#croissants are essential

[phantomarine]

portrait of an animator/webcomic-person

[lovefrenchisbetter]

Lemaire Small Croissant Bag

[griddlegold]

i want one of those shirts like "i love my gay son" but instead it's just "i love my dumb fucking cat"

[theambitiouswoman]

Ways to Add Luxury to Your Life

1. Stop saying “you can’t afford it”

2. Walk through or stop for a drink at a luxurious hotel

3. Create your own luxurious evening routine

4. Create your own luxurious morning routine

5. Schedule in something fancy

6. Wear your favorite handbag and shoes

7. Find your signature scent

8. Do your hair and make up

9. Shop your wardrobe

10. Choose your top 3 must do things everything

11. Cook from scratch

12. Drink champagne

13. Buy silk linens for your bed

14. Celebrate your wins

15. Personalized stationary

16. Visit museums and art galleries

17. Shop at farmers markets

18. Eat organic and fresh foods

19. Go on hikes

20. Play uplifting music

21. Plant a vegetable garden

22. Use lavender pouches in your drawers

23. Exercise daily

24. Only drink quality tea and coffee

25. Wear pretty/silk lingerie and cute lounge wear

26. Have a creative hobby

27. Visit the spa and get facials regularly

28. Buy fresh flowers

29. Use quality skincare and makeup

30. Take hot baths

31. Buy essential oils

32. Treat yourself

33. Add lemon to your water

34. Go to a high end gym or Lounge

35. Read a book before bed

36. Stop saving your nice things for later. Use them now

37. Use an exfoliator for your body

38. Stretching and yoga

39. Go to an artisan cafe for fresh croissants

40. Make your own dressings for your foods

41. Clean your house and your car

42. Take a detox shot in the morning

43. Treat yourself to a professional blow dry

44. Nails always done

45. Bake fresh cookies

46. Watch a classic and elegant film like Breakfast at Tiffany’s

47. Have a full feminine luxurious shower routine

48. Clean your makeup brushes and arrange them like a beauty counter for the next time you use them

49. Learn about art and wines

50. Decorate your home like a 5 star hotel

51. Use a pillow spray

52. Host a dinner party

53. If possible, hire a chef or cleaner to help you

[snenbubs]

I have to do EVERYTHING myself. Tell me, you guys, why nobody is simping for Mammon??? He is hawt and i lobe him so here are some Mammon (Helluva Boss) x GN Reader headcannons :] Jst sm romantic stuff 🫠

Its all lowk ooc cuz he's an asshole but I'm delulu so lets go.

♡ I need to be honest w/ you guys, he's the sin of greed. This man is an inherently selfish lover. But its okay it checks out.

♡ With that, he's a very greedy lover and he wants all of you whenever he can;

- Hands are always on you, and he has four of them! All the better to hold you with, seriously, one hand will be wrapped securely around your waist whilst the other rests atop of your head.

- I reckon he'd be fond of carrying you, I mean, he's HUGE, and assuming that you're an average sized demon, shark, hellhound or sinner or whatever you are, he's gonna tower over you like a baguette to a croissant. But he wants your face close to his. The solution to this? Hold. When he's not busy, your in his arms, or on his shoulder.

- His persona is very touchy feely so he can get away with a lot of this in public! And I think he's a big fan of PDA. He likes asserting the fact that you are his, he's quite possesive in that aspect.

♡ In addition to this, webs;

- The giant spider has webs.

- HE HAS WEBS.

- His webs are a weird sort of pride, when he sees them on you. He's one of the only demons who can make them, and so when they're on you, its essentially a statement of possesion.

- Its nothing too 'out there' maybe just a bracelet, or a necklace, or a hairtie (if you have hair 🧑‍🦲) But its somewhere people can see.

- If someone tries to flirt with you whilst your wearing it then he has an excuse to get all pissy.

- He isn't against tying you up if the two of you are having a moment and you try to get away. Whatever else you need to do, it can wait. He's the king of greed and he wants to indulge.

♡ He's enjoys having everything, but he also enjoys YOU having everything so expect to be bathed in lavish gifts and prizes;

- Most of the time he won't be able to go with you personally, so he'll send one of his assistants to take you shopping.

Only the best places for you.

- He knows exactly what you like too! He has a person who keeps track of all the things you like, follows you around and takes note of the things you appear interested in. This has lead to a few Birthdays where you were shocked to find a gift you hadn't even mentioned to Mammon yet.

