#Pizza Prep Counter

[restohubculinary]

Experience the Innovative Pizza Prep Counter

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[dragoneyelashart]

chef!billie headcanons ★⋆˙

smut/fluff ୨ৎ

au: chef! billie

chef!billie who wakes you up with the smell of fresh coffee and homemade pancakes, humming softly in the kitchen in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers

chef!billie who insists on feeding you while you sit on the counter, swinging your legs and smiling like an idiot because god she’s so hot when she’s focused

chef!billie who kisses you with flour-dusted fingers and then smears a little on your cheek just to laugh and lick it off

chef!billie who gets turned on when you moan a little too enthusiastically after tasting something she made, like full eye contact, tongue-out teasing turned-on

chef!billiewho pulls you into her lap in the kitchen chair, arms around your waist, tasting cinnamon from your lips while something sizzles on the stove

chef!billie who will finger you right there on the countertop, between bites of dessert she insists you try, murmuring “sweet like you” into your neck

chef!billie who uses honey on your inner thighs just to “try something new” and ends up making you come twice before dinner even hits the table

chef!billie who teases you for being “a messy little thing” but she’s the one licking you clean while kneeling on cold tile

chef!billie who gets cocky when she sees you wear her apron and nothing else; “oh, baby, you’re just begging to be fucked isn’t that right?”

chef!billie who loves aftercare, feeding you small bites, cuddling while you both snack, letting you wear her old culinary school hoodie and curl into her chest

chef!billie who meal preps for you without you asking, with little notes inside like “eat this when you miss me” or “made this with love :)”

chef!billie who slow dances with you in the kitchen late at night, the smell of warm butter and garlic still lingering, her hands low on your back, her lips on your forehead

chef!billie who always calls you her “taste tester” but really just likes watching you enjoy things she makes, especially when it’s her

chef!billie who ends every night kissing your shoulders in bed, whispering, “you’re the best thing i’ve ever made mine”

chef!billie who teaches her daughter how to crack eggs and whisk batter on the weekends while you sleep in, and they always bring you breakfast in bed like it’s tradition

chef!billie who melts when she hears her daughter say “mama made this with love” before handing you a cookie she helped roll out

chef!billie who gets turned on watching you be soft with her kid, helping with homework at the counter while she quietly kneads the dough for their pizza.

chef!billie who sneaks you into the pantry when the kid’s asleep, presses you against shelves, her hands up your shirt, whispering “shh, baby. quiet. she’s gonna hear…”

chef!billie who bites your neck and covers your mouth while you ride her in the kitchen chair, half-dressed in one of her shirts, both of you trying to be silent in case little feet come pattering down the hall

chef!billie who can’t help but smirk when she sees you flushed and trembling in the morning, because she knows you’re still sore from the night before when she bent you over the sink

chef!billie who makes cute little lunchbox notes for her daughter like “mama loves you so big” and for you like “i love when you moan my name” makes you double check you didn’t swap them

chef!billie who wears her hair up and an apron tied tight when she’s in mom-mode, but when the kid’s at a sleepover, she pulls you onto the kitchen counter and says, “my turn to be messy, yeah?”

chef!billie who lets her daughter decorate cupcakes while you sit on the floor sipping wine, watching them with a  little smile like “how did i get this lucky”

chef!billie who jokes that she’s making you both “a full-course meal with a side of domestic bliss,” and you say, “what’s for dessert?” and she murmurs “you” under her breath

chef!billie who wants one more baby someday, and sometimes she says it while she’s deep inside you, her voice rough and breathless like, “wanna make something else with you.”

chef!billie who always makes time for late night cooking just the two of you, dancing around the kitchen barefoot, slow kisses while pasta boils, her hand resting over your belly like she’s imagining something more

taglist:@amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone @vijaxx @thinkshespretty | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[sadmusicprincess]

bestfriends brother - lee heeseung ────୨ৎ────

│your best friends older brother has taken a liking to you.

tw : p in v, fingering, dirty talk kinda, pet names (pretty, pretty girl, baby), reader is a virgin & heeseung is experienced

enjoy !! wc : 4,686

summer break had just started and you and your best friend decided to make a list of things y'all wanted to do with each other.

first on the list was to have a sleepover, you have been friends since middle school so your parents were bound to say yes. so after school, you started packing your bag until you got a text from your best friend.

"hey, we are in your neighborhood now"

"okay ill be done in like 5"

expecting her parents to come, you see her brothers car parked in front of your house. you always kind of had a small crush on heeseung, but he was your bestfriends older brother ! it was like the rule. but he was SO attractive, almost like your dream guy.

"hiii" you said to your best friend as you entered the backseat next to her.

"hi heeseung" you said shyly. "hey" he replied back coldly. you began talking with your best friend about the latest drama in school until you reached the house. right when you opened your door, heeseung grabbed your bag and carried it in the house for you. you didn't think much of it because he was just being sweet, right ? you thanked him and went upstairs. it was getting pretty late so you decided to take a shower.

once you got out of the shower, you noticed your best friend never gave you a towel, you yelled for her multiple times but she never came.

heeseung walked past and happened to hear you yelling, "what ya need pretty" he said with a smirk. you hesitated "oh I just need a towel, can you bring me one please ?" you said stunned at the pet name he just called you. after about two minutes, heeseung brought you the towel and knocked on the door, "can I put it on the counter ?" he said waiting for you to give him approval to come in. you quickly walked to the shower and covered yourself with the curtain. "yes!" you said loudly, making sure he can hear you.

he opens the door, peeking in to make sure you weren't naked (all though he wouldn't mind). he set the towel down and closed the door, walking back to his room.

after you get out the shower and get dressed, you walk back to your bestfriends room to notice that she fell asleep while you were in the shower. you decide to go downstairs and eat leftover pizza from when you arrived earlier.

walking into the kitchen, you noticed heeseung sitting down also eating. "hey, did my sister fall asleep or something?" he said confused on why you were alone. "yeah, she can't seem to stay awake anytime we have sleepovers" you say laughing. you heat up your pizza and take a seat next to heeseung.

once you sit down, heeseung lets his hand rest on your thigh. "hee ?.. is something wrong" you say with your heart beat going through the roof. "is it?" he says smirking, "do you want me to move my hand ?" he says watching your face closely. "no" you say looking at his lips.

"can I kiss you" he says leaning in. "please" you say back with your hands on the side of his face. as you two start to makeup, you hear noises coming from his parents bedroom. "wanna go upstairs ?" he turns and asks you. you nod your head quickly and follow him up to his bedroom.

once you reached his bedroom, he gently pushed you on the bed, climbing on top of you. he looks down and says "can I take your clothes off?" with his hand sitting on the end of your t shirt. you nod and lean up to start kissing him again. heeseung finally starts undressing himself. once he gets to his boxers, you stop him "wait hee, um i'm kind of a virgin." you say hesitantly. "oh its okay pretty girl, I don't mind" he says reassuring you moving your hair out of your face.

"i'm gonna prep you first though" he says laying down next to you. you nod and open your legs a little wider for him. hee starts with one finger, eventually adding another. it got to the point where you got a little loud and he had to cover your mouth to avoid waking his sister up.

once you finished, he climbed on top of you again and asked if you were ready, you nodded, giving him a smile smile before he leaned down to kiss you. "it might hurt a bit" he says as he pushes inside slowly. you moan his name out, immediately feeling pleasure. he laughs and kisses you to cover your moans. he thrusts a little deeper each time, watching your face, to make sure you're okay.

"you're doing so good for me baby, just lay down" he says stroking your face. you respond with a quiet whimper. "hee im close-" you say getting cut off by a whimper. "me too, wait for me" he says with his hand gripping your hip. once he brings you to your finish, he collapses on top of you.

"you okay?" he says, quickly sitting up to check on you.

"yeah" you say smiling at him, he leans to kiss you and brings you to his chest. eventually you both doze off to sleep.

[gghostwriter]

i saw you opened your fluff requests so how about this: reid recieves an invitation to a high-school reunion back in Vegas but he doesn't want to go because of his bad childhood. but his best friend (who is completely in love with him) convinces him to go, and offers to be his fake girlfriend to hype him up and make him feel more comfortable. he agrees and ends up confessing his love on the same football field he was bullied on

please feel no pressure to write this, it's just an idea i thought was cute

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to lovers; Fluff with a mix of pining wc: 2.1k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, but she just still work for the FBI. By far, this is my longest request written (it's a chapter length) and I don't know how it became so long but I hope you enjoy it still! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Rewriting History. // Spencer Reid

It was the heavy scent of books and wood that welcomed you home. Street lights reflecting off the emerald green walls, bathing the apartment space a warm golden hue. There was peace and stillness, your roommate of two years, Spencer Reid, nowhere to be seen—a usual occurrence that came with his and your job too, being FBI agents under the BAU and CACU, respectively.

You sluggishly made your way to your bedroom, adjacent Spencer’s closed door. Flipping open the switch, your worn body collapsed on the plush vanity chair as thoughts about the darkness of your job slip away and get replaced with melancholy on your connection with the boy genius. It was a relationship nurtured by grueling times in the academy—a connection forged out of convenience at first before becoming this convoluted and intimate bond all because you ended up falling for him.

It wasn’t a conscious choice and Spencer didn’t make it any easier. He was a closed off castle complete with a moat and a secret password—painfully shy and awkward in nature. If it wasn’t for required partnership in physical classes, you doubted you’d get as close as you were now.

A beep brought you out of your musings.

And as if he knew you were thinking of him, it was a text message from Spencer informing you of his return home in a few minutes. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of the chair and changed into a set of clothes—a faded Caltech tee, that you never returned, and a pair of black leggings

Padding across to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and silently thanked your past self for prepping dinner for two in advance. With how irregular both your schedules were and Spencer’s apparent lack of skill in cooking, it fell upon your shoulders to make sure he isn’t living off of cold pizzas and Chinese takeouts. 

As the second plate of food was heating up in the microwave, the chiming of keys softly echoed from outside the mahogany door.

“Hey Spencer,” you called out from the kitchen counter.

A series of rustles and a soft hey answered back.

You tilted your head to the side in contemplation, something was wrong and as he turned the corner, shoulders curving in on itself and brows furrowed, something must definitely be wrong. 

“Tough case?” You asked, bringing both plates to the rounded dinner table.

“Yeah—” Spencer shook his head. “Actually no, not really but I got an email from Las Vegas.”

Your spoonful of soup hung midair, immediately concerned with the email contents. “Is it your mom? Is she okay?’ 

Having visited Diana in numerous occasions with and without Spencer, you’ve learned to love that woman fiercely too. She was a breath of fresh air—blunt during her lucid days and smart during her academic lectures. 

“It’s from my high school, an invitation for the reunion.”

Ah. “And you’re not sure if you want to go?” 

He shrugged, chewing his slice of chicken before answering. “There’s really no one I want to reconnect with, you know. No happy memories really.” 

“That’s true,” you nodded along. 

