#settled even further for play dough

[mollywog]

Me: just so we’re clear. We’re not going to be able to make an actual functioning brain…

5 yo: 😮😠😡

[deepdisireslonging]

Cake or Cookies

A good round of sexy texting during girls’ night leads to sexy personal time when Bucky gets home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Reader

Warnings/Promises: food mention, descriptions of injuries (canon-level), dirty talk, sexting, SMUT, oral (both receiving), implied further smut

Word Count: 3080

Note: They can pry the Avenger Apartment/Tower from my cold dead hands. Everything’s fine, everyone is fine; what trauma? Why can’t we have nice things? I went hunting through some of my lost prompts and found a couple to squeeze together. Happy reading!

Girls’ night in the Tower was bound to be dangerous. It was usually when Natasha came up with the next round of pranks to play on the boys. And when Wanda took it upon herself to create the best pillow fort to watch movies in. Her magic made it easy to pile the couch pillows and blankets into what looked more like a cozy cave than a fort. And Maria kept track of where to find any films not already stored in Stark’s library.

You were in charge of snacks. Drinks were cozy only: tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Alcohol parties were for other nights. Snacks ranged anywhere from home-made chips to hors d'oeuvres (fancy and simply indulgent), to the smorgasbord of mass produced favorite snacks you raided from the corner bodega. But you were stumped when it came to tonight’s desserts. The bodega’s sweet treats were present, cheap candy and the like, but you were stuck between the roll of cookie dough and a box mix for cupcakes.

Stumped, you didn’t acknowledge the warm body that ghosted up behind you until a hand slid across your waist. “It’s girls’ night. What are you still doing here?” Sitting down the treats, you turned in Bucky’s arms and scratched your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lightly kissed your forehead. “Needed a break from Tony. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

You both inhaled deeply, cheek to cheek. The last mission had been a rough one. Most of the team had come back banged up. And you still had a nasty scrape of road burn up one leg. Which is why you were wearing the equivalent of biker shorts. Pepper had gotten them for you sometime after the social media trend of those leggings ladies liked to tease their S.O’s with. They were surprisingly supportive of your form. You usually wore them underneath your gear because they were borderline indecent. But, with one of Bucky’s oversized shirts covering your figure, nobody had commented.

Except for Bucky as he slid his hands down your body to rest over the curve of your ass.

“I thought these stayed out of sight?”

You teased a glance up at him. “Usually, yes. But It’s girls’ night. We all wear the equivalent of our pajamas since you boys will be out. You are all going out, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Eventually.” But he didn’t move. He hugged you closer, brazenly tilting your head to one side with his nose so he could kiss the underside of your jaw.

“Y/L/N!” Natasha waved from the living room. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

A smile spread across your face. You lightly pushed Bucky away, making him whine. Natasha was already starting the voting poll for the evening’s movies when you turned back to the counter. “I’ve got to bake before the party starts. Do you have a preference for what sweets you’d like to be left over? Cookies or cupcakes?”

Bucky pressed up behind you, resting his large hands on the counter on either side of you, and griding his front into your ass. “Cookies. There’s enough cake in this kitchen already.” He slapped your ass, following with both his hands taking tight squeezes of your flesh.

As you gasped, he rushed out. The wink he shot you from the door warned you that the tease would not be the evening’s last.

Fifteen minutes later, the cookies were out, the movie was in, and everyone was settled into their favorite pile of pillows.

Five minutes into the movie, the texting started.

Lover Boy <3: “How’s the movie?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your phone on silent. If Okoye heard your phone again, you’d never get it back. “We’re watching Magic Mike. So… It’s going well.” You added a smiley face with its tongue sticking out for good measure.

Bucky’s messages popped up every few minutes. You kept your phone screen towards you to see the notification light up your screen without bothering the other women.

Lover Boy <3: “Should I be jealous?”

You: “Nah. Their gyrating doesn’t do it for me.”

Lover Boy <3: “Good to know.”

Lover Boy <3: “Is there anything in the movie that does ‘do’ it for you?”

You smothered a chuckle into your blanket. Each passing second that you took to come up with a teasing reply was surly wreaking havoc on your man.

You: “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

His reply was slow in coming. When it did, you almost fumbled your phone into the floor.

Lover Boy <3: *image incoming*

The picture you received was of Bucky’s hand resting on the top of his thigh. They were out to dinner somewhere, the edge of the table blocking your photo view from the rest of the guys. In the curve between his forefinger and thumb, his bulge was the center of attention. You stuck a sucker in your mouth to cover up your gasp. But the other ladies were too busy hooting for the first dance scene to notice.

You: “Just him? I must be slipping. Especially since I thought you really liked my shorts earlier.”

Lover Boy <3: “I like those shorts because I like taking them off. Girls night got in the way.”

You: “You’ve got to come home sometime.”

Lover Boy <3: “Then what do you have in mind?”

You turned off the flash for your camera and waited for the TV screen to illuminate your face. Sucker holding down your tongue, you sneaked the pic. Before any of the girls could see and tease you. While it sent, you sucked on the round sugar treat. You imagined Bucky’s cockhead on your tongue, as you knew he would too. His reply came in seconds.

Lover Boy <3: “Minx”

You: “And?”

Lover Boy <3: “When I do get home, I’m going to taste something sweeter. All night long.”

Lover Boy <3: “If you can handle it.”

Biting your lip, you smiled into your blanket.

You: “We both know what I can handle. But can you handle what I want to do to you?”

You: “Bet I can blow you so good you forget how to speak Russian before morning.”

You: “Actually, bet I can make you forget all your languages.”

Lover Boy <3: “An official bet?”

Now it was dangerous territory. Neither of you would wager anything that would show in public. Or bring attention from the team inside the tower. But Bucky’s winnings had a steep cost on your ability to walk the next day. Yours usually meant him taking a few days off to spend time together in some distant cabin.

You: “Do we have time to disappear to the Rockies when I win?”

Lover Boy <3: “We just finished a mission. I’m sure I can convince Steve to leave us alone… at least for several nights in a row when I win.”

It was on.

He played dirty by escaping to the bathroom to shoot you a picture of his cock. It was already thick for you, proud and flushed in his palm.

You also escaped. But the picture you sent didn’t require you to take your clothes off. All you did was tug down the front of his borrowed shirt, and splay your fingers wide between your breasts.

You: “Can’t wait to squeeze you between these.”

Lover Boy <3: “9hey now…”

Good. His texting was already stumbling.

You: *picture incoming*

All you did was rest your hand over your throat. But Bucky’s reply of a bunch of scrambled letters made you laugh. You returned to the movie.

You: “Can’t wait for you to get home. But we’ve got about 3 more hours of movies to watch. Think you can last that long?”

Lover Boy <3: “If I have to. Might have to take care of myself before then.”

Wanda looked over as you squirmed in your seat.

You: “You can’t wait for me? I’ll wait for you.”

When the movie lit up enough, you took a picture of the pillow between your thighs.

Lover Boy <3: “Promise?”

You: “Say please.”

His reply, despite the distance between text and actually hearing his voice, dripped with promise. You bit your lip, hearing his growl in your head.

Lover Boy <3: “Since when do get to make the demands around here?”

Lover Boy <3: “Please.”

You: “Since I’m home. Away from the consequences of mouthing off at you till later.”

Lover Boy <3: “You’re not sharing this conversation with the ladies are you? You’re not usually this… sassy.”

You: “This sass is rated E for everyone. But, no. This conversation is just between us.”

You: “I have to stop texting. Natasha is beginning to notice.”

Lover Boy <3: “Until I get my hands on you:”

It was several minutes until you checked your phone, waiting for the others to drop their questioning looks. When you did, you had to smother your moan. He sent one last picture of his tongue out between his fingers. A promise of delectable problems to come.

***

Somebody texted the guys when the movies were almost over. They arrived halfway through you girls cleaning up.

“How was the double feature?” Tony asked. He snagged a remaining hors d'oeuvres off the tray before Maria could stick it in the fridge.

You didn’t hear the reply. All you could focus on was how lust-blown Bucky’s eyes were as he stared you down from the other side of the room. You pressed your thighs together. If the way your chest heaved was any indication, you were in for a long night. Steve barely gave you a glance when you walked past him. Bucky gliding past made him give your departure a second look.

The hallway to your room was dark. The lights that illuminated the floor wouldn’t engage fully unless there was an emergency. Which meant that your shadow was faded against the wall. And it was fractured into several clusters of shadows at reach installation. You didn’t look back. It was part of the game. You couldn’t hear him, but sometimes you could have sworn your shadows had an extra layer.

When you reached for your door handle, another hand beat you to it. Bucky pressed up behind you, pushing you into the room and pinning you to the inside of the door as he locked it. He slid his knee between your legs. Fascinated, he enjoyed the show as you slid the apex of your thighs across the muscle he gave you. He stopped your movements with a hand on your hip, while the other lifted your wrists above your head.

“Did you actually wait, or was that a tease?” He reached into your shorts, groaning to find your slick there. While you trembled, he loudly sucked his middle finger into his mouth. “Oh, ангел, I am going to ruin you. For teasing me like you did.”

“You – you started it. Technically.”

He brought one of your hands down to rest over the front of his pants. “Maybe. But you laid down the gauntlet. How do you want to do this?”

With a grin, you wriggled out of his grasp. You walked backwards towards your bed. Bucky stalked slowly after you. Turning, you ran your hands down your sides, to your hips. And back to the curve of your ass. “Cake?” You smoothed your hands up from your rear to your breasts. “Or cookies?”

Bucky groaned. “The whole damn bakery if I can get my hands on it.” He guided you onto the bed, crawling over you in a way that stole your breath. When you tried to roll him onto his back to begin the challenge, he chuckled. “Nuh-uh. Challenger goes second.”

“But-“

He silenced you with a kiss. As he deepened it, hands kneading into your flesh and removing your clothes, your rebuttal died on your tongue. He barely pulled back enough to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before he was working his mouth down your body, kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin until he made it to your sex. 

Sometimes part of the challenge included a timer. Like that one gala when he dared you steal away with him during Tony’s speech, and cum before the ending round of applause. With his head buried under your dress, he won with enough time to participate in the applause for a speech you didn’t give a damn about. You didn’t find out till later that Steve had kept track of when you two disappeared and reappeared. Bucky wrote the time on your bathroom mirror as the time to beat. It had yet to be broken.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times. There was all the time in the world. All night to edge or overstimulate each other to your hearts’ content.

Breathing warm air over your sex, his grin between your thighs sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. You weren’t sure which was more disarming: his knowledge of your body and its sweet spots that he could make you cum in minutes, or that same knowledge used to bliss you out over hours till you couldn’t remember more than screaming his name. With his tongue, he began the challenge. As if you weren’t soaked already, he made a mess of you. Curling his fingers through your folds. Delving his tongue deep in search of the ability to taste you for days. When he scraped his teeth across your clit, the electricity tightened your fingers in his hair.

He wasn’t drawing this out. A man on a mission, Bucky was doing everything he could to bring you to the brink as fast as he could. The speed that you hurtled toward release stole your breath. That was his plan. Shock you while trying to beat his time so that you wouldn’t be able to speak. And then he’d win double the bragging rights.

And, damn him, it might just work.

Hungrily, he slurped up your pleasure. Adding a third finger to his onslaught, he curled them all to make you see stars. His metal arm flashed out to pin down your hips before you could arch away from him. The metal was cold, frigid, against your flushed skin. The difference in temperature was enough of an overload to your sparkling nerves that your eyes screwed shut. You babbled a series of sounds, making Bucky hum in delight.

But when he came up for air, gently stroking your folds to ease you down, you surprised him.

“Is that all you got, Barnes?”

“Fuck. Seriously?” He rested his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

You did your best to steady your breath. No point in revealing those six words were all you could manage. After another moment, you curled your own finger. You summoned him to hover over you, dangling his dog-tags in your face. Catching one between your teeth, you gripped and pushed his shoulders until he was on his back.

It was your turn to kiss down his body. Across his collar bone and pecs. Down that center chasm between his abs. From one hip bone, down his V, and up to the other side. As you took his length in hand, you had to smile. The poor man should have let you pleasure him first, instead of torturing himself and his cock with waiting. Gently, you circled your thumb around his tip. It dragged a groan out between his teeth. Good. The more vocal he was, the better you could track his ability to speak. Or lack thereof.

You set the challenge into the back of your mind and got to work in pleasing your man.

The first movements were gentle. And careful around how sensitive he was. Still, each touch and twist kept his voice active. He tried to watch you, but kept dropping his head back in pleasure as you quickened your movements. While he was laid back, you shifted your position.

His head snapped up, and he cursed loudly in Russian as his cock was enveloped between your breasts.

Darting out your tongue, you kitten licked the tip of his cock when it came into range. It gave you no small pleasure to watch your man, the Winter Soldier and former Commando, fall to pieces because of you. He cursed louder in English, Russian, and… was that German? But the more you jerked him between your breasts, the more his vocabulary scrambled together. You waited patiently. His metal hand twitched towards to before fisting the sheet. His flesh hand reached back for the pillows, sheets, headboard. Anything to ground himself. Then you struck. You let go of your breasts and dipped low enough to swallow him down. He roared as he bumped the back of your throat. Planting his feet on the bed, his thighs trembled with keeping himself from thrusting into your mouth.

That was fine. You moved enough for the both of you. And, just as his Russian was little more than the most strained of curses, you settled his balls into one hand, and slid the other up his torso. Your nails lightly caught his skin over his heaving breaths.

The high-pitched hiss from the depths of his lungs was your only warning before he filled your mouth.

Your ministrations slowed. You took every ounce of his pleasure, and smiled around his cock as you sucked your way off his length.

He dragged you up to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His lips trembled while trying to say something. Anything. But all he could do was pant into your skin.