♡ There is never a moment where you may feel he doesn't love you. Ever since he asserted himself into your life, it has been made extremely clear;

- He's very busy and doesn't always have the time for you, so, whenever he is free he ensures you will be at his side.

- He's good at hiding his feelings but he'll slip up, quite often actually, when it comes to you. He'll find himself staring, in awe, at your astounding presence.

- He's not good with his words, though, he never knows what to say to you, or how to express his feelings so its the gestures that count. Mostly buying you things, as I said before, but it gets the point across.

RAAAHH I LOVE HIM

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!” 

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight. 

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand. 

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine. 

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her. 

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her. 

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease. 

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl. 

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home. 

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there. 

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm. 

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile. 

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it. 

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug. 

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears. 

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed. 

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into. 

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable. 

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?” 

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants. 

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along… 

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth. 

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course. 

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love. 

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping. 

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along. 

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care. 

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to. 

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks. 

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth. 

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm. 

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly. 

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves. 

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

[merakiui]

writing this rollo fic has made me realize how great reader's mental health would be if they just woke up in noble bell instead of nrc,,, rollo takes such good care of you while THE CROW >:( does absolutely nothing and is likely scheming behind the scenes. overblots on seven different occasions? that's simply unheard of at noble bell. you drink your coffee with rollo and share croissants and have a grand school life and all is well because he keeps you sheltered from the mayhem that is magic.

but then it's one of those cases where you don't realize just how unhealthy his attachment is to you. you're practically rollo's emotional support human and he's your pillar of stability while you try to navigate a world that is so unique and different from your own.

essentially, i think rollo and reader friendship is very lovely. he can have one close friend as a treat. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 23

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You set out your ingredients, trying to strategize what to do first. You have ideas, lots of ideas, and that sort of anxious motivation that keeps you from sitting still. Maybe it’s a need for distraction from the sudden swerve your life has taken, or your incessant urge to do everything for everyone, or maybe it’s just easier to lie when you look busy.

You don’t owe Lloyd the truth. The more you think about it, you barely really know him. And he said it himself, it’s just sex. Good sex. The best sex you’ve had, not that you have much to compare it to. So fuck your feelings, as he’d so eloquently proclaim.

Scones first. You’ve settled on a white chocolate and cranberry, but think that might be better kept until the festive season. You’re still in the throes of fall so the pumpkin walnut squares will like be the bigger hit. Oh, and the maple croissants. If you have time, you might experiment with some apple caramel creation too.

You prop your phone against the wall at the back of the counter. You put your music on a low din, keeping a base recipe open as you begin your first bowl of batter. The flour puffs out of the bake and dusts your shirt. Too late to remember the apron.

You add the rest of the dry ingredients and carefully stir. You bought a whole set of mixing bowls after you noticed Lloyd’s lack of essentials. You’ll see if you can expense that out with the ingredients. Your surprise might not go over well for your wallet.

You add the butter and carefully mix it in until crumbly. You put that in the fridge and start on the wet ingredients, humming as you focus on the little tasks. It’s easier than thinking of anything else.

Your fatigue nips at your eyelids. It’s been a long day and with all this ahead of you, it’ll be a longer night. You yawn and flick your wrist, whisking the cream and eggs diligently. You feel something tickle up your back before two hands settle on your hips. 

You lurch in fright and still the whisk as Lloyd leans into you, peeking over your head. He drones and rubs his crotch against your ass. He clicks his tongue as he brings his hands up to fondle your chest.

“You’re making another mess,” he says as he flicks the bag of sugar, “Really living up to the whole sugar tits thing.”

“Oh, I’ll clean it up,” you try to ignore how he kneads your tits.

“Hope this isn’t all for me,” he growls.

“Actually, no,” your pulse piques as you summon your preconceived lie, “it’s for the kids. At the daycare. Just doing something nice.”

“Mmm, you’re so nice, Mimi,” he lilts his tone mockingly, “you wanna be nice to me, mommy?”

“Lloyd,” you push your elbow back into his side, “please. Later.”

He exhales, ot breath fanning over your scalp. He bends to nuzzle your head, gritting in his throat. “I’m not asking.”

You stiffen and grip the whisk, putting it back into motion.

“I’ll be done in a bit, I really can’t let this rest–”

“Something’s up. You’re not telling me something…” he brings his hand back to your waist.

“I’m baking. What would I lie about?”

“Come on,” he grinds into you, “you know our deal.”

