failed to disappoint with the glamor, the fusion of fontainian and Liyuen food, who could have thought? No wonder such elite laywers, officers, prosecutors, senators, and opera house performers eat here to fill their hearts and stomachs till content.

Like filthy pigs.

It sickened him to his stomach.

Pantalone hated the stiffness in the dining hall. The tables were too close together, hence no privacy in the place for actual buisness to be held. No wonder some customers complain of the noise, but then again when cheap dandelion wine is served for all service cycles, you'd get noisy too.

The carpet was tacky, it was crisp crimson with intricate detail, even the most disgusting hardwood floors would've captured the feeling within the place better. His eyes moved around, the small perfectly sculpted gray hairs swept into the neat style of his hair.

His fingers collected in his lap as the pitifully looking waitress took his order. No one was here, all customers were gone. Vacant of even the tacky suites, outdated dresses, and excessive displays of nonexistent money. But when sitting in front of the real deal, who wouldn't get nervous.

The man who owns the Norhtland Bank, the wealthiest and most accredited bank in Teyvat. The man who was a well-decorated politician, salesman, diplomat, and sponsor to some of the biggest brands and stock names in the world. The richest person to have lived in Teyvat sits before the teenager and smiles at her with a carefully crafted smile. A fake one, no less.

But even before the slaughter, the wolf can be kind to any of the sheep for the sake of better taste of their meat.

He sighs as he sips the cool glass of what feels like stale water. The chef stares frantically outside the kitchen window into the dining area. The dusty chandelier looks way more dusty and apparent than usual. The chairs at table 5 look more crooked than normal. All the smallest imperfections seem to be shown right before the finale. Pantalone crosses his leg as he flickes an nonexistent speck of dirt off his perfectly pressed dress pant leg. His black and gray suite complimenting his features, the rounds of his glasses and his gloves.

"What a shame, isn't it?" He says with a small pitiful chuckle to the waitress, as she places the plate of ragu onto the table. The dish looking the cleanest it will ever be. But even from the looks of it, well polished to a uncultured eye. It looks old, the tomatoes aren't fresh, the salt is old snd possible too dry. The onions aren't soft enough and the chew of them could make anyone vomit. The goll to charge over a hundred mora for this is honestly more of a scam than a loan with 14% interest on it in a first year.

Pantalone watches the girl shake her head, then nod. In an almost confused way. "Ah, um..no-no, it is..sir..?" Almost like a test, she feels like its a multiple choice when its actually true or false in his mind.

Sigh, what a shame. This place is a dump, better a landfill than even another department to waste money on. The taxes in this neighborhood are ridiculous anyway. Too close to the Palais Mermonia.

Out of curiosity and just to get it over with, he was always playing the patient role within his organization, but in reality, he wanted to be over with this and now. Pantalone takes a bite of the ragu, and as he thought, too salty, not fresh, and the lettuce is welted. The saliva in his mouth pools, his teeth stick, the assault on his tongue makes him gag silently. He chews slowly and swallows. His mind was made. Screw with polite conversation and then the slaughter. Their best and finale dish said enough, and his mind was made up.

"Excuse me while I make a quick phone call. While I'm outside could you call your manager and the owner of this fine establishment? I'd love to have a conversation with them."

-

Your phone rang while you slept in the hotel Pantalone set up on the outskirts of the court, a decent way to lay low for any job he wanted done during his political tour of the place. Even with the House of the Heart here, sone jobs required more...brutal ways to ease the tensions within the nation of solem waters.

The Fatui despite the reputation they've built for years, as a banking, diplomatic, independent governing body to help local governments and offices to aquire the stystems and supplies needed. Money, political dirt, information, a means to kill, or just power. You want it, someone had it. So even if the harbingers held such, it was too much of a "risk" for they themselves to do all the work. Why not have someone else do it?

Even the most deranged harbingers follow this rule placed by their leaders. Even that popstar Tartaglia, despite him speaking about wanted to lick the blood off a knife after cutting his finger. So it wasn't crazy for you, someone who gets whats done for a notcible price, done to be favored by someone like Pantalone.