You smiled. And kissed the underside of his jaw. While you both recovered, you murmured gentle reassurances between breaths.

“You cheated,” he finally managed.

“Oh? When did I manage that?”

Running his fingers through his hair, he stared you down. “Those damn shorts.”

With a laugh, you nipped at his chest. “What? You did get to take them off, like you wanted. And I can’t help it if you decided to run your hands all over me and get yourself hard. It jazzed me up too. So, in my mind, we’re even.”

“Fine.” He tilted up your face to kiss you. Mumbling against your lips, he complained, “you’re using alotta words there, ангел.”

“And you’re still capable of Russian.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess this challenge isn’t done.”

And it wasn’t until long into the night.

***

Ангел: angel

***

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist 

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader requested by anon 18+

“What you squirmin’ for, baby?” 

Steve’s voice was nothing short of amused, salacious and soft, laughter stuck in his throat between heavy breaths. He had you by the thighs, big hands wrapped around the dough there, keeping you still for him as he worked his cock inside of you. The boy had made sure you were ready for him, he had to, he always did. Kissing and licking over you until you were soaked, begging him to fuck you. He was just so fucking big. 

“Steve,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, head throat back. You were a live wire, body electric, waiting to be played with. You wriggled in the boy’s grasp and you weren’t sure if you were trying to get him to start moving or get him to slide out an inch or three. He was so fucking deep. “Steve, please.”

“S’wrong, angel?” Steve grinned down at you, loving the way you twitched and canted your hips in his hold. He took a moment to gaze at you, body stretched out at you pulled against the restraints that were above your head. An old tie, navy and barely worn, keeping your wrists out of Steve’s way and he ran his own hand down the between your tits, down the line of your stomach, where he could see himself bulge a little. “Is it too big for you, huh?”

You made another noise, not agreeing, not protesting, but squirmed again, trying to work yourself further onto his length until he was fully inside of you. You gasped as Steve groaned, his hands pushing your thighs apart so he could watch the way your cunt clung to him, slick and wet and pink. “Pretty,” Steve hummed appreciatively, pulling back from you ever so slightly, just to push back in, settling himself into the cradle of your thighs. “S’not too big, is it baby?”

You shook your head, too far gone to speak, staring up at the boy with wide, glassy eyes and parted lips. Your skin was slick, damp with the heat that came from fucking during summer, bedroom videos open, your stifled moans in danger of being heard by the neighbours who were still out by their pool. 

“No, no,” Steve cooed, sitting back on his knees as he dragged your ass onto his lap, his cock splitting you in half, your arms stretched out across the sheets, tied to the headboard. You couldn’t do anything but let Steve handle you the way he wanted. “No, baby, you take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you? S’made for you.”

You let out a cry that sounded like your boyfriend's name when he lifted his hips to meet yours, pushing against the plush of your ass as he started a dirty, slow rhythm. 

In and out, in and out, in and out. 

You were desperate to touch him, to touch yourself. And Steve must’ve known, watching with a smirk and hair falling across his forehead as he saw your hands grab at the air. “You want somethin’, baby? Tell me, c’mon, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He didn’t stop his thrusts as he spoke, big hands pinning you to him, voice low and wrecked sounding. 

“Need—” you gasped when Steve picked up his pace, letting your hips fall back onto the bed and as he crowded over you, spreading your knees wide, holding them down on either side of the mattress. “Need something on my clit, Steve, please, wanna come.”

The need in your voice made the boy smile and he knew you meant his fingers, or fuck, even that little vibe he kept hidden for you in his bedside table. But instead he swept your hair out of your eyes and tapped at your cheek, silently telling you to open your eyes. And when he had your full attention, he kept his gaze on yours and let a thin line of spit fall from his lips and land on your clit. He moaned when you whimpered, wriggling against him again. 

“Get yourself nice 'n' messy for me baby, and I’ll think about takin' that tie off, yeah?”

[m4rv3l-girl]

Cookies

Bucky x Y/N

Waiting for cookies to bake is hard, perhaps a distraction is needed…

Requests Open - See Blog!

Warnings: Very light smut (making out + heavy petting)

The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of sugar, flour, and the buttery goodness that promised a sweet delight.

Y/N stood at the counter, apron snug around her waist, a spark of mischief in her eyes as she measured out the ingredients for their cookie batch. Bucky leaned against the doorway, watching her with a warmth in his chest that felt entirely foreign yet intoxicating.

Y/N was completely in her element. She hummed to the music playing softly in the background, her hands deftly mixing the dough, a sprinkle of flour dusting her cheeks as she worked. Bucky couldn’t help but admire her. The way the light fell on her hair, the way her focus enveloped her. It was comforting—the static of life around them fading away, leaving just this moment.

“Need any help?” Bucky called, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the kitchen.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smile. “I think I’ve got it, but you can keep me company. Just supervise, you know?”

Bucky chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made her heart flutter. “Supervise? I’m pretty sure I can help.”

“Okay” she declared, and he couldn't help but chuckle again as she struck a playful pose. “I think we could use some muscle to mix this dough.”

“Is that an invitation?” He moved closer, taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, resting his chin on his hand, feigning a serious expression.

“Absolutely! But be warned, it takes skill to handle this dough.” She winked, playfully tossing a pinch of flour in his direction.

Bucky raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, the dust settling on his face. “Oh, so that's how it is, huh?”

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and carefree. She loved these moments—just the two of them, away from the chaos that constantly buzzed around them. Baking cookies together was an indulgence in sweet simplicity. Their time together was always earnestly shared; whether it was fighting side by side or stealing mundane moments like these that painted the picture of their life together.

As Y/N mixed the dough, she felt Bucky's gaze upon her, heavy-lidded yet affectionate, stirring something warm in the pit of her stomach. The rhythmic sound of the wooden spoon against the bowl was oddly entrancing, and she didn’t even realize how quickly time was escaping them.

“Okay, it’s time to roll them out!” Y/N said after she finished mixing the dough, a look of determination crossing her face.

“Alright, what do you need me to do? Roll with it?” Bucky quipped, laughing at his own awful joke.

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the smile pulling at her lips. “You can help me scoop the dough onto the baking sheet. But be gentle—we don’t want them looking like pancakes.”

Bucky feigned indignation, puffing out his chest. “I’m not completely incapable. I have been known to bake, back in the day.”

Y/N shook her head, laughter bubbling forth as they maneuvered through the next stages of the baking process together, each cookie a small testament to their shared energy. Bucky’s fingers brushed against her hands as they worked, a spark igniting each time they came into contact.

With the cookies finally, carefully arranged on the baking sheet, she slid them into the oven, feeling a sense of accomplishment rush over her. The sweet anticipation of baked cookies filled the air.

“Now we wait,” Y/N said, glancing at the timer, set for ten minutes.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter, a playful smirk playing on his lips. “I thought you said we’d only be baking for a little while. Ten minutes is a very long time,”

Y/N turned to him, mischief lighting her blue eyes. “I guess we can find a way to pass the time, then.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

She sauntered closer, letting the warmth of his body envelop her. “Well, you could always help me clean up—there’s flour and sugar everywhere.”

Bucky chuckled, but his playful eyes darkened slightly with desire as he looked down at her, taking in the way her apron hugged her waist.

As she bent over the counter to grab a dishcloth, Bucky felt a primal instinct surge through him, an unconquerable urge to pull her close. It was the predatory look in his eye that caught her off guard—the desperation of their shared solitude overwhelming her senses.

“Y/N,” he said in a low voice, the kind that made her shiver. “You know it’s torture waiting for those to bake.”

Y/N turned, bracing her back against the counter, her heart racing under the sudden intensity of his gaze. “You could always distract yourself… with me.”

Without further invitation, he surged forward, capturing her mouth with his. It was a potent mix of playful sweetness and urgent hunger, as if all the moments they had spent apart were rushing back, igniting the embers of their attraction like a flame.

Y/N melted into him, feeling her body soften under the heat of his kiss. It was as if the weight of the kitchen, the oven timer clicking away, all faded, leaving just the two of them—caught in the thrill of their chemistry. Bucky’s hands cradled her face, fingers tangling in her hair, drawing her closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

Their kiss deepened, breaths mingling, hearts thundering as they pressed together. Bucky’s hands ventured down her sides, settling on her waist, a possessive hold that made her weak at the knees. She took a deep breath, catching the smell of cookies amidst the haze of heat and rush.

“Bucky,” she murmured breathlessly against his lips. “The cookies…”

“Forget the cookies,” he murmured in response, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, his rough stubble grazing her skin. “I want you.”

The urgency of his words sent a thrill through her; she could feel moisture pooling at her center as she surrendered to the mounting tension. The kitchen, once filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, now danced with desire, heat radiating off them like steam.

Y/N tilted her head back, giving him more access, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she urged him closer. “But what about—”

“They can burn,” he interrupted, his voice low and raspy, breath ghosting against her skin.

Another thrill coursed through her as Bucky's lips continued their exploration, trailing down her neck to her collarbone, igniting a spark of longing within her. In that moment, the world outside their cozy kitchen faded away; nothing existed but the two of them, tangled together in a dance of warmth and urgency.

Y/N’s breath hitched as his hands moved from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, feeling the heat radiate from his body just as much as she felt it pooling within her. “You’re making me crazy,” she whispered, fingers gripping his shirt tighter.

“That’s the plan, Doll” he growled playfully, his lips finding hers again. This kiss was different, more fevered, pulling her deeper into the sweetness of their shared heat. A fire ignited within her, a craving that pierced through the playful nature of their baking session.

Bucky stepped back slightly, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter, the coolness of the marble juxtaposing the warmth of their bodies as he stood between her legs. “I need you to tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath heavy with need.

There was something commanding in his tone, something that made Y/N’s heart race even faster. She glanced towards the oven, half-tempted to remember the cookies. But the kitchen was their sanctuary—filled now with that heady mix of laughter and heat making everything else fade into the background.

“Bucky, I want…” Words tangled together as she felt his hands slide beneath her apron, fingers drawing patterns along her thighs. “I want you. Now.”

A feral grin crossed his lips at her breathless demand, and Bucky’s hands explored her body with an urgency that made her shiver. He leaned close, kissing a line from her jaw to her collarbone, trailing heat that made her arch against him.

“God, how do you do that?” he breathed against her skin, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, a light sound that hung in the air deliciously before being swallowed up by need.

“Do what?” she teased, knowing full well the effect she had on him.

“Just… be you. Makes it hard to think.”

“Isn’t that part of the fun?” She gave him a cheeky grin, and as he captured her mouth once more, she felt him smile against her lips.

As time slipped away—baking sheets forgotten, oven timer haphazardly ticking, and the scent of burnt sugar hanging in the air—Y/N found herself melting into the moment, surrendering to the feel of his body against hers. The taste of sugar, combined with the warmth of their shared laughter and a hint of spice, filled her senses, enveloping her completely.

Bucky pushed her back slightly on the flour-covered surface, his hands gripping her thighs as he surged forward, deepening the kiss with every second, drowning in the sweet symphony of their bodies entwined. Y/N gasped softly, a sound that went straight to the heart of him, igniting more desire and desperation.

She could feel the heat of him against her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him close, wanting more of him. As he moved against her, she felt the fluttering warmth of their passion—the weight of the outside world falling away, leaving only this cocoon of shared intimacy.

“Y/N,” he breathed her name like a prayer, and she held on to that sound as if it were her lifeline.

The raw, magnetic pull of their chemistry drove them deeper into the fervid haze washing over them. She could no longer remember the cookies—they were merely a ghostly thought amid the passion igniting her skin. All that mattered was Bucky, the way he made her feel, the sweet surrender they were indulging in.

As their bodies moved together, she felt the warmth of that closeness, the sweet tension weaving them together even further. Y/N couldn’t get enough of him. She needed more, more taste of him, more heat, more belonging.

Still lost in the rhythm of their bodies, the kitchen faded even further away. Each fleeting moment with him heightened her senses, entwining seamlessly with their laughter as they explored the complexities of each other.

Finally breaking apart, breathless and flushed, they looked at each other. Bucky leaned back, resting his forehead against hers, eyes still locked on her. “What are we doing?”

Y/N chuckled softly, heart filled with warmth. “Just getting pleasantly distracted, I suppose?”

A grin broke across his face again as they both caught their breaths, but as the beeping of the oven timer rudely chimed in, harsh and unwelcome, the two of them froze, eyes widening in realization.

“Shit! The cookies!” They both exclaimed in unison, scrambling off the counter, laughter outweighing the consequence as they rushed to the oven.

Heat slammed into their faces as Y/N swung the oven door open, and the sight made the laughter die in her throat. Instead of sweet treats glowing in golden perfection, a tragically charred mess met their eyes.

“Um… Sautéed cookies?” Y/N suggested weakly, biting back a laugh at the disaster they had created.

“More cremated..,” Bucky snorted, and together they erupted into laughter, a mix of sweet and salty with a dash of warm chaos that now colored their shared kitchen.

They stood together, laughter echoing, the moment precious—burnt cookies forgotten, and the overwhelmed aroma of sweetness clashing with the smell of charred disaster. Y/N could only shake her head at the chaos, finding solace in Bucky’s playful affection, wrapped up in each other against the backdrop of their imperfect perfection.

In the warmth of love and laughter, Y/N smiled up at him, her heart swelling with delight. “What’s next then? Attempt a pie?”

“A pie?” Bucky looked at her incredulously, then broke into a grin. “That sounds dangerous. I’m in.”

And with that, they moved forth into the next sweet adventure, hand in hand, hardly able to contain the laughter that lingered in the air and the warmth that fused their hearts together.