“It can’t wait?” You clang the whisk off the side of the bowl.

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m tired of waiting and lately, you’ve been making me do a lot of that.”

He pulls you back and you let go of the whisk as it clinks against the metal. He leads you back as you latch onto his wrists, trying not to lose your balance. He spins you to face the island and crushes you against it.

“Lloyd,” you squeeze his forearms, “you’re being… pushy. Please, let me at least put everything away–”

“No,” he snarls and twists free of your grasp.

He grabs your wrists and brings your hands up to the marble countertop. He presses your palms flat under his large and leans his weight on you, a warning. Suddenly, you’re all too aware of his strength and size.

He nuzzles behind your ear as he growls again, “don’t move, mimi.”

“Lloyd,” you push your fingertips into the marble and try to shove yourself back. 

He keeps you penned in as he trails a hand up your arm. You reach up to follow his touch, brushing your fingers along his bicep as he curls it around your neck. You raise your chin to keep from being strangled. What the hell is he doing?

“Please, give me some space,” you feel the panic surge in your veins, so hot it beads over your brow, “I’m a bit claustro–”

He hushes you as he flexes his bicep against your neck. You gulp as your eyes round and you stare at the pristine walls. You shudder in horror as your powerlessness sets in. Not only in that moment. This man holds your life in his closed fist.

“I won’t be long, sugar tits,” his other hand creeps back and he feels along your side and hip. He curls his fingers beneath the back of your pants and tugs, yanking harshly until the button pops loose. “Something about the whole mother hen shit gets me going.”

“Lloyd,” you eke out, eyes wetting as you quiver, “please, I don’t want this right now.”

“That’s too fucking bad. That’s not our deal.”

“Wha– No–”

“Shhh,” he forces your pants down roughly as he kicks your feet apart, “if you’re not screaming my name, keep your mouth shut.”

Your body locks up in terror. You can’t make a noise, you can’t move as he peels down your panties. You’re trapped in the heat of his body and the crush of his weight. This can’t be happening.

You close your eyes, blocking out the kitchen, trying to tune out your reality. Your ears zero in on the low drone of music still buzzing from your phone.

Go on and be a big girl You asked for this now Go on and be a big girl Well, everybody's gonna drown you out

[tastesoftamriel]

You know those cheesy pasta dishes with all the fancy add-ins like heavy cream and garlic so we can all pretend to ourselves that we aren't just eating mac and cheese like overgrown children? What sort of equivalent dishes do the people of Tamriel enjoy, that are basically just dressed-up "kid food" dishes?

Who doesn't love a cheeky meal that brings back memories of childhood? Across Tamriel, you'll find all manner of simple, hearty foods that will make you feel like a kid again!

Altmer

In Summerset, young and old alike enjoy mochi, a tasty sweet snack made from chewy glutinous rice flour. Mochi comes in many varieties, with fillings like sweet peanut or black sesame paste. However, almost everyone's favourite is a cold mochi filled with soft gelato of various flavours. My favourite combination is matcha mochi wrapped around a moreish azuki bean ice cream centre.

Argonians

Is there anything that makes you feel more like a kid than some snacking? Argonians are huge fans of anything that packs a crunch, both sweet and savoury. Whether it's spicy and sweet crickets, dark saltrice sauce-coated mealworms, or just good old prawn crackers with some dipping sambal, be prepared to snack your way all day long in Black Marsh.

Bosmer

If you're one of those people who stands in the kitchen gnawing a block of cheese at midnight, you're in good company in Valenwood. A popular late-night treat served at street food vendors across the Province is a simple cup of grilled witchetty grubs slathered in timber mammoth cheese sauce and topped with pulled pork. The grubs are meaty in flavour, and the pungent timber mammoth cheese complements the pulled pork when mixed all together, as the locals enjoy it.

Bretons

Pain au chocolat? Yes please! These deliciously buttery puffed pastries are essentially rectangular croissants enveloping delicious dark chocolate. Served warm, they're sure to make any breakfast or teatime a happy one! To really satisfy those chocolate cravings, pair with a classic Breton hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Dunmer

Marshmerrow cake is the ubiquitous Dunmeri dessert that has gained popularity far beyond the borders of Morrowind due to its mild flavour and unique candy aroma. A soft sponge cake, which is sometimes soaked in comberry brandy, is layered with sweet marshmerrow crème patissiere, caramelised marshmerrow crumble, and maraschino comberries. Sure to knock some years off your age and put a couple more holes in your belt (it's impossible to stop at one slice. Source: me).