So when that call rang through the hotel, you picked it up lazily, tiredness from the stiff and insufferable plane ride beating on your body. Scarred with what many would hope to be the ghosts that haunt your dreams rather than the ghosts of anyones beloveds. But anytime that phone rings, its always the latter.

"Yes?" No need for anything conversation or formalities, despite Pantalone scowling at it. You could hear the night air of the busy street he was on. The sound of the wind, sea air flickering through the reciver. But the sound that makes you highly alert is that wicked chuckle. A small, kind-sounding chuckle. But it's actually a sign of how pissed he is. Doing this job for 7 years teaches you a lot, without a word you stand and get ready to head wherever he wants you to be with a tired sigh.

"So good for a vacation.." you mumble as Pantalone's exhuasted and crafted smile drops. "You're incredibly lucky your the most competent one I've had. So keep the tone in check. Dogs don't bark unless needed remember?"

The warning was in plain sight, even with rose-colored glasses it was a stark sight. Your roll your eyes as he complains about the stupid little dump of a restaurant and how piss poor the quality is. And something about a shitty ragu? You sigh and put on your boots as you finsh getting dressed, half the time you barely catch what hes upset about. But for now its better to pretend.

"Since i can tell you're not listening fully. Get over to this dump within the next 10 minutes. Wear your uniform and don't be late. Be a good dog."

Like always, you always are. So without a word you let him hang up and huff as you tighten the straps to the simple leather harness he had you wear. Gloves, check. Boots, check. And finally a token from Pantalone for his favorite dog...a beautiful reminder that your freedom is imminent.

-

When you arrive(3 minutes early), you stick to the shadows and watch from the corner of the restaurant front house as Pantalone grills the staff on the quality of food. When in reality he could not give a shit for it, but hey? What good is it for a show?

"But gentlemen it truly amazes me how incompetent you are. It's such a shame, that for what...11 years we have donated various amounts to see this place prosper when in reality, the Northland Bank has been wasting millions of mora on a shack like this? Such a deaperate shame."

As soon as his tone became pointed, the change in tone. It was time to move, so you waisted, arms crosses and head turned down as you waited.

"For the Tsarista's sake. You'd think I'd note the amount of money missing from...." it all drowned out for you, you knew how impatient he really was, and his body language hid it, but never the voice. You kick off the wall and walk into the dining area of the restaurant as the owner and manager argue with Pantalone in desperation about how its not a watse.

"No gentlemen, I really think it is. Not to add the amount of money you've embezzled with the small business loans we've given. 5.6 million mora missing from the original 12 million in 11 years? Over 100k a month in sales but yet so little profit made? You must think of my gratitude as useless?"

The owner, sweating like a pig on its way to the slaughter house, held his hands up in disagreement and a final wave to uphole peace. His stuttering pleas, even pitiful and frankly stomach- curling snotty tears all come to a halt when you stand behind him. The manager kneeling on the floor begging for forgiveness of his greed, looks up and sees the thing many who take money up with the Northland Bank fears most.

"Gentlemen, I see you've noticed my dear friend here. You see...-" Pantalone sits on the edge of the table, the staff of thr restaurant stand in the entryway of the kithcen and serving station in fear. Escape is useless, you liked hunting as a sport anways.

"You see, I despise, liars. I really do, and something that makes me just so...displeased is when my hard earned kindess is treated with lies and disrespect. I gave you the money, happy to support a in-need business. Like a basket case chairty...but to see the money, my money. My mora, used like....this?"

Your hand comes to the shoulder of the owner as Pantalones monolog comes to a fateful end. "So...well...theres no need for a second chance...not after your greedy showcase...but i will say....-" He stands and downs the rest of the water in a long and slow sip. "The Northland Bank will send some beautifully picked flowers for your services."

With a snap of his fingers, as he turned his back to the pleading staff and owners, he speaks lowly.

"Sick 'em."

As he leaves, the owner, an elder balding man scrambles to cling onto Pantalones leg, but as he reaches out, the hand on his shoulder, your hand grabs him by the chin, and with a small movement...

crack!