[madilovrs]

Kitchen Dancing

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

summary: in a fit of insomnia, you decide to bake

1k words

warnings: a little suggestive at the end

You couldn’t sleep well the previous night for whatever reason. At around 6, you had given up and decided to make some breakfast for yourself, your brother, and your boyfriend. You carefully slipped out of JJ’s arms and put on your slippers and some shorts before leaving your room.

You tiptoed through the chateau, avoiding the creaky floorboards to not wake anyone up. Once in the kitchen, you realized that you don’t enjoy breakfast foods that much, so why would you make breakfast that you don’t even want to eat? You stood staring into the cabinet, trying to figure out what to make.

After some pacing and staring and contemplating what you and everyone else would like, you settled on cookies.

You grabbed the ingredients and pans and bowls for their respective cabinets and placed them gently on the counter. You preheated the oven, mixed the wet ingredients, then the dry ingredients, then poured the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients in small increments. You put the small ball-shaped dough onto pans and placed them in the preheated oven. the whole house now smelling strongly of vanilla. You started the clean-up process and turned on some music to listen to while you waited fifteen minutes for the cookies to bake.

The water rushed so loudly as you cleaned the bowls that you didn’t hear your bedroom door open. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms around you, a cheek pressed against your shoulder, and fluffy blonde hair at the corner of your vision that you noticed that someone else entered the room.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled, turning off the water, putting the bowl down, and drying your hands.

JJ groaned and squeezed you tighter. You giggled and turned in his arms.

“What are you doing up so early?” you questioned as you kissed his cheek.

“Woke up to go pee and you weren’t there, needed to find you,” he mumbled, not picking his head up off your shoulder.

“Go back to bed, love, cookies will be done soon, you can have some when you wake up.”

He grumbled at your words, a silent “Hell no.” You sighed and walked him over to the couch.

“Lay down, baby,” You said while peeling him off of you.

He did as told but never let go of your wrist. If it wasn’t your intention to lay down with him, you were going to anyway. JJ didn’t give you an option.

You settled down with your head on his chest. He pulled you impossibly further into him. This was your happy place: wrapped in the arms of the boy that you loved.

Before you knew it, you peered up at the oven timer and saw that there were only 46 seconds left. You inhaled and exhaled deeply before speaking, “Didn’t you get up because you had to pee, love?”

JJ sighed and patted your back twice, your guys’ little sign that you had to stop cuddling to get up.

You stood up off of him and helped him up. He gave you one last tight hug before walking past you to the bathroom. You took this opportunity to turn your music back on and slip your hands into oven mitts.

The oven beeps loudly just as JJ is walking out of the bathroom. You open the oven and grab the pan of cookies, placing them on the stove to let them cool.

Once you take your hands out of the oven mitts and place them on the counter, JJ wraps his arms around you again.

He sways his hips with the beat of the music you are playing, taking you with him. You turned around in his arms and pressed your hands to his face. Neither of you could stop yourself from smiling. The two of you danced all around the kitchen to the music playing from your phone.

As the song came to an end, JJ sat down on the couch, silently begging you to sit with him. You couldn’t grant his wishes, so you bent down to where your lips grazed his ear.

“I can’t, love, gotta finish up the cookies,” you whispered in his ear. You could visibly see his goosebumps and the shiver running down his spine. You placed a kiss under his ear and trailed your fingers under his jaw before you turned away back to the kitchen.

As you moved the cookies from the tray to the cooling rack, you felt JJ come up behind you again. This time he pulled you in tighter, pressing his hips into your own. You hummed in contentment, knowing you did a good job at teasing him.

He began to tuck his hand under the waistband of your shorts before you heard another door open in the chateau.

“Good morning!” your brother yelled rather loudly as he exited his bedroom. He did this every day since you and JJ had started dating, you suspected to make sure he doesn’t witness anything he didn’t want to. Today, you were very thankful for that. JJ swiftly moved his hand out of your pants and created a small distance between you two.

Both you and JJ rang out quickly with your separate “good mornings,” as you tried to make yourselves look busy and not suspicious.

John B knew what you guys were doing, but pretended as if he didn’t for everyone’s sake. You finished putting the cookies on the cooling rack while JJ pulled out his phone, pretending to scroll through social media.

John B turned into the bathroom and JJ was on you again.

“Come on, baby, don’t tease me like that,” he said while pulling your hips to his again.

“We can’t, hun, B will be back any second,” you whispered while inches away from his face.

JJ let out a sigh and pulled away from you. He tried to hide it but you noticed him adjust his pants. You smiled to yourself and grabbed a cookie.

“Want one?” You said as if nothing had happened.

He opened his mouth and you obeyed, feeding it to him. He took a large bite and you did the same.

“You are the best baker, babe,” he said through bites. You smiled and offered him a bite.

“So,” John B started, coming out from the bathroom. “Any cookies for me?”

[evolutionsvoid]

The "Beyond" is a fitting name for what lies outside of the mortal realm, because there is no other real way to describe it anything outside of vague terms. Though magic and research has expanded the minds of the entire world, and many mysteries are solved each year, the Beyond remains an untouched frontier. Some claim that little is known about it because it is far too alien and fast to comprehend, while others say it is avoided in fear for those very same reasons. Glimpses past the veil have driven some folk to insanity, and even fragments that fall into the world are said to hold power greater than many mages. There is a reason why many doomsday cults desire to summon something from these strange planes, as they are beings that have no equal in this reality. For this, the Beyond is avoided and feared the same way a pond minnow never wishes to be dropped into the open ocean. Unfortunately, there are times where the mortal realm gets no say in the matter, and something from Beyond falls into this world instead.

How this thing wound up in the mortal realm, none can say. Was it a cosmic slip up that caused this being to tumble into the wrong world? Or was it done so purposefully, an invasion into a plane incapable of withstanding such power? Regardless, the entity is here and it is now everyone's problem.

It does not speak or write, and thus no name can be discovered. Instead, it is simply called The Sculptor. A rather common naming convention for things that emerge from Beyond, as when no one has answers, just call it by what it does. The Sculptor is a mysterious entity that seemingly wanders the land, its mission and purpose known only to it. Thankfully, it looks like world domination is not on the list, as it hasn't shown any true malice or thirst for destruction. As its name suggests, it appears to care only about sculpting. The problem, however, is that it doesn't stick to simple clay...

While The Sculptor is built from an impossibly hard ceramic-like shell, its body is hollow. Instead of blood and fluids, these cavities are filled with a wet clay-like substance. It drips from orifices and settles in open portals within its shell. The Sculptor regularly plunges its limbs into these openings and coats its hands and feet with thick gobs of its red clay. In fact, The Sculptor has never been seen without these muddy coatings on its appendages, as it always freshens up even in the midst of battle. The layers of clay on its limbs don't appear to affect The Sculptor in anyway, but the same can't be said to any mortal material that comes in contact with it.

The clay from The Sculptor has an insidious effect on any materials it comes in contact with. When exposed to its power, the item touched will slowly begin to develop the consistency of wet, moldable clay. The outside appearance will remain the same, but if one were to touch a stone wall that was altered by this Beyond substance, they would find it surprisingly soft and pliable. Brief contact with the clay will only cause the effect to be surface level and in close proximity of the area touched. However, its power can spread farther and seep deeper if The Sculptor "kneads" the afflicted item. By working the target with its supple clay-coated fingers, it lets the power leech further in. And once the effect is in play, The Sculptor can bend it, twist it and shape it in whatever way it wants. And that includes living things...

The power of its clay affects all mortal things, be it live or dead. A person touched and kneaded will find their flesh and bones bending like putty, allowing limbs to be twisted into knots or holes worn straight through one's chest. The horrifying part, though, is that this doesn't hurt or harm the victim in anyway. Despite one's organs turned to dough and their head twisted into a pretzel, they will remain very much alive and breathing as if it was normal. The clay does not impede bodily functions, it simply overwrites the consistency of all things. Men tore in half like clay dolls will find both parts functioning just fine, and can even be put back together if one can reconnect and shape them before they "dry out."

Thankfully, it appears that the clay's power is temporary. If the area afflicted breaks contact with the clay for long enough, the effects will slowly begin to wear off. Obviously, the time to "drying out" differs depending on how deep it has gone. Surface level effects will return to normal after a minute or two, while full body infusion can take almost an hour. Even if one's body has been thoroughly bent and molded by The Sculptor into a fancy urn, "drying out" doesn't result in death. The victim will continue to live as normal, even if their limbs are mangled beyond use. The one saving grace with this is, if their body can be infused again, someone skilled enough could possibly shape them back into a normal form. As long as they don't get "glazed."

When The Sculptor creates a piece it wishes to keep forever, it may choose to "glaze" it. This is done through its eyes, which always remain closed. But if it were to open them just a crack, a strange green energy would flash from these slits and fry everything in close quarters. Though short ranged, it is a powerful heat that even demons can feel, and it appears to permanently solidify anything that had been altered by the clay. If this happens to a shaped victim, then they will mercifully perish, as the glazing process converts their body to solid inanimate matter. However, this glaze is rarely used, as The Sculptor only utilizes it with a piece it truly enjoys, and it seems this being is having a hard time finding its muse.

The Sculptor appears to be on the hunt for inspiration, for new materials to sculpt. Thus, it targets the most random things, turning them to clay and then molding them into strange shapes. It can be objects, buildings, boulders, trees, beasts or even man. Anything is on the table to be experimented with and turned into bizarre sculptures. But the entity tends to always leave displeased, rarely proud of what it makes. It would take a king and warp them into a fancy jar, but then toss it aside in boredom as it feels lacking. All the while, the victim is still alive and trapped in this mangled state. Thus, even though The Sculptor has rarely killed and shows no active malice, it is an entity widely feared. When the being is spotted in the area, weapons are drawn and gates are locked down, but all these efforts are in vain. How do you stop an entity that can turn walls to putty and swords into useless noodles?

Fighting The Sculptor appears to be a wasted effort, as no mortal weapons have been able to crack its ceramic shell. All it seems to do, really, is just piss it off. When met with resistance, The Sculptor will fight back, but only long enough to render its foe helpless. Shields are turned to clay and torn in two, weapons are squished into wet blobs and locked doors are pulled open like one ripping soft dough. Enemies will be grabbed in clay covered hands and then kneaded and shaped into useless forms. Arms twisted into flailing spirals, heads mushed into incomprehensible wads and the whole human body can be flattened into a wet pancake. And once the fighters are taken out, The Sculptor will march on towards its desired subject. So far, the only advice is this: run. Run as fast and far as you can, and hope The Sculptor loses interest. If luck is on your side, something else may catch its eye and become its new muse.

The Knights of the Wrong Table learn of this strange entity during a missing persons case, and find out why no other knights or mercenaries dared to take up the job tracking them down. The poor soul was the latest muse of The Sculptor, and it does not appreciate strangers trying to steal its art. The Wrong Table best hope they can get the victim to safety, all while avoiding becoming art pieces themselves. Unfortunately, Yir doesn't appear to be able to do much to help here. The chef from Beyond, when told about The Sculptor, only had this to say: "Ah. An art school type. Good luck with that."

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

"The Sculptor"

Here is a weird fellow I been trying to draw and color for a good long while! Gosh, gee, I wonder why it has been hard! A strange entity from Beyond with a love of pottery! As you can see, purely inspired by Jōmon pottery and the dogū, with an ability that honestly feels like a stand to me.

[jester-jpeg]

Spencer Reid Caregiver/Boyfriend x Y/N Age Regressor

Gender Neutral Y/N

Word Count: 1,123

Summary: Y/N hurts their knee, Spencer helps fix it. Then you settle down and eat dinner together while watching cartoons before he brings you to bed for bedtime.

═══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ═══════

Tears fall down your face slowly. You hold your knee in agony, looking all around you for the only person who can actually help. Once you spot him, your sniffles start to die down. You feel relief wash over you as you watch Spencer running towards you from the kitchen.

“Oh my goodness! Honey what happened?” he exclaims as he settles himself on the floor next to you, removing your hand from the wound so he can inspect it. You look up at him, teary-eyed, and look back down at your knee, feeling guilty.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened, I promise I won’t be mad,” he tells you softly, trying his best to reassure you. Nodding your head slowly you look up into his eyes to explain what happened.

“I was jumpin’ on da couch even dough you telled me not to,'' you explain, feeling ashamed, “and den I slipped off and hitted my knee on da coffee table.” As soon as you’ve finished explaining to Spencer what happened, you lower your head again, avoiding his eyes. He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek and smiles softly. Hoisting you up into his arms, Spencer carries you into the bathroom and places you gently onto the counter.

“I promise I’m not upset sweetheart, you were just curious and wanted to play,” he replies to your earlier statement while retrieving the first aid kit from the cabinet, “I just wish you didn’t have to get hurt to learn that it wasn’t a good idea.” Gently pouring some hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he tells you to take a deep breath. Wincing as he cleans the deep scratch on your knee, you nod your head vigorously.

“Yeah! I wish I didn’t had to get a booboo to know neither!” You respond, your mood significantly better just from the attention you’re getting. Spencer nods and smiles, throwing away the cotton ball and putting away the hydrogen peroxide. He pulls out a couple boxes of bandaids and shows them to you.

“Okay cutie, I have a few options for bandaids,” He proceeds to point at the individual boxes as he lists them off, “We have animals, fruits, patterns, and emojis.” You smile giddily at the array of band aids you get to choose from. He watches you think very hard, waiting patiently with a soft smile on his face. Finally, you’ve made your decision,

“I want a frog ban aid!” You shout excitedly.

Spencer grabs the frog bandaid from the animal box and starts to carefully put it on your knee. Once it’s secured, he lifts you gently off the counter and places your feet on the floor. He grabs your hand and you both walk happily back to the living room. When you’re there, he pushes the coffee table a little further away from the couch.

