#tried to make the colors more… sugary

[saphssapphire]

60 minute likodot, week 7- baking!

[anticipatedexhale]

Come on! Get ready!! they're taking you on a date <3

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, vander, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: how cute ! They decide to take you on a date(character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Pure fluff, and yeah that's it!!.

Mel Medarda.

Date Spot: A high-end art gallery followed by an exclusive rooftop dinner.

Mel enjoys sophistication and luxury, so she’d choose an art gallery showcasing Piltover’s finest works, followed by a private, candlelit dinner overlooking the city.

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Mel’s hand rests lightly on your arm as you step into the gallery, the warm glow of chandeliers casting a golden light over the polished floors. The air smells faintly of expensive perfumes and freshly polished wood. As you approach a painting, Mel pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully. “This one,” she murmurs, gesturing to a striking abstract piece, “is about the illusion of control. It’s fascinating how it challenges our need for order.”

You can’t help but watch her as she speaks, the passion in her voice drawing you in more than the painting itself. She notices your gaze and arches a brow. “What? Do I have paint on my face?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I just like listening to you.”

Her lips curve into a soft smile. “Careful, darling. Flattery like that might make me keep you out all night.”

Later, as the two of you settle into a cozy corner of a rooftop restaurant, the city’s lights twinkling below, she raises her glass to you.

“To beauty,” she says, her voice low and warm, “both the kind we can see, and the kind we feel.” The candlelight dances in her golden eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has faded away.

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Jayce Talis.

Date Spot: A lively Piltover festival.

Jayce loves excitement and fun, so he’d take you to a bustling festival filled with games, food stalls, and music, making sure it’s a night full of laughter.

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The sound of laughter and cheerful music fills the air as Jayce leads you through the vibrant streets of Piltover’s annual festival. The scent of roasted nuts and sweet pastries wafts by, and colorful lanterns hang above, casting a warm glow.

“Alright, pick a game,” Jayce says, grinning down at you. “I’m winning you a prize.”

You point to a ring-toss booth, and he confidently strides up, paying for a few tries. His first attempt misses completely, and you can’t hold back a laugh. “Hey, that was a warm-up!” he protests, grabbing another ring.

After a few more tries (and some playful banter about his aim), he finally lands one, earning a stuffed animal for you. He hands it over with a triumphant smile. “See? Told you I’d win something.”

As the night goes on, the two of you share sugary treats and dance to live music under the lanterns.

When the fireworks start, Jayce pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “This is nice,” he says softly, his usual confident demeanor giving way to something more tender. “I should take nights off with you more often.”

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Viktor.

Date Spot: A quiet observatory on the outskirts of Piltover.

Viktor values intimate and meaningful experiences, so he’d take you to an observatory where you could stargaze and talk without distractions.

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The observatory is quiet, perched on a hill overlooking Piltover. Viktor leads you inside, his hand brushing yours briefly before pulling away. “I thought you might like this,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s one of the few places where you can actually see the stars clearly.”

As you step onto the balcony, the night sky stretches out above you, a canvas of glittering stars. Viktor adjusts a telescope, his movements careful and precise. “Come here,” he says, motioning for you to look.

You lean over, and he places a hand on your back, steadying you. Through the lens, you see a cluster of stars glowing brightly. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, straightening up to look at him.

He smiles faintly, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight. “It reminds me of you,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter now. “Brilliant, even in the darkest places.”

For a moment, you’re both silent, the world around you fading into the stillness of the night. Then, Viktor hesitates before reaching for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “It means more than I can put into words.”

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Vi.

Date Spot: A rooftop boxing ring overlooking the Undercity.

Vi would take you somewhere personal to her—a rooftop she knows where you can spar, laugh, and share a moment under the stars.

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“Trust me,” Vi says, a teasing grin on her face as she leads you up a narrow staircase. “You’re gonna love this.”

When you reach the top, you’re greeted by a makeshift boxing ring set up on a rooftop. The view of the Undercity sprawls out below, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

“You brought me to fight?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

She laughs, tossing you a pair of gloves. “Not fight. Spar. Big difference.”

The two of you step into the ring, and she takes it easy on you at first, showing you how to throw punches and block. But soon, the playful competition begins, and before long, you’re both laughing too hard to keep going.

As you sit on the edge of the ring, catching your breath, Vi nudges you with her shoulder. “You’re tougher than you look,” she teases, her eyes softening.

“And you’re not as intimidating as you pretend to be,” you shoot back, grinning.

She leans in, her expression turning serious for a moment. “This was nice,” she says quietly. “I don’t let a lot of people in, but... I’m glad I let you.”

The vulnerability in her voice catches you off guard, and you reach over to take her hand. The two of you sit there for a while, the sounds of the Undercity fading into the background as the stars twinkle above.

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Caitlyn Kiramman.

Date Spot: A picnic in the countryside.

Caitlyn prefers thoughtful, intimate moments. She’d plan a private picnic on a grassy hill outside of Piltover, where the two of you could enjoy some quiet time together surrounded by nature.

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The sun is warm, and the breeze carries the faint scent of wildflowers as Caitlyn sets the picnic basket down on the blanket she’s laid out. You watch as she carefully arranges everything—fresh bread, fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine.

“I know it’s not as exciting as a big event,” she says, glancing at you as she unpacks, “but I thought we could use a little escape from the noise.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure her, settling down beside her.

She smiles, the tension in her shoulders easing as she pours you both a glass of wine. The two of you spend the afternoon sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying the food. At one point, Caitlyn leans back, her hat shading her face from the sun, and looks at you with a rare, relaxed expression.

“You’re good for me, you know,” she says softly. “I spend so much time chasing leads and solving problems... I forget how nice it is to just be.”

You reach over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You deserve it, Cait. You work so hard for everyone else.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes your hand in hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice almost a whisper. “For reminding me what’s really important.”

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Jinx.

Date Spot: An abandoned fairground in the Undercity.

Jinx would take you to a forgotten fairground she’s decorated herself with colorful lights and strange contraptions. It’s chaotic, but it’s her way of showing you a piece of her world.

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“Ta-da!” Jinx shouts, throwing her arms wide as you step into the abandoned fairground. Strings of mismatched lights are strung haphazardly between rusting rides, and strange, homemade decorations dangle from the stalls.

“You... did all this?” you ask, looking around in awe.

“Of course!” she says, bouncing on her toes. “You’re always saying I don’t do normal dates, so here it is. Jinx-style.”

She drags you toward an old dart booth, where she’s set up bottles and targets. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!” she says, handing you a handful of darts.

After a few rounds of chaotic (and hilarious) attempts at hitting the targets, Jinx pulls you toward the Ferris wheel. It creaks ominously as she climbs inside, patting the seat beside her.

“Don’t worry, it won’t fall,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Probably.”

As the wheel lurches to life, you can’t help but laugh, holding onto the metal bar as the two of you rise above the fairground. The view is a mix of the Undercity’s flickering lights and her makeshift decorations below.

“See?” Jinx says, her voice softer now as she looks out over the scene. “It’s not fancy or perfect, but... it’s ours.”

You glance at her, her usual manic energy replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable. “I love it,” you say, reaching over to take her hand.

Her cheeks flush slightly, and she looks away, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Good,” she mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

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Vander.

Date Spot: A cozy dinner at The Last Drop after hours.

Vander would want to keep things simple and meaningful, opting to cook you dinner in his bar after closing. He’d light a few candles and make sure it’s just the two of you.

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The Last Drop is unusually quiet, the usual crowd of rowdy patrons gone for the night. Vander moves around the bar with practiced ease, a worn apron tied around his waist as he stirs a pot on the stove in the back.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you say, leaning on the counter and watching him.

He glances over his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s no trouble. You deserve a good meal, and I figured it’s about time I cooked for you.”

The table he’s set up in the corner is simple but thoughtful, with a few candles flickering softly and two plates waiting. When he finally brings the food over—a hearty stew and fresh bread—you can’t help but smile at how much care he’s put into everything.