During the first few nights moving in the apartment, Spencer had shared the lows he had to go through just to get to where he was now at such a young age—endlessly mocked for being a geek, no friend group or single confidant to watch his back, and the utter humiliation of being tied naked on a football post. You had an inkling that the genius had gone through bullying, it was a sad norm in all schools, especially in public, but hearing it first hand had brought home just how much of his closed off and shy personality was a product of his trials.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, yeah. To show all those mean bullies where you are now,” your back straightening from the idea. “They’ll talk about you in passing anyway, whether you’re there or not so might as well be there to show them up and defend yourself plus—” you paused, taking a sip of water before barreling through. “—you’ve become quite handsome since then. Don’t you think?”

His hazel eyes widened in surprise, further adding to his appeal. Spencer was so innocent that he didn’t know the effect he had on women—first evidence was yourself and the second was Lila Archer. “Y-you think I’ve become handsome?”

With warmth spreading on your cheeks, you nodded. “You’ve always been handsome to me.”

Spencer started coughing, hand beating on his chest as the food threatened to go down the wrong tube.

Alarmed, you quickly stood up and started patting his back for assistance. How embarrassing was this—the first time you blatantly flirted with the man you formed intense attraction for ends up with him almost choking. Was this a sign maybe to not push your luck? You’ve done just about anything to nudge Spencer’s mind in acknowledging your feelings, from remembering all his little quirks (all were just so cute), actively listening to his tangents (all very informative and interesting), and even sometimes delivering a box of donuts to his team (all in the name of seeing his face brighten up) but none seemed to have worked. So, you opted to tell him in words and look what that did to him.

You gnawed on your lower lip. Maybe it was best to pull back, maybe it was best to throw in—

He cleared his throat before his hand reached yours situated on his shoulder. There was a slight tremor before it closed around your all of a sudden clammy palm. “I’ll go if you go with me.”

Filter off your brain. “As a fake girlfriend type of thing?”

You shut your eyes closed, promising to yourself to stop reading those unrealistic romance novels that Penelope lends you.

“If—if you want,” his voice shaky and soft as rustles could be heard in the background.

Opening your eyes, Spencer was now fully facing you. Eyes roaming your face and body—profiling you.

A small smile graced your lips. “Okay.”

———

The second thing your brain thought of was how oddly fitting that the reunion was held at the school gym, located beside the football field. The first thought being how Spencer looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and tie.

His attire wasn’t that different from his usual in the FBI but there was a hidden meaning behind his choices. The patterned brown blazer was a gift you had given to him for his first anniversary working at the FBI and his tie matched the color of your dress. 

It made you feel warm even though a shiver went down your spine as a sudden gust of wind passed by. 

Spencer slid closer towards you. “Do you want my coat?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking Spence,” you looked up, smiling in reassurance. The fairy lights hung in rows emphasized how structured his face was. A high nose bridge, similar to his mother’s, and high cheekbones that made your fingers twitch in want to caress. He was stunning to look at—a view you feared you’d never get enough of.

“Spencer Reid!” A booming male voice shouted from across the gymnasium causing a few heads to swivel. Based on the other attendees reactions—giving them ample space as they passed and the stares tracking their every move, you knew who he was right away. A former bully.

“How are you?” he reached out his hand for a handshake. One that Spencer stared at before bringing his hand up to a wave, lips in a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Paul, nice to see you.”

“Is it?” He chuckled before turning his eyes on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You stated out your name, tone very similar when you’re on the field—cold and professional.

“Look at you, Spencer, having such a pretty girlfriend. Heard you work for the FBI now, is that how you two met?” 

A saccharine smile spread across your lips. Your boy genius had been stiff ever since Paul called out his name. Having have heard how Spencer once reacted to a case where the unsub was a high school victim, you knew where his mind was at the moment. Grappling with the hurt from the past and trying his best not to lash out from the scars it had left behind. “Yeah, we met at the Academy and just clicked. He was such a gentleman that I couldn’t say no when he asked me out for a date.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, man, is it alright if I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

You brushed the back of your hand with his, bringing his attention to you. There was a slight furrow in between his brows and his stature was taut, like a stretched out bow that needs to release it’s arrow. This was one of the few times, you could tell, that Spencer was unsure what to do. There was no malice behind Paul’s request and although you weren’t a profiler yourself, the slight hunch on the former bully’s shoulder silently communicated his remorse. 

Spencer’s eyes trained on yours and as if he found the answer within the depths of your gaze, he slightly smiled, squeezing your hand in his before turning back and nodding to the interloper. 

“I’ll go get a refill,” you lifted your empty cup to excuse yourself.

In truth, you stood idly near the punch bowl and kept your eyes glued on the male duo. Paul was looking down, shuffling his feet, before taking a deep breath and looking straight at Spencer. He uttered a few words you couldn’t make of and in turn, Spencer’s body relaxed and he nods once. With an offer for a handshake, one that Spencer shook, Paul walked away as you made your way back to your partner’s side.

“Good talk?” you asked.

“He apologized,” Spencer muttered, eyes studying you before grasping your hand back to his. “No refill?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it anymore. Say Spence—” he titled his head as an answer. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”

———

The cicadas were singing their tune as you and Spencer stepped out to the football field. The grass lush in color and the faint smell of wet earth wafted around. Grateful that you opted to wear sensible flats rather than the high heels Penelope was bartering you to wear, you held Spencer’s hand tight as he started recollecting the worst bullying that happened in the same place many years ago.

“That—” he pointed at the goalpost on the far right. “—was where I was left tied up. I remember feeling worried that I would catch hypothermia as the rain kept coming and going that day and I remember feeling sad when I got home and my mother didn’t notice me missing.” 

Your voice caught in your throat.

He continued on. “They say people forget events as they grow older and I wished I had the luxury of that.”

“Because of your eidetic memory,” you sighed. It was a blessing and a curse to have. 

“But I was thinking, maybe I could rewrite it instead?”

There was a thick layer of hope behind his words causing you to turn, fully facing him this time.

“I—I’ve been keeping a secret from you for 24 months and 182 days and I don’t know if this would change our relationship or ruin it but you’re my person, my best friend—” he took a deep breath. “—and I’m in love with you.”

People say there are moments in your life that would upend everything as you know it and tilt everything to an axis, you never understood what they meant by that, up until this moment. The twinkling night stars suddenly appeared brighter, the temperature warmer, and the force that tethered you to Earth was no longer gravity, it was now Spencer Reid.

You smiled, eyesight blurring from tears. His trembling fingers reached out to wipe the droplets making its path down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too, Spencer Reid, since the beginning.” 

And as if the world needed more proof, he smiled—his bright, full teeth smile and you felt your heart halt before starting back up again. 

It was proof that he owned the beating organ in your chest and all the emotion that came with it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[cameronsbabydoll]

SCC!READER SCHEDULE + OUTFITS

monday

– slow wake-up after rafe leaves early for a meeting
– watered the garden barefoot
– ran errands (target, dry cleaners, smoothie stop)
– came home and reorganized the bathroom cabinets
– got her nails done
– made lemon chicken pasta for dinner

tuesday

– pilates at the country club
– iced lavender latte after class
– popped into sephora and anthropologie just to “look”
– folded laundry in the upstairs sunroom with a true crime podcast
– went to trader joe’s with her reusable floral bags
– rafe got home early so they sat outside while she journaled and he smoked

wednesday

– school drop off + drive-thru coffee
– made banana bread and brought it to her neighbor
– cleaned out the fridge (so proud of herself)
– organized her pinterest boards (that’s self-care)
– grilled salmon for dinner and rafe said “you finally made it right”
– bubble bath with candles while he watched sports downstairs

thursday

– early morning walk with a green juice in hand
– deep cleaned the pantry and made a list for costco
– took polaroids of the backyard flowers she grew
– read her book on the porch for 2 hours uninterrupted
– made steak salad and peach cobbler for dinner
– rafe scolded her for climbing on the counter barefoot

friday

– got dressed up “just because” and did a full face
– took the kids to the splash pad, came home exhausted
– ordered lunch from their favorite deli and watched a cartoon with them
– rafe took everyone out for pizza that night

saturday (family day)

– made pancakes and fresh juice for breakfast
– whole family went on a picnic at the lake
– rafe grilled, the kids ran around, she read her book under an umbrella
– stopped at a local ice cream shop on the way home
– family movie night with popcorn and baby cuddles

sunday (soft reset)

– slow sleepy morning with cinnamon rolls
– she deep cleaned the bathroom while listening to music
– went to whole foods for her weekly “treat haul”
– put everything away with her headphones in
– prepped dinner early (chicken parm night)
– fell asleep on rafe’s chest during a documentary

[urhoneycombwitch]

frozen like an angel

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader holiday edition.

foreword: ohhhh I’ve missed them!!! and you all!!!! happy holidays to those who celebrate, and for those who don’t, have a cozy winter fic <3 here is the masterlist for shy!reader, some references may be made to previous fics in the series but no beforehand reading required here. 

cw: Christmas activities, bittersweet fluff, Elizabeth Munson memories, mentions of Reader’s familial backstory (intentionally a bit vague, hoping to expand in future fics!)

wc: 2.8k

___

You’re not even trying to snoop- the paper flutters to the carpet all on its own, freed from the stack of Eddie’s notebooks you’d lifted to dust under. 

Expecting it to be something D&D related, you scoop it from the carpet with the intent to slip it back between the leaves of a random book- when the title catches your eye. In neat, looping black ink across the top: Christmas Apple Cake. 

There’s a pencil-drawn sketch of an apple in the top corner, faded and yellowed with time like the paper it’s on; your thumb runs over it as you scan the ingredients. 

This’ll be perfect, actually- Wayne is coming over tonight for holiday drinks with you and Eddie, a Munson family tradition that’s included you the last six or so years, and you haven’t sorted dessert yet.

The recipe is simple- a hearty, apple-filled spiced cake base, brown sugar glaze to pool on top. After hunting through the kitchen cupboards (sometimes it’s glaringly apparent you live in a former bachelor pad- the baking soda sourced from under the sink and a layer of dust), you get to work baking.

A pound of apples is peeled and diced, meticulously, to the tune of a Bing Crosby record- Eddie bemoans the cheesier aspects of holiday music, so you get your fill while he’s at work (though you’ve caught him humming along to White Christmas on more than one occasion). 

Not that either of you need the money after the generous nest-egg from various government agency pay-offs, but the part-time mechanic schedule has been good for Eddie. Wayne’s pretty much set to take over when the garage owner retires next year, and Eddie is happy to help- keeps his mind and hands busy, sorely needed after so much recovery downtime. 

And you’ve been busy, too- the apples are set to soak in cold water while you prep the batter, thinking of post-winter break classes already. You passed your first end-of-term exams with flying colors, like Eddie knew you would- never mind that they were all 101s, and that your college plans seem a little directionless- at least you’re moving. Able to do something other than waiting to get better.

Eddie’s proud of you, deeply so. That’s really all that matters for now. 

With the batter mixed, you lift handfuls of apple chunks from the water to dry on the rows of flat kitchen towels. There’s a burst of static from the living room speakers; you flick water from your hands and cross swiftly to flip the record to its B-side.

Let It Snow! rings out cheerily while you stir the apples bit by bit into the batter, Deck the Halls by the time you’re pouring the mixture into a greased baking tin. After twisting the counter timer to tick down for an hour, you clean the kitchen in good spirits.