“For some extra precaution,” Spencer explains with a smile. You hop carefully to the couch and plop down, picking up the stuffie you left behind. As you nestle into the couch, he wraps your blanket around you and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead. Explaining that he’s going to finish cooking up dinner, he hands you the remote and heads back towards the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes have passed now, and you’re happily playing with your stuffy as cartoons play in the background. You’re not really paying attention to the show, enamored by your stuffy and toys splayed around you. Hearing a timer go off in the kitchen, you turn your head to the sound, and smile when you see Spencer poke his head around the corner.

“Almost done cutie, I just have to plate it, you doing okay without me?” He calls from where he stands. You nod happily, “Yeah! Doin’ good, havin’ lotsa fun wif my stuffy!” Spencer smiles at you and gives a little thumbs up. “Awesome honey, I’m glad.” With that, he returns into the kitchen to fix the plates for the both of you. Within the next minute or so, he’s walking out holding two plates, one of them being your usual dinnerware plates, and the other being a little blue plastic plate with flowers lining the edge. You smile and make grabby hands towards your plate as he walks.

“Nuh uh honey, you know you have to eat it at the table. We can eat at the coffee table, but you have to keep the plate on the table, okay?” Spencer explains the usual rules to you and you let out a small huff before sliding off the couch to sit next to the coffee table. He puts down a placemat in front of you and sets your plate down to reveal homemade mac and cheese, ham steak cut into little cubes, and some broccoli. You smile as he also puts down a little dish with cheese sauce for the broccoli. “It’s still a little hot so remember to blow on it,” Spencer states as he puts his own plate down beside yours. “Now, what do you want to drink?” He asks, already heading back towards the kitchen.

You think for a moment, making a little humming sound as you do. “Uuummm, Oh! I wan some apple juice please! And I have it in my pink sippy cup please?” You shout excitedly. Spencer yells back to you a confirmation, and appears back in the living room with two cups of apple juice. It makes you really happy that he chose to have the same drink as you too. He places your sippy cup on your placement, and his own drink on a coaster. Then he sits down next to you and gives you a kiss on your temple. He reaches over and grabs the remote, turning his attention to the television. “So what does my little baby want to watch while we eat?”

Again, you pause to think. But almost immediately you have your decision, “Garfield!! Garfield and friends pleeeease!” You exclaim, elongating your please while tilting your head. Spencer smiles at you lovingly and nods, turning back to the tv to put on Garfield. When it’s on, you both sit in a comfortable silence, watching the show and enjoying the home cooked meal. A few times Spencer chuckles and reminds you to use your fork, but you pick up the broccoli with your fingers when he isn't looking.

The plates are empty and you’re leaning slightly, resting your head on Spencer’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around you and rubs your arm. “Are you ready for bedtime cutie?” He asks softly. You flutter your eyes open and nod slowly. Spencer helps you stand up and walks you to the bedroom,“Okay sweetheart, let’s get you ready for bed.”

═══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ═══════

This is the first time I’ve written in a while so I really hope you guys like this. I will /not/ be writing things often so cherish it when I do lol.

I love you all so much!!

[cookieofearthbread]

@milk-and-trickery

From within his confinement, Shadow Milk Cookie idly floated. Upside down today, what was today even.. oh he lost count. He hummed, only to hear far off banging, screeching.. was.. was someone throwing a TANTRUM!? OHOHO! Immediately he pivoted and flew to the edge of his prison, squinting, putting a hand over his eyes to try and find out just who was so enraged! Was it Burning Spice? No.. no that scream was Eternal Sugar! "Yoooo hooo! Eternal Sugar Cookie! My my! What has you sooooo so so so upset? Why I haven't heard you so incredibly ENRAGED since we were locked away!"

The fallen angel was absolutely fuming as she continued to throw her temper tantrum, launching her magic against the cage, and flying around the cage like a rabid cakehound wanting to tear and rip everything that it could however with how the seal was designed; it was impossible as her magic simply bounced off and fizzed out which only serves to enrage the angel in further.

She didn’t care at the rating she was going! She didn't care if she was going to disturb the other beasts! After all! Why does it matter! The only other time she has been this furious was when she and the others were locked away!

Sure she despaired at first but that despair turned into hatred! Which led her to becoming enraged and enraged... Until that rage settled down and lay lurking beneath her dough until now. The anger brought back by the events that just played out a few minutes ago.

The fallen angel was about to launch another attack on the ‘wall’ until she heard a voice calling out to her which made her snap her attention to it. Her eyes were glowing brightly and her appearance a complete mess; wild and feral.

The sweetness melted away to show the sourness that was the Beast of Sloth.

Shadow Milk Cookie... The voice was the jester.

............ ....... ...

Eternal Sugar merely stared at the direction of the voice as there was a moment of silence until...

A loud SMACK could be heard as she pressed against the wall, her hands and face pressing against the wall.

“She. Was. Here.” Her voice hissed loudly and grew louder with each word spoken. “She was here and now she’s gone! Against her will! Someone interrupted us! And I know it was SOMEONE! Just by her REACTION! And I KNOW that Candy Eye Cookie WOULDN’T have left either! Until she has to otherwise!”

[justminawrites]

Of Ribbons and Other Lost Things - Chapter 3: Unlucky Girls

AO3

1 | 2 | 3 | TBC

Luka Couffaine had made a mistake.

He couldn’t decide when it had happened– maybe following his ex-girlfriend’s father into their family bakery was where it all started to fall apart, or even putting the idea of part-time employment into Tom Dupain’s mind. 

Maybe it went even further back than that. In hindsight, waking up today didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“No, no, you need to feel the dough admit defeat,” Tom attempted to demonstrate the delicate kneading technique, “See, like this.”

Luka stared at the evidently undefeated beige mush on the counter and tried not to cringe as he imagined it growing two eyes, a mouth, and begin laughing at him. He’d never been particularly good at any non-musical extracurriculars, though he wished he’d taken pottery or something, just so he wouldn’t dig himself into an even deeper grave in front of Marinette’s father. And her best friend.

“Wow, Luka, you’re really showing that bread who’s boss,” Alya Cesaire teased from across the room, watching him massacre the flour-to-water ratio as she tapped away on her phone.

“We don’t seem to be in harmony,” he admitted, embarrassed by how quickly he was ready to quit. Forget harmony, they didn’t even seem to be playing the same note. How anyone could do this was beyond him. Marinette really was amazing.

“Maybe it’s better if I give up fighting the dough, altogether.”

“Nonsense!” Tom interrupted, visibly trying not to wince as he leaned in to examine the creation, “We were all beginners once. You just need a.. uh.. you just need a little more–“

Luka braced himself for what he was going to say. Skill? Patience? Humility-to-admit-you’ll-never-be-good-enough-for-certain-things-and-let-them-go-because-you’re-not-Adrien-Agreste– 

“Flour, dear. You just need a little more flour.”

Both Tom and Luka looked up to see Sabine Cheng enter the bakery, her arms filled with stacks of colourful flyers. 

Alya quickly tucked away her phone in her back pocket to lighten her load, sending a few papers scattering across the tiled floors. As Sabine thanked her, Luka watched a bright blue one float across the room and gently settle on the marble counter, inches away from his pile of mushy dough.

QIXI JIE PLAY: Tickets only available till XX/XX/XX (2 weeks left!)

“Sabine!” Marinette’s father seemed to (for lack of a better phrase) light up, eyes twinkling, as his wife proceeded to dust off her apron and join them; carefully holding a cup of flour. 

“I made the same mistake when I first learned to bake,” she said reassuringly, dumping the white powder over Luka’s hands, “Tom’s father wouldn’t let me live it down for weeks.”

“Of course!” Tom grinned, putting on an affected accent to his voice, “Two cups of water in the mixture, Sabine? That’s not how it’s done!”

“There,” Sabine smiled back, “Now try, Luka.”

He reluctantly replicated the kneading movements he’d been watching Tom make for the past twenty minutes, and was relieved to see that his watery creation had now solidified into a a more play-dough like consistency. The tightness in chest eased a little, seeing the progress he’d made. 

“Are you putting on a play, Mme. Cheng?” Alya interrupted, not waiting for a response as she plucked the final flyer off the counter and added it to her pile,

“I could drop a link in The Ladyblog if you’re having trouble selling tickets.”

“That’s kind of you, dear,” Sabine gestured for her to pass the flyers back which she did, “But it’s not my play. I’m doing this as a favour to a friend who wanted me to teach his actors the traditional art of Dunhuang.“

“The Chinese ribbon dance,” she clarified, when three pairs of eyes blinked at her bemusedly. Sabine sighed, tucking away the sheath of papers in a cabinet below the counter, and looked up at her husband with worry. 

“Unfortunately, it’s all very last minute so I can’t run the bakery and teach full-time. Tom and I were thinking of getting Marinette to help out but we don’t want to overwhelm her–“ 

“Maman? What did you need help with?”

Luka could feel his heart cartoonishly leap into his throat as her voice drifted down the wrought-iron staircase, and mentally pushed it down into the depths of his stomach, as the tap tap tap of ballet flats slapping the ground hurried to join them. 

Sure, it’d only been a week since he’d seen her but a lot could happen in a week. He could be perfectly fine in a week. Perfectly fine and completely over the breakup, and not at all thinking about how Jule took close ups of his face all week that she’d probably shown to all her friends and oh he was so going to disown his sister when he got home–

Marinette Dupain-Cheng entered the room and let out a sound that was somewhere between squeak and wheeze when she saw his face.

“L-Luka?!”

Luka couldn’t recall what he’d said in reply, if he’d said anything at all or wether he was even breathing because Marinette.. because her hair..

Her hair was down; out of its trademark style and spilling down her shoulders, the ends thick and black.

The idea that Luka had never seen Marinette with her hair down was laughable as it was strangely poetic. They’d hung out together so often - they’d dated! - but seeing her like this seemed much more vulnerable somehow. Like he was getting a glimpse of all the things she couldn’t tell him when they were together. All the things he couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

Not that she wasn’t beautiful. She was always beautiful. 

It was only when Marinette blushed and pulled her hair into its usual twin ponytails, that he was able to tear his gaze away from her and back to the mound of dough in front of him. Don’t lose your cool, don’t lose your cool, don’t–

“Hey, Marinette,” he said easily, though his voice wavered in a way that no one but Jule would’ve noticed.

“I didn’t expect– I mean– You look– Your jacket–“ she floundered her reply, earning a laugh from her best friend. 

Luka looked around him in surprise; he’d taken off his jacket to keep it from getting in the way. He felt a little naked without it but hadn’t wondered if it made him look weird until now. Great, now she thinks I’m weird and a stalker.

“Real smooth, girl.” After a pointed glare in Alya’s direction, Marinette turned back to him, finally noticing the dough in his hands. 

Her lips broke into shy smile. 

“What are you making?” She asked curiously, skirting around the awkwardness of him being here, in her house, when both of them knew she’d been avoiding him.

“Just bread,” he said, almost apologetically covering it with the flat of his palms, “–but I think Baking might not be the right instrument for me.“

“Here, let me see.”

Luka moved back in surprise as she came to stand beside beside him, dusting her own hands in flour. He’d expected her to be nervous and uncomfortable around him now that they’d broken up (for reasons neither of them could articulate), but Marinette only furrowed her brow in concentration, pulling the baking sheet towards herself, and got to work. 

“There,” she beamed up at him, barely ten minutes later, “All done.”

Marinette had managed to pummel his sickly-beige, barely-dough concoction into the dusky brown colour of before-bread with only a few shakes of flour and the twist of her wrist. 

“O-oh, wait,” She mumbled when he’d stared at her in awe instead of replying, “I didn’t mean– I wasn’t trying to show off or anything–“

“You’re amazing, Marinette,” It escaped his mouth before he could fully realise what he’d said, and now she was looking at him with big eyes. Crap. That was probably a bit too strong. 

“I.. am?” 

“–at baking!” He added quickly, not meeting her gaze, “A real magician, Marinette!”

Why couldn’t he stop saying her name? The awkwardness and the lingering effect of his words seemed to envelop the two of them and Luka had to force himself not to react to the spark of electricity that shot through his nerves when their forearms accidentally brushed. 

“That’s right, my daughter’s a genius!” Tom swooped in between them to examine the dough, and Luka moved back, relieved. 

If this kept up, he would start pulling out the finger-guns before lunch; and absolutely, under no circumstances, could he have Marinette realising that the ex-boyfriend she thought was cool and mature, was actually a huge dorkasaurus. He’d done enough damage already.

Tom swept the dough into a tray and lovingly placed it into the oven as Sabine handed them both a wet towelette. He tried to look at Marinette out of the corner of his eye, and found her gaze already transfixed on her best friend’s phone.

“We gotta leave soon if we want to make it before André splits,” Alya said matter-of-factly, pointing at something on her screen, “It’ll take us at least 20 minutes to get there on foot.”

“And guess who’s going to be there because of the Bourgeois’ anniversary party?”

Luka didn’t need to turn around to see Alya shake her friend’s shoulders and quietly mouth ‘Adrien’ to know who it was. 

To know who it always would be, with Marinette.

“Marinette, could you be a dear and get the apples I left out by the door before you leave?”

“Sure, Maman!”

Luka smiled at her retreating back as she pushed open the bakery door, and stored the sorrow somewhere deep inside him instead. 

He’d meant it when he said he’d be happy for her when they got together. Not ‘if’ but ‘when.’ Because that was yet another curse he carried by remembering the events that he’d lived through, akumatised as Truth– Marinette’s secret was that all her roads ended up at Adrien Agreste, wether she wanted them to or not. 

All of Paris seemed to know that it was only a matter of when. 

He would be happy, He would be happy, he would be happy. Even if the stars fell from the sky and the moon broke into a thousand pieces. Even if every instrument he’d ever made went up in flames. Even if Shadowmoth won and all of Paris became a wasteland.