As you eat, Vander leans back in his chair, watching you with a content expression. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to just sit down and enjoy a meal like this,” he admits.

“Well, you should do it more often,” you say, nudging his foot under the table. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Let someone look out for you for a change.”

He chuckles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You’re already doing that,” he says quietly. “Just by being here.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten, and as the two of you sit there, the world outside the bar fades away.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?

🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)

⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.

"You're pretty like a memory"

☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)

⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth.  There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times.  You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.

"Don't look at me with those eyes"

☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)

⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.

"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"

☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)

⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.

"Be Not Afraid."

ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)

[woewriting]

basorexia (i)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: you're dying to know what cairo's lips taste like. word count: 2295 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no pronouns used, kissing, slightly nsfw, sexual tension, a bit angsty, not exactly a happy ending, sorry...

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Clearing your throat for the 5th time since class started, you tried to look away from the girl that stood in front of the class, paper in hands as she read the words written on it to everyone. The brown eyes would often travel around looking for any reactions that she would entice, from Mr. Miller, to her best-friend, to the rest of the students and finally landing on you. 

Cairo gave you a brief smile, but enough to make you blush. The heat wave taking over your body, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Sitting in the front row, that close to her, was not the best idea.

As the brunette finished presenting her paper, the professor motioned for her to return to her seat, right next to you. Also not a good idea, but she insisted and it wasn’t hard to comply with her wishes. You swallowed hard, eyes looking at your hands that rested on your lap, avoiding to look at her, being this closed never failed to agitate your heart, especially after her readings.

“So,” Cairo leaned closer, whispering in your ear with a sweet voice. “What did you think?”

“It was incredible, as well as everything you've ever written. You have a way with words that never fails to astonish me.”

The girl let out a small laugh. “Is ‘astonish’ your word of the day?”

“How did you guess?” You retorted in the same playful tone.

You finally looked at her. Big mistake, if you cared to admit to yourself.

Cairo was close, leaning into your personal space as she always did to test your reactions. Her eyes carried unspoken words that you wished she’d share with you the same way she does when working on her writing, but it never seemed to be something that would, eventually, come to reality. She had many things she wanted to share, unfortunately, none involved you.

Not directly, at least.

Feeling your throat dry at the sudden closeness, your eyes darted from hers, down to her lips where a small smile rested, knowing damn well the effect she had on you. 

“I can read you like a poem.” She whispered, pulling back to pay attention to the rest of the class.

It was a truthful statement, she can read you as if you were written by a high schooler, with shallow, badly used words that confuses everyone around, including you.

Sometimes it felt like she was interpreting you wrongly, in her own ways.

And that only made you more confused as to what was the feeling you felt when she was beside you. And what she felt for you.

Yet, you burn inside to hear her mind. 

The rest of the morning went by like the wind, occasionally blowing on your hair, threatening to rain every second. Like every other ordinary day. 

Cairo would spend time either writing or reading in her own world, completely focused on the words she would type on her laptop, stealing glances from you every now and then when Winnie’s laugh got her attention. You pretend not to feel the brown eyes burning your side profile, but the brunette always noticed the way you gulp and bite on your lower lip before returning her attention to her work. 

Only then you’d look at her. And it was as if the world was muted by whoever controls this reality, making everything disappear as you gazed at her face, from the messy fringe that covered her forehead to the light-colored dots that were spread on her skin, your favorite one being a small freckle on her lip that you wished to kiss away and steal it for you.

You were dying to know how she tastes, if it was bitter like the coffee she insists is better than any other sugary garbage you and Winnie chooses to drink, or if it was minty like the cigarettes that always rested in her hands. Maybe it tasted like cinnamon because of the gum she carries in her back pocket, or cherries since she loves to eat them when she’s alone at home.

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Winnie Black and whatever was the subject she seemed excited to talk about, and all you could do was laugh when she did. 

Cairo noticed your behavior.

On your way through the trees, you trailed behind her, just admiring the way she would kneel whenever a new insect crossed her way. 

“Don’t you think they’re cute?” She asked with glowing eyes, looking hypnotized by the green praying-mantis in her hands. 

“It would be more interesting if they could kung-fu.” 

Cairo rolled her eyes at your joke, coming closer to you to lay the innocent animal in your own hands, a disgusted feature took over your face once you felt the tickles in your skin. 

“If they could kung-fu, you’d be dead by now.” She joked back, walking her way out of the woods that led to the old, empty mansion on the other side, leaving you behind unsure on what to do with the tiny creature in your hands. Luckily, it jumped off on its own as if it had noticed your discomfort. 

You laughed to yourself, following her once again.

The old place had slowly become your second house as you stayed there more than at your actual home. With Cairo’s parents out for most of the days on working trips, you’d find yourself more comfortable with the other’s presence as you both worked on your assignment in silence after class.

It was dark outside the window when you let out a sigh of relief, finally finished with your work. Looking over to Cairo, she still had the laptop on her lap, but little did you know she had finished her own homework way before you.

“Do you know what ‘basorexia’ means?” Her voice made you stare at her with a confused aura. You denied with your head, sitting back up on the chair you were in. Cairo took one last drag on the cigarette that rested between her fingers before putting it out on the small, porcelain plate on the nightstand by her bed. She walked to you at a slow, calculated pace until she was standing in front of you. “It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss someone’.” She explained, calmly placing herself on your lap.

“What are you doing?” You choked on your voice, trying to back yourself away from her, but her hands firmly on your shoulders and legs resting side by side with yours made you stay in place. 

“I want the truth.”

“What truth, Cairo?”

When the brunette leaned closer, you could smell the mint in her breath. Her fingers found the collar of your shirt, touching your neck with the tip of them.

“About what you want.” Her eyes were dark, pupils full blown at the feeling of you so tensed up under her touch. “I see the way you look at me, an overflowing desire that is almost drowning you in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to play off, but your voice failed you as you looked away from her, focusing on the vintage furniture that decorated her bedroom; everything looked so antique, matching perfectly with the personality of the girl stranding your lap. 

Cairo’s hand left your shoulder to lock your chin over her index finger as she made you look at her.

“You can lie to yourself as many times as you want, but you cannot lie to me.” Her thumb brushed softly on your lower lip and you had to stop yourself from sucking it into your mouth. “You think you’re doing a great job at hiding what’s in your head, but your body gives away your true intentions.”

“And how’s that?” The low, curious tone in your voice made the girl lean closer, brushing her lips against yours.

“Your eyes love to travel up and down my body, but they seem to have a strange obsession with my lips.” She licked on them, the tip of her tongue touching you. You closed your eyes for a mere second, but the small tilt on your chin made you open them again. “Your cheeks gain a pinkish tone whenever I lean closer to you and you stop breathing as if the air I let out is toxic. Your hands refuse to touch me out of fear I’ll burn under your touch.” The hand that wasn't holding you in place found yours that were glued to your sides, making them rest on her thigh. “So, I want you to tell me what’s going on inside your pretty little head.”

Cairo Sweet is objective, what she wants, she’ll have it. One way or another. And she had her own ways to justify the means.

Your brain tried to form a single sentence, but the words had left your vocabulary, all it had left was the new word you had just learned: basorexia. 

Was that what you felt in your chest? 

Once again, the girl proved to be ahead of you, knowing your true wishes. Reading you like an open book displayed on her desk among the others that she devours. 

You took one last deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before you let out all that’s been troubling you since you first met Cairo.

“I want to kiss you. But only once, I think.” The girl smiled, reaching out for your other hand so that now both rested on her thighs. “I just want to know what it’s like and I’ve spent enough time staring at your lips that I can’t bear the thought of never finding out.”

“What if I don’t want to kiss you?” 

“Then that makes us two liars instead of one.” Your voice was nothing but a lowly whisper, afraid to break that thick tension that surrounded the both of you like the smoke that Cairo blew out of her mouth.

