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daddy-dotcom · 10 months

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Twice Baked

Summary: Two batches of brownies were made: one with laced with "maryjane," and one without. Unfortunately, the wrong ones end up in the hands (and mouths) of the BAU. Requested by my lovely mutual @swaggysagiewagie <3

Words: 1,050

Rating/Warnings: M- Drugs (marijuana), canon typical mentions of violence, fluff :)

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I don’t normally make it a habit of putting illegal substances in my baked goods. I actually don’t make it a habit of using illegal substances at all, given the FBI’s random drug screenings. But when my college roommate called me in a panic at 11 pm because she had already burnt 3 batches of her attempted “special” brownies, I knew I had no choice but to help her. It was her boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow and he specifically requested the dessert, so we spent the entire night baking our asses off. While I was busy baking the weed brownies, I thought it might be nice to bake some regular ones to take to work. I was extremely careful not to mix them up. I even marked the pan without the weed brownies with a red sharpie so that I wouldn’t mix them up in the morning. But after such a late night, I was in such a hurry the next morning that I hadn’t even noticed that the only pan left in the kitchen was a batch of pot brownies. And of course, I grabbed the pan without a second thought, and dropped them off in the break room, unaware of what was to come of my little mix up.

As the team trickled in and out of the break room to get their morning coffees, they each helped themselves to a brownie under the impression that it was just another one of my delicious baked treats. It wasn’t until Penelope called us all in to the meeting room for a debrief that I noticed something was off.

“LETS GET STARTED BECAUSE WE HAVE A LOT TO COVER PEOPLE” Penelope said in a much louder voice and with a much quicker pace than usual.

“Ourfirstvictimisa32yearoldpoliceofficerandwasfoundstrangledinhercar,aaaaaandoursecondvictimwas40yearsoldandalsoapoliceofficerandOH MY GOD WE’RE NEXT” she said.

That was odd, even for Penelope.

Just then, I could hear Spencer in the seat next to me trying to stifle his giggles.

“we’re gonna die,” he said, as if that was the funniest thing in the world. “I’ve died before it is not fun,” he said between laughs.

Oh no....

It hit me just then that Penelope and Spencer's behavior was no accident, this was a result of my delicious handiwork. I can't believe I actually mixed them up.

Of course I mixed them up.

I was up so late and as luck would have it, I brought the goddamn weed brownies into Quantico.

"Calm down mama, nobody's dying alright," Morgan said. I could tell he had some brownies too because he was talking incredibly slow and he was leaned all the way back in his chair.

"Morgan's right everybody just be cooooool." I'm guessing Prentiss also had some, but she was so relaxed that it seemed like this wasn't the first time she and Morgan have been high.

"JJ you alright?" Morgan asked. She had her head down on the desk and seemed like she was sound asleep.

"OHMYGOD SHE'S DEAD TOO" Garcia yelled.

"Shhhhh it's okay babygirl," Morgan cooed as he wrapped Garcia in an embrace.

"Oh god," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose in both embarrassment and defeat.

"What's going on?" Hotch asked, standing in the doorway and staring in confusion.

"Nothing boss man just hanging around" said Emily.

I knew I had to come clean to Hotch about the brownies. "Sir, I can explain" I said, feeling more embarrassed than ever. "I helped a friend make some brownies that were laced with...a certain substance, and I decided to make a regular batch for the team, but in my haste this morning I must've mixed them up."

“Yes! The brownies! You made them (Y/N)!?” Spencer asked bewildered, “that must be why they were soooo gooood.”

I could feel his hand moving to touch the exposed skin under my skirt, and while I should have immediately swatted his hand away, I let him linger for just a moment.

“Spencer, you’re high, you all need to chill out before we can get back to work” I said as I gently brushed his hand away.

“Can I give you a kiss?” he asked with a pout, completely ignoring what I had just said

“No!I mean….yes. Maybe? But not right now!”

"No one is going to do any work until they are no longer high. I can brief them on the plane once they sober up. As for you, (Y/N), I'd like to speak with you in my office."

Oh no, this was it, I was most likely going to get fired.

"(Y/N), I'll make this brief. I realize this was most likely a mistake on your part. That said, you still drugged our team members with a substance that is illegal in several states. However, given that it's technically legal in ours, I am only going temporarily suspend you from work for the duration of the case."

"I wanted to apologize again sir, I never wanted to cause anyone harm or distract them from work."

"I know (Y/N), just be grateful I'm not reporting any of you or requiring you all to get drug tested."

I nodded profusely and walked out of Hotch's office before he could change his mind. As I rounded the corner, I bumped right into Spencer's chest. He couldn't help but giggle some more as we collided.

"Sorry Spence, not just about bumping into you but also the whole weed brownie thing."

"It's okay (Y/N)," he said as his giggles subsided,"I reeaaaalllyyyy liked those brownies."

Seeing Spencer in this state, I couldn't help but laugh too. "I'll make you some normal ones sometime, Spencie," I said, playfully punching him in the arm.

".....soooo can I still give you that kiss?" he said, gently brushing my arm. He slowly leaned in with his eyes closed, but I couldn't help but smile as I put my index finger to his lips.

"Hotch kinda 'grounded' me at the moment, but I'll let you give me as many kisses as you want when you get back," I said with a wink.

I may have risked losing my job in the process, but I'd bake weed brownies all over again if I knew that it would cause my work crush to finally make a move.

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AN: Thank you for all the love on Bang My Line. It really motivated me to write more so here’s my second criminal minds 1shot. Get added to the tag list for my next fic The Visit. Hope y’all enjoy <3

#spencer reid #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #david rossi #derek morgan #mgg #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #paget brewster #aj cook #shemar moore #penelope garcia #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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thewritetofreespeech · 6 months

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May I request Gojo's s/o giving him healthy desserts (yogurt parfait) in place of snacks and desserts high in sugar because she worries for his health?

Something sneaky was going on around him, and Gojo didn’t like it. He never liked it when he wasn’t being the sneaky one.

At first, he thought he was just being absent minded. Going over to his snack cubby in the house to get a treat and finding less & less of his favorite cookies and chocolates in there. Maybe he was eating them faster than he remembered? So, he brushed it off.

Then he thought he was being paranoid. The sugar on the counter, that was usually next to the coffee pot in the morning, had suddenly vanished. The puddings he packed in his lunches that morning would suddenly be gone too. The vending machines by campus were all randomly ‘out of order’. So he knew something was up.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked his s/o, as they sat in a café having coffee (because he couldn’t get any at the school because all the sugar was gone there too). His tone grumpy as he was coming down from his perpetual sugar high.

“It’s a parfait.” They replied. Gently sitting the dessert in front of him along with their own black coffee. “They make really good ones here, so I thought you would like it.”

Gojo smiled a little. Finally perking up. Maybe his string of bad luck with sweets was just that, and his curse was finally lifted. “Pffffffffffttt!! What is that?!”

“It’s a parfait….” [Y/N] told him. Shocked by his spit take.

“This isn’t a parfait! Parfaits have ice cream in them!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Satoru. It’s frozen yogurt. Not like….cottage cheese or something….”

He looked at [Y/N]’s pout and suddenly realized what was going on. “It was you!” He accused. “You’re the one who’s been stealing my snacks and moving all the sugar around!” Of course. He should have figured it out sooner. [Y/N] was the only one besides non-curse users who can get past his senses; because he’s let his guard down so much around them.

“You eat too much sugar.” They told him. Still pouting, but clearly deciding that their deception was the hill they were going to die on. “I was try to cut some of it out of your system.”

“You were trying to cut all of it out.” Gojo corrected. “I’ve been getting headaches.”

“Which is further proof that you’re addicted to sugar!” Damn. He shouldn’t have given them more ammunition. “I just worry about your health. Too much sugar is terrible for you. You can get diabetes, high blood pressure, increased risk of heart disease.” Gojo decides to not comment on the fact that these come with old age, which is probably not something he will ever see. “I just want you to be healthy for a long time.”

“Just not happy.”

Gojo sulked for a moment, but then picked up the spoon again and ate another bite of the parfait. “I guess it’s fine.” [Y/N] smiled at that. “I can cut back a little. But if you start taking my pudding cups out of my lunch again, all bets are off.”