Eddie will be home, soon- Wayne’s closing up shop, which gives his nephew plenty of time to beat him home and cook you all dinner. There’s a tender strip of beef marinating in the fridge with something Eddie referred to yesterday, ominously, as “Grinch Juice”. (The pale green of the sauce is likely due to the rosemary. You think.)

Eddie’s got the meal covered, regardless. (Plus there are always frozen pizzas to fall back on.)

The air swells with warmth from the oven, taking on a sugared, nutmeg and applesauce smell; the little window over the sink fogs over with sweet steam, making the white-snow world outside look even dreamier. Lights twinkle from the front banister, winking at the strip of sister lights across the path at the Mayfield’s door.

Plucking behind your back to loose your apron strings, you realize- for the first time in years, it feels like Christmas. Last year, you were all still learning how to be human, still nursing wounds (both external and in), stepping cautiously onto the thin ice of what it means to survive and be alive.

This year, though? You’re out in the middle of the frozen pond of life making snow angels. Ice skating over the bumps. Twirling around hand-in-hand with Eddie as you both figure it out, together.

Later, the front door creaks open then slams shut, a rhythmic thump of boots shedding snow onto the hall mat. From your vantage point on the couch- sock feet tucked underneath your body to keep warm, dog-eared Tolkien in your lap- you see Eddie before he sees you.

His back is turned as he toes off his work boots, hunched against the cold still in a hand-me-down winter coat of Wayne’s. Stray curls escape the half-up bun of his dark hair, twisting around his face, which lights up with a smile when he sees you.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, adopting a faux-serious, low tone as he hangs up his coat and shakes the snow from his hair. “Looks like we got an escapee from Santa’s Workshop.”

You snort, setting the book aside to roll your eyes fondly- if a red flannel shirt and jeans spells elf, you’re willing to play the part. 

Eddie approaches with menacing intent, grin so wide the corner of his lip meets the line of scarring at his cheek. 

He’s still in his work coveralls, pinstriped and oil-stained; Eddie leans his weight into his hands on either side of your head, close enough to bump noses, couch emitting a squeak of protest. 

You flick at the embroidered patch over Eddie’s heart, the one that currently reads JERRY. “Someone’s been naughty today.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, dark brows pulling together in his best approximation of someone who is very sorry. “Yeah. Guess so. You gonna tell the Big Boss on me?”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh, tired of playing, ready to loop your arms around Eddie’s neck and kiss him silly (an action he’s more than willing to give in to).

He tastes like sharp mint, and faintly of the cigarette he probably had on break; Eddie mumbles something between kisses and you pull back just enough to hear him say, “You taste sweet.”

“Mmhm. Had to make sure the batter wasn’t poisoned,” you reply, more concerned with dotting kisses along the line of scar that disappears behind his jaw. 

Against your temple, Eddie’s lashes flutter in surprise- “You baked something?”

Pulling away fully now (with one last parting kiss to his forehead), you narrow your eyes as you shift to hold his shoulders at arm’s length- “Does me baking come as a shock to you?”

“No!” Eddie says, quickly, brows lowering from where they’d shot up just a second ago. “No, of course not. You just don’t usually… I mean, I like being the one in the kitchen.”

”I know you do.” Your hands trail to cup his elbows, briefly, before you disentangle yourself to check on the oven. The timer is just about to shriek its warning chorus- with a twist of your hand, it dings pleasantly instead. “I wanted to make something special for our Christmas dessert tonight. Hopefully it’s not actually poisoned.” 

Based on the delicious smell that wafts from the oven, you’ve got nothing to fear- the tines of your testing fork come out from the middle of the cake clean, a pair of mitts snagged to pull it out and set on the stove.

Clouds of steam rise from the fresh pastry, spiced and golden under the overhead lights- it smells like Christmas in a pan. Eddie approaches to watch over your shoulder, his hand steady on your low back as you explain the glaze that needs to be made next- he takes a lungful of fragrant air, and then his hand stills.

Eddie isn’t in the habit of interrupting you, so it’s strange when he does, voice sounding strained as he stumbles through the start of a few different sentences. “How did you- this is- that’s apple cake. My mom’s apple cake. What…”

It must be the smell, transporting him back, and for a moment, your heart sinks. Eddie hasn’t had a flashback in so long; the last one was months ago over the summer when a car backfired and sent his mind spiraling for hours after. 

You turn in his arms, speaking carefully, ready to soothe- “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, honestly, the recipe just fell out when I was moving your things, and I-”

Eddie’s eyes are brimming with tears when he interrupts you again- this time, to kiss you; there’s a slip of his tear that tracks down your own cheek as you kiss him back. 

He’s holding you, now, mirroring you from earlier, thumbs squeezing at the inside of your elbows, forehead resting in a slow roll against yours as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t know… I didn’t think any recipes of hers survived the move from Tennessee.”

“It was in one of your old journals,” you murmur, reaching to wipe the wet track of tears from his face even as he moves to do the same for you. “Did your mom used to make this for you?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, wetly, kisses the palm of your hand where it rests against his face. “Every Christmas until I was five or so. Got the recipe from her mom, some Appalachian tradition. Wayne would know better than me.”

Eddie’s looking at the cake again, a familiar hazed-over stare that makes your heart hurt in sympathy, memories flooding back in at an overwhelming degree. You’re quiet for a few moments, pressing your face into the side of Eddie’s coveralls, letting him find his footing before asking, quietly- “Wanna help me make the topping?”

In another life, you and Eddie would run a mean kitchen together- years of learning the distinct ways in which the other moves comes in handy when you need to share cooking duties. 

He ducks under your arm effortlessly to grab vanilla while you whisk the sugars and butter, adds splashes and dashes of things to your bowl periodically until the mulled glaze is formed. 

The top of his (Jerry’s) coveralls were shoved down earlier, your help enlisted to tie the long sleeves around his waist in a makeshift apron; good thing your boy runs hot- means he’s comfortable enough to cook in a white cutoff undershirt that’s thin as a napkin. Underneath, Eddie’s all alabaster, lean muscle, black ink tattoos dancing with the corded ripples of scar tissue as he flits around the kitchen.

Between getting the steak ready to sear, and tasking you with prepping the hill of potatoes, Eddie talks about his mother- holidays of years past floating to the forefront on a wave of recollected smell. 

Along with Tennessee apple cake, Elizabeth Munson would wrap chestnuts in tin foil to roast low and slow in the embers of a Christmas fire. One year, she penny-pinched enough to buy part of the neighbor’s turkey for her and then-five-year-old Eddie.

You soak up all these memories, asking questions periodically, immersed in Eddie’s storytelling. It’s rare to hear Elizabeth’s name, and you wonder, suddenly, if that could be changed.

“You know, I really like hearing about her,” you tell Eddie gently, after a gleeful retelling of the time she crashed his sled into the big stump of maple at the edge of their woods. You give the chopped potatoes on your cutting board a push, and they tumble into Eddie’s proffered bowl. “If there’s something I can do, to help… I dunno, make it easier to bring her up- you’d let me know. Right?” 

Eddie considers this as he gathers jars from the narrow spice cupboard, lining them up in a neat row. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. And it’s not… you’re easy to talk to. It’s just hard, sometimes, to learn how to remember her.”

You nod, thoughtful, watching him layer spices and olive oil into the bowl; he uses a wooden spoon to make sure all the potato sides are coated before saying, “And sometimes, it feels downright braggy. I got six whole years with her- most all of ‘em good ones- it’s not something I take for granted. And your mother-”

Eddie cuts himself off, abruptly, knuckles glistening with oil as they tighten into fists. Something inside you wilts, stretches desperately for its light source; you budge up under Eddie’s arm, place a hand to the middle of his chest where his breaths meet you with a shuddery kickstart.

“I know. But you were a kid too, Eddie. Six is just a kid.”

He does his best to hug you back with one arm as your nose seeks the notch behind his ear, a perfect fit, enveloping your senses as you breathe in the spot that smells most like him. “You can share however much or however little you want, of her, with me. Just ‘cuz my parents sucked doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your one good one. Let me live vicariously, okay?”

You give Eddie a teasing little shake, a flash of teeth against his neck that has him chuckling, shaking off the anger before either of you can be derailed. The potatoes are moved to a baking sheet while Eddie preps the meat, and you send a river of brown sugar glaze over top the cake so it has time to cool.

If Wayne notes the missing piece from the corner of the dessert, later, he doesn’t mention it- the whiskey he’d brought over pairs perfectly with the rich, spiced cake. 

One bite in and Wayne’s head turns, slow, to his nephew sat beside him. Without looking up from his spoonful of melting ice cream, Eddie nods. “Yup. Mom’s cake. Don’t look at me, though.”

Wayne blinks down at the bowl in front of him, then to you, like someone’s woken him from the middle of a dream. “Tastes just like how she used to make it.”

Were it possible to bottle and live off someone’s praise, you’d like to find a way; instead, you tuck the compliment away for a rainy day and give him a warm smile. “I’m glad. I’ll make it next year, too, if you want.”

After dinner (totally delicious despite Eddie’s best attempt to scare you both off with increasingly weird holiday-themed adjectives), Eddie pulls out his acoustic guitar to try his new capo, a gift from Uncle Wayne that’s immediately put to good use.

This autumn, on the same week you went to college for the first time, Eddie taught himself how to play guitar again. A year on from the attacks, his left hand was still stiff, a deep scar across the bridge of his abductor that made more dexterous movement near-impossible.

But your boy, smart and strong and determined, found a way. Eddie surprised you over Thanksgiving break with a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Hypnotized, though with multiple false starts since both of you cried most of the way through it.

Less tears, this time around, but no less emotional- you steal glances under the pretense of wiping down the table as Eddie sits wide on the couch, black guitar propped on his knees while he adjusts the capo. 

In a nearby armchair, Wayne takes a sip from his whiskey glass- at the first few notes of Edelweiss, his eyes slip closed, lost in memory.

“This was one of her favorites,” Eddie says to you, grinning while his fingers pluck the pattern smoothly.

You lean a hip against the table, wiping abandoned, taking in the gentle movement of Eddie’s hair, his arms, while he plays. He gets so lost in the music, sometimes- a soft look that usually only shows when he’s sleeping peacefully. 

You wonder if Elizabeth looked the same, all those years ago- bent over her special Christmas cake, sneaking tastes on the back of a spoon to the set of dimpled hands that reached for her apron. 

In your back pocket, the recipe card in her handwriting is tucked safely away. While Eddie plays, your fingers brush the outline of the pencil-etched apple, sending a prayer or a wish of some sort to the snow angel in your head.

He’s doing great. He’s so loved and cared for, with me. I hope you know I’m taking care of him. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the cake. 

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The Seven Dwarfs house was just pulled off the market again. The price was raised in Jan., raised again in Feb. & March, then pulled. The 1982 4bd, 5ba, 2,800 sq ft home in Olalla, WA is, at present, an Airbnb. Current asking price: $831,200. (According to the stats, the owners still owe $440k on it, plus approx. $6k prep & repair costs. Maybe the Airbnb isn't enough to pay the mortgage and make a profit.)