Your hands moved up and down, never trespassing the fabric of her black skirt. You didn't want to abuse a boundary that you didn't know existed, but imagined. Everything about Cairo was a mystery, she spent more time hidden in the words of her books than actually expressing her wishes out loud, it was rare the times she felt comfortable saying them, and when she did, it felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane.

Her hands were heavy on your shoulder, slowly moving to tangle in your hair to pull your head back. You looked at her with half-opened eye lids and parted lips as she carefully analyzed you, deciding on what should be her next step. All she knew was that, after the first one, she couldn’t take two back.

Cairo fixed herself on your lap, holding back a heavy breath that threatened to escape her throat at the touch of your burning hands moving past her skirt. You wanted to grab the flesh and move her against you just to hear that sound again.

You watched with hypnotized eyes when she stopped smiling, hovering over you with open lips, her hot breath mixing with yours, but never closing the small gap between the two of you. She was unsure, hesitant, almost as if waiting for someone to push her off the edge of a cliff.

This time you took the first step, your hands held her waist and your torso moved against hers to capture her lips with your own, sucking on her bottom lip. Cairo kissed you with hunger, easily taking control of the situation with her hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you towards her as she pushed herself on you, not even air could go through you.

She tasted divine on your tongue, even more than you could ever dream of, and the sounds that were escaping from her parted lips whenever you tilted your head for a different fitting filled your ears and soon became your favorite sound. When she moaned against your mouth, feeling your nails dig the skin of her waist, you went to heaven and back, your body heating up as if hell embraced you in a tight hug. 

Moving one of her hands from your face, the brunette guided yours up, squeezing her breast with a small smile while kissing you before leading it down her body once more. 

She was hot against your fingers and it was easy for you to slide them against her slit at a torturous pace. Cairo held your hand steady, deciding to move her hips against you, whining on your lips with eyes closed. Short nails digging at the nape of your neck, a bearable burning on the spot. 

Trailing your kisses down her neck, you licked on her pulse point, earning yourself a hoarse moan before she pulled back from you, standing up before she reached the ‘no return’ point.

You nearly screamed at the sudden abruption, following behind her. As your arms were to wrap around her waist, she pushed you down back on the chair with a firm hand on your chest. You stared at her, frustrated and bothered, and she didn’t seem so different from you. Swollen lips, dark eyes and heavy breathing, her shoulders fastly moving up and down. Once again, you were confused with her actions.

The awkward silence that filled the bedroom was loud, screaming inside of your head. You wanted to slap that expression on her face, the one that looked at you with a tensed jawline. Instead, you just got up and took the jacket that rested on the chair’s arm, hearing the flick of her lighter before you closed the door and walked down the stairs, a burning feeling on your chest.

[partycatty]

johnny, kenshi, kung lao, raiden, liu kang > lollipop

thank you for 450 followers! take a chunkier post as my thank you 🫶

suckin on a lollipop n wondering how they'd react >:3

warnings: they all need to be neutered

notes: it's orange flavored btw

[ masterlist ]

liu kang

• oh he tries, he tries so hard to not let it get to him

• but when your pretty lips part to speak and he catches a glimpse of the color staining your tongue? excuse him while he mad dashes to his quarters to smack one out silly style.

• no, not really. liu kang just avoids eye contact, tries to focus on training. perhaps he'd step away for just a moment to remember how to breathe.

• asks you to not eat during training, as it could be a choking hazard. he really just says that so you'd stop before he gets too hot under the collar.

• makes you hand it to him to discard, but when he sees the string of saliva as you remove it from your mouth you find it hard to miss the twitch in his eye.

• when you notice how much it gets to him, you make an extra effort to look up at him through your lashes when your plush lips pull the lollipop out with a pop. it's almost like a little game, how much you can do it before liu kang snaps.

johnny cage

• johnny couldn't ignore what you were doing, he would probably be under the delusion that you're sucking on it like that on purpose.

• takes several double takes throughout the day, having very little shame in being caught. he'd just grin at you and shrug after a light scolding.

• even when you put your lollipop onto your plate to eat or on the rare occasion you don't have one in, johnny's reeling over the tint to your lips. it looks like a pretty coat of lipstick, and johnny's hand squeezes so tightly on his chopsticks as his mind wanders, the boys wonder if it just might snap in two.

• it takes him some time, he doesn't want to come off as too weird after all, but at some point he draws the line when you flatten your tongue and swipe the lollipop down the entire length. johnny snatches it from your hand and puts it in his own mouth.

• could he recall the flavor, or is he too focused on your spit mixing with his? both! gross.

• winks at you as the stick dangles from his lips, trying not to lose his own mind over the taste.

• "i like this flavor," he cockily observes, pulling it out to inspect it. "tastes like you, sugar."

•...gross. did you even want to share? no. are you complaining? mm, not really.

kenshi takahashi

• kenshi cuts the habit short as soon as he notices. training is his priority. kicks, punches, slashes, the way the lollipop coats with your — NO.

• he coldly hisses orders at you to "spit that thing out." doesn't say why, doesn't say much other than that. what else could he say, "don't do that before i pop a hard-on?" are you crazy?

• speaking of kenshi, he's literally losing his mind over it but puts every ounce of anger he has accumulated since meeting johnny into hiding his expressions.

• "are you always this childish?" crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you unwrap yet another one from your pocket... how many are in there?

• hell, he might even try to tell on you. might make a stabbing comment every now and then when you're all together to train. choking hazard this, immature that.

• he wants to do what johnny does and just get a taste, but he's not as graceful. yanking it from your lips after catching it on your teeth, kenshi throws it on the ground and stomps on it, shattering the sugary goodness all over the cobblestone floor. sad face :(

• you want to be mad, to rip him a new one for not knowing how to mind his own business, but you A) have more in your room, and B) notice his blatantly obvious red hue to his face, and you know it's not anger.

kung lao

• all the charm, none of the grace. help this man, the image of your mouth haunts him at the unholiest of hours.

• lao would, at times, flick the stick dangling from your lips just to make it crack against your teeth and make you whine in surprise. he'd shrug and walk off, like it was somehow your fault for having a lollipop in the first place.

• he's not oblivious to your subtle advances when your tongue swirls around the flavored orb, and he's no better.

• "you really are shameless, aren't you?" kung lao crosses his arms with a huff, trying to roll his eyes but looking away feels like an incomprehensible task.

• pesters you endlessly, asks about the flavor and brand and if they're just like the ones at home! but he's just doing it so he can admire the glossy tint to your tongue and lips from the artificial dyes.

• stares so hard, raiden has to heel him in the foot so he'd pay attention to liu kang's lectures and announcements. it's like he's the only one that can hear the amplified swirling in your mouth, and he probably is (that is, because he is straining himself to hear).

• lao would ask if you had any extra in your pocket (of course you do!) and pop one into his mouth himself, giving you a taste of what he's been losing his mind over as his pursed lips suck and play with the lollipop. you thought you could get away with toying with him, didn't you? now it's an even playing field!

raiden

• come on, champion, keep it together! everyone notices the static raising their hairs when they walk by. that, and he's white-knuckling the fabric of his robes so hard they might just tear. thank god for his hat, as it conceals both the sun and his creeping blush.

• the sassy man apocalypse infects even raiden. sure, he's not a timid guy in the slightest, but something about how you toy with the candy makes him feel weak in the knees.

• "do you really need to have one at all times?" he'd ask rhetorically as he tucks his hands under his armpits. "those are pretty unhealthy for you." you become a victim of his polite scrutinizing, insisting that that much candy is bound to have a negative effect on you. anything to get you to put that thing away so he doesn't shock the next person he touches.

• raiden is trained, he is disciplined, he knows better than to stare. but the moment you're in his peripherals, he's side-eyeing you so hard you wonder if he's trying to send a telepathic message.