“Deal.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #scenarios #imagine

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scarlet-empresss · 3 months

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Simon Riley x reader relationship headcanons Sooo after nearly seven years of being a mostly inactive member of the fandom, writing countless fics that nobody ever got to see - I can say I’ve developed a fairly clear picture of how I envision some of these characters. Therefore, here are some of the things I think would characterize Simon as a partner (and a few of just him as a person). English is not my first language so please bear with me :)

Friends first. I feel like he's not one to rush into a serious relationship without having strong foundations laid out first. You're a trustworthy, longtime teammate he's been working with for years, who has seen his darkest side and inner demons resurface, and still be accepting of him as a person? Or perhaps you're a civilian working at the coffee shop he frequents; the same civilian who spilled his usual at him one time, leading to an unexpected, but most certainly intruguing friendship? Let's fucking roll with either.

Following the first point—he's not a 'love at first glance' type of guy. He needs a connection, a spark; that spark that comes from knowledge and insight, both gained through meaningful interactions and a genuine bond. This is what Simon seeks. (Bonus points if you're a medic/nurse, because, you know, I fucking love medic x soldier trope)

Now let's get to the love language—definitely acts of service. You're tired after a long day at work? Boom, you've got a nice and hot bath waiting for you, together with your favorite snacks and a glass of wine/book to read (could be both). Running low on essentials, be it your favorite type of coffee, a preferred perfume, tampons, the likes? Well, expect it to be restocked as soon as possible. He'll change the oil in your car, scrape the frost from the windows, anything you as much as mention. If you're sick, he'll do whatever makes you feel better, whether that's a warm compress or something as simple as a bowl of soup and a couple of ice packs. He wants to take care of you. He might not be an expert at expressin his feelings through words, but he'll damn sure cook you a three-course meal and a dessert to show you how much he appreciates you.

That being said, he's an exceptional cook. He doesn't have many opportunities to experiment in the kitchen during deployments or safe houses, but you can be sure that Simon is behind the pots and pans preparing mouthwatering meals whenever he's back home. It's relaxing, and he simply enjoys spending time cooking for you and himself.

Not into excessive PDA - hand holding is okay, but when you two are in a crowd (which he hates), there's a hand on the small of your back or lingering on the back of your neck. Behind closed doors, he's more openly affectionate. Whether you're simply making a sandwich in the kitchen or he breezes past you, he's likely to stand behind you and simply rest his chin on the top of your head, rough hands on your hips, or when you two are sitting on the couch, his arm is either around you or resting on your thigh.

Non sexual intimacy is a big yes; head scratches, hand holding, shoulder rubs, baths together, or anything of the sort. But there's one thing that melts him completely and that's when you kiss his eyelids. If you're his teammate and you're in a relationship, he will appreciate you helping him out of his gear, washing the dirt and grime off his hands or helping him apply the camouflage paint on his face.

He may call you "love" or "sweetheart," but he attempts to restrict these terms of endearment primarily behind closed doors. He's not exactly fond of overtly cutesy pet names either, so he appreciates the occasional "Love" or "Si," but he draws the line at anything more ostentatiously affectionate. "Don't ya ever call me pookie again, got it, sweetheart?"

Wanna wake up before that man? Yeah, good luck with that. He's a proper, bona fide early riser, an early bird, prepared for the day well before the rays reach the horizon. It's like clockwork, a routine that's been ingrained into his circadian rhythm, something that governs his inner system. If he's not out on a morning jog, he'll lie on his side of the bed, staring at you, silently admiring. Oh, and he'll know if you wake up and pretend to be still asleep.

Simon values the power of silence. Quiet as he may be at certain times, this man is not indifferent; he's an observer. He considers observation as a means of learning and appreciates the sheer volume of knowledge that can be gleaned from the study of behaviors, facial expressions, and other body language cues. Furthermore, a comfortable silence may be the strongest indicator of the powerful connection between two people. That's how he knew there was truly something special between you and him.

HOWEVER. The previous point doesn't right away mean that he despises talking. Sure, he's not one for an idle chit-chat, but I feel like it’s a very frequent idea that he’s the brooding and sullen type who prefers grunting over speaking, kinda like Daryl Dixon (that's a huge compliment to Simon). I’d say, Simon is somewhere in between—more of a ‘I speak only when I want to/have something really meaningful to say’. If he's got something on his mind, he'll let you know. And, surprisingly, he has a way with words like the smoothest motherfucker ever.

Not surprisingly, he's a bit of a softie when it comes to animals, especially dogs. Not one to baby-talk when he sees a dog, he merely offers gentle pats on its head or side (if he's more familiar with the dog, I see him petting it like dads do lol). He’s also very careful about the animals and makes sure not to touch one without asking the owner first. As for service dogs, he's especially careful, keeping a safe distance and showing due respect for their role.

You know you're gonna have a K9 at your home when you get with this man.

He's not a fan of surprises or gifts, because he wasn't raised in a family full of hugs and "I love you's" or selfless acts of affection. He struggles to convey his gratitude in the conventional manner, so it's often expressed, albeit indirectly, through acts of service. No matter what it is that you've gifted him, he's grateful for the thought and consideration all the same.

But you better believe he will surprise you in turn. He goes out of his way to procure anything and everything you so much as mention wanting, be it a trivial trinket or something more significant. He's always listening, always paying attention.

Not very into verbal compliments, but his eyes speak an entire novel about how he feels about you. Gentle glances, lingering stares, and silent admiration. He might not be overtly forthcoming with his praise, but one look is worth more than a thousand words.

Big spoon. He's a tad bit paranoid about having his back vulnerable—much like a cat and its exposed belly. It has nothing to do with trust—as he does trust you. It's merely a product of his inner paranoia, though there's a touch of protectiveness in there, too. Beacuse he'd much rather have you enveloped in his arms, ensuring him the sensation of protecting you with his whole body. Perhaps with time he would let you spoon him, but I wouldn't count on it early on in the relationship.

He's territorial, not in a jealous, envious, or controlling sense but rather in a protective and defensive manner. He doesn't like men or women making advances on you, especially unsolicited physical contact or overt flirting. While he won't try to be overbearing or overly assertive, he will make it abundantly clear that such behavior is uncalled for and unacceptable.

civilian!reader - get ready for some self-defense lessons. He'll ensure that you know basic moves that can give you the time to escape a dangerous situation. Simon is well-versed in the brutality of the world, and he won't sugarcoat anything. If you're in danger, you run; if you feel something's wrong, you run. He can't always be there to protect you. So he's drilled this mantra into your brain: no matter how strong, tough, skilled you think you are, you simply can't trust that your enemy won't wield a knife or gun.

But one of the very first things he's given you even before you two became a couple was a can of pepper spray.

He's a direct, straight to the point man, which is why he has no time for beating around the bush. There's no awkward tip-toeing with hints that may go unexplored, no subtle suggestions that may fall flat—he's all in. Whether it's on a mission, in bed, or an argument, Simon lays it all on the line because you're worth it. He will commit to you wholeheartedly, leaving nothing on the table, giving you everything he has to offer because you deserve nothing less.

You fell first, but he fell harder—this man adores you. Although he's not mushy, he won't shower you with affection and cute nicknames all the time, he loves you. And when Simon Riley loves someone, you can be damn sure he means it. His loyalty knows no limits and once he's attached to you, he'll never let go. He'll go through and beyond any lengths to make sure you're happy and safe.

Though he might not openly admit it, he likes it when you take the initiative, whether it's in bed, in your relationship, or just life in general. He values your opinions and respects and acknowledges your boundaries, and makes sure to let his own boundaries and needs be known as well. So, step up and make yourself heard, cause he will listen.

He values honesty highly and has a razor-sharp bullshit detector. Can smell bullshit from miles away, actually. Therefore, never, ever lie to him. Because he will uncover the truth, one way or another. Lies are the one thing that can shatter his trust beyond repair, making it a cardinal sin in his eyes. So, don't shy away from telling him the truth—no matter how difficult or inconvenient or painful it may be.

Now it gets a bit complicated here, because while he expects honesty from his s/o, Simon himself holds back some things. These are largely related to his past or the missions he has been on, the things he has seen. He doesn't want to lie to you, but he does it to protect himself and you. You just have to accept the fact that there are certain things he won't ever tell you.