I don't want an Airbnb, so I'm looking at it as a private residence. So far, I'm not impressed with the living room, but it's probably b/c of their boring furniture.

Too bad they didn't extend this nice stone wall all the way across the living room feature wall. You can see right thru the 2-sided fireplace.

Dining room has a built-in cabinet and I like the cute little door and fireplace. I'm a fan of knotty pine in 1950s houses, but this one was built in the 80s, so I don't like it as much.

Love the tree doorway to the kitchen. There's a built-in desk and small table next to the kitchen. Or, there's counter seating.

Looking toward the living room from the kitchen.

Like the stone wall. I wonder if that's a functional pizza oven.

It's cute- some built-in cubbies in the backsplash. Why is the finish puckered on the cabinet, though? They call it "orange peel," when the lacquer coating dries like that.

Bumpety death stairs to the 2nd level.

The upstairs landing and doors to the bedrooms and baths.

There's also a sitting room up here with a fireplace and look at the stalactites on the ceiling.

This looks like an empty bedroom.

There are 5 baths. This one has a tub and a bidet.

This bedroom has a loft above the bed, a small fireplace, and built-in shelving. More stalactites, too.

Standard updated 3 pc. bath.

Totally love the outbuilding. I wish they would've shown more of it.

The property is beautiful.

5.05 acre lot. I think that it could look fabulous with the right decor and some color. Lots of potential.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3395-SE-Hidden-Valley-Way-Olalla-WA-98359/23397888_zpid/

[thesassypadawan]

Closing Time (Leo x FemReader)

Summary: Who doesn’t love closing time? Especially when it’s with your very handsome, very sexy coworker.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Closing time fun and… Leo’s big, fat dick.

Notes: I would love to hear what all you, lovelies, think! If you would like to see more of Leo! If so...I already have another idea in mind! ❤️

- Closing time, your absolute favorite part of your shift. Well, that and getting to work with him.

- You’d be lying if you said you aren’t attracted to him. Those sparking blue eyes, that brilliant smile, tight butt… It was easy to see why you drop a slice of pizza or spill a drink at least once a day…

- “Angel… Angel… Earth to, angel…”

- “Oh, Leo!” You squeak in surprise, broom clattering to the floor.

- Kicking yourself internally, you scramble to pick it up. Trying to act like you weren’t just totally spacing out, watching him prep the dough for tomorrow. Rolling, kneading it…fantasizing it was you instead. “Um, d-did you need something?”

- The sound of his gravelly voice comes floating from the back, a shiver running down your spine. “Yeah, if you’re done cleanin’ up front; I could use some help back here.”

- Popping up, you’re met by the sight of him standing there. Arms crossed over his chest, a mischievous look on his flour smeared face. “Made a real mess.”

- The heat instantly rushes to your cheeks and other places. “O-Okay, I’m com-”

- “Comin’?” He chuckles, eyebrows raised slightly. “Knew I’d get ya to.”

- Flashing you a grin, he returns to his work. Leaving your heart pounding, walls fluttering. Just like always, damn him.

- With a soft huff, you quickly scamper around the counter. Keeping yourself turned away him, you get to sweeping. Minding your own business, doing your best to not focus on the fact that you keep getting closer to him with each brush of the broom.

- Due to the cramped space, you two inevitably end up bumping into one another. Turning, you begin to frantically apologize… “Opps, sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

- …when suddenly he crowds you against the small island and captures your lips in a searing kiss. Nipping, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Hard cock pressing into your stomach. Dirty hands making their way down your sides, streaks of white left in their wake. As they come to settle on your hips; giving them a good, firm squeeze.

- Breaking apart, he mutters in your ear, “Been waitin’ to do that.” Before hoisting you up, sending anything and everything crashing to the floor.

- “And what else, huh?” You giggle, watching Leo fumble with his belt and zipper. While you eagerly shimmy out of your leggings and panties. Eyes growing a bit wide when you see what he’s been sporting this whole time.

- Slotting himself between your legs, he cages you in with his strong arms. Lips trailing over your neck, fat tip running through your wet folds. “I think ya know.”

- Your hands come to rest on the back of his head, knocking his baseball cap off. A needy mewl escaping you when you feel him line up with your entrance. “Don’t tease me.”

- Smirking, he snaps his hips forward. Stretching you out so deliciously, pounding into you wonderfully. Teeth biting at your sensitive skin. “Never tease…not with ya.”

- Speeding up, his thrusts grow stronger. Your body bouncing with every movement and all you can do is hold on. Fingers gripping his shoulders, pussy clinging to him. Panting and moaning like crazy.

- The noise of skin slapping together fills the air, his dick driving deeper. Hitting that lovely little spot inside you over and over. Pushing you swiftly and dangerously close to the edge, along with… “Fuck… Sweetheart… Fuck…”

- One last hard slam and he has you seeing stars. Whole body clamping down, a string of cries flying from your lips. As you gush all over his cock, while he paints your walls white. Some leaking out, mingling with the flour beneath you.

- Slowly coming back down, he presses his forehead to yours. Both wearing the same stupid smile, you can’t help but tease. “Wow, you really did make a mess.”

- “And I’m about to make it into a bigger one,” Leo growls. Mouths colliding, hips starting to slowly rock again.

Tag Lists: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @kenobiskywalkerkestis, @loverforoldermen, @lunarnightt, @adorbzliz, @ahano, @kenmaiica, @freezerbride95,  @lunarnightt

[wileys-russo]

alessia russo, “how’d you get pizza sauce there??”, cozy night in!!

pizza party II a.russo

"-no, amore no!" your girlfriend protested as she saw what you'd grabbed out from the cupboard. "baby yes, yes!" you cheered happily, the can of pineapple chunks placed down onto the counter.

"thats an insult. you've insulted me, you've insulted the pizza dough, you've insulted the entire country of italy, you've-" alessia started to rant as you rolled your eyes unfazed by her behaviour.

"you're half italian russo, relax." you grinned, rummaging around in the drawer for a can opener. "russo!" your girlfriend gasped in disbelief at the use of her last name.

"you don't call me that. you may call me baby, babe, love of my life, my everything, my love, darling, sweets, angel-" alessia started to list, ticking them off on her fingers as you sighed and shook your head.

"are you done now?" you cut her off with a raised eyebrow, finally finding the can opener and standing up straight again. "no actually i'm not, there's still the italian names." your girlfriend warned as you sighed.

"amore mio, tesoro, vita mia, angelo mio-" the blonde again listed them on her fingers, only stopping when you gave yet another deep sigh. "you get the point. never russo!" the taller girl wagged a finger in warning and bumped you out of the way with her hip, taking the can opener where you were struggling.

"thank you love." you kissed her cheek expecting her to do it for you. "alessia!" you protested as the can opener was dropped back in the drawer, the pineapple then put on a shelf out of your reach as your eyebrows furrowed into an annoyed frown.

"ah! also off limits, try again." the girl made a buzzer noise with her mouth, grabbing out a knife. "why can't i have pineapple on my pizza?" you questioned crossing your arms as she ignored you and you rolled your eyes.

"why can't i have pineapple on mine baby?" you corrected as she looked up with a grin. "much better. and i told you, its an insult!" she bonked you gently on the head with a wrapped stick of pepperoni.

"pizza is supposed to represent diversity, freedom of choice! you can't police what i put on it." you warned as the taller girl shrugged. "alright, go get your pineapple then babe." she smiled slyly knowing full well it was out of your reach.

"you're insufferable." you grumbled with a huff. "you'll thank me when this pizza is the best thing you've ever tasted baby, trust the process and the italian." alessia grinned, shooing you away as you tried to help.

"half italian." you reminded, ducking as she tossed a mushroom slice at you with a frown. "i thought the point of date night was that we cook together!" you laughed, taking a seat at the counter and watching your girlfriend prep everything.

"don't you remember what happened the last time we cooked together?" alessia reminded as your face flushed warm and you buried it in your hands. "it was an accident!" you whined, looking up with a scowl as a cherry tomato hit you in the head.

"stop wasting food!" you tossed it back as she caught it and threw it in the bin. "safe hands." she smirked, blowing on them as if they were alight making you roll your eyes.

"this recipe doesn't even call for pepper! so i would be perfectly fine to help you my love." you smiled hopefully, the last time you'd tried you'd accidentally broken the pepper grinder and caused the entire casing of whole peppercorns to fall into the pasta your girlfriend had spent an hour making.

"you're very cute baby girl but not very convincing." the blonde smiled in amusement, still chopping things as you sighed, the two of you falling into conversation.

"right, come and assemble them." she waved you over once she'd rolled out the dough for the bases and chopped everything up. "are you going to critique my every choice?" you deadpanned as the striker grinned.

"only if its wrong." "well then you can make it for me, save the headache." "headache!" "yes, add that to your list of nicknames babe."

with a wink you left her to it, jogging upstairs to grab some extra blankets and a hoodie given the temperature had dropped significantly tonight and if the dark grey clouds hanging were saying anything rain would be due soon.

"pizza's are in, i'm just gonna clean up tesoro!" you smiled at the nickname, the girl very rarely ever speaking any italian, which you knew was because despite her boasting she hardly knew any.

gathering what you wanted you tossed them down the stairs not fancying tripping yourself over trying to carry them, a few soft thumps sounding as they hit the ground and you made your way after them.

you chuckled hearing alessia on the phone in the kitchen, knowing from the laughter every few seconds that she was talking to ella, only confirmed by the girl in question being put on speaker and singing out hello.

"its date night tooney leave us alone! go bother your boyfriend." the blonde chuckled ignoring her best friends whines that she missed her and joe was out of town with arlo on a boys weekend.

"yep love you love you love you-" alessia repeated as ella rambled on, eventually clicking end call making you laugh as the mancunian was cut off mid sentence right as the timer went.

"prepare to be amazed!" your girlfriend puffed her chest out proudly as you joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and hummed, gesturing for her to continue.

slipping on oven mitts she bent down and carefully grabbed out both trays. "less maybe one at a time baby." you warned as she scoffed, one pizza try in each hand and presenting them proudly as you clapped your approval.

everything was seeming fine as she turned to place them down, the air fragrant with the smell of the freshly cooked dough making your stomach rumble, not having eaten for hours now since you'd been running around doing errands all day.

though it all went wrong as your girlfriend tried to flick the oven closed with her foot, missing the door entirely as she kicked at air and lost her footing, your eyes widening as she went tumbling down to the ground, and the pizzas went with her.

"ah fuck!" the footballer swore as one of the hot trays brushed her arm, kicking them both away as she lay down now flat on her back and covered in marinara sauce and various toppings.

"oh my god less! are you alright?" you covered your mouth with your hands, peeking over the counter to take a look at her, an utterly defeated look on the older girls face as she let out a deep and defeated sigh.

"don't." she warned seriously looking up and seeing the corners of your mouth turn upward. but it was far too late as you also fell to the floor, clutching at your stomach and near dying of laughter as your body convulsed with amusement.

a few more beats of time passed before eventually your girlfriends own laughter joined you, the blondes eyes closed as her body shook and you managed to turn onto your stomach, crawling around the counter to where she was.