• whining his name as you pathetically jump up to reach his extended arm, clawing at the fabric after he tore away your lollipop the moment you pulled it from your lips. your subtle pouting brings a smug smile to his face as he watches you fruitlessly attempt to climb up his body.

• "four before noon is more than enough," he tuts, looking up at the lollipop before getting a downright evil idea. he's well-mannered and well-spoken, but if the opportunity to toy with you arises, of course he's taking it. boldness is one of his wildcard traits!

• he pulls the lollipop down into his mouth, sucking it in before you have a chance to protest. staring in awe as raiden moves the lollipop around in his mouth, an eyebrow quirked as he stares down at you.

• "hm," he hums, grinning down at you with the stick between his teeth. "this is actually quite nice." and of course, you're too flustered to argue further, instead retreating to your room to get a new one - and calm down from that sight.

[fairytsuk1]

staying in a hotel with quackity at twitchcon?

(smut)

sharing a bed with alex at twitchcon<33

"i can ask if they can get you a different room! i'm so sorry, i had no idea it'd be one bed..."

"it's fine! don't worry about it, alex," you already had your suitcase on the bed as you rifled through your clothes. "we can just share! no big deal."

it was quite the big deal, your crush on alex being immense and all-encompassing. you tried not to think too hard on being next to alex's firm, muscular body. you tried really hard not to think about the warmth he'd emanate as he softly snored next to you.

"right! right," and you miss how his cheeks color in a deep flush.

you don't even really end up spending much time in the room, anyways. twitchcon is lovely with fans gracing you with hugs and smiles; you were feeling on top of the world with every time someone came up to you to ask, "can i get a picture!?"

it all came to a head that evening, though, off of too many sips of wine and too many glasses of beer for alex. you'd gone from friends, to close friends, to something in between.

you're both too drunk and giggling messes. alex props himself up on his arm to smile warmly at you; your head flat on the pillows as you look at him.

"you look pretty," he says calmly despite his heart threatening to beat out his chest.

"thank you," you murmur with a shy glance away.

inch by inch, the two of you meet in a sugary kiss that leaves you breathless. it's instantaneous, the way your arms wrap around wide shoulders to draw him even closer; you needed his body weight on you for full satisfaction.

alex is hedonistic towards you. he craves you like a cool drink of water, you tangle your tongues together and with welcome push him back to settle on his lap, the two of you rolling and writhing in a combined heap of licks and huffs of breath.

"fuck, i-i'm--fuck."

"what is it?"

"i'm already so hard, you're just really hot it's so... overwhelming," his lips latch to your neck under your ear, laving his tongue before sucking a harsh mark on your sensitive skin.

"alex, i-i've been wanting to tell you something," you practically croak as his hips grind against yours. you can feel his bulge, feel his hardness, and it leaves you drooling for more.

"mmf, what is it?"

"i like you, a lot--oh! ohmygod!"

his fingers are deft as they rub quick circles over your lacy underwear. your poor hole soaking the fabric as you buck your hips up for more, "gimme more."

"fuck, wait," he pauses to wrap your legs around his waist so he can level face to face with you. "i like you, too."

"good," you gasp as he pushes against you again. "i-i really like you."

"i--ngh, i really like you too!"

"god, can i, can i fuck you now? i've been dreaming about, hah, making you cum. can i? please, baby?"

[siribaes]

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

[honeybadger16]

Charles Leclerc! Boyfriend Headcanons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader 

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, Charles being a simp for his GF

Word Count: .6k

a/n: Im thirsting over this photo so hard. I want them around my throa-

Charles is such boyfriend material 

the first date would include a tour around Monaco with Charles showing you his favorite spots growing up 

Extremely attentive to your mood and feelings

would actively listen and get angry with you when you come home and vent about the stupid people at your job 

“yeah fuck her” 

if you get a period he’ll get you ten different kinds of chocolates and all the types of pad or tampons the store has 

fusses over you

“you need to stay in bed!”

“Charles I’m just on my period not dying” 

“shh you need all the rest you can get” 

when he’s away for races he’ll text you good morning and night every.single.time.

sends you photos of what reminds him of you 

this included the pink tulips in his mom’s garden, the baby deer he spotted on his run, and the delicious strawberry gelato he got with Arthur

his entire camera roll is photos of you off guard 

to you, the photos should never see the light of day, but Charles could stare at them all day

expect all the pet names in the world with him 

“Mon amour, Mon Chéri, princess, my love, etc.”

speaking of princesses, expect him to treat you like an actual princess

likes to tie your high heels before you go out, so he can sneak a few kisses on your body

when he had a rough day he likes to sit at the piano and play for a bit

you usually sit by him resting your head on his shoulder as he pours out his emotions through his self-written songs 

you would encourage him to release his music on his platforms, giving him the courage to share his creativity with the world

at home dates are a must 

these dates would include binge-watching 2000s romcom movies and eating sugary and fat foods Charles’ nutritionist would not approve of

you would also convince him to let you do skincare on him (face masks, moisturizers, toners, etc.) 

he secretly loves the attention you give him and looks forward to stay-in date nights

this man is so dramatic

would get offended if you watched an episode of a show without him 

“I’m so hurt mon amour how could you do this to me.”

fighting is inevitable for any couple, and yours would most likely stem from the stress of racing and the effects it has on Charles 

Sometimes when Ferrari’s strategy or engineering goes to shit, Charles will come home in a bad mood 

This will cause him to respond in a curt and rude manner

After a few hours have passed he will come and apologize to you, kissing you all over your face asking you to forgive him

he loves when you use flavored lip balm, it gives him an excuse to kiss you more as he tries to guess the flavor

his favorite color on you is red, especially when shopping for lingerie

the first time you wore red underwear for him, he nearly came in his pants 

his mom would approve of the two of you seeing how happy you make Charles 

this man is whipped

he’s constantly heart eyes towards you 

will buy you all the nicest perfumes, jewelry, and shoes 

got you a necklace with the initial C and wears a matching bracelet with the initial of your first name 

loves when you wear his name on your shirt during racing weekend 

people would know that you’re dating regardless of the shirt because he’s attached to you in the paddock

whether it’s holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist he loves feeling you next to him

always looks for you first in the crowd when he stands on the podium 

considers you his rock and would do anything for you 

[graveyrdvamp18]

i'm bored, , so here's what i think of each lost boy

i'm gonna do this one vamp at a time so i don't get overwhelmed, starting off with this mullet king

david

• he's a self - proclaimed leader

since he's the first turned and seemingly the most mature one, as each boy joined the gang, he took it upon himself to look after everyone. cause he cared for them ? that could be a factor, but also cause of his controlling nature

• he loves to read

david seems like he secretly loves to read, and im talking about newspapers, too. he even has reading glasses. and i would know this cause i am the glasses. anyway, as far as genres, maybe horror, mystery, and throw in a little romance from time to time

• he is the most possessive of his belongings

this man does NOT share. and he will be mad if he catches anybody besides him with his stuff

• he is the smartest

okay so i'm not calling the others stupid, vampires in general are intelligent beings. i'm just saying david is extremely smart, but this is also what makes him very, very good at manipulation. a master manipulator, if you will. and it's not just with the mind games he can play, with his words, his expressions. he knows exactly what to do or say to get you

• anger issues

something tells me if he's not the one who comes up and speaks to you first, don't even try. he would probably just ignore you or tell you to go away. this is probably something he picked up from his father (not max), and i don't necessarily think it's shown in the movie, just from his energy, makes me think that

• not the biggest fan of sweets

i keep switching from serious to silly things, but that's just how i roll, anywayy. he doesn't hate sweets or candy, just could live without them. he hates the stomach ache you can get after, and probably how sugary they are. the only sweet i think he can handle is cookies, more specifically snickerdoodles

• david has the highest level of maturity

i've actually read about this on here, i can't remember the person's user, but i just remember how they talked of how he dresses and how he talks, and i have to say i agree. he does indeed dress and talk completely different from his three vampire bros. this also makes me think that david is definitely an old soul and he was probably forced to grow up instead of having the freedom of being a wild and care-free child

• black and red are his favorite colors

more specifically darker shades of red, he hates bright colors. probably would complain it's hurting his poor eyes and he's going blind

• cares about his health.. a lot

there's absolutely nothing wrong with caring about your health. although the man's main diet is bl0od, clearly they can still eat human food. he eats junk food still and is definitely always down for some pasta or a good burger, but he tries to maintain a healthy way of eating. maybe he tried encouraging the other boys to do so, but gave up cause he was getting no where

• keeps things clean

if he sees a mess, he cleans it. or gets one of the others to clean it cause they caused it. the cave is definitely organized, and that was probably thanks to David. cause you can see during any cave scene how it's an organized mess

• his favorite food is pasta

already mentioned this briefly, but please he would fck up olive garden. i just know they would hate to see him coming

• despises loud noises

this includes the TV being too loud, loud crunching, any kind of beeping and so on. it pisses him off

• stupid nicknames

can't stand them. the other boys definitely have silly nicknames for him like 'pookie' and 'davey' and so on, and he wants to curl up every time

• early birdy

as soon as the sun sets, david is the first to wake up. mainly cause he loves night time. even before he was turned, he was always a night owl. he probably snuck out into a field near his childhood house a few times

• writing

there's really no doubt in my mind that david loves to write. he has many journals stored away cause he considers them personal. he has such a high guard up that whenever somethings wrong, he turns to paper and pen. he also has the most beautiful handwriting out of all of them

☆ what he could've been

i feel like if david was never turned, he would've wanted to be in a major career. he would've been an excellent psychologist. he would've wanted to start his own family, and have kids, probably out in the west.

he misses this at times, the chances and hopes that he lost, but despite that, i actually think he loves being a vampire. he loves the chase, the thrill of it all. he loves doing whatever he wants, whenever he pleases

one last thing, this man loves music. all 4 of them do, really. i feel like he'd listen to anything that isn't rap or pop. he also listens to country but doesn't let the other boys know that, they'd probably never let him live it down

let me know what you think ! whether you agree or disagree, i'm open-minded

i love david, honestly. i know he wouldn't love me back, cause I mean, have we watched the same movie ? but he's still my pookie bear

[afsalovescats]

Anything whit AKUTAGAWA. Im BEGGING YOU

You. Akutagawa. Tea party.

Guys i think this person likes akutagawa 🤷‍♀️

BEST IF U USE LIGHT MODE TRUST

Akutagawa sat at a small table round table at your place. It was decorated with all kinds of pastries and small cakes, as well as some tea. He looked at you with an annoyed gaze, but also a hint of a soft glance sent in your area.

He patted the chair across from him, gesturing for you to sit.

As you sit across from him he immediately hands you a cup of tea, and picks up his own. He takes a sip, as he glances around the room awkwardly. He eventually spoke up.

"So do you like tea?" He asks

"Yeah."

Silence again.

"....You said you liked figs right?" You ask mindlessley not really considering your words too much.

His eyes widened, suprised you had spoken. He put his cup down and asked,

"Do you like figs too?"

He picked up one and offered it out to you, looking at you with a straight expression

You just stare at him for a few seconds as you think about how the tension is slowly melting.

He held it there, watching as you stared at the fig in his hand. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to eat it..?"

You chuckle as you respond "Still the same old, same old." As you reach out about to grab it.

He rolled his eyes, as he moved the hand holding the fig towards your face, forcing you to take it.

"Just take it before I shove it down your throat."

You take his words as the truth and decide to try the fig.

Right after, you sip your tea, that Akutagawa had suprisingly offered to make.

He let out a quiet scoff, as he leaned back in his chair and picked up his tea again.

"Do you like it, or is it not to your liking.."

"Its fine.."

He raised an eyebrow, suprised that finally something had made you speechless.

" 'Fine'? It's a gift, a little more gratitude would be appreciated.."

You let out an airy laugh as you say, "Right, my apologies."

He raised his hand, as if signaling you to stop apologizing.

"Just be a bit more honest.. I don't expect you to like every thing I give you, especially if you hate something just say so..I don't have all day to spend on useless pleasantries.." he says blankly. Expected.

Suddenly you had an idea,

"I'll note that. Have you ever had these?" I ask offering him some biscuts I had recently found, and have had a hyperfixation of lately.

He glanced down at the biscuits for a moment, taking the offered one. He looked at it for a few moments, then up at you.

"This is one of the few times you've been friendly.." He mumbled, before taking a small bite of the biscuit.

He finished the biscuit, but his gaze never left you. It was almost as if he was... staring with a slight hint of something you couldn't quite read.

He didn’t speak another word, but that small hint of emotion in his eyes never left. Eventually he looked away, letting out a small scoff.

"They are good right!" You ask hopefully since well these werent too sugary or too bland. A perfect flavor for your taste buds.

"These...aren't bad.." He looked back at you, a bit suprised by your sudden outburst. He let out a small scoff and tried to hide the faint color of red on his face.

"Do you like them?" You ask sitting up properly, awaiting his response.

"Yes, somewhat," He muttered, looking away again as he sips his tea.

you smile knowingly, he did like the biscuts. Thats improvement. Next time you should organize more events with the two of you...he did seem to enjoy them, whats the harm? ♡

[kakushino]

Alcohol consumption HCs - Class 1-A + Shinso and Aizawa

Aight, ya girl has been tempted into talking about luxury adult items and class 1-A - specifically alcohol uwu Inspired by that one art by Hiroshiki's assistant (twitter link)

Tags: alcohol consumption, grown up class 1-A (18+) Word count: 1,1k

Note: Heavyweight scale - 1/10 = very lightweight; 10/10 = very heavyweight

Yuga won't pass up on the chance to have anything sparkly and glamorous - any shiny and colorful cocktail won't be at odds in his hand during outings. Designated barman during stay-at-home parties, just make sure he has enough embellishment ingredients. 7/10 on heavyweight scale

Mina loves ciders - dry, sweet, and anything in between. What do you mean they are a 'girly drink'? I'd like to see you outdrink her when ciders are involved... She also doesn't refuse a good cocktail if offered. 8/10 on heavyweight scale

Tsuyu can't handle much alcohol, she only ever drinks really low % liquors that are more syrup than alcohol or indulges in virgin cocktails. Dislikes the taste of beer. 2/10 on heavyweight scale

Tenya doesn't drink. He's the designated driver (you'd be surprised how many people can pile up in his car... if the police catch him with overfull car he was held at gunpoint, officer :(( ). He likes a cup of warm sake to share with his brother every now and then though. 3/10 on heavyweight scale

Ochako is the heavyweight of the group. She can put a LOT of that stuff away and STILL stand... She likes cocktails, but more of the type that has lots of different alcohols mixed in (I can say it... Long Island Ice Tea or Oolong Tea). She only seldom enjoys it though, still in her "have to save up money" mindset due to her upbringing. 10/10 on heavyweight scale, don't challenge her to a drinking game

Mashirao likes 'manly' drinks - usually sticking with beer, whisky/bourbon or rum. He's more in it for the company than the alcohol though he won't turn down a good Old Fashioned or Godfather. 8/10 on heavyweight scale

Denki loves those extra fruity cocktails, more sugar than alcohol but they do creep up on you - and do they creep up on him... Man's drunk by the end of the night at every party. 5/10 on heavyweight scale

Eijiro thinks it's manly to be honest about one's self. He's not afraid to admit he likes the taste of alcohol but it also puts him in a depressive mood. He usually keeps with low % alcoholic beverages, mostly wine (with Momo) or beer (with Izuku). 5/10 on heavyweight scale, doesn't drink much

Koji doesn't like the taste of alcohol and usually joins Tsuyu and/or Katsuki in their sober camp. Doesn't have a number on lightweight scale because he tasted liquor once and hated it with passion (stuttered his way out of drinking it)

Rikido can't drink alcohol. He technically can but only if Izuku or Katsuki are chaperoning and they're at home because the last time he drank outside, he started a bar fight and nearly got his hero license taken away (alcohol has lots of sugars which fuels his quirk). 1/10 on heavyweight scale, he's staying away from alcohol (drinks non-sugary drinks)

Mezo can spot a good rum a mile away. He loves to taste rums he hasn't tried before but also loves to enjoy his go-to aged rum collection. He was crowned the Mob Boss of Class A. 10/10 on heavyweight scale but drinks for the taste (not to get drunk)

Kyoka likes gin - whether by itself or with tonic - and is a bit of a snob about it. Only drinks if there is a brand of gin she likes, otherwise can be found drinking cola (or cola-adjacent drink). 7/10 on heavyweight scale

Hanta usually goes for whisky or bourbon. Enjoys the full taste and smokiness. Isn't picky about it. If you dislike your hard liquor drink, he'll finish it and like it too. 6/10 on heavyweight scale

Fumikage wants to love smoky whisky so bad but he dislikes the taste so much - do you see his anguish? His misery? He's the victim of recognizing culture but not being able to partake in it :(( On another note, he's good with rum or rum-adjacent liquor. 9/10 on heavyweight scale

Shoto tries really hard to like sake and soju (mostly because his father can't drink [a lie, that man just hates sake and soju]) but he hates them (shut up, it's not a trait from his father!) so he usually joins Kaminari and Yuga in Fruity Cocktail Camp. 3/10 on heavyweight scale, don't let this man have more than two cocktails or you will find him crying over cat videos

Toru is a jack of all trades, she keeps a rotation on the Camps to chat with everyone. The only drink she dislikes is wine because her stomach can't handle it. You need to put a tracker on her too because if she gets drunk, she likes to 'practice stealth' and you won't know where she ran off to. 6/10 on heavyweight scale, her drunken mischief depends on which Camp she's at for the evening

Katsuki can't drink alcohol. It makes him sick and pass out as it cancels out his immunity to the side effects of his nitroglycerin-like sweat. Alcohol mixing with his sweat in his glands create a toxic mixture. He does however enjoy virgin cocktails. Doesn't have a number on lightweight scale

Izuku likes beer of the japanese variety - if he sits down with everyone, you can find him with a bottle/glass of Asahi most of the time. 4/10 on heavyweight scale, he sips on one or two beers per evening at maximum

Minoru likes to act all cool and mysterious, and if he wasn't that short, he would actually achieve it. He's ridiculously lightweight but he can last longer by popping off his hair balls. You can find him in the Mob Camp of whisky and rum drinkers. 3/10 on heavyweight scale

Momo is a rich girl through and through. She likes high quality (and expensive) wine, but she was also dared to drink herbal liquor before and said it wasn't bad. She's usually a bring-your-own at parties and bars see her drinking virgin cocktails. 6/10 on heavyweight scale

+

Hitoshi likes staying sober (he's lightweight). No shut up, he just likes juice, okay? (everyone bands against him and mix in vodka) Why does it taste funny? (he's under the table now, gods damn it) 2/10 on heavyweight scale, another usual designated driver

Shota hides his sweet tooth pretty well (a lie - everyone can see him knocking back those jelly pouches every day) so everyone is surprised (another lie) when they see him nursing a tiki cocktail. If you see him sipping on one, no you didn't and also no one would believe you. 7/10 on heavyweight scale

[navybrat817]

Navy, Navy, Navy! The most wonderful person to grace this app!🫶🏻

This totally gives off Florist Bucky&Petal vibes🥹🥹

https://www.facebook.com/reel/130668179932929?s=yWDuG2&fs=e

Most wonderful person to grace this app, nonnie? I'm not, but you are too kind and I appreciate that. Hope you enjoy this fun size fic.

Aroma

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky adores domestic moments with you. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Sugary sweet fluff and love, established relationship, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) Graphics talent and thanks: Divider by @firefly-graphics. Moodboard and header by yours truly. A/N: A little for something for my favorite florist for this sweet nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The second Bucky's alarm rang out in the bedroom, he reached over to shut it off. Not because he wasn't ready to get up, but because he didn't want to disturb your sleep. You still had time before you needed to get ready for the day and he wasn't going to wake you if he didn't have to. Even though he had to get up, he took a minute to hold you closer against his chest.

Breathing you in feels like home.

He hadn't expected to become such a cuddler, a bit afraid in the beginning because of his metal arm, but dating you changed that. More often than not he found excuses to hold you and you never seemed to mind. Feeling your soft frame against him, along with your sweet scent, constantly brought him a sense of peace. It reminded him of being in his shop surrounded by warmth, beauty, and brightness.

My beautiful Petal.

You let out a tiny moan when he rubbed his nose against your neck, smiling to himself when your heart raced faster in your sleep. As much as he wanted to keep you in his embrace, he had an early day at the shop and had to get moving. Placing a tender kiss over your pulse, he carefully tucked the blanket around you as he grudgingly slipped out of bed. He brought his clothes to the bathroom, too, so he wouldn't have to turn on the light and risk waking you.

He did his best to be a thoughtful boyfriend.

Brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, he reflected on the domesticity of your relationship and how much he loved it. After you cooked dinner together the night before, the blend of spices and herbs lingering in the air, he suggested a documentary he wanted to catch up on. About halfway through, curled up against him under one of your soft blankets, you fell asleep. Instead of turning the television off when he noticed, he took a minute to watch the colors from the screen move along your beautiful face. Once he finally brought you to bed, in just his shirt, he swore he saw you smile sadly in the darkness as you snuggled against him once again.

"Did I miss it?" you asked, cracking an eye open.

"You made it halfway through," he replied, hoping you didn't feel bad for needing sleep.

"Sorry I crashed," you said with a slight pout, confirming his thoughts. "I know you wanted to watch it."

"It's okay," he assured you with a kiss to your forehead. "We can finish it another time."

It didn't matter that you didn't stay awake for it. What meant the most was that you wanted to watch it in the first place because of him. A normal night, seemingly insignificant, but the little things like that shined just as bright as the major moments.

After brushing out his hair and getting dressed, he smiled as he saw the half full bottle of cologne on his side of the sink. He needed to spritz a shirt for you before he left. Grabbing it, he expected you to still be in bed once he left the bathroom. What he found was an empty room and an open door. Frowning as he set the bottle on the nightstand, he heard light footsteps in the kitchen and wondered why you were awake. Did he wake you up? He tried not to make any noise.

The familiar aroma from his favorite coffee greeted him as he left the room and he had to stop to take in the sight of you. Still wearing his shirt and slippers on your feet, you set his to-go mug on the counter and poured him a drink with a yawn. You were likely still half asleep, if he had to guess from your slumped shoulders, and it took a lot of willpower not to drag you back to bed to tuck you in. Breathing a deep sigh, he wondered how you managed to always look so stunning.

“Morning,” you yawned again when you caught him staring.

"Morning," he smiled as he joined you, pulling you into his arms. "Did I wake you?"

"No. You were nice and quiet," you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder. "Made you coffee."

“I can see that and I appreciate that, but why aren’t you in bed?” he asked when you reached up to play with his hair.

“Just wanted to do something nice because I love you," you said, lifting your head to brush your lips against his. His heart swelled as he kissed you back and he wondered if you knew how much the moment meant to him. "Hope that's okay."

Tempted to drop down on one knee and propose then and there, he stopped himself. He had a plan and wanted to stick to it. “More than okay. Thank you."

I love you, too.

Taking your hand, he pulled you back to the bedroom. "We having a quickie?" you teased.

He chuckled as he grabbed the cologne and sprayed the air directly in front of you, watching your eyes briefly light up from the smell. "Just a spritz as much as you're tempting me. Back to bed."

Not having to be told twice, you ungracefully collapsed on the mattress with a huff.

Adorable and you're somehow mine.

"Have a good day, okay?" you murmured, resting your hand on his pillow.

Bucky fell in love all over again as he bent down to give you one more kiss. How long had he dreamt of finding someone like you? A caring partner who stopped by his shop to bring him food after a long day. Someone who supported his drive to continuously learn, like researching what it would be like to become a dad. And didn't mind getting up early just to see him off for the day.

"I'll have the best day now with the best cup of coffee from the best girl I know," he promised.

And he hoped you had the best day, too.

Our man is so in love! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[schrodingers-romy]

Diner Vignette [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~800 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: A soft little moment at a late-night diner

Warnings: none afaik, some kissing i guess, just some sweet vibes

Notes: i've wanted to write some fluff with my wife for a long time! (also the comment i make about soft teeth grinding being a sign of contentedness from rabbits is true! however, loud or very insistent grinding can be a sign of pain or distress, so if you're unsure which your rabbit is doing please record a video and show it to a vet to be safe <3)

The city lights filtering through the raindrop-slick window reminded you of an abstract painting, all rounded smears and bubbles of color. The soft, dreamlike quality of the view only cast the sight of your girlfriend sitting across from you in even starker relief. Your sleep-heavy gaze brightened as you focused on her.  

Rumi was still in her hero costume, fresh off patrol when she met you at your favorite diner. She was a little late, because she ran into some trouble that day; evidence of which was present on her face in the form of small butterfly stitches running across her split eyebrow. When she had bounded into the restaurant, twenty minutes late and damp with the night’s first traces of rain, you had taken care to press a gentle kiss to the wound. Even though you knew she was impossibly strong, you still felt the constant itch to comfort and care for her every miniscule injury. (She had laughed when you doted over her after she simply stubbed a toe, but she didn’t push you away. She didn’t need your care, yet she basked in it all the same.)

 Her tardiness worked in her favor somewhat, anyways. By the time she slid onto the bench across from you, there was already a fresh plate of waffles sitting on the table, ready for her to devour. Your own food was sitting in front of you, untouched, until Rumi arrived. (When you told her you were waiting, she let out a small huff and then insisted on feeding you the first forkful, as a sort of wordless apology, though you hardly were starving in the time she was absent.)

Now, she was happily plowing through her food, blueberry syrup smeared across her lips in a sticky purple gloss. Rumi tried hard to swallow before she spoke, a rare instance of politeness, but sometimes she forgot in her haste to tell you about her day. (You were a little disgusted with yourself that you found her garbled speech endearing.) You listened intently, chin in your hands and elbows propped up on the table, your own empty plate pushed to the side. You had already offered up your own meagre tales from the day, but you were tired, and the prospect of listening to your girlfriend was infinitely more appealing than talking yourself.

After the last forkful of waffles disappeared into her mouth, Rumi made to wipe her face with a napkin. You reached out a hand to stop her.

“C’mere,” you said, voice a little slower and softer than normal. Rather than leaning across the table, she got up and joined you on your bench, sliding close enough that your thighs were pressed warmly together. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and her ruby eyes watched you curiously.

You didn’t give her a verbal reply, instead closing the distance between you two and pressing your lips together.

Rumi’s lips were tacky with sugary berries, and she tasted like them, too. As you melted into her, you thought that the kiss would have been sweet without them, anyways.

It wasn’t an efficient way of cleaning her face; in fact, you really just made more of a mess. But she giggled at your antics, when you broke apart, and snatched her napkin to gently wipe your own face clean. So, it was more than worth it.

“Did you miss me today, sugar?” Rumi purred, teasing.

You tsked. “You’re more of a ‘sugar’, with your sweet tooth,” you replied.

“Ah, you see, that is precisely the reason why I picked you. Because you’re so sweet.”

“Says the sweet talker. You sure you’re not tasting your own honey, bunny?”

You both blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting into simultaneous laughter.

“That was all so cheesy,” you wheezed.

She was no better, cackling so loudly it echoed in the bare diner. “We’re both so tired, aren’t we? Our minds have gone loopy!”

The both of you continued to break out into scattered giggling fits, leaning on each other for support as you steadied your breaths and rode out the waves of amusement. Eventually, the true tiredness won, and Rumi’s head began to rest more heavily on your shoulder.

You reached one arm around so you could run your fingers through her hair, as her carmine eyes fluttered shut. A soft teeth-grinding noise drifted from her, something she once told you was a rabbit’s way of showing contentedness. You smiled at it, shifting so you could press your mouth to the crown of her head, a subtle kiss.

You knew that soon, you would have to dart your way through the still pouring rain, back to your apartment. You would have to peel off soaking clothes, then take a warm shower together that you would both be too tired to make heated, before you could finally stumble to bed.

You didn’t dwell on any of that, however; you savored the moment, holding your love close to you as the dreamlike patterns of lights outside flickered across the rain-frosted glass.

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Past-lover Reader Edition)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Yeah so… Whenever I try to link something from both my main and this blog it doesn’t load so… Don’t know what’s up with that 😭 Also sorry if this is a wordy text I just had so much to talk about)

- Honestly, as “lame” (trust me it is NOT) as this is it strikes a particular cord with me, like the concept of him being with someone before RoadBlasters, and years of hiding away in either the bowels for game central station or in Sugar Rush under a different identity they come back to him— But doesn’t recognize him… HOW?

- Jokes aside both personalities share a whole lot of similarities, more than he likes slip out, does just that the bouts of easily provoked rage, selfishness, the drive to win, the attention seeking— And yeah makes them look at one another in confusion but he’s all they know, so, why would they question him?

- Just everything is Turbo underneath a more notable lisp, fake cheerful disposition, and a soft sugary look, he may be a bit more cunning I mean he had a lot of time to think to himself, and nicer but that niceness is conditional.

- Who knows, maybe that’s what lured you in, nostalgia and deja vú that you sum up from Sugar Rush being a racing game like Turbo Time, a lot of mental gymnastics would have to be done to excuse the shit Candy slips up with.

- I mean, you’re an outlier, a disembodied number, he didn’t keep in mind when he usurped the throne— I mean, you’d think you’d avoid racing games after what happened to him. Makes him a bit resentful towards you at first, after all this time of trying to forget his mistakes you come waltzing in with an in awe look on your face, eager to see the new racers and new environment of sugar and spice.

(Dnypsyadnq, dnypsyadnq)

- A part of him wonders how you don’t know, I mean he doesn’t expect you to discover him the first time you meet— But the more and more you guys interact he’s left speechless by how you don’t know, you loved him didn’t you? … The other part is glad you don’t, one less person to extort to keep his secrets, make his life even more easier than it already was as a highly privileged patriarch.

- I think he tries to “covertly” push you away from Sugar Rush, not wanting the reminder that he fucked up his life drastically, but like a cockroach— Which I do see him calling you while venting about you to Sour Bill or one of the doughnut police before scoffing and asking himself why he even bothers, they could never understand.

- And if you keep on coming back, whether it be from general curiosity to Sugar Rush or coming back for him specifically to talk to, so much so he has to just deal with it begrudgingly, grumbling to himself as he catches himself looking at you whenever he can… Which of course he plays off as just being annoyed by your presence as you rattle off about your day almost just like you used to back in the good old days.

- I mean, he plays it off as a “following the code” kind of thing… But everyone knows he’s full of shit to a degree, as sneaky as he can be for much of his antics, you bring about such a palpable sense of emotion from King Candy, like a person constantly being reminded of a past they desire to go back to… But many disregard it as a simple cartoonish rivalry with how he taunts you, vaguely reminding you of how Turbo used to, to the point where you keep coming for more, a concept well known and even expected in the arcade. It can’t possibly be something serious… Can it?

- No one expects such a brightly colored game to have anything serious to it, but here’s King Candy, with his C.L.A.W force and manipulation when he thinks his position is threatened, threatening to put you into the fungeon but never following through for some reason. A part of him admits that you make him a bit more softer, there’s a sense of nostalgia tied to you that lures him in every time.

(Jx ilufkc xlt jnyks lkix dnypsyadnq)

- Honestly in any form of relationship that may occur, lies will be in it, even before the whole RoadBlasters situation he lied to you, a lot, I mean, it’s like second nature to him— Even after all this time it hasn’t changed, I mean— He’s basing your “new” relationship on a lie, a big fat bitch of a lie, pardon my potty mouth.

- Honestly I believe he’d be reluctant to even start a friendship with you because he’d be so afraid of being found out, especially by you… But of course he gets more daring, cocky even as he realizes you truly aren’t putting the pieces together.

- A whole lot of things could happen in this situation, how far can he go before you start getting suspicious of him when he slips up? Do you even have the capacity to and it sticking in a compelling way? I think after a while he just steadily keeps you closer and closer, clutching onto the physical memory of his past as a means to make himself feel a better, as “blameless” as he may act he has his regrets and having you around happens to calm them down, if only for a moment.

- I mean, I have expressed my curiosity over this time and time again but I simply can’t stop thinking about it. The arcade characters are their own beings, with their own thoughts and choices, but, from what I can tell at the very least, there’s a palpable disconnect that keeps them from being fully complex in their emotions in a “real way”, which is a good way of conveying that even though they may act human they are still the product of humans. Which I kinda believe may have been less effective with the earlier arcade games, much like game mechanics and imagery, slowly evolving.

- As much as they may imitate humanity they aren’t, so, something that comes across to a gamer as odd may be called out— To a game character it’s just one of their fellow coworkers or in King Candy’s case a ‘pre-programmed’ leader simply being themselves, they don’t know anything else beyond that after all.

(Xltp hfqq vyq qtad y qaypnr sdfkc sl jn)

- Even with this all and his over exaggerated attitude, I believe that unlike the other arcade cabinets of his time, he’s probably able to realize things some things, the existentialism of being a creation to a creator that was made for the entertainment of higher beings, forever racing around a race track—

- The sense of purpose and mortality that clenched at his soul when RoadBlasters started taking it away with better graphics, better mechanics, better everything. I mean Ralph said he and his game were “very lucky” to have had gone on for so long without any problems regarding the game, it can be argued that Turbo was probably deeply afraid of that due to him valuing his life and his place in the arcade, especially with people like you at his side, having so much to lose and still making the wrong decisions.

- I see him venting about it to you, you guys were close after all, that burst of negative emotions that you couldn’t do nothing to quell as he searches and searches till he finally comes to a conclusion, much like how Ralph did when he wanted to prove himself to the Nice Landers and Fix-It Felix that he was more than what he was programmed.

- I don’t think he’d treat it with sorrow, hell, in the movie he doesn’t. He’s so keen to give himself new purpose when he old one loses the wonder that made it so special to the gamers, not giving anything a thought, not even you, as he takes that plunge, racing car revving as he’s able to sneak it into RoadBlasters.

- Or even as he proudly displayed himself cruising around the screen of RoadBlasters before violently crashing into the main character's kart, breaking both games with his missteps and having to hide away in the bowels of the Game Central Station, only watching people from afar like a more spiteful and prideful Phantom of the the Opera.

- Gazing at you from afar, a part of himself so intrinsically tied to you he could never deny it, I think he makes a promise to himself that inevitably doesn’t keep, keeping away from you. There’s some tragedy to be considered in this situation for both parties, even if they don’t know it till it’s too late.

(I ayks enifnun fs’q gtqs y etpkfkc jnjlpx

This is more of a word barf than anything, again my school has been killing my creative ideas so this may be… Derivative.)

[brittle-doughie]

(Part 2!)

The next day, Sunflower Cookie went back to the ruin castle, overgrown with sunflowers taller than the crumble walls themselves. Something felt off, along with the “soul-jam” that they found yesterday. Sunflower Cookie was gonna get to the bottom of this mystery, if they don’t like it or not. They hop and climb over the rumble on the ground, getting into the castle and passing by the glass mural. They grab the soul-jam out of their messenger bag, the warm teardrop gem still warm in their hands. “So what is my connection with this castle? You talked yesterday so you can talk today.” Sunflower Cookie question the gem, kicking a small pebble. “Oh, dear friend. You’ll manage to keep your curiosity! But you lost your memories and original form.” The gem said, chuckling then sighing. Sunflower Cookie groans loudly in frustration, annoyed at the clairvoyant answer. “Come on! You said that last night when I asked!” Sunflower Cookie kept walking through the rubble, going deeper and deeper into the castle.

After a while, they reach a library inside the ruin castle. Sunflower Cookie could read for hours on end, so they were excited. Browsing the shelves, they notice a book written by someone called Light Milk Cookie that was illustrated by Blooming Butter Cookie. The book was about the theatrical arts and science. The illustrations were fantastic, where Sunflower Cookie couldn’t help feel proud for some reason. “Oh…this book. I remember Light Milk Cookie’s explaining about a lot of stuff for hours while you try to write and draw all of it down for this book, while also trying to pay attention.” The Light of Compassion chuckled. Sunflower Cookie just gave a strange look and puts the book into their bag.

Later, Sunflower Cookie reach an old training ground of sorts. The ground was covered in scratches and the slight smell of spice in the air. “The training grounds where Red Spice Cookie would spar with you, even though you were significantly weaker than him, you still kept up a fight. And then afterwords you two laugh it off.” Sunflower Cookie was definitely put off at that one. They aren’t a fighter, their a writer.

Next, they went into small meditation room, where the cupboards had tea leaves and incense. “I still distinctly remember you not be able to sit still while Clear Flour Cookie and you tried to meditate. And while you didn’t like the tea, you still drank it to make her happy.” Sunflower Cookie has trouble trying to like tea, so that actually made kinda sense.

After that, they went into a garden, still blooming with brightly color flowers of pink and yellow. “The hours you and Sweet Sugar Cookie would work on this garden, getting dirty and observing the bugs. Then, you two take a long nap, exhausted.” Sunflower Cookie doodles a ladybug in their notebook, listening to the soul-jam. They do like to observe bugs, not anything gross though.

Finally, they walked just outside the castle, sitting of a bench. “Fair Salt Cookie would come back sometimes with wounds protecting the innocent. You would tend to him, ranting to him to be more careful while he sighs at your concern. Oh yeah good times.” Sunflower Cookie just listen, vaguely remembering all of it, but there are still torched pieces of a painting.

After exploring the castle, Sunflower Cookie went back to the Cookie Kingdom and went to bed…

…At the Ivory Pagoda, Mystic Flour Cookie’s apathetic atmosphere slightly change. “Oh. Have the seeds grown back to a sunflower? Will we have tea again?”

In the ruin lands of destruction, Burning Spice Cookie laughs in excitement. “Hahaha! Looks like the sparring matches will be greater than ever! Will you have new tricks up your sleeve!?”

Up in the sugary clouds, Eternal Sugar perked up from her slothful nap. “*yawn*. Is that…you…Blooming Butter..?” Her voice softened, cracking with grief. Deep inside the Silver Tree, Shadow Milk Cookie hummed. “Ugh! Thousands of years stuck in this tree, and I can’t think I a play you might like. No matter~ I can always use simple lying!”

And deep in a dark forest, Silent Salt Cookie stop in his tracks, armor covered hand clutching his sword. “…” He looks onto the distance, silence went away with sad silence instead. He walks further in, eventually reaching a ruin castle overgrown with sunflowers taller than the ruin walls. He walks in, passing rubble and further in. He walks towards a bench, sitting on a spot where he sat thousands of years earlier, where he had a friend scold him about be careful while tending to his wounds. He lays a hand over the spot his friend sat, feeling the warmth of a sunset. He now know, that his friends is back, but not the same. They won’t remember him, or anyone else. A single tear drops onto the ground, the only thing breaking the silence.

Neat read.