Is capable of being absolutely terrifying without even trying, let alone when he wants to be. His height, muscles, and scars are a force to be reckoned with. So you don't have to be worried about going on a walk with him in the middle of the night or wearing something a bit more revealing, cause he will beat the living shit out of anyone who dares to touch you.

Absolutely no one can defeat him in arm wrestling or even come close to his grip strength.

Very awkward around babies, and I mean extremely awkward. Like Jane Smith holding a baby in Mr&Mrs Smith. He doesn't know a flying shit about caring for children, especially since he didn't have a positive parental influence growing up or any good role models. The subject of starting a family is still a bit sore; though he would likely grow more open to discussing it as time goes on. Still, a major aspect of his psyche seems terrified of becoming like his father.

Would die a thousand deaths for you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod ghost #simon riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfiction

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notquitebunnie · 2 months

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Please welcome my baby, Remiel

Context: @2af-afterdark made a God!MC au, so I took that concept and made my God!MC revive the Seraph that Gabriel killed. He's an old, one time, OC for a collab, but he's perfect for this so I decided to bring him back

Remiel

Nation: Heaven

Epithet: The Eater of Devils

Idiosyncrasy: Forced Orgasm

Zodiac: Gemini

Height: 185cm

Weight: 77kg

Length: 27cm

Confidence point: Eyes

Favorite food: Hot pot with broth made from the bones of devils

Favorite accessory: His lyre

Favorite weather: Cloudy day sky and clear night sky

Habit: Flicking his wings

Hobby: Cooking

Ideal type: God himself

Ideal target: People who are reactive

Ideal body type: Soft and squishy bodies

More infos ⬇️

It's a long one

Likes: Feeding heavenly pets devil meat, eye-care, wing-care, Collecting devils' horns

Dislikes: Bright flashing lights, serious people, rain, Avisos(too bright even at night)

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

@2af-afterdark wanted to know

What is his favorite dessert?

• His favorite dessert is Peach Crumble

Is he a morning person or a night owl?

• He’s a night owl, he have 12 eyes so he’s very sensitive to light

What is his worst "bad habit"?

• His worst “bad habit” is hoarding devil corpses, he cooks some of them but the rest go bad before he can get to them

What is his love language (not exclusive to the main five if those don't fit)?

• His love language is Words of Affirmation, he loves being praised, bombard him with it and he’ll drown you with praises as well

What is the most mundane thing that brings him pleasure/joy?

• The most mundane thing that brings him joy is people/creature watching

Can I give the most gentle butterfly kisses to all of his eyes and hold his hand?

• Yes, yes you can, he would love it. Careful when you’re holding his hands though, he have an eye on each

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

• He have 12 eyes

• He can control each individually or as a group

• 4 on his face

• 2 on his shoulders

• 1 on his chest

• 2 on his hands

• 3 that line his back

• He usually have them closed cause it can be disorienting sometimes

• Only used when he lost track of his opponent

• He likes to tease people he knows, but if his teasing doesn’t work, he’ll try again with a different topic

• He teases Gabriel every time he receives attention from God

• Ex: “Gabriel~ guess what~? God praised my singing again~”

• He teases Michael every time Michael decapitate anyone

• Ex: “Don't waste their heads, Michael, would you mind gathering their heads for my dish?”

• He teases Raphael every time Raphael’s covered in blood

• Ex: “Awww, their blood would’ve made for some delicious broth…actually, Raphael, wanna come sit in this cauldron for a while?”

• He have one devil friend

• Her current whereabouts is unknown, ever since he got revived he has been trying to find her

• She used to be a resident of Gehenna, she left not long after his death

• Teased her about her love life

• Ex: “No luck with devils? How about I hook you up with an angel instead?”

• He treats anyone he doesn’t know coldly

• Ex: First meeting with God!MC he said “Who tf are you?” With a poker face (which then led to Gabby smacking Remiel across his head; Gabriel: "Disrespecting our (new) God? Not on my watch")

• He sang while playing the lyre for God often because he have a beautiful singing voice

• Have tried to cook every single body parts and organs of devils

• Have a notebook of how to and how not to cook certain parts

• He likes to gently nibble something or someone

#mentions of #whb gabriel #whb michael #whb raphael #my art #digital art #whb oc #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb mc #God!Mc Au

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beeslibrarycorner · 6 months

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Father Paul during the holidays

Halloween

* He likes to dress up in a simple costume

* He also likes to give candy out to the children of crocket island

* If you pass by the church he will compliment your costume if you’re dressed up.

* He also insists on giving you a candy. “You could never be too old to go trick or treating y/n”

* When everyone settles down for the night and everyone is almost asleep your door bell rings signaling his arrival.

* “Trick or treat”

* The two of you would probably watch a scary movie and eat alot of candy.

Thanksgiving

* Cooking lots of different dishes and desserts

* “All of this looks so delicious, thank you angel”

* Before the two of you start eating dinner he tells you that he’s thankful for you.

* I can picture this convo:

“Would you like some more sweet potato casserole Paul?”

“I can’t eat another bite”

“That’s smart, your saving room for dessert”

(Groans in full stomach)

* He goes into a food coma and falls asleep on your couch. (it was all apart of your plan)

* Sending him home with leftovers to eat.

Christmas

* He loves to decorate the rectory for the holidays.

* He loves the snow

* He loves the cookies and other baked goods that you make for him.

* But he also loves the look on your face when he gives you your Christmas gift.

* You get him a gift too and he’s happy that you gave him such a thoughtful gift

* Yes it’s a religious holiday but he would find you to be just as important. Spending time with the ones that he loves is his favorite part of the holiday.

New years

* Most of the people leave crocket island and head to the main land for family and friends

* Around 12 am he would pop over for a new years kiss.

* You guys cuddle and watch a tv marathon playing on one of the channels.

Valentine’s Day

* He leaves chocolate and a bouquet of flowers on your porch early in the morning.

* He gives you a love letter

* There’s a lot of secret kissing going around when no one’s looking.

* Candle light dinner

* Candle lit bubble bath

* Watching romcoms till three in the morning and sharing chocolate

St Patrick’s day

* You get Irish food from the mainland and you ask father Paul to have dinner with you.

Easter

* He likes celebrating Easter, it’s an important holiday and he enjoys doing Easter mass

* the town has many festivities after mass.

* He enjoys watching the churches egg hunt happen, it’s chaotic

* There’s a pot luck after wards with all different types of food.

* Everyone is pulling Paul in every which way and all he wants is to be near you.

* The night before the two of you decorate eggs together.

* You hide his favorite candy in the rectory for him to find with a note that says the Easter bunny visited.

Fourth of July

* There’s a cookout in the island, everyone is there.

* There’s ice cream and popsicles to cool people off, it’s the perfect night.

* One of the towns people shoots fireworks off the doc and you gather with the rest of the town to watch.

#father paul x reader #monsignor pruitt #father paul hill #father pruitt #monsignor Pruitt x reader #midnight mass

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engeorged · 2 years

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The Birthday Meal: And Many More

Words: @engeorged

Artwork: @badoobers

Dean sat at his table alone. The cool evening air was refreshing after a warm and uncomfortable day in his office. He’d walked past this place twice a day for the last three years and had longed to go inside but he’d could never think of a reason to. Not until today. Although, it wasn’t quite a happy occasion, it was his birthday. Today was the day he turned 30. He had been a bit anxious about turning 30, but that was more down to the fact that he didn’t have a boyfriend and he didn’t own his own place yet. But he was a millennial living in the city, who could afford either of those things anyway? His sadness was more because no one wanted to do anything for his birthday. He’d been dropping hints to his friends for weeks and none of them picked them up. His brother Sam, who normally remembers everything, hadn’t even sent him an offensive gif yet. And all his work colleagues turned down after-work drinks. They never turn down after-work drinks! They’re all basically high functioning alcoholics

He was feeling old and alone and so this time when he walked past the expensive restaurant with the rooftop terrace overlooking the city, he decided to go in. Fuck the expense! You only turn 30 once! He had no hope of getting a table but lucky for him, the snotty maitre-de left the computer unattended for a few moments so he was able to look at the list and blag his way in.