"oh lessi." you shook your head in disbelief at the sight in front of you, sat up on your knees and staring down with a pitiful smile as her laughter turned to slight giggles and her face was nearly as red as the pizza sauce covering her top.

"i was doing so well!" she groaned with another bark of laughter, covering her face with her arms. "you were doing so well baby, so well." you agreed with a giggle of your own, tugging her arms away as she pouted up at you.

"my cute little pizza." you teased poking at her as she whined and her foot kicked out at you before she sat up with another deep seeded sigh. "i'll get another batch of dough ready." the blonde groaned trying to stand as you shook your head.

"less, my love i adore you and you know i love your cooking. but i am starving and the prep and cooking for those two already took you nearly two hours. if i wait that long i am going to waste away!" you warned making her crack a smile.

"you go have a shower and i'll order us some pizza's to be delivered." you compromised as she made no move to fight you, both of you getting to your feet. "oh no no no! i am not showering again." you stepped back as she tried to draw you into a hug.

"but i need comfort and support right now!" the taller girl protested adorably as you held your ground and shook your head.

"after you shower, my italian stallion." you grinned as she slumped over with a defeated huff. "can we at least get garlic knots?" the striker mumbled as you nodded.

"yeah baby, i'll get you some garlic knots."

when she returned now freshly showered and changed your girlfriend found you curled up in the mountain of blankets and pillows you'd meticulously crafted for the ultimate comfort in the middle of the living room floor.

"hello you big dope." you laughed as she belly flopped on top of you, burying her face in your neck with a grumble back, hugging you tightly as a hand snuck up the back of her top to gently scratch up and down her back.

"less." you held back a smile as she pulled her head out and gave you a look. "how'd you get pizza sauce there?" you laughed, finger swiping behind her ear to collect a dollop of marinara tucked away there.

"i don't know!" the blonde whined flopping back down onto you with a moan of annoyance. "you know i think this takes the cake as being worse than the peppercorns, once we picked them out the pasta was still edible. more so than the floor pizza!" you teased softly.

"alessia!" you squealed as she bit your neck sharply, trying to shrug her away to no avail as her taller form was stretched out comfortably on top of you.

"sorry she's not here right now, try again later."

[tojisth3rdwife]

Toji never puts the baby down.

It was cute at first (and still is) but at some point, you called him out on it. Not that the visual of your big, muscular man walking around the house shirtless, in black sweats, and cradling your infant didn’t make you feel things, but damn!

“Youre gonna spoil him, Toji…” you glance up at him from where youre seated on the couch.

Chewing and standing with his back to you, Toji glances over his shoulder, the one that your son’s squishy cheek wasnt pressed against. His baby free hand is occupied by a cold slice of pizza he snatched from the box on the counter, and he preps to take another bite from it before responding.

“ s’already spoiled. No goin back now.” He muffled with full cheeks, resuming his attention ahead on the ESPN sports highlights reel on the TV. You sigh, smiling to yourself as you went back to flipping the pages the book you were reading.

You didnt have it in you to argue over something so small, especially when Toji was right. Riku was spoiled rotten from the moment you brought him home from the hospital. Even Megumi , who rarely showed interest in anything, would ask to hold him at least once a day. And as Riku grew to be able to sit up on his own, you’d walked by Megumi’s room to see him sitting on his beanbag reading one of his mangas to him as if he understood what was going on.

Then with him being breastfed, he was attached to your chest for most of the day anyway. And you loved that bonding and skin to skin time with your baby. Toji would never admit it but that part did make him a little jealous, which probably explained why he hogged him so much when he wasn’t nursing.

The Fushiguro’s <<<<<<<

[shunstanpike]

Could not be more pleased with this commission I got from rocketlollyart of Ed from my pizzeria AU! El was such a pleasure to work with and brought my vision to life even better than I'd imagined it <3

And here's my short, tooth-rotting lil pizza fic! You can read it on AO3 here!

Two Gays, a Gull, and a Pizza Place

Stede loved Wednesdays. And this particular Wednesday was a beautiful one. The scent of daffodils and freshly cut grass rustled through the trees that lined the street. Stede slid open all of the windows, letting the breeze pick up the aromas of baking bread and roasted tomatoes to share them with the neighborhood.

At four o’clock, opening time, in came John Feeny with his neon hair and sweater to match, carrying a plastic bin through which shone a rainbow of yarn. He walked straight to his usual spot in the corner, and Stede went to the counter to put in his party’s order.

It never got old seeing Ed sashay from counter to oven to register, forehead glistening in the heat, short sleeves rolled even shorter, biceps on full display as they tensed from the weight of the paddle.

When Ed turned toward the brick oven, Stede admired the intentionally messy buns that kept his long curls off of his neck. Ed pulled a hot margherita pizza from the heat, and time seemed to slow. He spun around, loose ringlets floating around his beautiful face, and he smiled at Stede as he slid the pie onto an empty pan.

“Oh, hello there, sir,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Four sparkling waters, please, darling,” Stede said, the order coming out as a sigh in his adoration.

“You got it,” Ed said with a wink.

The bell on the door chimed and Lucius strutted in, tapping away on his phone as usual.

“Afternoon, Lucius,” Stede greeted him.

“Stede. Ed,” Lucius replied, looking up from his phone to squint at the menu. “Do I want to know what a ‘Hot Nut Pie’ is?”

“Actually, you do,” Stede said just before Roach popped his head out from the back kitchen.

“Ricotta, crushed pistachios, and chili-infused honey!” Roach said, his eyes gleaming. He kissed his fingertips. “Delicious!”

Lucius shrugged and looked back at his phone. “Sure, let’s try it. Gluten-free crust, please and thank you.”

Ed scoffed.

Lucius’s eyes flicked back up in a glare. “Don’t start with me, Edward. Gluten intolerance is real.”

“You know it doesn’t taste as good, though,” said Ed.

“And whose fault would that be?” Lucius gave Ed a pointed look before taking his seat at a table next to John’s.

Ed frowned and muttered to himself as he slid a tray of glasses across the counter to Stede.

“Don’t listen to him, Edward,” said Stede, taking the tray. “You make a damn good pizza crust, glutinous or otherwise.”

Stede gave Ed a quick peck as thanks, and to take his mind off of Lucius’s remark.

“Are those hooks I see, John?” Stede asked when he brought over the drinks.

John nodded. “Jackie said she wanted to learn crochet,” he said in his melodious Irish accent, “so I’m teaching the group crochet.”

As if on cue, Jackie and one of her partners, the goofy but good-looking Swedish chap, paraded through the entrance. They were followed by the sweet and soft-spoken Fang, and the three joined John in the corner, hooting and hollering about the dresses, crop tops and vests they were going to make.

Next to arrive was Lucius’s husband Pete, who sat down just as Stede brought over their order.

“Did you get the gluten-free, babe?” Pete asked Lucius. “You know regular crust gives me a funny tummy.”

“I sure did, babe,” Lucius said, shooting Ed a look.

—

Stede alerted Ed when the clock struck five. With an obedient nod, Ed prepped a Sweet & Spicy Triple Pepper Pie and two dozen garlic knots. Not five minutes later, in came the rowdy crew from the ax-throwing bar next door.

Jim and Oluwande were the establishment’s co-owners; Jim brought the sharp-object-throwing expertise, and level-headed Oluwande had the business savvy. They were together, but Jim was also dating an energetic young woman named Archie, and Oluwande was dating Zheng, who was some kind of powerful executive (at least, that’s what Stede thought). But they were also all a little in love with each other. It was a bit beyond Stede, but they seemed happy, and Stede loved when they came into the pizzeria on Wednesdays with their board games.

On this particular Wednesday evening they had an additional party member: Zheng’s auntie. She seemed even more formidable than Zheng, but those kids had a way of warming the iciest of hearts.

Speaking of which, the week wouldn’t be complete without a visit from the loathsome landlord, Israel Hands. His dreary wardrobe darkened the pizzeria’s doorstep just after Ivan left with a stack of delivery orders.

“Rent, boys,” he growled, sidling up to the counter.

“Hello to you, too, Izzy,” Ed said with an exaggerated bow of the head. Stede had no idea how Ed didn’t despise the little man.

“It’s late,” said Izzy, turning to Stede. “Again.”

“Is it?” Stede asked. “Or are you perhaps impatient?”

“Both,” Izzy spat.

“Lighten up, Iz,” Ed said, whipping the slicer through a pepperoni pie. “We’ll get it to you. We always do.”

“Would a free slice of Meat Lover’s sweeten the deal?” Stede offered with a charming raise of his eyebrows.

Izzy scowled at him.

“Where were you two Monday night?” He asked. “I came by and the shop was closed.”

“Monday night?” Ed echoed. “Let’s see…”

“Monday was John’s show,” said Stede.

“That’s right!” Ed beamed. “We were at a drag show.”

Izzy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just close the shop whenever you want!”

“Sure we can,” said Stede. “Lucius showed me how to update the Instagram so people know not to come in.”

Izzy’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. Then he gestured around at the restaurant. “Look at this. Board games? Knitting? You need to be turning these tables!”

“It’s crochet, actually,” Stede corrected. “And these are some of our most loyal customers!”

“Have they even ordered food?” Izzy whined. “It looks like they’re just… drinking water!”

“Do you want them to get sauce on their lovely garments, Izzy?” Stede snapped back.

“Who made you the king of running a restaurant, anyway?” Ed added.

“You lose business, I lose business,” said Izzy. “I want the rent by the end of the week.”

With that, he freed Stede and Ed of his presence and joined the board game table to inexplicable cheers from Jim and Archie. A table that he claimed to want turned, the hypocrite.

—

A bit later in the evening, during a lull, Ed and Stede were chatting and canoodling at the counter when Ed suddenly pointed out the front door and said, “Look! It’s Buttons!”

Stede followed Ed’s gesture and saw that, indeed, there he was, the seagull who they had first met the day they opened the shop.

They had just made a vegetarian pizza topped with spinach, black olives, and mushrooms. Stede was relaying to Ed that the type of mushrooms they had used, and that were used on most pizzas, were Agaricus bisporus, or “button mushrooms,” when the bird flew right in through an open window and pilfered a slice. Ed proudly nicknamed him “Buttons.” It was a stretch, Stede thought, but it worked.

Buttons was a frequent guest after that day, and especially loved to come by on Wednesdays.

Stede took a garlic knot from behind the counter, tore it into pieces, then tossed it out the door to the bird.

“Don’t feed him that, Stede!” Fang chided from behind his black and silver crochet project. “Bread isn’t good for little birdy tummies!”

Ed threw his arms up in exasperation. “Oh, now birds are gluten intolerant, too?!”

—

The place really came to life around seven o’clock, when Frenchie arrived to bestow the gift of live music. Fang and Roach helped him get set up between the crochet corner and the restrooms.

When Izzy saw what was going on he shouted, “You’d better not be paying this twat!”

But, of course, Izzy couldn’t help himself, and after a couple of songs he was up on the stage as well.