Imperials

There's nothing quite like homemade gnocchi with ragout for Imperials when it comes to comfort food. While this homey dish is prevalent across Cyrodiil, every household cooks the dish differently. In mine, my mother pan-fries the gnocchi in an obnoxious amount of butter, and tops it with her top-secret slow-cooked lamb and red wine ragout. While I cannot give away the secrets to her ragout, I highly recommend trying this delicious dish a try when you need to warm yourself, body and soul.

Khajiit

If you think you can turn away cinnamon and cardamom churros with a cup of moon sugar caramel dip, you're deluding yourself. This delicious treat can be found across Elsweyr and is considered one of the Province's most famous foods. Khajiiti churros, which are made from a mix of rice and tapioca flour, have a moist and chewy texture beneath a crisp, golden brown outer layer. They're served hot from the wok, with a cup of moon sugar caramel syrup. A truly divine pairing!

Nords

Spätzle is something I've written about in the past, and it's one of the best things I know (ask any resident of Skyrim and they'd tell you the same). These chunky egg noodles may look unrefined compared to Khajiiti vermicelli, but make up for it when liberally doused in a creamy cheese sauce and topped with fried onions. I like spicing mine up, quite literally, with some chili powder I purchased at a Sentinel bazaar.

Orcs

Nothing screams comfort food (and mess) quite like a good old echatere sausage hot dog. The echatere sausage, rather akin to Blackwood chorizo in flavour, is grilled over hot coals and served in a sourdough bun, served Wrothgar style with a good amount of horseradish mayo, fried radish chips, caramelised onions, pickles, and crispy dried baby shrimp topping. I'd say you can't stop at just one, but it's a hefty meal you can eat with one hand!

Redguards

I have probably written about gulab jamun in the past, a delicious, albeit cloying dessert popular throughout Hammerfell. An iconic dish at festivals and parties, gulab jamun is prized by dessert-lovers for its velvety, syrupy texture. These fluffy balls of cardamom-scented cottage cheese are fried and soaked in a fragrant saffron and rose water syrup, and topped with crushed pistachios. So simple, so good, and so moreish. Just be sure to stop at three, because any more and the sugar rush will send you to Aetherius!

[lovefrenchisbetter]

Lemaire Small Croissant Bag

[mariacallous]

Before I opened WildHeart Baked Goods, a cottage home bakery which specialized in challah, I was a novice baker. When I first got married, it was my mother-in-law who ignited my love of bread baking. Her ease with dough busted the myth that bread baking is difficult. So began my journey. Each week I baked, each week I became a better baker. My bread and my challah began to develop personality… my personality. Afterall, that’s what bread is; an embodiment of the baker, filled with their hopes, their dreams and their spirit. 

My favorite bread to both bake and eat is challah, but not the challah you serve for Shabbat dinner. My ideal challah is served the next morning, for breakfast. There is something magical about Shabbat morning and Shabbat breakfast. The world almost stands a little still. Growing up, my most vivid Shabbat morning memories were at my aunt and uncle’s table filled with an array of special cakes and danishes served alongside tea and coffee. It was a special treat. As an adult, I try to bring that special Shabbat morning of pastries and cake into my own home with the concept of a breakfast challah. I began creating breakfast challah with leftover dough filled with cinnamon and sugar. Over the years, I have created many flavors of breakfast challahs that embrace the flavors of the season.

Winter breakfast challah will always be filled with bright citrus and marzipan. Marzipan, a traditional confectionary of Mizrachi, Sephardi and Eastern European Jews alike, is an unlikely breakfast food. However, when laminated into challah, it results in a delicate cross between challah and pastry, reminiscent of an almond croissant. The layers of the challah fall away in delicate folds of citrus-infused butter and fresh marzipan. Baked in a traditional babka crown shape, this challah makes the perfect centerpiece for your next brunch when the snow is deep and the days grow short.

Notes:

The temperature of the water should be delicately warm enough as for a baby’s bath. For those of you who don’t make it a habit of bathing babies; place a finger to the bottom of the cup of warm water. Keep it there a few moments. If it feels nicely warm without an “ouch” sensation, the water is the proper temperature.

If your marzipan feels a little too dry (it can happen, weather depending) add ½ Tbsp more water and blend it in.