If Marinette loved Adrien, he’d be happy for her even if it killed him.

...

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to kill her best friend. 

Not only would she have appreciated knowing about her frickin’ ex-boyfriend baking bread with her father, Alya also had the gall to laugh in her face when she’d nearly fallen to pieces in front of him. 

She sighed as she curled her fingers around the crate of apples; Marinette could hardly blame her bff for the latter. Her heart had spontaneously combusted when she’d walked in to see Luka Couffaine of all people, behind the counter without his jacket, up to his elbows in flour, clearly out of his element and did she mention without his jacket??

In all the time that she’d known him, she hadn’t ever seen him jacket-less, and she hadn’t expected to feel so flustered by the strange intimacy of seeing Luka’s tanned forearms for the first time. Or those same arms baking bread.

Well..trying anyway.

Marinette stifled a smile at the thought. Luka was normally so calm and collected, there was something almost gratifying about knowing that he could be just as much as a fish out of water as her, even if it was just while kneading dough.

She felt the her cheeks flush as she recalled his awestruck expression ‘You’re amazing, Marinette.’ Alya had cackled knowingly and Marinette’s back pocket had buzzed with a text from the brunette. She didn’t even need to open it to know what it said.

@alya.ladyblogger: tryna impress someone r we

( ͡° ᴗ ͡°)

Marinette shook her head to clear away the blush. 

Alya had it all wrong; she wasn’t trying to impress Luka with her bread-making skills. If anything, she was trying to impress.. uh.. herself! That’s right, it’d been so long since she’d helped out her parents at the bakery that she started to wonder if her baking had become a little rusty. Yeah, that was definitely it.

Not seeing Luka in over a week had momentarily made her forget why she was avoiding him in the first place, and now Marinette wondered how he was handling the after-effects of the Truth akuma. 

She’d wanted to ask him about Jagged, about his mom; she’d wanted to ask him if he could ever forgive her for getting him akumatised, for any of it, but for once, she was afraid the answer might be exactly what she’d expected.

So she settled for Juleka’s mumbling and the close up pictures on her purple-haired-friend’s phone, telling herself it was for the best, it was for the best, it was for the best. Unlucky girls like her didn’t get to fall in love, and besides, Luka couldn’t get akumatised if she wasn’t around to let him down. Again. 

Marinette tried not to sigh, as the memory of the last time she talked to Luka rose up in the back of her mind: she’d broken up with him over the same bridge he’d taken her to that very evening, because it was easier than telling him the truth. 

No, not easier– safer. It was safer for the both of them if she stayed away. Or at least, she hoped it was. Oh, and Adrien too, of course. 

Though, she supposed, Adrien was hardly in danger with the way her words twisted themselves into pretzels around him. In fact, the only chance he’d ever become akumatised because of Marinette, is if he completely misunderstood everything she’d said– like Marianne.

And after everything that’d happened on French-American friendship week, even her feelings about Adrien had become pretzel-shaped; the inextricable threads of shame and disappointment weaving their way into the “love” she’d been so sure she held for him, less than a month ago.

Marinette took a breath and hoisted the crate up to her hip, trying not to recall that final night in New York, the cold shards of rain that peppered her face as she pedalled as hard as her burning calfs would let her. Hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she screamed and screamed after the car, only for Adrien to leave without even turning once. 

What a mess.

As Marinette was about to push open the bakery door a single apple fell from the crate and rolled backwards.

She tried to reach for the runaway fruit with one arm while balancing the crate in the other, and ended up losing her balance and toppling over instead, spilling the apples onto the sidewalk and earning sympathetic glances from the pedestrians on the street as she fell. 

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki flitted out of her purse as if on cue, perching on top of an apple, as her big bug eyes widened with concern. Marinette could see herself reflected back in the glassy blue tint, from the shadows under her own eyes all the way to the the defeated slump of her shoulders.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep– mess was an understatement. 

“I’m fine, Tikki,” she sighed rather than said, gathering the fruit back into the crate. 

“Just the same old, klutzy Marinette.”

The kwami frowned up at the mouse miraculous pendant hanging at her neck.

“Maybe you shouldn’t..” 

Whatever Tikki was going to say was immediately interrupted by the hum of a motor as a black taxi pulled up in front of the bakery, and a blonde girl, about her age, got out. 

The kwami quickly flew out of sight as the girl promised the driver she’d only be a few minutes, oblivious to the disarray Marinette herself was sitting in the middle of–  and the single red apple that had rolled to wait right under the girl’s colourful sneaker.

“Wait, WATCH OUT–“

But it was too late. 

A slip and a stumble later, the girl found herself right beside Marinette on the pavement, her fall jostling the blue beanie she was wearing off of her head, so Marinette could see a faded streak of pink hair peeking out of the blonde. 

“Oh my, is everyone alright?” The bakery door swung open to reveal a concerned Sabine, holding her purse tightly, with a bemused Tom in tow. 

The girl gave Marinette a weak smile as if to say ‘oh, clumsy me,’ and the idea that there was someone out there in the world who was just as uncoordinated and graceless as her was so silly that she grinned right back, and the two were soon in stitches on the floor outside the bakery. 

“Here, let me help you.. uh..”

“Zoé,” the girl smiled, taking Marinette’s outstretched arm, “I’m Zoé Lee.”

“Hello Zoé,” Marinette smiled, dusting herself off, “I’m Miss-Walking-Disaster, but everyone calls me Marinette. Please let me spot you some of our macarons to makeup for all this.”

“Oh, that’s not necessar–”

“I insist,” Marinette interrupted bending over to put away the last of the apples, “It’s the least I could do after introducing you to our lovely Parisian pavements.”

Before Zoé could reply however, Sabine sighed and took the crate off of the ground and handed it to her husband, who dutifully retreated back into the bakery.

“Maybe that’s enough excitement for the day, dear,” Sabine added, not unkindly, “Why don’t you let your father handle the macarons, hmm?”

“Yes Maman.”

“Wow!”

Zoé glanced down as Marinette got an eyeful of the bright sneakers and looked up at her with sparkling blue eyes.

“Your sneakers are awesome! Did you decorate them yourself?”

If there was anything Marinette loved more than designing, it was seeing other people’s designs. Particularly DIY ones. There was just something so inspiring about them.

“Yeah,” Zoe agreed tucking a lock of hair behind her ear sheepishly, “I’ve written down every nice thing that anyone’s ever said to me.”

“To keep them with me all the time.”

A single I ♥ U, was scribbled on to the toe cap of the left shoe.

Marinette frowned, “But there’s only one message.”

“I.. uh.. only had one friend.”

Both Sabine and Marinette let out an ‘oh’ sound, the sound wavering somewhere between pity and second-hand embarrassment. Zoe shifted on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“Why don’t you two come inside?” Sabine smoothly changed the topic, holding out an arm to help her daughter up, “And you can show your new friend around the bakery, Marinette.”

“That’s a great idea, Maman!”

“I mean..,” Marinette held up her hands apologetically, “Only if you’re free Zoé.. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

Zoé shrugged, “I’m not in a rush.”

Sabine looked back and forth between the two girls fondly, smiled and turned to leave. Marinette quickly checked the left pocket of her pink jeans to make sure the bee miraculous was still where she’d left it and missed the strange glance Zoé gave her. 

“By the way,” Marinette added over her shoulder, as the two of them followed her mother back into the bakery, “–where’s your accent from? It’s really pretty.”

“New York,” the other girl replied, bending over slightly to tie her shoelace, “I’m from New York.”

“Wow! How exciting– I was just there on a class trip!”

“No way!”

“Yeah– so what brings you to Paris?”

“I’m here..“ the light in Zoé’s eyes darkened.

“...to see my family.”

______________________________________________________________

END NOTES:

This chapter was basically: Luka on the inside: asdfghjsjdjhbjhrwkjefehfhrgbkrhIstillloveyou Luka on the outside: oh hi marinette Mari on the inside: *Mari.exe stopped functioning after seeing jacket-less exboyfriend* Mari on the outside: *baking to not process feelings*

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[pinkvaquita]

*writes in your inbox*

It was sudden, unexpected.

For both of them.

It had been maybe four in the morning, the sun wasn't even starting to rise, and the air was cold, a simple breath looking like a cloud of fog.

A certain carbonated cookie hadn't been able to sleep, rolling from side to side on her bed as her mind whirred with thoughts, some not as sweet as others.

That stupid curly blonde with his stupid yellow eyes in his stupid uniform with his stupid goggles...

A clock ticked, stirring the cookie from her thoughts. It was five in the morning.

Grape Ade, gently setting aside the lipstick stained goggles she'd been holding for the last eight hours, trying to calm her boundless imagination, rose to her feet, and started on her way out of her room. Maybe she just needed a snack or something to distract her, to occupy her mind enough for it to stop obsessing over that, dumbass- so much.

Enough to finally let her get some rest, even if only an hour of sleep before she's woken by one of the other cookies, for some ungodly reason.

Walking through the halls of the building, slowly making her way to the kitchen, Grape Ade was staring at her hands, the soft taps of her feet against the solid floor barely numbing her thoughts.

Butter Roll, the cookie on her mind at this very moment, she almost swore she could hear his voice in the distance. Her mind could be playing tricks on her, though. She chose to reason with that idea, rather than believe he was up at this hour.

After all, the sound of his voice wouldn't ever leave her mind anyways.

She could feel her cheeks heating up as she walked, her hair beginning to bubble. It caused her to press her hands up to her face, hiding her face as she tried to settle her thoughts.

When she tilted her head back enough to look up, her eyes widened, just as she bumped right into a wall. For a moment, Grape Ade was stunned, stumbling back as her hands, still covering her face, stung from the impact.

Goddamnit.

She took a step back, taking her hands away from her face to gently shake them, lightly blowing on them as if that would fix the tiny indents in her dough.

With a small grumble, she rubbed her cheeks, her hair bubbling with frustration. She was so enamored with this man that she was bumping into walls, it was annoying beyond belief.

She was so enamored with him, that she didn't even notice the tap of boots against tile flooring as someone grew nearer to her.

"I can't believe this...I'm bumping into walls over a guy!" Grape Ade explained, as she held her hands out at that wall that dared to appear in her ways moments before. "...A really handsome and sweet guy...but still a guy!"

She growled with irritation, just about to punch the wall, until suddenly, she's tackled into another wall, pinned up against the solid surface.

Whatever air was in her lungs had left them, stunning her once more as whoever had pinned her obscured their face in her neck. Not like that helped them much, as their curly blonde hair was a dead giveaway to the carbonated cookie.

Alongside their buttery scent, the way they held her wrists, the feeling of a still warm oven mitt against one of her wrists, the slight view of their uniform under all their hair. It was obvious, at least to her.

"B-Butter Roll!" She exclaimed, further surprise filling her eyes as she tried to pry her wrists from the other cookie's hands. "Are you alright??- Did something happen??-"

"Stay still." Her eyes widened, Butter Roll's voice was firm, almost commanding, yet there was an underlying softness to it. It was odd, maybe a little worrying, but it's not like she knew what to say either.

Before Grape Ade could even say anything else, Butter Roll had lifted his head from her neck, revealing his dilated pupils, shaking like a pair of spinning plates.

His hands fell from her wrists, oven mitt discarded in favor of feeling her dough under both of his hands as he placed them on her waist. His hold on her was so firm that his chipped nails were almost leaving crescent shaped indents in her dough.

His gaze drifted away from her as he began to speak once more, as if he was embarrassed. "...What you've been saying the last few weeks, Grape Ade..."

The carbonated cookie could feel her heart skip a beat.

"...Are your words true?- Would you, truly let me do such things to you?..." The question was almost innocent, if it weren't for the context behind it, that Grape Ade knew all too well. Especially since the words the director was speaking of were her own.

But she didn't hesitate to respond, nodding rapidly almost immediately, watching as a bright red blush rose to his cheeks, spreading across his face.

For a moment, Butter Roll was silent, but that silence didn't last very long.

With a tiny, muttered, "good", he brought her closer to him, mashing their lips together as he closed his eyes. His hands trembled against her dough, fingers tapping against her sides in a rhythmic pattern as they kissed.

The carbonated cookie was frozen in place the entire time, her hair already bubbling as her face burned bright red.

He was kissing her! Butter Roll was kissing her!

When he pulled back, breaking the kiss, Grape Ade released a breath she didn't know she was holding, steam rolling off the top of her head as her eyes swirled. She felt dizzily giddy as her mouth hung open, like her head was spinning. Might have been the lightheadedness though.

"...Was that-" He had begun to ask, yet was cut off by Grape Ade as she firmly planted her hands on the sides of his head, her hands tangling into his hair as she tugged him back towards her.

Her parted lips crashed against his for the second time that hour, and the rest of the morning blurred together from there, with neither thinking much through.

Things only focused once, when they nearly got caught on their way to her room, but even then, that felt like a hazy memory in it of itself.

- *HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING* I FINISHED IT AISHDWAGHEIAHWEA WOOO

slkjdlkjslkadjklsajdklasjdlkasjk I ALREADY REATED TO THIS IN DM BUT DEAR FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THAT EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD SEE IT

[livingdeadmlm]

Hope it’s ok to assign my self as 🥭 anon! hi if you’re up for it and requests are still open I would really love to read a m!reader x bruno with reader making bruno just a flustered mess with how adoring and devoted he is to this man. Not even horny way I just think bruno deserves to be taken care of and made to feel like he’s top priority for once, y’know? i don’t have to many details tbh— Reader making bruno feel like he’s the only one for him with sm love and sappiness you can handle! Thnk u

Male reader X Bruno Bucciarati

Of course, you can be 🥭anon!!! yall these new requests coming in are really getting me in the mood to write please send more!!