—

At 7:30, Roach emerged from the kitchen, glowing with enthusiasm for the creation he’d been working on all day: a dessert pizza with candied orange, cream cheese, and cinnamon. Everyone got a slice. It was a crowd pleaser, but Stede politely let him know it still needed some workshopping before it could be officially added to the menu.

—

They closed early, as they often did on Wednesdays, and ended the night with drinks at Jim and Oluwande’s place next door.

It was another perfect day.

Izzy did have some points, though, Stede hated to admit. Over the years since they had opened the pizzeria, the reserves of Stede’s family money had begun to dwindle. Perhaps having some sort of long-term plan wasn’t a terrible idea. It was a dream come true making pizzas with Edward and serving the community. Stede supposed if they wanted to keep the dream alive, they would need to have a bit more money coming in.

He made a mental note to speak with Ed about it in the morning, and let himself cherish the rest of the night.

[matts-girlfriend]

It’s You I Welcome Death With- Chris Sturniolo

TattooArtist!Chris and MakeupArtist!Reader

chapter 1

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain, substance abuse, angst, arguing,tension,swearing, mentions of absent family, blood, abuse (not from chris). smut, oral, this is a warning for all chapters.

The shop smelled like burnt ink and old smoke.

The kind of place where the walls held secrets and the floorboards remembered every heavy footstep and whispered promise. “Death Before Dishonor” was stenciled in cursive across the back wall, blood red and faded like it had something to prove.

Chris was leaned back in the cracked leather chair, legs spread, blunt between his fingers like it was born there. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, catching on the gold chain around his neck, the one that shimmered when he tilted his head just right. There was a girl draped over his lap, laughing at something he didn’t even say.

Typical.

“You said you’d be ready at five,” came a voice from the front counter—low, annoyed, and unmistakably Nick’s. Chris barely looked up.

“It’s five…ish,” Chris muttered, tapping ash into the tray balanced on the armrest. “Besides, Matt’s not even back yet.”

As if on cue, Matt strolled in with a box of pizza in one hand and his phone in the other. “Traffic’s hell,” he offered, sliding the box onto the counter. “Also, that girl from the bakery said hi.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Which one?”

Matt grinned. “Exactly.”

Chris chuckled, voice rough from the smoke. He looked good in that dangerous, disinterested way—dark eyes half-lidded, tattoos spilling from the collar of his shirt like they couldn’t wait to be seen. But he was already bored. Already over whatever girl was clinging to him like she hadn’t already been replaced in his mind.

And that’s when you walked in.

You—makeup bag in hand, black boots hitting the floor. You looked like you belonged somewhere else—maybe a red carpet, maybe a rooftop party where everyone knew your name—but you stood in that gritty tattoo shop like it was your stage.

Chris blinked. Once.

The girl on his lap said something. He didn’t hear it.

You didn’t even spare him a glance. Your eyes found Nick instead.

“Hey, I’m here for the shoot prep,” you said, voice soft like you didn't just walk in with a "I know i'm better then everyone" attitude. “The agency said you needed someone last-minute.”

Nick straightened, visibly relieved. “Yeah, thanks for coming. That was fast.”

“I don’t do late,” you said, brushing hair out of your face, all confidence and zero apology. “Where’s the client?”

“That’d be him,” Nick said, nodding toward the back.

Chris exhaled slowly, letting the smoke trail from his lips as his eyes finally met yours.

“Well,” he said, voice low and amused. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for this side of town?”

You tilted your head, expression unreadable. “Aren’t you a little too high to be getting your picture taken?”

Matt choked on his soda.

Nick looked like he wanted to crawl into the nearest supply cabinet.

Chris? He laughed. Loud and real.

And for the first time in a while, he sat up straight.

You weren’t like the others.

And maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this one.

a/n: I’m actually so excited to drop the whole plot. I got bored last night and finished almost the whole story.

taglist: @courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 8: The End

It had been weeks since Josh had helped Elliot through his emotional breakdown, and despite the occasional tug of guilt or uncertainty, Elliot was starting to feel more comfortable in his own skin. Josh had been right—accepting where he was now, letting go of who he used to be, was the first step. Things were different, but that didn’t mean they had to be bad.

Still, there was one thing left unresolved. The third bedroom in their apartment had been empty for months. It wasn’t like they were actively searching for a new roommate, but as the rent due date loomed and their space began to feel quieter, they figured it was time to find someone. 

One evening, Josh came in holding some papers. “Got someone coming by to check out the room. He’s coming in about an hour.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair, eyeing the flyer. “How’s he look?”

“Seems cool. Got a job, is laid-back, and he’s been looking for a place for a while.” Josh sounded casual, but there was a glint of something else in his eye. “Oh, and he’s, uh… pretty fit.”

Elliot froze at the last part. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, but it did. It wasn’t like he was self-conscious about his body—well, not *all* the time—but the thought of another fit person living in the apartment felt... unsettling. Like a reminder of the person he used to be.

But Josh was already heading to the door to prep the room. Elliot sighed, shaking off the sudden discomfort. It wasn’t like he could avoid it. *Besides, this guy is just a roommate. Nothing more.*

An hour later, the doorbell rang.

Josh answered it first, greeting the man with a smile. The new guy, named Derek, stepped inside with a relaxed smile and a firm handshake. He was tall—maybe 6’1”—with a broad, athletic build, and a confident posture that suggested he spent time working on it. His T-shirt clung to his chest in a way that made Elliot feel hyper-aware of his own soft form beneath his hoodie.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Derek said, his voice smooth and friendly.

“Yeah, good to meet you too,” Elliot said, forcing a smile as he stood up. He offered a handshake, but Derek gave him a quick, brotherly shoulder clap instead, his grip warm and firm.

“Well, it looks like a good place,” Derek commented, looking around the apartment. “I’ve been in smaller, definitely. How are you guys with food? I’m not picky, but I like a little variety.” 

Josh chuckled. “Well, we’re kind of a *takeout* house around here.”

Elliot didn’t mention that they were more of a *gorging* house, but he kept it to himself.

The tour of the apartment was brief, and Derek seemed impressed with everything. But it wasn’t until the next day that things began to shift.

Derek officially moved in, bringing in a small amount of belongings. He had a clean, minimalist vibe to his style—clothes neatly folded, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His protein shaker was visible on the kitchen counter, a reminder of his routine. But things started to get interesting when he made his first trip to the living room in the evening.

Josh was already sprawled on the couch, game controller in hand, a half-eaten pizza box beside him.

Elliot was in his usual spot, his belly still recovering from the last food binge, a container of fries and a milkshake in front of him. 

Derek hesitated at the scene in front of him. “Uh… you guys always eat like this?” he asked, a chuckle in his voice, though it didn’t come off as judgmental. 

“Pretty much,” Josh grinned, popping a slice into his mouth. “We’re not big on salads around here. More into burgers, pizza, wings—you know, the essentials.”

Elliot gave a half-hearted grin as he took another sip of his shake, his stomach still swollen from his earlier indulgence. “We like our food,” he said, almost apologetically, as if he had to justify their habits. But Derek’s smile only grew.

“That’s… pretty cool actually,” Derek said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been on a strict diet for the last few years. Eating clean and all that, but honestly, it sounds fun to just… eat whatever.”

Josh’s eyes lit up at the mention of *whatever*. “Oh, you’re in for a treat, man. You’ll get used to it.”

And *used to it* he got. At first, Derek would show restraint—eating smaller portions, occasionally laughing at the idea of eating as much as Josh or Elliot. But as the days passed, things started to change. The first sign came when Derek joined them for takeout on a Wednesday night.

Elliot and Josh had ordered a double portion of Chinese food, and Derek had opted for a small bowl of steamed chicken and vegetables. But by the time the food arrived, Josh was already digging in, taking bites of his egg rolls and laughing at some ridiculous joke he’d made. 

Derek, clearly curious, grabbed a wonton chip and dipped it into some sweet-and-sour sauce. It wasn’t much at first, just a few chips, but then his plate started to look less clean. By the end of the night, Derek was half-finished with a second serving of fried rice, and Josh was grinning like he’d just introduced a new recruit into the *eating* fold.

The next night was more of the same. Derek had already devoured an entire slice of pizza before he even realized it. 

“Wow,” Derek said between bites. “You guys were right. This *is* fun. I haven’t had pizza like this in forever.”

From that point on, Derek seemed to fully adopt their unhealthy lifestyle. He started ordering more frequently. A burger one day, Chinese food the next. It wasn’t long before his protein shakes were replaced by milkshakes from the local diner, and his lean, athletic build began to soften. His abs, which were once clearly defined, were hidden under a layer of new softness that he seemed to brush off with a laugh.

At first, Elliot didn’t think much of it. He was too focused on himself, on his own habits, to really notice how things were changing for Derek. But over time, he began to see the evidence. Derek was starting to wear clothes that were just a bit too tight around his chest and stomach. His shirts stretched slightly, and his usual athleticism seemed to be fading.

One evening, after a particularly large feast of burritos and nachos, Derek slumped onto the couch, his stomach round and swollen.

“Man,” he sighed, rubbing his belly, “I can’t believe how much I ate. I used to never eat like this. What’s happening to me?”

Josh laughed, patting his own belly with a playful grin. “Welcome to the club, dude. You’re one of us now.”

Derek looked at him, unsure if he was joking. “You really think so?”

Josh grinned wide. “Oh yeah. No going back now. It’s a lifestyle.” He nudged Elliot, who just shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “We don’t count calories around here, we just count bites.”

Elliot laughed, but he felt a strange sense of pride as he watched Derek, someone who was once so disciplined, sink deeper into their world. Derek was letting go of his old habits, and with each pizza box, burrito wrapper, and milkshake container, he seemed to be embracing a new reality.

Months had passed since Derek moved in, and the three roommates had become more than just fellow tenants—they had become a tight-knit, food-loving family. What had started as a subtle shift in their habits had transformed into a full-on lifestyle. With every passing day, the apartment had become more familiar with the smells of greasy takeout, fast food wrappers, and the sounds of laughter punctuated by the occasional groan of a full stomach. But somewhere along the way, they stopped noticing the gradual changes that were taking place in their bodies.

Elliot had never been the kind of guy to obsess over the mirror. But now, when he caught a glimpse of himself, he couldn’t help but notice how different he looked. The transformation since first moving in had been slow, a gradual bloating at first, then a steady softening of his once lean frame. His once toned stomach had become round, with a noticeable layer of fat that jutted out when he sat down. When he walked, his belly hung just over the waistband of his jeans, pushing the fabric tight against his skin. His chest, which used to be flat, had filled out as well, no longer resembling the slim, defined shape he had once been proud of. 

Elliot now wore oversized hoodies almost constantly to hide his new size, though even they were starting to feel tight across his shoulders and around his midsection. His sweatpants, once a comfortable fit, had become increasingly tight around the waist, forcing him to adjust the waistband constantly. It wasn’t that his clothes were too small—they were stretched out of shape from constant use.. His T-shirts now hung snugly around his shoulders and stomach, emphasizing the roundness of his belly rather than the slight build he used to have.