Normally, he would order a salad of some kind and a glass of water, he’d put on a few pounds in his late twenties and being thirty terrified him so he was desperate to loose the pot belly he’d started to grow. Being tall, he carried it well and you’d probably only notice if you saw him at the gym in the changing room, but he knew it was there. But fuck that shit! Tonight was his birthday, he could eat whatever he wanted! He ordered a whole Camembert and a basket of bread as a starter. It was covered with honey and almonds and was exactly what he wanted to cheer himself up. For the main he’d ordered a 16 oz steak with a side of fries, onion rings and corn on the cob, which he’d eaten with extreme pleasure, helped down with a fruity red wine he’d heard someone else order. To finish, he allowed himself a lavish chocolate and fudge invention that two waiters had to bring over for the theatrics to work. He watched as hot caramel was poured over a smooth chocolate dome which melted to reveal his opulent dessert lathered in cream.

Sitting back he enjoyed the view and the full feeling in his stomach. He’d taken a few instagram photos which he’d scheduled to be posted in the morning so his friends would feel guiltiest when they realised they’d forgotten.

Making his way home he began to think about his life. He’d been a big deal in college, the first openly gay captain of the schools team. There was a lot of interest in him back then. He was a good looking guy, dark hair with piercing blue eyes and a jawline you could fold paper on. A lot of male attention, some public and some private. Quite a few girls tried to turn him straight as well, but with no luck. But it had all gone downhill from there. He ended up in an office job in the city after graduating with hopes of doing much grander things but that had been where he had stuck. Maybe now he was thirty he should hand in his notice and go take a night class or something? Retrain as a chef? He fancied himself as a bit of a foodie. Maybe now was the time to do it?

Arriving home, he fumbled with his keys in the lock, the bottle of red having gone to his head a little more that he had anticipated. The lights were off, which was strange? He had programmed his Alexa to turn them on as he got close by? He patted his hand along the wall, trying to find the switch. He makes contact with it and pushes. The room lights up to reveal his brother, flanked by 30 of his closest friends and colleagues!

‘Surprise!’ Balloons and streamers fly everywhere as they all spontaneously burst into a very out of tune birthday song.

His brother grabbed him and pulled him in for a tight hug.

‘Didn’t think we forgot did you dick face?’ He wraps his arm around his beach and messes up his hair affectionately

Dean pulled his self out from his brothers arm and smooths his hair back. ‘No of course not!’ He lies. ‘I knew you’d do something like this!’

‘Well that’s not the only surprise!’ His brother explains! ‘We know you think you’re a bit of a foodie,’

‘Foodie wanker!’ An old team mate yells in the background, to much laughter from several other team mates.

’Well, most of us have brought along a meal which is special to you. Like something we’ve eaten together in the past or something you cooked for us that we liked!’ Sam beamed with excitement, clearly proud of his idea.

‘Ah bro. That’s so lovely.’ Dean was touched at the gesture, but the three course meal suddenly felt very present on his stomach. How much food is there? He wonder.s

‘Hope you’re hungry!’ He brother takes him to the kitchen where there are dozens of carefully and lovingly prepared plates of food all piled up on the counter. Dean’s heart dropped.

One of his work colleagues, Marvin, was the first to approach him. ‘Hey man, Happy Birthday! I can’t stay long cos I’ve got to go relieve the babysitter but here’s my meal. It’s the jerk chicken my wife made when you came round that time to fix our computer! We were so grateful!’ Marv takes a napkin and picks up a big piece of the chicken and hands it to Dean and waits expectantly. Dean remembers the chicken, it was the best chicken he’d tasted and Marv’s wife had sent him home with a Tupperware full of the stuff. He raised the chicken to his lips and took a bite. It was as good as he remembered and spicier! The juices flowed into his mouth as he ate. ‘Mmm, so good’ he gestured to Marv who was waiting for his reaction. He clearly expected him to eat the whole thing so he obliged. Soon the chicken had joined the steak in his stomach, leaving a firey taste in his mouth and his lips burning. Marv clearly pleased shook his hand and left for home. The pleasant feeling of fullness was beginning to take hold. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Just a mouthful of all these dishes would be ok? He thought hopefully. As long as he could pace himself.

He didn’t have to wait long before a steady queue of people had arrived to wish him happy birthday and explain their food. He soon realised he couldn’t get away with just one mouthful of food. People had spent time and effort over these meals and they were all expectant to see him eat. A thick European stew with dumplings, some belly pork and a home made scotch egg, all decent portions, now added to the volume of food in his belly. A big slice of a home made meat loaf finally pushed him past some barrier, making him feel overfull and bloated. The fullness was no longer a warm gentle experience but was becoming a bit more pressing and much less comfortable. He made an excuse and headed to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him he pulled up his shirt and took a look at his belly. It was very distended and swollen. Pushed out with food and restricted by his belt, which he undid. Angry red welts appeared underneath which he tried to rub away. Looking at himself in the mirror he tried to give himself a pep talk. ‘You can do this, these people love you and have made these meals for you. You used to eat big like this when you were younger all the time. Like a bottomless pit Sam used to say. It’s one night, how bad can it be! Pull yourself together and get back out there!’

He threw some water on his face and went to button back up his pants which wasn’t happening. He looked in the laundry Basket and found some joggers which he pulled on. Not having the pressure round his waist helped and giving his belly a rub had eased things slightly. He moved back into the party and headed for a sofa where he installed himself. He didn’t have to wait long till Bex, his college bestie brought over her offering. ‘These are actual fish tacos from that food truck we visited every time we went out for a night out!’ She explained! Forgetting how full he was for a second he got super excited. They truly were the best fish tacos he’d ever had! ‘How the hell did you get these?’ He asked. Bex smiled smugly ‘I know a guy!’ She said in place of an explanation. She handed him two loaded tacos and sat down, waiting for him to eat them. Dean obliged and took a bite. They were as good as he remembered and didn’t take long to eat. He’d already ignored his ‘just a few bites’ policy but these were definitely worth it. He shifted his weight in the chair as he finished and Sam handed him a beer which he gratefully took. He drank it whilst him and Bex caught up for ten minutes which gave him a little respite.

The next hour, Dean faced a steady stream of nostalgic calorie laden meals. Pacing himself, he managed some chicken panang, a creamy chicken pasta dish, A thick beef dansak, a pile of bbq pulled pork, some sliders and a large slice of chicken and mushroom pie. Everyone had made their dish with love and was keen to see Dean enjoy it. No one offered him a one bite portion, they all dished up a fairly decent taster for him, some were more generous than others. He fell into a sort of eating trance, just nodding and smiling and chewing and swallowing. Mouthful after mouthful sliding into his expanding stomach. Sitting down seemed to help, he was able to prop himself slightly reclined which didn’t add any pressure to the swell, but he was definitely blowing up. He could feel his shirt beginning to become tight around his middle and the relief offered by the joggers was a thing of the past. His ballooning belly was now pushing against the elastic.

A temporary respite came and he took advantage and stood took up for a toilet break. On the way to the bathroom a few large empanadas were literally pushed into his mouth which he obligingly took, swallowing down heavily. Reaching the bathroom he locked the door and leant against it. He pulled his pants down under his growing bulge and peeled his shirt back, noticing he’d popped a button at some point without realising. He belly was rounded out and tight to the touch. Looking in the mirror he saw the damage. His belly was huge, the biggest he’d seen it. He was feeling guilty about being so mean to everyone in his head when he thought they’d forgotten his birthday. And he was very much regretting the three course meal he’d enjoyed a few hours earlier. Without that, he would have still struggled but it would have been a lot easier! He’d have ended the night as he was now rather than what’s to come. He knew there was food he’d not tried yet and there was no way he could turn any of it down. A moment of panic hit hmt as he remembered the photos he’d scheduled to be posted at midnight to make his friends feel guilty. If they went live they’d know he’d already eaten and he would be the one ending up feeling guilty. He needed to find his photo and stop them. Pulling his shirt down was hard so he grabbed a polo shirt from the basket and sprayed some deodorant on. The shirt used to be loose which it definitely wasn’t right now but at least it wasn’t painted on like his work shirt. The joggers had to stay where they were, under the curve of his belly but they were covered by the shirt so that should be ok. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, grabbing some painkillers for the ache that was beginning to grow in his belly.

Leaving the bathroom he began to look for his phone. He found a beer and swallowed that down, hoping it would numb the pain a little. The belches helped which was good. His apartment was full of people and he was struggling to find it. As he was looking he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Yolanda from his work beaming holding her offering. A big steaming plate of bunny chow in the traditional bread bowl. She’d made it for him when he started and it was delicious. She handed it to him and gave him a spoon. It was a whole portion. She clearly expected him to eat the whole thing. He reluctantly started spooning the curry into his mouth, it was the perfect temperature and consistency and went down easily into his distended stomach, adding to the swell. She beamed as he ate and so not wanting to disappoint her he shovelled it down. When he’d finished the curry she nodded at the bread bowl . ‘I made that too!’ Proudly. ‘I’m sure you did’ signed Dean as he tackled it. The curry was easy to eat but the bread was now dense and saturated with the sauce. As delicious as it was, it was heavy going and pushing it into his stomach felt difficult. He eventually managed the whole thing, but it left him feeling super overloaded. ‘Thanks so much’ he said, giving her back the plate. She left looking happy and he continued the search for his phone. He found it by the door and belching softly he found and deleted the pics. Phew. That was close.

Moving back into the apartment and trying to stay discreet is difficult when it’s your party and you’re carrying a large food baby round. The bunny chow had pushed him into uncomfortably full and he was concerned about eating much more food. He just wanted to lie down and rub his belly till he fell asleep but that probably wasn’t an option. Sam sees him and heads over. ‘You enjoying the party bro?’ He sees Deans bloated stomach and pokes him in the belly button. ‘Ooof’ Dean wheezes, belching hard in response. ‘Yeah it’s great thanks. I’m so full.’ Sam grabs his belly and gives it a shake, although it doesn’t move that much. Turning to the room Sam announces. ‘Anyone who’s not given their food to Sam better hurry up before he pops!’ Laughing a few people head to the kitchen to grab their meals. ‘Thanks Sam’ Dean says sarcastically and heads back to the armchair to accept his fate. He sits down and makes himself comfortable and just allows whatever comes next to happen to him. The next barrage of culinary memories begins to make its way to him: A bowl of gumbo, a sausage casserole, a pile of samosas, some Chinese dumplings: all become stuffed down into his now substantial gut. Joining the vast quantities of already consumed food. Now it’s the end of the evening, the desserts start coming too, a heavy sticky toffee pudding, an Apple strudel and some delicious cream cakes all end up in his belly. He’s no longer enjoying or tasting the food, he just feels like an eating machine. He knew Sam was joking when he said people needed to get in before he popped but he was now worried that that was a possibility. He stretched stomach was huge and the skin was sensitive and tight.

He looked up and there was no one waiting, he hoped it was over. He looked pregnant, there was no other way of putting it. He gingerly touched the bloated flesh of his abdomen, it was hot and turgid, so full of food. He felt like he’d swallowed a bag of cement which was slowly beginning to set.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and out of the darkness appeared a glow of light. Sam ventured out with a huge chocolate birthday cake covered in candles. The room began to sing to him and he tried to sit up, pinned under the mass of food lodged inside of him. Sam moved the cake down for him to blow the candles. Dean leant to the left to blow and instead dislodged a belch that burst out of him and blew them out anyway! The room went quiet except for a few muffled laughs from the back. Sam covered it up

‘Thank you all for coming to celebrate my little brother turning 30! As you can see he’s very much enjoyed all your food!’ Pause for laughter as the eyes of everyone turned their attention to Deans massive engorged belly. ‘Anyway, let’s hope he has room for cake!’

To Deans horror, Sam cut a huge slice of the decadent cake and hefted it onto a plate which he popped on top of his swollen belly shelf. The room went quiet, all eyes on him as he lifted a bite to his lips. Forcing it into his mouth, the chocolate goodness packed a punch. Rich and creamy. He chewed just a bit and managed to swallow it down but the room was still watching. He relented and began to shovel the heavy cake into his throat, literally feeling every mouthful push his belly out that little bit further. His stomach was so big now the polo was stretched over its surface. A small sliver of his furry belly peeking out from underneath it. But he was past caring about how he looked, he just wanted to be done. The last mouthful was a struggle but somehow he managed it to a big round of applause.

He was done. Finally. Totally zoned out he stayed int he chair for the rest of the evening, all his energy focussed on digesting his food. Sam kept him supplied with beers which did numb the pain of the bloat but probably added to it as well. He wouldn’t have been able to see it but his belly rounded out as the food was redirected round his body. His belly changed from being top heavy to watermelon round in a few hours. As people began to leave, he was able to smile and thank them for coming. In the end there was just him and Sam who had finished tidying up.

‘There’s tons of leftovers if you get hungry in the night!’

Dean jokingly gagged. ‘Don’t talk to me about food!’ He said

‘Holy fucking shits! You really ate a lot this evening man. Your belly is huge, look at it!’ Sam pointed out helpfully.

‘No shit Sherlock!’ Sam retorted. ‘It’s as if someone arranged all my friends to load me up with food for an evening!’ He pulled his polo up, revealing his guy in all its bloated hairy glory ‘look at what you did!’

Sam laughed and leant over to give it a rub. ‘Don’t worry little bro. You’re thirty now! You’d better get used to the spread!’

#stuffing #gay gainer #gainer stories #gainer fiction #male gaining #belly expansion #pot belly #gainer artwork #belly art #belly fiction

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adventuresasmrsfindley · 2 months

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If we are having a gathering, pot luck style, and someone says they're bringing a dessert, it annoys me. 😂 I am not a dessert girly. I am a side girly through and through. Gimme all the dips or potato dishes lol

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rourouxiaobao · 6 months

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MXTX FoodZine 2023

So, besides all the doge-related sadness, work stress, personal life stress, and travel stress that's been affecting my usual fic-posting schedule (for nearly a year now, sad yays ;u; ), the other reason why I've been too busy to work on my WIPs is because I've been working on my entries for this year's MXTX FoodZine!!! \o/

This is the second iteration of the project, but it's my first time participating in it! We've all been working really hard, from me and my fellow content creators to the project's Discord mods and project admins/managers and the design/layout team, and it's really so amazing to see all that effort and hard work come together like this! *u*

I contributed 2 MDZS Wangxian fics and a recipe. One fic was based on the recipe I contributed (Peach Gum Soup) with art by @stardustinjune, and the other fic was based on @chefyli909's recipe for Spicy Poached Chicken!

Hopelessly Devoted (To You) is a purely fluffy Wangxian fic featuring my recipe for Peach Gum Soup! It's a one-pot Chinese dessert soup that's super tasty and super simple to make! Prep all the yummy things, toss them into a crockpot, leave to cook, and then eat! 😌😌😌🤤🤤🤤 The fic features gorgeous artwork by my collab partner Stardustinjune (Twitter | Tumblr)!!!

Through The Fire And The Flames (We Carry On) is also a fluffy Wangxian fic (but with just a sprinkle of angst for piquant flavour~ 😘😌😏)! It's inspired by @chefyli909's recipe for Spicy Poached Chicken with Green Onion Pancakes. So mouthwatering and worth the effort to make!

The collection is slated to go live on 7 Nov, so until then, the links will go to a page saying that the fics aren't revealed yet. Until then, stay tuned!!!

The full zine can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/mxtxfoodzine/732677017862012928/introducing-the-2023-mxtx-food-zine

And the AO3 collection can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/mxtxfoodzine2023

I hope everyone will enjoy all the fics, art, and recipes contained within this year's MXTX FoodZine! With luck and more hard work, there'll be a 3rd edition next year! ^u^ Enjoy!!!

#mxtx #moxiangtongxiu #mdzs #modaozushi #wangxian #foodzine #food #fanfic #fanart #the other 3 'f's #besides fight flight and f u c k #this foodzine is family and minor friendly #otherwise my entries might indeed also include #seggs instead of eggs #not that my fics include any actual eggs #i think #food for the body food for the weeb soul #fujofood

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ceilingfan5 · 1 year

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@taznovembercelebration soup/dessert

“You’ve made five kinds of soup.” Kravitz is stunned, honestly, partially because he was expecting Taako to be asleep when he got home, not attempting to vibrate through the kitchen ceiling in their little apartment.

“Yep,” Taako says, proud and also watching him intently for a reaction. Kravitz isn’t exactly sure what that’s going to be.

“Why do you have five crockpots?”

“Well,” Taako laughs, exasperated. “Why do you think?”

“For multiple, yeah, I, I walked into that, one, um,” Kravitz stares at the pot luck on his kitchen counter. “Can you- why did you make five kinds of soup, though?”

“Well,” Taako repeats, putting more emphasis on it this time. He keeps fidgeting with his hands–picking off his black nail polish, fixing his buttons, tapping the counter. “The wonders of modern convenience, are a, uh, a miracle, of the- what century is it now?”

“Twenty-first,” Kravitz says, incredibly fond.

“And it turns out if you just pay a hideous fee, you can have any kinds of products and sundries delivered to your door, although I wasn’t terribly impressed by the onions they gave me–N'ont-ils jamais vu un bon oignon? Embarrassing. But anyway I bought a few things to try out because I got excited and I didn’t need to work today because I finished my project yesterday, and we just made that deal, and I know the cooking for you wasn’t part of it per se, but- but if I’m going to drink your blood I want you to be eating well, and-”

“Taako,” Kravitz says, rather slowly. “You don’t have to feed me.”

“No, I don’t, obviously, that would be-” he laughs again, “Ridiculous, I just- I got excited. And I haven’t cooked in so long. And the problem with soup. Is the waiting.”

“So you made five soups.”

“Are you going to eat the soups or not?” Taako screws up his face in embarrassed distress. “Should I just throw them away? It’s too much. Obviously it’s too much, I shouldn’t- It’s not like we’re, I just-” Kravitz is struck with the realization that if Taako could, he’d be blushing, and it’s a wild glimpse into his humanity. So to speak. He’s filled with affection that is beyond roommaterly, and he shoves it down and tries not to choke on it. They can’t be having a blood money arrangement and also kissing. It simply wouldn’t be right.

Right?

“I’m going to eat the soups,” he says, smiling, putting Taako out of his misery. And putting a hand on Taako’s. You know, like roommates do. “What should I try first?”

“Well,” Taako perks up like a dandelion in a coffee mug full of adderall. “If you’re a traditionalist, you’ll be entranced by my chicken noodle, this recipe is centuries old, and it’s perfect. Even if the onion is lacking. But if you’re feeling funky, maybe the cheesy broccoli is your jive. And then we’ve got…”

Kravitz absolutely hears the other words. They go in his ears and his ear drums wiggle and the sound goes right into his brain…and right back out again, because he’s in love with his vampire roommate, and he could listen to him talk about cooking all day. He truly can’t believe himself.

“What about dessert?” he hears himself asking, and Taako smiles so big, Kravitz should win a trophy for the restraint it takes not to kiss him.

#taz #tazb #taz b #taz balance #taakitz #taakitz fic #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taznc

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icybevybev · 8 months

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Simple Mabon Ideas

-Dress in fall colors: orange, yellow, red, brown

-Ward off bad luck/Home protection spell

-Light a candle & meditate on what you are grateful for

-Leaf/Pinecone arts &crafts for the kids

-Cook a fall meal/Bake an apple or pumpkin dessert

-Have a picnic

-Brew a cinnamon apple simmer pot

-Plant bulbs for the upcoming spring

#mylife #I know it’s a lil early but wanted to make myself a list so I don’t forget #mabon #nature witch #green witch #baby witch #mabon celebration #first day of fall #witchy things

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coopigeoncoo · 1 year

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Hot Dish, Chapter 3: Save Room for Dessert

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Sexual content, Exhibitionism, Chikan, Heavy Petting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Safe Sex, Consentual Sex, Swearing, Romance, Soft Shigaraki, Posessive Shigaraki, Domestic fluff, Mutual Pining

---

Down on his luck and scrambling for survival, Shigaraki Tomura was just looking for a place to score a hot meal.

Instead, he ended up scoring a hot date.

--- "You want gravy?" You asked, waggling the ladle of onion sauce enticingly, some of it sloshing over the edge of the spoon and falling back into the pot with a wet squelch. Tomura glared at the chunky sauce disdainfully before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Whatever."

"Gravy it is!" You cheer, pouring the sauce over the meat patty before passing it to him. "There you go! A hunk of meat for my favorite hunk."

--- A slow, domestic romance between a volunteer at a soup kitchen and the newly destitute leader of a notorious villain organization.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

The doors of the soup kitchen were shut for the night, the last of the patrons filtering into the room. You scanned the faces of everyone lining up, a tiny spark of hope still burning in your chest, yearning for Tenko to be among them.

He wasn’t.

And at this point you didn’t know why you were still hoping for him to appear. It had been months since you’d last seen or spoken to Tenko; he’d disappeared entirely from his usual haunts and all your texts and calls were left unanswered. The last time you’d seen him he’d mentioned that an associate of his had gone missing and he was planning on leaving town to investigate. It was obvious from his reluctance to share major details of his life with you that he was tangled up in some illicit activities, so it was easy for your brain to conjure up a countless number of terrible fates that could have befallen him.

Maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere with a bullet hole in the back of his head. Or hauled off to wherever his associate had been dragged to, never to be heard from again. He could be in jail. Or on the run.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to see you again.

It felt selfish to admit that thought hurt the most; that you were more upset at the idea of him ghosting you than you were of him actually being a ghost. But you were. The idea that he could willingly walk away from your burgeoning relationship without so much as a break up text really stung, especially since you had both been so serious about each other.

Your conversations had been filled with thoughts and plans for what a future together might look like; finishing college, finding a place together, what sort of appliances you wanted for your imaginary kitchen, and how chores would be divided. Tenko apparently hated folding clothes as much as he hated wearing them and was willing to trade just about any other job to get out of laundry duty. All those fanciful plans had been lovingly stacked up to make a foundation that had been toppled over night; and you now stood amongst their ruins, wondering what you could possibly do with a pile of broken dreams.

As much as you mourned the tentative future you had daydreamed about, you missed Tenko's presence all the more. You missed his touch, his sweet words, the pure adoration in his gaze, and the long talks you'd share as you walked aimlessly about the city. Being with him was so easy, so utterly effortless, that life without him seemed unbearably difficult.

You'd experienced heartbreak before, but none of those previous experiences had prepared you for the all-encompassing sorrow that filled in the cracks in your heart Tenko left behind. But you couldn't wallow in misery forever. Your final semester of college was already well underway, and you refused to falter now with your degree so close at hand. So you pushed all your sadness and hurt down as deep as you could and threw yourself into your studies, turning in papers double the minimum required length and crashing on the floor in your friends rooms after marathon study sessions so you wouldn't have to face sleeping alone in the bed that you and Tenko had shared.

During the first couple of weeks Tenko had been gone you’d picked up extra shifts at the soup kitchen, hoping to increase your chances of running into him once he got back into town. But eventually you’d been forced to drop back down to your normal shift schedule because the constant anxiety you felt waiting for him to walk through the door was wreaking havoc on your mental well-being. Even just being in the serving line, your favorite position to work, was causing you so much agitation that you’d asked to move into the back of the house to help with food preparation and clean-up instead.

But today one of the volunteers had called out and you’d been pulled from your back room sanctuary to once again take up your post dishing out dinner next to Kiyomi. Despite all the feelings of despair being back in the serving line stirred up, it was nice to have the opportunity to spend time with your friend again.

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here tonight, Sweetie,” Kiyomi said earnestly, scooping up a spoonful of peas for the last tray of the night.

“I wasn’t expecting anything different,” you sighed dejectedly, gazing out over the sea of heads belonging to tonight’s dinner crowd.

“Yeah, but it still sucks all the same.”

“It does,” you acknowledge quietly, pinching the inside of your elbow to keep from crying. “It really does.”

I’m sorry if these texts are bothering you.

But it makes me feel better to send them. So you know that I’m thinking of you.

I’m just so worried that something might have happened to you.

So even if you’re totally okay and just- not coming back, could you let me know that you’re okay? Just send me a quick text back.

Or one of those awful dog memes you love.

Never thought I would miss those dog memes, but here I am!

What have you done to me?

Even if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I still want you to be alright.

I care about you.

Text me if you get this.

I miss you.

I wonder if, wherever you, you’re missing me too.

I hope so.

Is that selfish of me? It probably is.

Ojljflasdkjlllllllhasodhf

Sorry! That was a butt text.

I’m graduating soon.

My family can’t make it.

I’ll leave you a ticket at will-call.

I hope you can come.

Seeing you again would be the best gift in the world.

It’s a really nice night out.

It would have been great to go on a walk with you.

Even though your legs are too long and I always have to rush to keep up.

I’m packing up stuff in my dorm room and like, there’s just so much dust somehow?

Just big, huge piles of it every couple of feet.

It’s so weird.

Well, I’m a graduate now.

I thought I would feel different somehow? Older? More adult?

But I’m just sad.

I moved back in with my parents last week while most of my friends are moving away for their jobs. I feel like I’m getting left behind.

Again.

I hate feeling like this.

I know it’s just temporary, but I feel like an absolute failure.

Ugh.

Do me a favor and delete these messages if you get them. I can’t stand how whiney I am today.

I guess I should probably send out some resumes soon.

I don’t want to move though. I have so many memories here.

But I guess the good thing about memories is that you take them with you, no matter where you go.

Maybe it would be good to get away.

To start fresh somewhere.

Oh god.

I think my parents are having sex.

I can hear them through the walls.

Definitely sending out resumes tonight- I have to get out of this house.

OH GOD

AFTER I FIND MY HEADPHONES

what to mix w vodka

how tostop being sad after a breakup

dose orang juice stain??

Sorry for all the late texts last night.

Drunk me thought this was a search engine.

I hope I didn’t bother you.

I still miss you.

Moving home had been the obvious choice considering you were currently unemployed and your student housing agreement expired the moment you walked across the stage and accepted your diploma. Your roommate had ended up failing her final semester and you had a nagging suspicion she did it intentionally to push back having to sort through all of her accumulated junk for another year.

It was humbling, hauling boxes back into the tiny room that you had proudly marched out of four years before, convinced that you were on the fast track to adulthood. But here you stood again, years later, trying to come to terms with the fact that your road to success was less like the Autobahn and more like a go-kart circuit; slower than you wanted and constantly looping you back to the starting line.

Determined to make this part of your life as temporary as possible, you’d spent countless agonizing hours entering information into online forms and attaching resumes (containing the exact information you had just typed in) to every job opening you could find, with only a handful of interviews and no call-backs to show for it. The constant feeling of rejection was getting more difficult to bear as the weeks crawled on, especially when you’d scroll through your social media dashboards and see your friends posting selfies modeling their professional wardrobes or tagging their new coworkers in group shots from a bar after they’d clocked out for the day.

They looked so cute in their little blazers and pencil skirts and you hadn’t even bothered to change out of pajamas today. Or yesterday. They were, in fact, the same pair of pajamas you’d been wearing all week.

With a sigh, you went to like the most recent posts from one of your old high school friends who had just landed a prestigious internship when the app was overtaken by an incoming call screen.

Not recognizing the number, you hesitantly hit the accept button and lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you answer hesitantly, fully expecting a recording to play about possibly extending your non-existent car’s warranty.

“Hello!” A chipper voice answers back. “Do you have some time to talk today? Your resume came across my desk and I have to say that I’m very interested in getting you in for an interview!”

“You are-? I mean, of course! Yes! I would love that!” you stammer, diving for the backpack collecting dust at the end of your bed and pulling out a pen and notepad. “Just give me a time and I’ll be there!”

In retrospect, you probably should have asked more questions about the company before blindly agreeing to travel there in person. Like where they were located, for example.

But you didn’t.

So early this morning you’d gotten up, put on your most professionally coded outfit and cutest shoes, and then promptly had a small heart attack when you pulled up the address in the confirmation e-mail and realized it was in the center of Deika City.

Deika City, which was still recovering from some sort of catastrophic event that had destroyed a fair chunk of the town. No wonder the recruiter had acted so impressed with your resume, they probably had a ton of staff vacancies and were scrambling to fill them. You were nothing if not desperate to move out of your parent’s house though. So after an anxious walk to the train station, where you did your best to shake off your nerves; you scanned your train card, found the right platform, and took your first steps towards potential employment and away from the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

Hopefully.

The reconstruction of Deika City had progressed at a staggeringly fast pace. You’d expected there to be more widespread destitution, but apparently the News stations had been using significantly outdated footage for shock value because everything looked eerily normal for a town that almost stopped existing a few months ago. Kids waited on street corners for the crosswalk to change, a florist busied himself refreshing the water his outdoor bouquets sat in, and the headquarters of Detnerat, your potential employer, loomed high over the city like a nail someone forgot to hammer down.

You’d checked your face over with your front facing camera before silencing your phone and striding through the building door with all the confidence you could muster. No one stopped to stare at you, so it seemed like you were doing a pretty good job of blending in so far. The receptionist was on the phone when you approached her desk, waiting anxiously for her to end her call.

“Thank you for your patience,” she said as she dropped the receiver into the cradle and swiveled her chair around to face you. “Welcome to Detnerat, how may I assist you today?”

“I have an interview scheduled for eleven this morning?,” you explain, clearing your throat nervously at the end.

“Let me just check the schedule and get you checked in,” she droned politely, fingers flying across her keyboard as a testament to her experience. You had turned away to look at the large fountain burbling peacefully in the middle of the foyer when the receptionist shot out of her chair with a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!” she said while frantically bowing as she rounded the corner of the desk. “I didn’t realize you were a VIP guest! I have been remiss in my treatment of you!”

She looped a lanyard with a temporary ID card around your neck before pushing a large gift bag into your hands while motioning you towards the elevator doors, which opened automatically as you approached them.

“The elevator will automatically scan and detect the security authorizations pre-programmed into the ID card around your neck and deliver you to the proper floor,” the receptionist explained as you stepped into the open car. “I apologize again for my oversight and lack of professionalism. I hope your interview goes well!” She called out as the doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. The soft notes of a classical song started playing in an attempt to drown out the whirring of machinery as the elevator lurched into motion.

You stared down at the card dangling around your neck as you adjusted your hold on the gift bag in your arms.

“What the fuck is going on here?” you mutter in confusion as the elevator chimes for each floor you pass. You’re already more than halfway up the building and have a feeling that you won’t be stopping until you reach the top floor.

Your suspicions had been slightly off. The elevator hadn’t stopped at the top floor. It had continued on past the maximum number of floors indicated by the illuminated buttons on the control panel, letting you off on some super secret unmarked penthouse level. You’d also discovered that you didn’t have a cell signal up here when you pulled out your phone to make sure you were arriving on time, so you were fairly certain now that this was the start of the true crime documentary about your tragic disappearance and murder.

Hopefully they’d interview Kiyomi after they fished your headless corpse out of the channel. She would say flattering things about you and probably add some nice embellished bits to make you look extra sympathetic to the audience.

Hesitantly, you stepped out of the elevator and made your way down the hallway you’d been deposited into, drawing closer to the massive double doors looming at the end. All too soon you were at the end of the hallway, hand poised to knock, when the doors slowly began to swing open, a silent invitation to enter. If you were going to be murdered tonight you were going to put up one helluva fight so the girl they cast to play you would really have a chance to flex her acting chops.

“Hello?” You called, stepping further into the room, the plush carpet practically melting under your feet. With tentative steps, you made your way towards the large desk poised in the middle of the room. A high-back office chair was situated behind it, turned away from you and rocking restlessly back and forth “I’m here for an interview?”

“No, you’re not,” a familiar voice called out. “An interview implies that there is a possibility that you won’t get whatever position you’re applying for. Just name what sort of job you want and it’s yours.” The chair quickly spun around, revealing the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few months.

“Tenko, ” you choked, lungs seizing as your chest clogged up with a sudden deluge of emotions.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he murmured, spreading his arms wide. “Did you miss me?”

The gift bag in your arms dropped to the ground as your hands flew up to cover your mouth, which had fallen open in shock at Tenko's dramatic reappearance.

Brow pinching in confusion, Tenko's arms dropped back down to his lap as you remained rooted to the spot, simply staring at him with wide-eyed disbelief.

“What’s the matter?” He asks gruffly, obviously growing uncomfortable under your unwavering gaze. “Not happy to see me?”

“I- I thought you were dead!” you screech, and with your exclamation the emotional dam you’d been shoring up over Tenko’s absence came crumbling down. Tears poured down your cheeks as you wailed, your chest heaving with sobs of relief. “ I was- I was so worried about you!”

Tenko began gliding across the room to you the moment your tears started falling, reaching your side quickly as he pulled you into his embrace, your head tucked in under his chin as he shushed you gently.

“Hey now, it’s alright. I’m alright. There’s nothing to cry about.”

“ There’s plenty to cry about! You left me alone for months and I didn’t know if you were safe or if you were just breaking up with me-”

“I would never break up with you,” Tenko quickly assures you, rubbing soothing circles across your shoulders as your weeping slowed down into gasping hiccups.

“What else was I supposed to think when I literally couldn’t get a hold of my boyfriend for months? You didn’t return any of my calls or texts-”

“Ah, yeah,” Tenko grimaced. “I was out in the woods for a while. No cell reception.”

“You were in the woods for six months?” you gape incredulously.

“No. Just one.”

“Why didn’t you contact me after that, then?”

“I broke my phone while fighting a giant,” Tenko states.

The silence in the room was heavy as you peeled yourself out of Tenko’s embrace, leaning back to level him with a disbelieving glare.

“A giant…broke your phone?”

“No. It broke while I was fighting a giant. It fell out of my pocket and smashed on a rock. I lost the save data for nearly every mobile game I was playing. And your phone number. I was pretty pissed off about that.”

You rubbed at your swollen eyes with both your fists, overwhelmed and confused by all the information Tenko was offering up to you after months of radio silence.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Yes. I told you before that I don’t like lying to you. That remains as true today as it was then.”

With an exhausted groan you turn and make your way over to a modern style loveseat set off to the side of the desk, snagging Tenko’s wrist as you pass by. He indulges your silent request, following your lead and settling down next to you on the small couch. Head cradled in your palms, you sigh deeply before scrubbing your hands down your face and angling your body towards Tenko.

“Okay. Let’s table the part with a giant for now. You had five months to reach out to me and you didn’t. Why?”

Tenko drummed his fingers on his thigh nervously. “I don’t think I can really explain that without revealing some other things about myself first. My name. My face. The goals I’ve been working towards,” he swallowed nervously. “But once I do that, there isn’t any going back.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can stand up right now and walk out of this building and back to your normal life. Volunteering at the soup kitchen, eating lunch out with your friends, spending holidays with your family. But once I tell you about who I really am, you’ll be considered an accessory to all of my wrongdoings; held accountable for all of my crimes. You can cut and run right now and I won’t stop you. But once the mask comes off I can no longer let you leave, ” Tenko explains solemnly, putting a special emphasis on the last words to encourage you to read between the lines.

You were a smart girl. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant. If you stayed here, stayed with him, that was it. You’d be at his side or in the ground.

“I’ve been choosing you, over and over again, for nearly a year. There’s nothing you could tell me at this point that would steer me from my course- away from you,” you assured him, resting your hand on his thigh comfortingly.

“We’ll see about that,” Tenko snorts incredulously as he lifts a hand to his hover above his familiar facemask. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? This is your last chance to back out.”

“I’m sure,” you nod emphatically.

“Alright then. You asked for it.”

And with those words, Tenko touched his fingers down onto his facemask, which quickly began to crumble away and dissolve into ash. Left in its place was the hauntingly familiar face of one of the most wanted men in Japan: Shigaraki Tomura.

“Oh, thank God,” you whispered in relief, sinking down into the back of the couch. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me you were Shigaraki for nearly a year now.”

“Wait, you knew ?” Tomura shouted, thoroughly shocked by your nonchalance.

“I mean, yeah? I'm pretty sure the entire soup kitchen knows at this point. You were pretty damn terrible about blending in- it’s hard to hide when you’re so handsome,” you say as you pat his cheek appreciatively.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been agonizing about revealing my identity to you since our first date!”

“It seemed like you weren’t ready for me to know, so I just decided to wait until you were ready.”

"Is that why you never asked me to take off my mask? Because you already knew what I looked like?"

"At first I thought you had a jaw mutation you were sensitive about or something. But then once I realized you were like, the most wanted man in the country, I felt like you keeping it on as much as possible was probably a smart call."

Tomura threaded his hands through his hair and fell back into the cushions of the couch, laughing deliriously as you snuggled into his side, resting your head against his.

“What a pair we make,” he grinned.

“Yeah,” you smiled in return, threading your fingers carefully through his. “A pretty great pair, if you ask me.”

"I can't believe you did this," you squeal in excitement, practically bouncing in your seat in the empty auditorium.

"Why not? I'm a good boyfriend," Tomura scoffed.

"You let me think you were dead for half a year," you remind him dryly, wiggling your shoulders to sink down further into the theater seat.

"I can't believe you're still going on about that. I apologized- "

"You told me, and I quote, 'My bad.'"

"Right, I apologized."

"You're impossible!" You groan, bumping your knees roughly into Tomura's in retribution.

"Fine!" Tomura grumbled, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I promise to call you the next time I'm busy establishing a criminal empire."

"That's all I ask, Dear," you smiled sweetly, patting Tomura's thigh placatingly. His retort was cut off by the sudden dimming of the lights and a grand swelling of wind-instrument heavy classical music filling the auditorium. You both leaned back in your seats, the chairs reclining easily, as the remaining light was finally snuffed out; blanketing the room in a thick darkness.

Suddenly, the planetarium projector whirled to life, scattering stars throughout the air.

You couldn't stop the gasp that falls from your lips as you watch the lights twinkle above you; clusters of constellations, colorful nebulae, and swirling galaxies all dancing into creation. They weren't the real thing, but you were still awed and humbled by the reminder of how grand existence was and how very miniscule your part in it truly is.

Carefully, you let your hand crawl over Tomura's, gently rotating his hand in your grasp so you could weave your fingers through his.

"They're really something, huh?" He whispered, just as enthralled by the spectacle of the night sky as you were. Close-ups of celestial objects filled your vision, and a breathtaking shot of the Earth rotating brought a distant memory to the forefront of your mind.

"You told me once that you wanted to give me the world. Do you remember that?"

"Of course I remember. I was touching your boob."

"Tomura!" You bark out, laughing as you drop your head to the side to knock roughly into his. Tomura turns his head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss onto the tender patch of skin below your ear.

"What? Your breasts are always noteworthy. But yes, I remember. And that offer still stands."

"I was just thinking that you've already fulfilled that promise."

"Oh? Because I gave you the universe ," Tomura said, emphasizing his teasing by throwing his free arm wide and wiggling his fingers towards the light-dappled planetarium ceiling.

"No," you giggled, burrowing your face down deeper into his shoulder into his neck. "Because you've become my world."

"Oh," he whispered, swallowing thickly. “I- I didn’t think lines like that worked outside of dating sims.”

“And how’s your affection meter right now?” you giggled, nibbling on his earlobe playfully.

“Maxed out,” he pants, squeezing your hand tightly as your tongue traced the shell of his ear.

“Really? I should be triggering a special event soon then, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely ,” Tomura grinned, sliding out of his chair and onto the theater floor. Worming his way between your legs, he grasps your knees with his pinkies up and spreads them as far as they would go, your thighs bumping into the arm rests of your chair. With a devious smirk, Tomura flips your skirt up over your belly and grabs the swath of fabric covering your crotch and pulls it away from your body; closing his fist fully and gleefully watching your panties disintegrate in his grasp.

“Lay back down, Sweetheart,” Tomura cooed as he tugged your hips down to the edge of the seat, pressing kisses into the juncture of your thighs. “I want you to look up into the sky because I’m going to make you see stars.”

You groan, both at his pun and at the feeling of his tongue carefully lapping at your slit.

“Oh- OH! Fuck, Tomura, ” you moan, hips bouncing on the seat of your chair.

“Again,” he orders. “Say my name again.”

“Tomura,” you keen, winding your fingers into his hair to hold him in place as his mouth worked its magic on your interior spaces. It didn’t take you long to finish under Tomura’s attentions; coming undone with a stuttering sigh while stars glimmered in your eyes.

And if you were to ask Tomura's opinion as he gazed at you, utterly enthralled by your rapture; he would say that he was pretty sure Heaven itself was reflected in his.

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