If you don’t have an angel food cake pan (which is a tube pan with a flat bottom), you can use a Bundt pan. The inner ring of metal in these pans is essential for baking success because it allows airflow and heat to get to the center of the challah and create an even bake.  

[simsterslife]

Picnic essentials, CC finds 🍒

It's a bit too cold for me now and I'm looking forward to Spring.....

✼ picnic blanket | picnic basket | straw hat

✼ wine & wine glass | croissant & cherries | strawberries

✼ picnic basket | grapes | large jar

Thank you to all cc creators! ♡ @simmerkate @momo-cc @wondymoondesign @soloriya @pinkbox-anye @imfromsixam

[butterfilledpockets]

hey butter, i need you to remain calm, do NOT freak out, just sit down here so we can have a little chat :)

now, i understand that you may be busy, and that you also need an intact body to acheive most of your every-day tasks, but hear me out...

wouldn't you be happier if you were in a croissant? see, the thing is, i'm making croissants, and as you may know, butter is essential to croissant making, and i appear to have run out.

just think about it, croissants have more structure! this would make it easier to complete tasks without melting! :)

although your compliance is not strictly necassary (i will still be using you to make croissants either way), i thought i would do the polite thing and ask! :) manners are very important in this day and age, and this warning will give you time to get your affairs in order :)

what fresh hell have a walked into

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*blows a party noisemaker* Happiest of birthdays Rollo Flamme! May your upcoming year of life treat you of highest regards! *pushes a box wrapped in wrapping paper colored like his outfit, and upon opening it, you find some winter gloves with an embroidered bell on the backs of the hands, cupping what looks like a Keychain, shaped like a gladiolus flower.* The gladiolus means strength. And knowing how hard it is to be a club leader and a Student Council president, you're gonna need it! Greatest days, sir Flamme! *Oh hey, there was also a coupon for that bakery you liked! A free treat of your choice! Looks legit too.*

Imagine bells embroidered on the back of the image of the gloves—

Thank you to Omori for teaching me about the gladiolus 🫶

You blew the party noisemaker again, extending its tail to brush against Rollo's nose and tickle it. He sniffed, unamused, and provided a thin smile.

"What practical choices for presents," he noted, running a hand along the winter gloves nestled in a bed of tissue paper. "The winters in the City of Flowers can be brutal and chilling. Protection against the elements is essential if one wishes to survive such a challenging time of year.

"This coupon will also see use, even if for a single transaction. The difference in money saved for the purchase of a croissant is meager, but it is money saved nevertheless."

"Why not use the coupon to try out a new bread or pastry that you wouldn't normally try?" you suggested, tapping at the coupon.

"What?" Rollo tapped one finger against the gift box--a sign of annoyance. "Do not speak such nonsense. I am very particular about what I consume and I do not stray from that. Perhaps indulgence is a worldly pleasure you Night Raven College students partake in, but not I."

"Ehhh, suit yourself." You shrugged, knowing that it was futile to try and change his mind. "What do you think about your last present? Do you like it as much as the others?"

"The keychain?" Rollo uttered the term as though it were a distant, estranged relative. "I am not an expert in aesthetics, and nor do I care to fixate on fashion. I typically find accessories to be needless add-ons."

Ouch. He doesn't mince his words.

He paused to clear his throat, a fist to his mouth.

"However... I do find the motif upon this keychain to be of interest. The gladiolus is also known as the 'sword flower', perhaps because of its similar shape when the flowers cluster. As you have said, they are meant to bestow strength upon the recipient.”

A small smile founds its way onto his face, though his eyes remained dark.

“Fufufu, it is a most considerate gift on your part. I could do with the strength.”

“Wow, Prez,” you marveled, “I didn't realize you were so knowledgeable about the language of flowers. I’m just glad you ended up liking the keychain after all! You had me worried there for a sec.”

“Hmph, indeed.”

He smirked to himself.

I will need the strength to persist through this birthday party.