Bruno finally made it home after a long day on a mission with the gang. His back ached and his head felt horrible. Walking up the small steps he heard gentle music through the door. He smiled and felt almost all his stress melt away when he opened the door. Locking the door behind him he heard your voice call to him from the kitchen, “s’That you hun?”

He sped walked to the kitchen watching you gently make pasta dough. You turned around and smiled at him. You planted a small kiss on his head having to stop yourself from, reaching for him due to the dough on your hands.

Quickly you kneaded the dough into a ball and placed it in a bowl. Wrapping the top of the bowl and placing it to the side. Washing your hands you turned your head to face him, “while the dough rises you want to take a bath?” he nodded very excitedly, a warm bath will feel amazing for his back.

Holding his hand you lead him to the bathroom. Bruno began to undress after seeing the tub was half full. Taking off his shirt and pants he noticed you were still fully dressed.

“Arent you going to get in with me?” his voice came out small almost a whimper.

You stepped towards Bruno taking his hands into yours. Your voice matched his in volume. “I want today to be all about you handsome, you deserve it.” you kissed his temple and combed your hand through his hair soothing him. He leaned into your hand.

“Okay handsome you get into the bath I’ll be right back.” you walked off and Bruno took off the last piece of his clothing settling into the bath he sighed in relief it was still warm. That's when he saw that next to the time, was a small stool with a rag and a few towels. The sounds of your record playing in the living room and the water softly pushing against the wall in response to his movements filled his mind as he sunk further into the water

Once you made it back you felt yourself smile at the sight of your boyfriend fully relaxed after a long day. You sat on the stool and picked up the small rag getting the new soap you had gotten just for this. You played with his hair as you began to rub the small pink rag over his chest.

Over his tattoo which you thought was beautiful on him and you made sure you told him that as often as it was on display. You went lower to his stomach his thighs and then to his legs the whole time you sang his praises. ‘My goodness look at you’ ‘so strong and handsome’. As your hands explored his body you gently caressed separate areas. It felt like he was burning up, like putty in your hands the soothingness of your voice and hands it felt like he was in heaven.

“Well Amore I hate to cut this short but we need to get some food inside you before it gets too late.” You unplugged the stopper for the bath and started to dry his hair. As the water went down Bruno became much more aware of his lacking of coverage for his body. While it was nothing you haven't seen before, with all the praise he was just given his headspace wasn't in its usual state. He felt much softer. Wrapping a separate towel around his body you hugged his head into your chest.

“Okay handsome I left your pajamas on the bed for you to change into once you’re ready.” you hesitantly let go and went back to finish the meal in time.

When he joined you, dinner was just ready just in time. You served him a plate and placed it at the table.

“Here you go my love I hope you like it.” the meal was nothing short of perfect to him. This whole day was turned around the second he came home, he's never felt more appreciated and safer around someone else to even think these forms of affection were to become commonplace.

[k-evans-reads]

Cottage Chaos

The Outsider One Shot

Summary: A snippet of a normal evening in the Royal Family of Queensnorth's home.

Pairing: Prince!Chris Evans X OFC Princess Penelope “Poppy”

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Word Count: 1,591

Warnings: None.

Previous l  Writing Masterlist l  The Outsider Masterlist

9 years married

The chirping of birds floated through the open window in the kitchen, echoing throughout the home as Poppy prepared dinner while keeping an eye on their son in the backyard. A chair was pushed up to the counter that Annie was standing on as she dumped in chocolate chips to the bowl that Alice was stirring into the batter with her wooden spoon. Poppy laughed to herself at the sight, seeing flour all over and knowing there would be way too many chocolate chips in that batter but not minding since she got to spend the time with her girls in the kitchen. 

“Ivy, baby, don’t color on the table,” she said softly, gently pulling the paper back in front of the two-year-old. “Here, just stay on top of the paper.”

“Mama, we finished!” Annie called to her, Poppy smiling as she gently turned around, placing a hand on her large stomach as she faced her eldests. 

Alice smiled up at her, the blonde curls falling messily around her face from a long day of playing outside. “What do we do next?” 

Smoothing a hand over both of their heads, she reached for the cookie scoops. “Do you want to put them on the pan?” She asked, waiting for their nods before she handed the scoops to each girl. “Annie you can do this half and Alice you can do the other half.” 

As the girls got to scooping the cookie dough onto the pan, the calm that had fallen over the kitchen was broken as the blond four-year-old boy ran inside, yelling, “Mama! Mama! Look what I found!” 

When she saw what he clasped in his hands, she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at him bouncing on his heels excitedly. “Henry! What did I tell you about bringing frogs inside the house?” She asked him in exasperation, watching his face fall in disappointment.

“But he was lonely, I think he wants to come live with us,” he tried to say, his blue eyes shining, looking so much like his father’s in a way she struggled to tell him no. 

“Honey, a frog can’t live here, he needs to live outside,” she told him carefully, moving and squatting as much as she could in front of him, placing a hand on his chubby cheek with a small smile. “Go put him back and then take off your muddy shoes and just leave them outside the door, okay?” She asked him, nodding over to the open door to the backyard before she stepped back to give him room to move.

He nodded sadly, turning to the door. But before he could make it outside, Poppy watched in horror as the green frog leapt out of the boy’s hands, bounding out of the kitchen and further into the home. “Oh no! My frog!” Henry yelped, tears welling up in his big eyes as he turned to look at Poppy. “He got away!” 

As if there wasn’t enough chaos happening in the kitchen, a moment later Chris stepped in through the door, a large smile on his face as he announced, “I’m home!” 

The youngest gasped in excitement, her hazel eyes bright as she clamored off of the chair, running into the hall to meet Chris as she cheered, “Daddy!” 

Poppy smiled instinctively, eyes still searching the room for any sign of the frog, but held out an arm to stop Annie when she went to follow Ivy in greeting their father. “Annie, wait! We have to find this frog first.” 

But the man of the hour returned, Ivy propped on his hip as he stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with confusion on his face. “A frog?” He asked, brows raised as he looked between Henry and Poppy.

Henry dragged his foot along the wooden floor, a pout settling on his lips. “I brought a frog to show Mama and he got away,” he admitted quietly, avoiding Chris’ stare.

She watched as Chris sighed, gently placing Ivy back on her seat before he came over to Henry, kneeling in front of the boy as he grasped his shoulders gently, ducking his head so he could look in his eyes. “Hey buddy, I thought you weren’t supposed to bring frogs in?” 

At Henry’s slightly embarrassed shrug, Poppy cleared her throat, placing her hand on Chris’ broad back and tapping lightly. “That’s not important right now, we need to find him and get it out of here.” 

Every member of the family got to work carefully looking for the small green frog and didn’t find it until Ivy started giggling and pointing at where it was hoping along right next to the cabinet. Chris reached down and carefully picked it up, holding it inside his big hands and started walking toward the back door, calling out, “C’mon Henry, let’s go find a good home for your frog.” 

As the duo headed outside, Poppy couldn’t help but laugh at what had just happened, not even fully surprised by the fact that the dinner and dessert preparations were interrupted, but then got back to work to finish. She made sure Ivy was situated coloring again, the girls kept working on the cookies, and she stood at the sink scrubbing a pan that she was going to need next. As she washed it diligently her eyes glanced out the open window, watching where Chris was squatted down on the grass right next to the pond that was in the backyard, still holding the frog inside his hands. 

She watches as Henry, who had a hand on Chris’ shoulder, leaned against him and watched as Chris opened his hands and let the frog go, Henry laughing when the frog splashed right into the pond. Chris brushed off his hands before ruffling up Henry’s hair and she heard Chris remind him, “See buddy? Frogs need to live outside where they can jump around and go in the water. He wouldn’t be very happy inside, would he?” 

“I guess not,” Henry muttered while kicking at the grass with his yellow rubber boot. 

“You can still like all your frogs but they have to stay outside,” Chris reminded him before kissing the top of his head and then patted his behind, telling him, “C’mon bud, let’s go get cleaned up for dinner.” 

Poppy watched as Chris stood back up to his full height, reaching his hand out that Henry took, holding it tightly while swinging their hands back and forth and she couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside her chest, loving to see the sight of her boys together. Chris lingered at the back door, helping Henry out of his boots, leaving them outside the door before lifting Henry over to set his sock-covered feet down on the wood floor of the kitchen, calling out, “Make sure to use lots of soap when you wash your hands!” 

“Daddy! Look at the cookies we made!” Annie said loudly, a wide grin on her face as Chris walked over to them, shooting Poppy a smile before he reached out to tickle Annie and Alice lightly, kissing the top of their heads once he was close enough.

With an exaggerated gasp, one that made Poppy chuckle quietly, he told the girls, “Wow, those look so good! It looks like you two were good helpers for Mama today, huh?” 

“They were the best helpers,” she said with a smile, watching as the girls beamed with pride. 

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and wash your hands too and I’ll put your cookies in the oven,” Chris said, before he nodded over at Ivy and added, “And Alice, help Ivy with hers, please.” 

Once the patter of all four footsteps had made their way out of the kitchen and up the large set of stairs, Chris turned to put the cookies in the oven then turned to Poppy with a slight smirk, caging her between him and the counter. 

“Well if you didn’t have an eventful day at the palace, you certainly got to walk into quite the scene coming home,” she laughed, smoothing her hand over his hair to rest on his firm shoulder.

“Oh just a little frog wrangling, that’s nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugged, grinning as he admitted, “Besides, I don’t care if I came home and everyone here was crying, I’d still rather be here than anywhere else.” 

“Best part of the day is when you come home,” she confessed, smiling at the way he brightened at that simple admission. 

He kissed her forehead before his hands came to rest on her lower back, pressing gently on the tense muscles. “How are you feeling today, honey?” 

“My back is a little sore but other than that, I’m alright,” she shrugged, sighing as he pressed firmer. 

“C’mere, come sit down for a minute,” he said after a moment, gently pulling her towards Ivy’s abandoned seat. “It’s going to be the only minute we get before all of our munchkins come back so you better take advantage.” 

Once she had settled in the chair, letting out a sigh of relief, she leaned up, catching his lips before he could move away. Poppy relaxed even farther as she felt Chris’ hand come up to cup her cheek as he deepened their kiss that she could feel him smiling into and she knew that this.... this was the best part of her day. Here, with Chris, with the sounds of their laughing kids upstairs and the comfort of their home together. 

Ages: 

Alice - 7 years old

Annie - 6 years old

Henry - 4 years old

Ivy - 2 years old

A/N: Well, this was the first thing we wrote post-epilogue and we are SO excited to share this little family with you all! We ADORE these kids and their little personalities, and the frogs of course. We can't wait to hear your thoughts!

[bestiesenpai]

ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we’re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!�� Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

[pillage-and-lute]

@thequeeninyellowlace requested “ Geraskier discovering that angry, testy Lambert is actually a big kitten? ❤️❤️”

Warning: some derogatory language, especially anti-sex work slang (although all the witchers are canonically pro-sex work)

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“I can’t believe you brought your bard to the keep,” Lambert groused. It was the same complaint he’d had all week, ever since Geralt arrived with Jaskier in tow.

“He’s my bard, this is my home,” Geralt said. “I wanted to bring him here.”

Lamberts stood, slamming his mug on the dinner table and glaring at Jaskier. “You wanted a whore to warm your bed in the winter.”

“No,” Jaskier said calmly, turning over a page in the book he’d borrowed from the keep’s library. “Geralt wanted a slut to keep his bed warm in the winter. That’s me.”

“I don’t see a difference,” Lambert growled.

“Lambert c’mon,” Eskel groaned. “This is getting old.”

“The difference,” Jaskier said, speaking over the scarred wolf but not looking up from his book. “Is that I love Geralt very much and I fuck him for free.”

Lambert stormed out, presumably to go throw things about in the armory. Geralt pressed a kiss into Jaskier’s hair.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “He’s not good with change.”

“It’s okay, dear heart, I’m sure he’ll warm up to me.”

Eskel stood and began clearing the dinner dishes. “Good luck with that,” he said.

Vesemir smiled across at Geralt and Jaskier, who were sitting so closely entwined. It was good to see his reclusive pup happy, and he had an idea what had gotten under Lambert’s skin. Before he retired to the library, Vesemir paused, resting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Jaskier smiled in return.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

Some days later the younger wolves were relaxing in the hot springs after training. Vesemir had well and truly put them through their paces and their muscles needed a good, long soak. 

Jaskier appeared, looking almost as beat as they felt. He’d been tending the handful of sheep and two goats that Vesemir kept, mending their fence today. In the cold, with the animals butting in and distrustful, it was hard, slow work. He slid in beside Geralt with a sigh.

Lambert huffed, but, exhausted, wasn’t about to leave the hot springs. Eskel eyed him in amusement.

Geralt, to the shock of everyone but himself and Jaskier, curled himself in and rested his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier didn’t even blink and instead reached around and began stroking Geralt’s back and shoulders soothingly. This continued for a few minutes, the other wolves watching a little dumbly. Then Geralt pressed a light kiss to Jaskier’s collar bone and turned around on the ledge, resting his arms out of the bath. Jaskier took this in his stride too and began firmly kneading out the knots between Geralt’s shoulder blades. 

Lambert saw the difference now. Jaskier wasn’t a whore, because even the best paid ones wouldn’t touch so...reverently. They didn’t gentle the tension out of scarred skin and pull the knots from muscles. He shot a glance at Eskel, who was watching with the same half envy half hunger that he felt.

Then Jaskier just got up and walked over to a basket settled next to the wall. He and Geralt had brought that too, it had soaps and oils in it. Jaskier hesitated for a moment, then he picked up the whole basket and brought it to the edge of the hot spring. 

He settled back in, seemingly unaware of the eyes on him, and handed Geralt a bar of soap. It was the usual pale yellow-white color for soap, but Vesemir made all his soap in a big vat and it smelled to high heaven and cleaned by taking a layer of skin off every time it was used. This stuff smelled nice.

“Chamomile,” Eskel said, sniffing. “And bergamot?” 

“Very good,” Jaskier said. “It’s Geralt’s favorite.”

Geralt having a favorite soap was news to his brothers, but they didn’t comment. Jaskier poured a little oil into his hands, but it was mixed with soap or something, because he rubbed it into a bit of a lather and began to work it through Geralt’s hair. 

Geralt reacted like a pampered housecat, arching back into the touch and humming as Jaskier worked. The bard seemed to be doing something of a scalp massage while cleaning and the wolves heard a rumble start up in Geralt’s chest.

It wasn’t purring, not exactly. But all witchers could do it, only when they were truly relaxed of course. It was a whole chest rumble that always seemed to soak into their bones. Lambert scowled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d purred.

Eventually, with Geralt boneless against the side of the pool, Jaskier finished, rinsing the suds from snow white hair and kissing the back of Geralt’s head.

“Alright,” Jaskier said, pulling two more bars of soap from his basket. “Pick one, each of you.”

“What?” Lambert said. 

“I brought five types of soap, Geralt told me about what you all have up here. So I brought his and mine, and one for each of you. Vesemir already picked his.”

“Did he?” Geralt asked.

“Yes dear heart, he gave me the tour the other day, picked that fig and goat’s milk one I brought”

“Hmmm,” Geralt replied, seemingly fast asleep.

Obediently, and somewhat hypnotized, Eskel and Lambert leaned forward to sniff each soap bar. 

The first made Eskel’s nose crinkle, and he quickly moved on to the second one, but Lambert lingered. The first one was nice. 

It was slightly green, which was weird, but it was nice.

They each picked the one they wanted and Jaskier smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “Now let me wash your hair.”

“Geralt,” Lambert said, immediately on edge. “Your bard is trying to fuck us.”

“My bard,” the white wolf answered drowsily, “Is trying to help you. Be nice.”

“You first,” Lambert muttered to Eskel. Eskel just shrugged and let Jaskier work on his back, settling in to a very similar position to the one Geralt had taken. He let out a few grunts as the bard worked skilled fingers into the cords of muscle on either side of his spine, but they certainly didn’t sound pained. Eskel even chatted quietly with Geralt as Jaskier worked. Then, obediently, he let Jaskier wash his hair.

“The soap you picked is oat and lavender,” the bard said. “So I have lavender oil for your hair, but tell me if it’s too strong, we can use something else.”

Eskel sniffed as Jaskier poured some of the faintly purple liquid into his palm. “Smells fine,” he said. Jaskier smiled, humming faintly as he worked it into Eskel’s hair, commenting a few times on how well kept it was. 

“Geralt always let’s his turn into a rat’s nest whenever I’m away.”

That made Eskel and Lambert raise their eyebrows. Geralt had always been meticulous about his hair, more so than was practical for a witcher. Eyebrows raised further when he blushed slightly and avoided their gaze.

The scalp massage continued and, to Lambert’s complete surprise, Eskel began to purr quietly. Jaskier smiled, but not mockingly or cruelly, and continued his work.

Eventually Jaskier finished with Eskel’s hair and then looked towards Lambert questioningly. “I don’t have to wash your hair if you’d rather I didn’t,” he said. “But I like doing it, and I think you’d like it too.”

“Let him, Lamb,” Geralt grunted before Lambert could say anything. 

“I was going to,” he grumbled as he turned around. 

The first press of hands into his back nearly burned. 

Money was scarce on the Path, even with Toss a Coin playing in every tavern. This year had been harsh on many of the villages Lambert passed through too, and they paid him what they could. 

Sometimes he was in the business of returning most or all of the payment, if things were bad.

All that to say, there had been no prostitutes, or bed mates of any kind, all year. Maybe one or two the year before that. Apart from his brothers, who he sparred with and got drunk with, almost no one touched him.

Jaskier touched him like being afraid of him was a foreign concept. Calloused fingers found every knot and point of tension and worked them out. Lambert felt like dough under a rolling pin.

“Where did you learn this?” he wondered aloud. “And why?”

Jaskier chuckled, digging his fingers into Lambert’s neck as he did so in a way that should have set off alarm bells but instead just sent electricity down his spine. “See,” Jaskier said. “I spent my time at university working for a bathhouse to make extra money-well, it was mostly a brothel but it offered baths. I just warmed up towels and sliced soap.”

“Mmmhm,” Lambert said, feeling his mind numb under the onslaught of touch.

“And one of the older women there, Rosie, lovely lady, taught me to make soap and find the right ones. Also taught me about massage, not the happy ending kind, that education I got elsewhere, but good information.”

It must have been, Lambert thought. It felt like Jaskier’s hands were touching his soul through his skin. 

Then Jaskier moved on to his hair. 

Lambert let the feeling wash over him as gentle fingers kneaded into his head, taking away headaches he hadn’t known were there. Manicured fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp. 

It was so good.

It was so nice to be touched when it wasn’t sex or sparring. It felt like a balm on Lambert’s soul and he’d been so jealous. Geralt had brought the bard and gotten all the touch he could want and left Eskel and Lambert without, but he was sharing this. It was like honey inside his brain. To his shame Lambert felt his eyes prickle. 

Witchers could cry. Their eyes didn’t tear up with wind, dust, or pain as much, because that could compromise their eyesight in battle, but emotion could bring tears. 

“It’s okay,” Geralt whispered, although not so low that Jaskier wouldn’t hear. “He won’t judge you.”

“I did too, a little,” Eskel said. Had he? Lambert hadn’t noticed. He let tears fall mixing with the moisture from the steam on his face. Jaskier reached around to get more oil and one landed on his hand, so he brushed a thumb down the tear track on Lambert’s face.

It could have, should have felt either patronizing or romantic. It wasn’t. It was just intimate. Gentle, intimate, platonic touch. Lambert began to cry a little harder. 

Geralt sidled over and leaned against him, pressing their shoulders together. Eskel joined in on the other side so that Lambert was sandwiched between his older brothers. 

They sat like that until Jaskier rinsed out Lambert’s hair.

He’d taken longer on the wash, Lambert noted, even though he had the least hair of the three of them. He was grateful for it. 

Eskel and Lambert watched as Geralt washed Jaskier’s hair, passing Geralt the bottle of oil--mint, to go with the mint and honey soap Jaskier favored--whenever Geralt needed it.

Lambert realised he was purring, and wondered how long he’d been doing it, but he had a pretty good idea.

[shushiyuii]

A giant going out to eat with their friends and getting a tiny in their food that looks more appetizing then the meal.,, (crimeboys??)

ITS TAKEN A WHILE BUT I DID IT, OVER 2K FUCKING WORDS TOO. I REWROTE THIS ONCE ADNJADNAJD AND I HOPE IT WAS WORTH IT LOL /s

Warnings: Soft vore, choking and maybe mentions of fatal? (It's not as bad as it sounds i promise)

Words: 2K+

There was one restaurant known worldwide, known for its delicious recipes from a world-renowned chef, Philza Minecraft. It’s not only known for its mouth-watering meals but also its delightful sweets from their baker, Kristin Minecraft.

Phil and Kristin had met back in their college days in one of the most famous schools for culinary with everyone going there being talented individuals and exceeding expectations of taste tasters across the world, the school’s purpose was to help drive those expectations even further.

Phil was a fine-dining chef whilst Kristin was studying in the baking course. Both had run into each other in coincidence and continued to run into each other since. And well, the two had simply fallen in love fairly quickly, they became the school’s admirable couple. It was love at first sight.

So, you couldn’t be surprised that Phil purposed so quickly after graduation, it was a simple picnic date where Phil attempted to bake a special cupcake for his beloved Kristin. And in the middle of that cupcake was an engagement ring.

They got married soon after, then settled down, started a restaurant together which became known as Tasty Treats. Then came their two little bundles of joy. Wilbur and Techno, they grew up in the restaurant, showing their own cooking talents. But not as much as their parents.

Techno had a particular interest in potatoes, any food he made with his parents had to be made with the ingredients, not that his parents minded this interest. It was just they had no idea why he had an interest in such things.

Techno was more like his father than his mother, and it was the opposite for Wilbur, more like his mother than his father. Although talented with his baking it wasn’t really his main interest, he just helped his mother where he could. His interest was music.

He was often just playing music for the restaurant, his own songs or general music. People noted that Wilbur did have a lot of musical talent, one that was similar to a siren’s lullaby. It was hypnotic, if you heard it, you’d be leered to the restaurant without a choice.

That’s how they met their third bundle of joy.

It was known that Borrowers lived amongst Humans, some being known as family or friends, they were known to live in Human’s walls or under floorboards and such. They weren’t eaten commonly as they used to be since Borrowers had evolved to be resistant to digestive acids.

Tommy had been a young Borrower, a kid living in the restaurant’s walls. He was abandoned by his parents and had grown to be somewhat independent on his own. He definitely wasn’t sneaky or cautious, but he got the job done.

Many of the customers and the owners were aware of a Borrower amidst their walls but they didn’t mind them, since well, the Borrower wasn’t doing any harm to them.

Now how did Wilbur’s music come into play? Well, Tommy would often listen to Wilbur’s music above a loose vent covering in the room. Wilbur was just a teenager and Tommy was just a child at the time.

Tommy was allured to the boy’s music, he found joy and comfort in Wilbur’s music, many had seen him at this point, but he had just become a part of the restaurant at this point, he had yet to be caught yet though.

Wilbur was just happily singing but got called over to help his mom with baking, to which he happily agreed and put his guitar aside by the chair, much to Tommy’s disappointment. Tommy stood up and was about to go back to his little space in the walls when he felt the rumbling in his stomach.

Right, he needed food.

So, he made his way to the kitchen. He stealthily entered the kitchen (as much as he could) and made his way over to the counter, he scanned around for anything to eat and a particular mixing bowl caught his eye and he made his way over to it, without the humans noticing him.

Once he saw the mixing bowl, he was delighted to see that it was a cookie dough mixture, the chocolate chips already in place, all they needed was to be cut into shape and baked. So, before the inevitable happens, he may have helped himself a bit.

But big mistake, “Wilbur! Could you pass me the cookie dough mixture, please? Darling?”, “Yeah! Course Mom!”. The sounds of the humans scared Tommy to a point he fell into the mixing bowl and when he looked up, a wide-eyed human stood above him…

…

“Mom! There’s a Borrower in the mixture!” Wilbur yelled out in confusion. “What?! Bring it here!”. Wilbur then brought the bowl to the other side of the room where his mother was. He placed the bowl down with Tommy struggling to get out of the mixture.

Kristin peered down into the bowl, her eyes widened as she immediately pulled out the Borrower, it scared Tommy. Was he going to be killed for stealing their food?! Was this his end? Tears stung into the boy’s eyes as he looked away from the human who was holding him in between her fingers.

“Wilbur, pass me a cloth, will you?” The hold then changed to a much comfortable one as he now laid on the human’s hand, “Awe you poor guy, you’re just a kid”. Tommy looked up angrily and with fear, he managed to speak up. “I’m not a little kid! I’m a big man!”.

Kristin's eyes softened and she smiled at the Borrower, “A big strong man, huh?” she asked with playful curiosity as Wilbur handed her the cloth, “Mhm!”. “Well, big strong man. Could you tell me your name?”.

“Tommy…”, “Nice to meet you, Tommy, I’m Kristin”. Tommy looked to Kristin to see a comforting face, it assured Tommy it was safe. Then, Kristin used the cloth to wipe over Tommy and clean him up. And once he was, he got another smile.

“You hungry, Tommy?”. To which Tommy nodded, he was then handed multiple chocolate chips to eat. Whilst he ate, he listened to the two humans’ conversation. “You think this is the borrower living in the restaurant?” asked Wilbur, “I think so”.

The two continued to talk as they worked, Tommy answering questions he was asked and that was show they met.

Now years later, Tommy was a teenager himself helping out in the restaurant. Multiple changes had been made to the restaurant to become a lot more Borrower friendly so their new son Tommy could easily move around.

Yep, Tommy had been adopted by the Minecraft’s so he was now Tommy Innit Minecraft. And he couldn’t be happier with his family.

“Tommy hun, mind taking this over to your father please?”. It was a small pot of seasoning his mother had prepped for his father’s latest recipe. “Yep, Will do Mom!”. He yelled as he grabbed the seasoning from his mother’s hands. He almost lost his balance from the weight of the seasoning but managed.

He made his way over to the kitchen, where his father was with Techno, “Dad! Seasoning!”. He yelled as he almost toppled over from the weight of the seasoning. His father noticed and immediately put everything aside, running over to catch his son.

Tommy landed in his hand and the seasoning in his father's hands. “Thank you, Toms”. Tommy then regained his balance, “Where’s Wilbur?”.

“Dunno”. Techno responded as he stirred the potato stew he was making. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen him! When’s he coming?!”. Wilbur’s musical talent had been recognised and had been offered a scholarship at one of the world's most prestigious music colleges.

He didn’t want to miss out on seeing Wilbur again.

“Tommy! A little help please!”. His mother called which snapped him out of his thoughts, he then ran over to the front to his mom and carried out the tasks given to him.

Now he was stirring a bowl for his mom as the day was almost finished, as they were closing his mind began to wander. Then, the bell before the door rang, it caught Tommy off guard to a point to which he fell into the bowl. “Sorry we’re-“ His mom cut herself off.

“Wilbur!”, She suddenly yelled. Running over to her son and embracing him into a tight hug. “Hi, mom! I missed you!”, he hugged back. “I missed you too, honey!”, he placed a kiss upon his forehead.

Then, Techno and Phil entered the room, “Wil!” his father said enthusiastically as he joined the hug of the two. “Hi dad!”, Wilbur laughed. The hug then broke apart and then he got a ruffle of his hair from Techno.

The four of them laughed, “How’s college been for you, mate?”, “Tiring, but great! I’m having a lot of fun!”. “Good!”. The four continued to converse until silence overcame them, they were all wondering the same thing. “Where’s Tommy?”.

The four then agreed to split up and find the Borrower, Wilbur searched the front kitchen, Techno in the back, Techno the storage and Kristin the serving area.

“Tommy! Where are you!?”, yelled Wilbur as he lifted the lids of pots to try and see if the Borrower was hiding in ingredients again. “Tommy!?”, he yelled again then noticed the out of place whisk in a mixing bowl, with Tommy struggling to breach the surface.

He then picked up Tommy, carefully yet playfully lifted him by the leg. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” he said with a playful tone. Tommy then began to spit out curses. “Fuck you! Lemme go dickhead!”.

“That’s how you greet your brother after not seeing him for months, Tommy?”. Tommy then stopped his struggles and looked to his brother, “No- I-“. Wilbur then laughed, “Calm down Toms- I’m just messing with you!”.

“Dickhead!”.

“Be quiet Gremlin since you’re covered in batter. I suppose we better get you cleaned up, huh?”.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Wilbur then lifted the boy above his mouth, smirking at his brother’s struggles. He then open his mouth, bringing his tongue out to taste him, he licked at the batter covering him, “Chocolate pudding? That’s always been one of my favourites!”.

He then carefully dropped Tommy into his mouth, feeling no struggle, he knew he had permission. So, he closed his mouth and poked his tongue at Tommy. To which his tongue got attacked by the playful struggles and hugs.

He then pinned Tommy to the top of his mouth, swallowing the chocolate pudding. He then opened his mouth to bring Tommy back out as his fingers carefully picked up the boy. Tommy complained as he was brought out of the mouth.

“What, you want to be swallowed?”. Tommy’s poutful expression was enough of an answer. “Alright! Alright!”. Then put the borrower back into his mouth. The once Chocolate pudding turning into a taste of Strawberry and Vanilla.

Soon, after tasting the borrower, he tilted his head back and was about to swallow. When the bang of the door scared the fuck out of Wilbur. “Wilbur!” Techno yelled, “We can’t find Tommy!”. His family soon joined the room.

The family stood as Wilbur almost toppled over, holding his throat and stomach. Tilting his head upwards as he began to choke. “Wilbur?!”, his father then ran over to Wilbur. He grabbed his son’s shoulders.

“T-tom-“. Wilbur choked out, Phil’s eyes widened as he realised what was happening. “Techno! Go grab water!”. Techno ran over to the sink, filling the cup to the brim and running over, handing the cup to Wilbur.

Wilbur gulped the water down, the lump in his throat moving as it finally made its way to his stomach. Wilbur panted as he finally got air into his lungs. “J-Jesus…”. Phil patted his back gently to soothe his son.

“Are you okay?”, he asked. “I-I’m fine”. Wilbur’s hand then suddenly moved down to his stomach, and he stared down at it. “Are you okay, Toms?”. “I almost died! Dickhead!”. Wilbur’s then rubbed his stomach in circles and sighed.

“Tommy’s fine too”. Then, he stood up with the help of his family and made their way home. Once he was in his room he put a hand to his stomach, feeling Tommy comfortably sleeping. ‘Yeah, sleep sounds good’. Then laid back, falling asleep himself.

[trashytummiez]

Master Kohga stuffs himself with bananas and gets his belly rubbed by his minions.

Master Kohga was beloved among his underlings. But there were members within the Yiga Clan who adored their master not just for his strength but for his looks as well. Many referred to him as utterly dreamy. And those who did tended to be referring to Kohga's most prominent feature.

His big poochy tummy.

The way it swayed with his every bold movement or jiggled beneath the tight red restraints of all Yiga Clan uniforms would make anyones knees weak.

It was certainly the case for a clan member named Haru whose mind wandered when he heard his master call out to him. And with how groggy Kohga sounded when he called for his minion Haru was quick to deduce his master sounded very overstuffed. He could only imagine how bloated that wonderful belly was going to be when he reached his masters chambers.

"Y-You wished to see me Master Ko-"

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHRRRP!!!!!

The young Yiga Clansmans stammering was interrupted by a raucous burp that bellowed from just behind those doors. slowly Haru opened the heavy door and what he saw caused him to blush so brightly that not even his Yiga mask could hide his blush.

Master Kohga was sprawled on his bed groaning with a pile of banana peels just at the foot of his bed. The end result of which left Kohga so bloated that he looked as if he had a mini boulder hidden beneath that skin tight red suit of his. Kohga lazily and pointlessly tried to settle his giant tummy by rubbing as much of it as he could reach but his belly was so massive he could barely reach any of it.

The master lazily looked past his giant girth and saw his minion at the doorway still as a statue and felt his eyes beneath his mask peering at that enormous belly of his.

"Unnngh...are you gonna gawk all day or are you gonna do your job...? Urf..." Master Kohga groggily called out to Haru then huffed breathlessly.

Haru quickly made his way to his masters side and heard that huge stomach churning harder and noisier than the brewing pots in one of their elixir chambers. His face only grew redder and redder when Kohga brought a fist to his masked mouth and gave a huge closed-mouth burp that actually pushed his mask out slightly and rumbled even louder than his giant belly did. Then Kohga gave another deep closed mouth burp after that and a lower one right after.

It was all music to Haru's ears.

"...Wh-What would you like me to do master?"

A thick groan emanated from Kohga's belly as soon as he heard the question to Kohga's obvious inquiry. The utterly bloated ninja master rolled his eyes beneath his Yiga eye mask and slapped his hand down over the side of his chunky belly as hard as he could. It sloshed immensely beneath his palm and caused his prominent girth to ripple heavily, similar to a like-like.

The slap also caused a huge gas bubble to work its way up Kohga's throat in time for his response.

Rrr-RUUUUUUUUUUUUBBBB!!!!!!

As if Master Kohga couldn't be any hotter for Haru watching him slap his fat belly as hard as he could and burp out his demand nearly made Haru faint on the spot.

But if he did someone else would take his job and he wasn't going to let anyone else have the pleasure. So the young ninja hopped onto Kohga's bed and sat before that giant tummy and very quickly started rubbing it. Both Haru and Master Kohga shuddered at the exact same time his lean fingers began to run across that huge mound of spandex-clad blubber. Kohga's tummy was so fat that Haru's hands actually sank a little into his blubber when he rubbed. And there was so much belly to rub that Haru had to practically lean against the belly as though he were hugging a big beanbag chair.

Kohga groaned pleasurably and rolled his head back with a pleased sigh. He let his arms drop to his sides while the young Yiga Clansmen rubbed all over his vast belly with eager attentiveness. The heavy ninja master curled his toes in his boots when he felt Haru's fingers really clutch at his belly fat and knead into it like a baker would a giant mountain of dough.

"Unnnnnf...no one rubs this thing better than you I swear..." Master Kohga praised through his euphoric bliss and punctuated his praise by patting the side of his belly heartily making it wobble with each pat he gave.

"It is my honor master," Haru said with a respectful bow of his head that did absolutely nothing to mask his clear arousal which only made Kohga snicker drunkenly and made his giant tummy jiggle with his amused chortles.

Haru leaned himself right up against Kohga's huge plushy stomach and sank into the thick fat across Kohga's stomach. He almost shuddered at the realization of sinking slightly into his masters wonderful belly. His face was concealed by his mask same as Kohga but his body language said it all. Haru was in heaven.

The skinny little ninja rigorously rubbed the giant belly of the big fat ninja master. If kohga's eyes were visible they'd be rolling to the back of his head. In fact the way he panted made it almost look like his tongue would be hanging out of his mouth if not concealed by his mask. That's how good Haru's rubs were getting the way his palms were groping every inch of that wonderfully huge ball of fat hanging from his torso.

Haru reached over and kneaded his hand into the lower center of Kohga's fatty tummy. It was so thick and blubbery that his hand sank even deeper into Kohga's belly fat than any other part of his stomach. But it was also where Haru could feel Master Kohga's rather deep belly button. And because he was all too eager to indulge he pushed his fingers into Kohga's navel making them sink into Kogha's belly fat and belly button at the same time.

Master Kohga moaned heavily from having his navel fondled by his underling. The way Haru was kneading into the center of his tummy was growing more rigorous. Haru really pushed into that thick layer of fat which made that giant churning tummy gurgle even louder than ever.

Though Haru may have been kneading into Kohga's navel too hard because he pushed down enough that a huge gas bubble wormed its way up Kohga's chest. A thick burbling erupted from his throat and rose higher and higher until the fat ninjas cheeks puffed out underneath his Yiga Master mask. Then he threw his head back and released the loudest burp Haru had ever heard. One which blared all throughout Kohga's quarters and made his fat tummy ripple for several seconds.

HHHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHRRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Master Kohga sighed heavily in relief. "Gaaaaahhh...that felt good," he moaned and gave his immensely fat belly a few hearty slaps which made it ripple and slosh like it was full of jelly. He looked over his massive tummy and saw Haru leaning there stunned still. Kohga snickered which made his tummy jiggle some more. He could practically see the steam radiating from the Yiga footsoldiers masked face.

To rile his minion up even further Kohga grabbed the sides of his gelatinous tummy and jiggled it around right before Haru's eyes.

"Boy listen to this thing. All those bananas really do a number on me don't they," Master Kohga teased.

The sight of his fat master shaking his huge blubbery tummy around nearly gave Haru a heart attack. He couldn't help shove his hands right into that giant paunch eager to feel more of that fat in his hands and even more eager to hear Kohga burp again.

His efforts were swiftly rewarded by Kohga releasing an explosive burp which reeked of the sweet stench of digested bananas. Kohga's belly rippled like it was a waterbed both from the release and from the sudden shove Haru's hands gave his middle.

"You're incredible Master Kohga..." Haru said fondly while he reached up and eagerly slapped the side of Kohga's belly which made it wobble with each hearty slap he gave.

The slaps also dislodged another enormous throaty burp from the bloated ninja master as well. It was followed by another harsh burp right after that.

BBBBAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHPPP!!!!!!

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRHHHPPP!!!!!

It was like all of Haru's fetish-fueled fantasies had come to life all at once. His beloved Master Kohga was sprawled and overstuffed on his bed even fatter than Haru had ever imagined seeing him. And the surplus of bananas that Kohga gorged on made his tummy so incredibly gassy and noisy that Haru was squeezing and slapping out one incredibly powerful burp after another.

Haru couldn't describe the way Kohga's tummy felt in his hands. The thick doughiness he felt when he let his hands sink into Kohga's belly fat. Or the way it rippled in his hand each time Kohga allowed him to slap it so heartily. He would fondle and play with Kohga's belly all night long if the master would allow it.

But Master Kohga for his part simply snickered and kicked back so Haru could keep kneading into his tummy. He was so fat that the rougher treatment of his tummy didn't bring any discomfort. In fact he found he quite enjoyed the feeling of his tummy rippling and quivering with each smack Haru gave it and the tender and firm kneading he gave. Though it was exhausting for the fat ninja to be burping so much. Haru's every press and slap successfully dislodged one tonsil quivering burp after another.

So in order to satiate his thirsty little minion Master Kohga sat up as best as that massive ball of fat weighing him down would allow him. Then Kohga wrapped his burly arms around Haru and hugged him as hard as he could right against his big blubbery belly. Haru's body sank into the masters tummy fat which also made a rush of gas that was still brewing in his stomach force its way up Kohga's throat.

This time instead of throwing his head back Master Kohga burped as loud and as long as he could right in Haru's face.

BBBRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRROOOOOOOOOOORRRRRHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Even with his mask covering his face and Haru's mask covering his own face the sheer force of that burp blasted over Haru to nearly blow his mask clean off. Kohga's banana breath wafted over Haru as he sat there against Kohga's belly utterly stunned. It wasn't the most pleasant way to enjoy the aroma of bananas but it was still somehow intoxicating for Haru. Though that might have had something to do with the source.

Master Kohga sighed over Haru and smacked his lips beneath his mask. "Ahhhh much better," he said teasingly and gave his tummy a light smack which unintentionally made the bloated ninja master give a deep closed-mouth burp that he blew to the side.

"...M-Master...c-could you...?"

One didn't need to be able to see Kohga's face to sense him rolling his eyes at how shamelessly thirsty some of his underlings could get. "Fine but my throat's starting to hurt so ease up after this okay?"

His arms tightened around Haru. Kohga squeezed his minion against his bulbous belly once more which made the overweight clan leader let rip another big closed-mouth burp that Haru could hear very plainly rumbling in Kohga's spandex-clad cheeks. Then an even bigger one followed that Kohga almost let out altogether.

HHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRLMHP!!!!

MMMMRRRRRRRLLMMMHHHPP!!!!!!!!!

Kohga grunted then instead of blowing the gas away blew it all over Haru's mask-clad face.

"Ungh. There. Happy?"

All Haru could do was nod absentmindedly.

Kohga grinned and released Haru from his grip. "Good!" He said and lazily flopped backwards which caused his immensely stuffed tummy to slosh around from the heavy thud of his back hitting his mattress. "You can keep rubbing then. Keep it up and I'll try'n give you a few more burps for your troubles. Sound fair?"

Haru had already been rubbing for who knows how long. And yet he was already right back to firmly massaging that ample tummy with the same eagerness as a child about to go to a toy store. "Master you are truly the most generous and wonderful leader our clan has ever known..."

Master Kohga snickered some more at the easy praise which made his tummy jiggle again. "Tell me something I don't know."

Then he was off to basking in more belly rubs from a deliciously loyal little follower.