When he stepped on the scale a few weeks ago, the number that flashed back at him was startling: **268 pounds**. At 5'11", that was a significant gain from his previous weight of 160. The weight wasn’t just visible on his belly but had started to accumulate in his face too. His jawline had softened, his cheeks rounder, and his double chin was more prominent when he looked down at himself. He could feel it in his knees, too—the occasional soreness, the feeling of pressure when he climbed stairs or moved quickly. But instead of fighting it, he had grown used to the idea of his body as it was. He wasn’t sure if it was self-acceptance or if he had simply given up, but either way, he couldn’t help but enjoy the ease with which he could eat whatever he wanted.

But there were some downsides. Elliot had trouble finding clothes that fit right. His once-favorite jeans now felt suffocating when buttoned, and his shirts clung uncomfortably to his midsection. His belly pushed out even when standing, a visible sign of how much he had gained. And though his energy levels had dipped, he tried to ignore the frequent exhaustion and the feeling of being sluggish. It didn’t help that he often found himself winded after short walks or climbing a few flights of stairs. 

It wasn’t just his clothes that were different; Elliot could feel it in every movement. His thighs rubbed together when he walked, the inner seams of his sweatpants stretched tight. When he stood up after sitting for a while, he would often groan, pushing himself up with his hands, his legs aching with the weight. His once-shapely arms were now soft, with rolls forming at the elbow and the top of his biceps. The muscles that had once been lean were now hidden beneath layers of fat.

His face, too, had changed. Where once he had sported a defined jawline, now his cheeks had rounded out, and the faint beginnings of a double chin were evident when he looked down at his body. He often caught himself staring at his reflection, confused, almost a little horrified, by the person looking back. But then he’d remember the comfort of a warm meal, a cold drink, and the laughs shared with Josh and Derek, and the guilt would melt away. 

Derek had been the most fit when he moved in. A regular at the gym, his body was lean, toned, and muscular—what many might call “beach body ready.” But within months of living with Josh and Elliot, Derek’s physique had begun to change as well. He’d started out cautious, still opting for his usual protein shakes and lean meals, but eventually, the lure of late-night pizza, takeout dinners, and the easy pleasure of a good milkshake had worn him down. 

Derek’s transformation had been equally dramatic as Elliot's. Where he had once been a solid, athletic build—proud of his thick muscles and broad shoulders—he was now... softer. His body had thickened in ways he hadn’t anticipated. His biceps were still strong, but they were now hidden beneath layers of fat. His once-flat stomach had grown into a pronounced paunch that hung over the top of his sweatpants when he sat, something he’d never imagined happening to himself.

Derek’s weight had ballooned from 185 pounds to just under 210. His muscles were still there, but now they were covered with a cushion of fat that made his once-ripped abs and chiseled chest unrecognizable. His chest, still large and broad, lost its sharp lines, and now sagged with the weight, and his love handles hung over the waistband of his pants in a noticeable roll. His arms, which had once been sculpted from years of gym work, had become soft logs, with a thick layer of flab now obscuring the definition. The fat around his neck had begun to grow, and he could feel his breathing become heavier as he moved about the apartment.

His wardrobe had gone from well-fitted clothes to bigger sizes. His T-shirts, once snug in a flattering way, now stretched across his chest and beer gut, and his jeans had transformed into sweatpants or the stretchy, drawstring kinds of pants that allowed him to binge eat without any restriction. At his heaviest, Josh had to buy size L and XL shirts and his 34 waist pants were getting too tight around the waist and thighs.

Like Elliot, Derek found that his energy levels had decreased. He often struggled to make it through a full day of work without needing a nap or an extended break. His knees hurt more often than they had before, and though he tried to avoid the mirror when he could, he was still acutely aware of how his appearance had changed.

Josh had always been the largest of the three, but now he was something else entirely. He had put on over 45 pounds, bringing his weight up to about 300 pounds, a shift from his initial weight of 255. His arms, once slightly defined, had softened into thick, rounded shapes. His chest, which had once been a beefy display of fat and muscle, now looked round and sagged, the contours of his pecs disappeared behind a thick layer of fat moobs. His stomach, which had already been a substantial sized belly, now his largest feature. Derek had gone from wearing 36 inch jeans to wearing 42 waist pants that were now tight around his waist and thighs. He often found himself tugging at the waistband of his shorts, trying to ease the discomfort.

When he walked, the thick rolls of fat around his middle swayed with every step. His once-tight abs had been replaced with a large, rounded belly that seemed to have a life of its own. It pressed uncomfortably against the front of his shirts, and he had long since moved up to 3XL T-shirts and needing 44 waist jeans. Even those were starting to stretch tight across his stomach, forcing him to either leave his shirts untucked or let his pants sag under the weight. He had given up on jeans altogether, preferring the comfort of sweatpants or stretchy shorts that could accommodate his growing size.

Josh’s face, once sharp and angular, was now round, with full cheeks and a soft double chin that had become more prominent in the last few months. His arms, which used to be thick with muscle, now felt heavy and sluggish, the muscles buried beneath thick layers of fat. When he caught sight of his reflection, he often felt a twinge of embarrassment. His body had become so large that he had trouble fitting into the chair at his desk, his belly spilling over the sides and making it hard to move his legs comfortably.

His joints, particularly his knees and hips, had begun to ache more frequently, and his breathing had grown heavier. There were moments when he felt out of breath after standing for too long, and he often had to catch his breath after walking from one room to another. Yet, despite these discomforts, Josh had grown to love the lifestyle they had cultivated. The food, the indulgence, the carefree attitude—it was a release from everything that used to matter.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. His joints ached more frequently, and his breath came a little heavier as he climbed the stairs or jogged in place. Derek had even noticed the faintest puffiness around his ankles and wrists, signs of his body holding onto more fat than it used to. His face, which had once been angular, was now rounder, with a soft layer of chub around his cheeks.

The three roommates’ days now followed a familiar pattern. They woke up, had a massive breakfast—eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee—and then spent the day lounging or playing video games. When hunger struck again, they’d order takeout. Pizza, Chinese food, burgers, fried chicken—whatever it was, it was always an indulgence. Dinner usually consisted of even larger portions, accompanied by sugary snacks and sometimes a late-night dessert. Every meal was a marathon of food and indulgence, and they ate until they couldn’t move. 

But as their bodies grew, the discomfort began to catch up with them. Elliot found himself getting winded more easily, needing breaks after short walks, or even after standing for extended periods. The belly bloating was the worst—after a big meal, it wasn’t just full—it was tight and painful. There were days when Elliot had to lay down on the couch, his belly aching, his body protesting the overload of food. Derek, too, often complained of feeling sluggish, and Josh’s feet had begun to give him trouble, making it harder to get around.

And yet, despite all of this, the three men never thought about changing their habits. They’d laugh about their growing size, joke about the “good life,” and continue to indulge, day in and day out. The weight was heavy on their bodies, but it had become so deeply ingrained in their routine that it no longer felt like something they could—or wanted—to fight.

In this new life, their bodies had changed. They had grown in ways they hadn’t expected. But it wasn’t just their weight that had shifted—it was their entire way of living. And in some ways, they were happier for it, embracing their new reality, one meal at a time.

[etheraltides]

Chef Kisses

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: a harmless attempt of cooking pizza with Rafe turns messy

Warning(s): light swearing and some mild suggestive content.

A/N: Feedback is always welcome :) I love to know your thoughts.

The late afternoon sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting golden streaks on the countertops as you moved about the space, the playlist humming softly in the background. Rafe leaned against the counter, his usual cocky smirk playing at his lips, casually tossing a piece of mozzarella into his mouth as he watched you.

“Are you even gonna help, or just eat all the toppings before they make it to the pizza?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder.

His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Hey, I’m quality control. Someone’s gotta make sure this cheese is safe.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing a ball of dough onto the counter in front of him. “Alright, Mr. Quality Control, make yourself useful and knead this.”

He smirked, leaning closer to you. “I don’t hear you complaining when I taste-test you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shoved him away with a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you’re obsessed with me.” he shot back, giving you a wink.

He sighed dramatically but stepped forward, cracking his knuckles like he was preparing for battle. You watched him as he rolled up the sleeves of his Henley, his tanned forearms flexing in a way that distracted you for longer than you’d admit.

He caught you staring and smirked. “Enjoying the view, babe?”

You scoffed, grabbing a handful of flour and flicking it at him. The powder dusted his shirt, and he froze, his expression shifting to playful menace.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that…” he warned, swiping flour off his chest before lunging toward you.

You squealed, ducking away, but Rafe was too fast. His arms wrapped around your waist, spinning you as he grabbed a handful of flour and smeared it across your cheek. The two of you dissolved into laughter, your attempts to wrestle free only making the mess worse.

“Okay, okay! Truce!” you gasped between giggles, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

Rafe held up his hands, flour-covered palms raised in surrender. “Alright, truce.” But just as you started to relax, he slapped your ass with one of those same floury hands.

“Rafe!” you yelped, turning to glare at him.

His grin was utterly unapologetic. “Couldn’t resist, doll.” he said with a wink.

You tried to look annoyed, but the way he was grinning at you made it impossible. Instead, you grabbed his face, dragging him into a kiss.

It started slow, your lips moving softly against his as the world around you faded away. But then Rafe’s hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened. His lips were warm and insistent, his breath mingling with yours as your fingers tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, and Rafe was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

When you finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, and Rafe was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered and it never faltered to make you blush.

“Damn.” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. “We still have a pizza to make,” you said, stepping back and turning your attention to the dough.

Rafe groaned dramatically but moved to the counter, grabbing the ball of dough you’d prepared earlier. “Fine, but you owe me later.” he said, his tone dripping with implication.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you eventually managed to focus – sort of. You worked on rolling out the dough while Rafe prepped the toppings, sneaking bites of pepperoni when he thought you weren’t looking.

“You’re like a child.” you muttered, shaking your head but smiling.

Rafe leaned down next to you, his face far too close for concentration. “A child who can kiss like that? Don’t think so.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you tried to spread sauce across the dough. “Just try not to eat everything before we even get this in the oven.”

The moment was light and warm, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of teasing and working. It was one of the things you loved about being with Rafe – how he could make even the simplest, most mundane activities feel fun and alive.

You were just finishing arranging the toppings when you realized you were missing the grated Parmesan since Rafe had managed to eat most of it before you could stop him.

“Can you grab the Parmesan from the cabinet?” you asked, gesturing toward the upper shelf.

Rafe arched an eyebrow, glancing up at the tall cabinet. “The one that’s way too high for you?”

“Yes, thank you for pointing out my limited reach. Now be a good boyfriend and grab it.” you shot back, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably because of his grin.

Rafe walked over, making a show of stretching lazily before reaching up to open the cabinet. His shirt rode up with the motion, exposing a sliver of his toned stomach and the waistband of his underwear.

Red.

Your eyes locked onto the flash of crimson, your breath catching in your throat as an unexpected wave of heat coursed through you. The way the waistband dipped slightly, hinting at the definition of his hips… it was unfair how attractive he was without even trying.

“Find something you like?” Rafe’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

Your cheeks flamed as you realized you’d been caught staring. He smirked, holding the Parmesan in one hand while resting his other casually on the edge of the cabinet.

“You’re such a tease, little shit.” you muttered, snatching the cheese out of his hand and turning away.

“Me?” Rafe said, feigning innocence. He moved closer, his chest brushing against your back. “You’re the one checking me out like I’m dessert.”

You tried to focus on sprinkling the Parmesan, but Rafe’s hands settled on your hips, his fingers brushing just below the hem of your shirt.

“Rafe…” you said, your voice a little breathier than you intended. You couldn’t exactly tell if it was a warning or a plea.

“Hmm?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you felt him grin against your skin.

You turned to face him, intending to tell him to knock it off, but the words died on your lips when you met his gaze. His blue eyes were dark with something that sent shivers down your spine, and suddenly, the kitchen felt a lot smaller.

Your cheeks burned, and you snatched the cheese from him, spinning away. “You’re insufferable.” you muttered, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Rafe didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer, his chest brushing against your back as his hands settled on your hips.

“Am I?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You swallowed hard, your resolve wavering as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your sides. “We need to finish the pizza, baby.” you said, though your voice was shaky.

“Hmm. The pizza can wait” Rafe replied, turning you to face him. His blue eyes were dark, his gaze locked onto yours as he leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, a teasing exploration that left you breathless. But then Rafe’s hands slid under your shirt, his palms warm against your skin, and the kiss deepened.

“Rafe.” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.

You couldn’t think of a coherent response, too caught up in the way he was making you feel. His teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, your hands tightening in his hair.

His grip on your hips was firm, pulling you closer as he pressed you against the counter. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension building between you like a live wire.

But just as things were about to spiral out of control, the smell of something burning broke through the haze.

“The pizza!” you exclaimed, shoving him away and rushing to the oven.

Rafe groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re kidding me.” he muttered.

You pulled the pizza out, laughing at the slightly charred edges. “This is what happens when you distract me.”

“Me? You’re the one who—”

“You’re not winning this argument.” you interrupted, cutting him off as you grabbed plates.

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further, taking a seat at the counter as you served up the pizza.

Despite the burnt edges, the pizza tasted surprisingly good. The two of you ate in companionable silence, stealing bites from each other’s plates and laughing about the chaos of the afternoon.

As you finished the last slice, Rafe leaned over, wiping a smudge of sauce off your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re hot when you’re bossy, y’know?” he said, his voice soft.

“And you’re cute when you’re not ruining my kitchen.” you shot back, though your tone was more fond than annoyed.

Rafe smirked, leaning closer. “I’ll ruin your kitchen anytime, babe” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. There was a small smirk in the corner of his lips that told you he wasn’t exactly talking about the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as he pulled you into another kiss, the taste of marinara and mischief lingering between you.

And in that moment, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You knew you wanted many more nights like this, with him.

[blue-sadie]

A Home Visit

Music Teacher Eddie Munson x Student Reader x Sport Tracher Steve Harrington Series Masterlist Part 3 of the Teachers Pet Series - OG @amber-michaelson Summary: a home date ruined by an unsuspecting visitor Warning: double penetration, kitchen sex

Yn/2nd person pov pov

My eyes strained as they watched the boring movie Eddie had chosen, I couldn't quite tell if it was a thriller or romance, the movies graphics illuminated off of my small tv, Eddie's arm settled around my shoulder as he munched on popcorn with the other "this movies shit" he laughed stuffing his mouth full of popcorn before taking a sip of our shared soda.

"Well you are the one who chose it" I giggled "well because I thought we'll start making out in the middle of it" he grinned pulling me closer to him "nah uh you pick it now you have watch it, I need to refill the popcorn since you keep stuffing your face" I murmured slowly getting to my feet and stretching out my cramped muscles and taking the bowl out of his lap, I walked down stairs grabbing the popcorn out of the cupboard and putting it into the microwave, i went around to the fridge

"Eddie do you want ice-cream" I yelled "what the fuck is Eddie doing here" I screamed turning to the voice and froze as I saw Mr Harrington standing there holding a pizza box and soda "um Steve what are you doing here" I asked shutting the fridge door as Eddie came tripping over his feet as he ran down the stairs.

"what's up baby" he said and was shocked as he saw Steve "hey Harrington" he murmured and just went over to microwave and taking out the popcorn and putting it into the bowl "I wonder if he has a brain" I murmured watching as he went upstairs "your fucking Munson Eddie fucking Munson" Steve muttered as he came around the kitchen island and stood infront of me his hands grabbing my arms slightly shaking me.

"Yea so I've fucked you and Hargrove what's the difference" I murmured crossing my arms Steve pushed me up against the fridge caging me in "the difference is you becoming such a slut" he muttered pushing his knee up against my pussy "but you love it" I grinned grinding against him he bite his tongue and shook his head "you got me there" he breathed out before smashing his lips against mine.

My arms wrapped around his neck as his went to my butt "jump" he growled against my lips I did and wrapped my legs around him and he turned and layed me onto my kitchen counter and he pulled back from the kiss to take off his shirt “come on baby strip” he murmured as he took off his pants and boxers and i started to take my stuff off “your too slow” he muttered before ripping off my remaining clothes.

"Steve" I whined as he ran his hands up and down my thighs "what baby" he said as he squeezed my thighs "so am I just meant to watch" Eddie chuckled as he walked into the room "just go back upstairs to your fucking movie Munson" Steve muttered rolling his eyes his hands moving their way up to grab and squeeze my breasts.

"I think not Harrington she's my student as well" he said as he took off his shirt discarding it on the floor and kicked off his pants and underwear as he came up beside Steve staring hungrily at me "come I've taken more than one cock before" I whispered seductively as I ran my hands up and down their chests "such a slut" Steve muttered but his lips were curled up in a smirk.

He pulled me up and sandwiched me between them, Eddie infront of me and Steve behind, they both leaned down attacking both sides of my neck make sure leave some marks my hitches as they run their hands up and down my body grabbing and squeezing anything they can while grinding into me

"fuck" I breathed out "do you think she needs prep" Eddie murmured as he inserted two of his fingers inside me "knowing her she doesn't need it" Steve chuckled against my neck he he position himself before slowly pushing in "come on Munson" he muttered and only grunted in response before pushing in as well making me moan out "how does that feel baby" Eddie growled into my ear as he pulled out and roughly pushed in "fucking amazing" I murmured staring at him and gasped as Steve started moving as well

"there's two of us baby" Steve growled "fuck steve" I moaned leaning my head onto his shoulder "come on eddie she can handle it" Steve growled his breath causing goosebumps to arise they both started pounding into me while I moaned and whined "how does it feel baby" eddie chuckled at my pleasured expression "s-so fucking good" I mewled as I dragged my nails down his chest “shit yn” steve growled as his hand moved to my neck “steve” i moaned confused but gasped as his grip tightened 

“oh dam she tightened steve” eddie groaned as their movement started to slow and their cocks started pulse “fuck im cumming” eddie yelled as he shot his sperm inside me painting my walls white he slowly pulled out as steve still thrusted in “i want you to suck my cum out of my cock baby” he growled before pulling out and forced me to my knees and forced his cock into my mouth and groaned loudly as he cum into my mouth 

“Fuck baby” he panted as he pulled back he caressed my face as he moved my face to look at him and wiped the extra cum that escaped my mouth “your differently gonna graduate next week” 

[florihaei]

𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲-𝗷𝗼𝘀𝗵𝘂𝗮⋆୨୧˚

word count- 781 ♡

genre: fluff ♡

warnings- kissing/everything is in lowercase on purpose ♡

୨୧˚authors note -this is for the seventeen drabble week! , you can read all of them here!

you had been looking forward to surprising joshua all week. yoy knew he’d been stressed at work, and you wanted to do something special to brighten his day. dinner at home sounded like the perfect idea. joshua always complimented your cooking, and he loved italian food, so you decided to make his favorite, lasagna.

you spent the afternoon prepping everything. fresh pasta sheets, rich tomato sauce, ricotta, mozzarella, it was all coming together perfectly. the table was set with candles, soft music played in the background, and the smell of garlic and oregano filled the apartment. everything was ready. you felt a little flutter of excitement in your chest. tonight was going to be perfect.

as the lasagna baked, you turned your attention to setting the mood. you dimmed the lights, adjusted the playlist, and made sure the wine was chilled. feeling confident, you decided to quickly hop in the shower to freshen up before joshua arrived. but when you stepped out of the bathroom, a strange smell hit you. not the warm, savory aroma yoy expected, but something sharp and burnt.

panic rising, you ran to the kitchen and flung open the oven door. a cloud of smoke billowed out, and your heart sank as you saw the lasagna, charred black on top.

“please no..,” you muttered, staring at the ruined dish. “please no, not now.”

you quickly turned off the oven and pulled out the lasagna, hoping maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked. but it was. the once beautiful dish was now a crispy disaster. you leaned against the counter, trying to hold back frustrated tears. this was supposed to be a special night, and you thought you had ruined it.

just then, you heard the front door open.

“baby?” joshua called out, walking into the apartment. “baby..? what’s that smell..?.”

you cringed and turned to face him, holding up the blackened lasagna with a sheepish smile. “i.. i was trying to surprise you with dinner,” you said, your voice apologetic. “but I kind of… burned it.”

joshua looked at the dish, then back at you , and for a second you braced yourself for disappointment. but instead, a wide grin spread across his face, and he burst out laughing.

“you burned it?” he repeated, still chuckling. “how bad is it baby?”

you couldn’t help but laugh too, despite your frustration. “pretty bad..,” you admitted, showing him the full extent of the damage.

joshua stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “angel.. it’s the thought that counts, right?” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “you tried to do something sweet, and i love that. besides…” he paused, leaning down to kiss you properly this time. “this just gives us an excuse to order takeout and hang out in our sweats.”

you giggled against his lips, grateful for how easily he’d turned the situation around. “your not mad shua?”

“of course not angel,” joshua said, giving you another quick kiss. “it’s not like you did it on purpose. olus, takeout and you? sounds like a perfect night to me.”

your heart swelled with affection for him. you kissed him back, longer this time, before pulling away and grabbing your phone. “alright then, what are we ordering?”

within minutes, you both decided on pizza and wings from your favorite place. you both changed into comfortable clothes, joshua in an old band tee and you in his oversized hoodie, and settled onto the couch, wine glasses in hand.

as you both waited for the food to arrive, joshua pulled you close, resting his head on top of yours. “remember that time I tried to cook for you, and I almost set the kitchen on fire?” he said, his voice filled with laughter.

you smiled, remembering the disaster of a meal he’d made early in their relationship. “ oh god, yes! you were so confident, and then everything went wrong. but we still had fun.”

joshua chuckled. “exactly baby. things never have to go perfectly to have a good time. as long as we’re together, i’m happy.”

you kissed him again, warmth flooding your chest. “you always know how to make things better.”

when the pizza finally arrived, you both dug in, laughing and sharing stories about other kitchen mishaps and ridiculous moments from their time together. each kiss, each burst of laughter, made the night feel more perfect than any fancy dinner ever could have been.

the night wasn’t about the dinner. it was about the two of you, both your easy connection, and the way you both could turn any mishap into a night filled with love and laughter.