The mans head is shot upward, eyes glazed over and gray as his body is lifeless and limp, jaw clenched permanently as his spine is stilted. A pen kept on your person, stuck in the back of his head to keep it in place as blood drips like honey onto the crimson carpet. The the spray started, like the fountain of Lucine, except instead of a prayer for new life, it was one to cling onto. The pen was shoved until the clicker was sticking out. You let go of his head as his body lumped onto the ground. By the time Pantalone is out of the door, screams of terror, fear, and pure agony ring out as well as the stupid tacky chime of the entrance bell of this dump of a restaurant. With your nonchalant espression as he knows, his dog will handle it.

-

By the next hour when the noise died down, he returns with a expensive cigar, lightening it with a silver lighter. Pantalone enters and sees just the beautiful spread of color. As you packed up and chopped bodies like they were hog meat with the same dull knives used to make any shitty dish within this dump. Blood decorated even the onion colored wallpaper, soaking and staining. He looks down and sees the bodies all in bags, no bullets, meaning your must've used your hands.

When he entered the kitchen to see you chopping the arm of one of the waiters, he notes how uncaring your eyes were. Like this was just another Wednesday to you, your eyes glazed in concentration as you bang the butchers knife into the cutting board to hack the arm away. Veins and coagulted blood splays all around, but in his eyes, it was so beautiful....

And alluring.

He walked closer and tilted your chin to meet his gaze, bringing his nose to your cheek, he inhales the iron sting and copper twang painted on your skin, even if you scrubbed every micro-inch off he could still smell it. With the deep inhale, he smiles against your cheeck as you hold still, almost numb to the exchange. "Yes...good....such....goood...my good boy..." he waits for you to finish, like you were programed to.

"You're only good, boy, sir." You repeat like always back, even if its for money, his obsessed mind games, power, ego stroking, you will always repeat it back. Like a good dog.

He grins as he pressed his lips onto your cheek, almost tryung to dabb it away with a lick, he pulls away and notes. "The mess will be cleaned tomorrow, this place is going to be burned anways, now come, i need my dog for a walk."

-> teehe...can you tell i wrote this at 3 A.M?

[cloudcountry]

Oh hey! I’d like a taro milk bubble tea (in the monstro lounge cup ofc) and stained glass cookies pls!

(~I did have a two ideas: a first date OR a cinderella-esque dance at a NRC ball :3 I trust the chef’s expertise so go wild!! CONGRATS ON 3K RAAAHHH)

CINDERELLA ESQUE DANCE.....MY EVERYTHING

an order of romantic fluff with floyd leech!

Every eye in the room turns your way when your name is announced into the beautifully decorated ballroom, and it makes you feel like you’re either going to throw up or pass out.

Professor Crewel was kind enough to design and create a set of formal wear for you, all accessories made just for your specific charms. He’d insisted you take it free of charge, knowing all too well the Headmage would not provide you with such a thing. All he asked was that you score high on your next test, to which you heartily agreed.

Now, as you walked down the steps, staring down at your feet so you wouldn’t trip and make a fool of yourself (and so you wouldn't have to meet the curious eyes of your classmates, wondering why you had shown up so late), you hope and pray that anything will get the attention off of you.

“Shrimpy!”

If anyone had looked away, Floyd’s running tackle into you brought their attention right back.

You both go crashing to the floor in a flurry of expensive fabrics, limbs flailing inelegantly. Floyd does you the great service of shielding your hand from the hard, polished floor with the back of his hand, crushing your done up face against the white collared shirt of his suit.

“You kept me waiting!” he pokes your forehead hard, voice whiny and so very loud.

“Sorry.” you say, voice muffled by his chest.

You don’t think he hears you at all.

“Hm, that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re going to be spending this dance with me!” he declares, effortlessly picking you right off the ground and back on your feet, a sly grin on his face, “So if any of these minnows try to get a dance with you, just tell ‘em no.”

You blink once. Twice.

“Floyd, you shouldn’t tackle people. Now your tie is crooked.” you say blandly, reaching out to straighten it yourself.

“Oh it’s always been like that.” he says flippantly, and you can’t help but hear the confused whispers so obviously directed at the two of you.

So much for not having attention on you tonight...