[merakiui]

seeing your otome post just made me think of rollo waaaa… maybe in the original game from your world, he was a kind of dlc? maybe you'd only just seen some of his art online, and never got around to playing it. based on his appearance, perhaps you had thought it wouldn't be too hard to avoid romancing him but :') unfortunately for you, it's very hard. i like to think that you'd just have to Physically Avoid him to completely avoid it.

he just pities you so much, with how you're stuck in a school full of mages, and even more so when he sees the way they all actually look at you. it makes his skin crawl. they are downright lecherous, and it disgusts him to his core. you, in a way, become the living embodiment of the very thing he wishes to protect and, regardless of your views on magic, his affection will steadily climb while spending more time around you. (though i imagine it might affect the kind of 'ending' you get… since you are essentially the main character in this otome universe, i like to think your actions can have quite pivotal consequences,, perhaps if you were to agree with rollo completely on his views, he would actually succeed in his plans?)

either way just. you get back to nrc and will get frequent letters from rollo for the rest of the time you stay there haha

So many letters... One each week. He's a rather persistent pen pal. It wasn't your intention to earn Rollo's affection. In fact, you were hoping to make him even worse during the events of Glorious Masquerade so that he'd loathe you for siding with mages (or in his eyes: a group of filthy, licentious fiends). If he hated you, his affection meter wouldn't rise at all and that would be one less love interest to worry about! But somehow you charm him. Maybe it's because, despite your best efforts, it's difficult to remain stone-faced while he's showing you around the City of Flowers. Everything is so beautiful, so tasty, so vibrant... You can't help fawning over it, eagerly accepting the croissant he purchases for you and listening intently while he goes on about the city's history. It's one thing to play through this scene in the game; it's another to actually experience it. Besides, it gets stressful navigating an otome such as this one. You've earned the break.

And maybe it's that curious, wide-eyed expression of yours that captures his heart. It's a sweet purity only you could possess, and it is because you are untouched by magic that you remain so perfect. It's those NRC fools who will only continue to taint you with their boastful displays of magic. Needless to say, by the end of the Glorious Masquerade, Rollo has fallen for you, his affection meter having increased significantly. He sends you letters that you never respond to because you know that doing so will only fuel his interest.

Although after many weeks of this recurring treatment, it feels nice to sit and skim through his words with Grim, the both of you giggling over his stiffly formal prose or his attempt at inviting you back to Noble Bell, only this time without the murderous, magic-hating melodrama. You wonder why he keeps sending letters even when you've yet to respond. Maybe you'll write back once just to turn down his invitations and be done with him, but with how determined this otome is to set you up with one of the many love interests here you doubt you'll be able to do that. If anything, you might just run into him by chance.

It's a scenario that's happened one too many times now. At this point, you've come to expect it. ^^;;;

[trivialbob]

The rest of last weekend I spent in Chicago.

I went there to visit my college roommate, Ross. We've known each other since freshman year of college, back in the fall of 1984 -- 40 years of friendship!

Friday afternoon I drove to to the city. Normally I experience horrendous traffic there, pretty much after crossing from Wisconsin to Illinois. Someone smiled upon me this time, because the midday Friday traffic was smooth on the highways.

Things got aggressive on city streets. Twice I saw people driving over a double yellow line, directly at me, as they wanted to make a left turn without waiting for traffic.

GPS warns me of Chicago's red light and radar cameras. At times I wonder if Chicagoans don't have to pay tickets they get in the mail, because I thought I was going to get rear-ended simply for obeying the speed limit and stopping at red lights. No one with Land of Lincoln plates seems to worry about traffic tickets.

Ross had game tickets to a Blackhawks game Saturday night. The team did poorly, but I enjoyed hanging out with him and watching the game.

I like walking through his neighborhood and looking at houses. My own home in Minnesota has a fireplace made of Chicago Brick. After the Great Chicago Fire, bricks from destroyed buildings were re-used in new home construction. It would be fascinating to me if there was a way to find out what Chicago building my bricks came from.

The Lincoln Square business area is a favorite of mine. I had arrived in the city before Ross was done working for the week. So I made my usual tour of that area on foot.

There are plenty of restaurants and bars I'd like to try. Saturday morning Ross and his wife took me out for coffee at a neat little shop with an airplane theme. Check out that booth made from airline seats and aircraft aluminum. The trash bins were re-purposed airliner serving carts.

There was mushroom coffee on the menu. I'd heard of it before, but never tried it. So I ordered a cup of "Morning Mud" which is mushroom coffee and some sort of mushroom extract. It tasted earthy. I don't know that it made me healthier but the coffee had caffeine. I'd give it another try sometime.

Ross and his wife picked up the tab, so I also grabbed a can of seltzer, two croissants, and a large assortment of essential oil soaps that were for sale in the attached gift shop.

The coffee shop had two "unvested service dogs." One was quite comfortable sitting in customers' laps.

Throughout my stay Ross and I hung out, had martinis and pizza, talked politics and current events, and relaxed. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit.