#2 shallots

[pianokantzart]

I just made the Mama Mario soup.

I can see why Luigi got so excited, that stuff good.

[banhbotloc]

[ID: 3 photos of an oval baking dish with marinated chicken thighs, tart cherries, and rosemary show 1) the dish before baking with the chicken barely visible under the pile of cherries, 2) after baking, with the chicken in a brown sauce with the cooked down cherries, and 3) with a spoon and only one piece of chicken left. End ID]

the beginnings of the end of farmers market cherry season, celebrated with genuinely my new favorite recipe: bone in skin on chicken thighs + olive oil + balsamic + lots of shallots + honey + tart cherries + rosemary + salt + pepper

[inuhodo]

Shallot Tabris // Isle Hawke // Eluvian "El" Hinthanas // Borger Aeducan

shoutout to women's day gotta be one of my favorite genders.

[cocteautwinslyrics]

i just made fried rice for the first time ever and oh my god it was good and easy what the hell

[girzapata6]

Also, here's some stuff from an Emoji Game on my Instagram Stories (?

Like what u see? Why don't you ask for a Traditional Commission!

[rwac96]

Shallot of Dragon Ball Legends appeared in the recent Super Dragon Ball Heroes World Mission.

[baby-tart]

It is quite a thing to experience, being the only "guy" in a household of women all getting ready for a wedding. Everyone, old and young, is so stressed out and miraculous looking. They're juggling a million things, and they are putting on their gorgeous dresses, and they are being oh so careful to make their makeup pristine. Helping zip up a dozen dresses and helping to put together the appetizers because your mom needs to make things perfect, and recently she's needed you to be her second pair of hands. She doesn't want you to come out. And she doesn't want you to take the pills that you got from Planned Parenthood either. "Not yet," she tells you. She wants to make sure it's safe for you, she wants to get your blood taken first. She wants you to lose weight first. She wants it to be comfortable for her for you to transition. She asks you to arrange some slices of salami into a rose. When you're done with it, your sister asks you if her eyeliner wings are even. She's not really your sister, but your mother kinda adopted her, so even if she isn't your sister, she kinda is. Or was. When was the last time you texted her? It's not like you text your biological brothers at all either. Maybe you two are siblings, but you're just a bad sibling? You compliment her makeup. You wish you looked like her. Maybe you could, someday. The pills call to you from your bedroom drawer where they are still in the bag you got them from the pharmacy in. You go back to the kitchen and cut some strawberries. You focus on cutting the strawberries. On not cutting your hands. It's not a problem, you're trained how to use a knife, but neither a carrot, onion nor celery cuts quite like a strawberry. Guess you get what you pay for from a free federal program. This is a good train of thought. You're not looking at the bride's soon-to-be stepdaughter, and how beautiful the shade of green she's wearing is. You're not noticing her chest. You're not jealous. You're not ashamed. You're not... ok, what else needs doing? Everyone's ready to leave now. Everyone but you. No dress, no makeup, your hair is a mess... It doesn't matter. You're not going. You can't. You can't really tell people why. Not only is she marrying an asshole, but you don't have a suit. You don't really care about having one. "Have fun!" as you finish loading up the car, and all the girls speed off and away because they're late because that's how weddings are. You finally feel it. You're alone. All alone. Sitting in the wreckage of the storm that was all the preparation. No more tasks. Time for yourself. Nothing to distract you. You can't help it. The memory of everything you just saw and felt can't be denied anymore. It isn't fair. Even if you had a dress, even if you had all the time in the world to do your makeup, you don't wanna cause a scene, you don't want people to ask questions. It's not YOUR big day, after all. It's a more than logical conclusion. It's empathetic. It's sensible. It feels like rain. What a horrible day for rain. And the noisy quiet of your wailing sobs, that you're attempting to fill the space with, it is broken. There's a knock at the door. You make yourself a man again and open the door. It's your sister. She left something behind. You let her in so she can get it. She gives you another hug before she leaves and she says something you're not expecting. She asks you, "Are you okay?" and you can't even sob out a lie. "You can still go to the wedding in just a nice shirt and pants, you know?" she suggests. She's so close, but she doesn't get it, "but it's not a dress." you don't even think, it hurts so bad. but oh god. you said it. she frowns at you. oh no. "i'm so sorry, honey." oh god. "You're right, it isn't. I love you though." and she pulls you back into her embrace. She lets you cry into her should for a few minutes, "but watch the dress." And she leaves with whatever she came back for. I don't even remember anymore. I just remember the sweet taste of freedom dissolving under my tongue from that first little blue tablet. I remember two years ago today.

May 8th, 2021

[spicedpersimmon]

i made congee for breakfast it was soooo good

[the-jellicle-duelist]

i am about to bestow upon you the secret butter technique. i am sorry, but it is french. i am sorry again, this only works with cow butter. i am certain plant based butters wouldn’t work, and alternative animal butters may or may not work

has this ever been you: you have a nicely steamed vegetable, or maybe you want to make the best butter noodles, but you know that if you put butter on those it’ll just melt and you end with kind of greasy noodles or vegetables? don’t you wish it was instead a luscious buttery glaze?

introducing: beurre monté

you will take a small sauce pan, and begin heating it with 1-2 tablespoons of water (use very little water) and bring it to a hard simmer or boil

turn the heat down slightly, and add Butter. how much? however much you dare. (start with 3-4 tablespoons and go from there)

you are going to either whisk Aggressively or you can pick up the saucepan, still holding it over the heat, and swirl aggressively so the butter is skating around the sides of the pan

done correctly, you will have liquid butter that is still emulsified. you have made Butter Sauce. season it with a little salt, and toss whatever you want in it.

if you’re butter splits, i’m sorry. you didn’t agitate it enough to maintain the emulsion, and now you have melted butter.

you can use this knowledge to make other sauces by swapping out the water for another liquid. white wine becomes beurre blanc. red wine is beurre rogue.

you want to CUM? sweat minced shallot in a tiny bit of butter, add white wine and cook it out until it’s reduced by about half. then whisk butter in hard. a few flecks of minced thyme or fennel frond stirred thru, and you eat that with a nice seared fish? or scallop? or even shrimp? wow. you will Nut

your boxed mac and cheese game can also be elevated by cooking your pasta and making a beurre monté first, tossing your pasta in that and adding the cheese packet. wow. hey; you’ll cum

go forth now with this butter secret

[elenaferrante]

Another night another soup 🍲

[kcrossvine-art]

haiiii dungeon delvers! This is a quick one, gratefully both the materials and the dish-type are very close to their real life inspiration :D

As we speak, my favorite catgirl bestfolk is getting introduced to the anime and you haven no idea how much self control its taken to not immediately jump forward to be in sync with her, but theres SO many good recipes before we get there!!!

We will be making a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet today!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts made from the egg of a basilisk, which isnt a large chicken egg but instead a large snake egg. Oblong shape, soft leather texture, and no eggwhites just yolk.

A large daikon

½ lbs fatty bacon

Shallots

Garlic

Chicken eggs

Salt

Pepper

Arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

You could try cooking this using actual snake eggs, but theyre hard to come by and reportedly quite bland compared to chicken eggs. I tried getting my hands on an ostrich egg for the pizzaz of it all. The zoo lady was kind in her dismissal.

AND, “what does a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKOmelettes are standard fair but here we cook them like a french omelette and wrap it up like a burrito at the end.

Wetter eggs than im used to ( <- american)

Daikon and bacon r very tasty together

They end up having the same texture almost

Intensely savory. Heavy on the tummy

Chopped green onions would bring more levity to the filling

Ketchup pairs well

(but i prefer medium hot sauce)

Dark coffee pairs well

The acidity of the above 3 is what makes them work with this nutrient Dense dish

. In the show, decapitated mandrakes are more bitter than mandrakes left 'whole'. If you want that difference, using sweet/sour sauce on some of the daikon while it cooks will make the non-sauced daikon seem bitter by comparison. . Maybe ferment daikon too? . Adding a small amount of water with the bacon transfers the heat evenly, a small amount as to cook off before the fat/grease renders. Could also try cooking in the oven.

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

"Consisting of a fluffy Basilisk egg omelet filled with minced Basilisk bacon and mandrake.If the mandrake used was killed with its 'head' still attached, it will be less bitter and more mellow" This dish is important as it marks the beginning of Senshi and Marcilles bonding, and the lead-up gives us our first glance into the school Falin and Marcille met at. Objectively the recipe is basic but it was challenging to write out.

Omelette making is muscle-memory, so having to learn the french variation and slow down felt like trying to ride a bike side-saddled.

It took about an hour and a half from laying out the ingredients, to eating the finished thing. I had to take a break in the middle of cutting veggies as my wrists are flaring up, so you could probably go faster unimpeded.

What would you rate this recipe out of 10?(with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 large daikon, chopped

½ lbs fatty bacon, chopped

2 shallots

3 cloves of garlic

3 Eggs

Salt

Pepper

Some arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

Method:

Chop your bacon into roughly ½ inch squares. Cut off the ends of your daikon and cube the rest. Thinly dice your shallots and crush your garlic cloves.

Bring a cast iron skillet to medium-high heat. Once at temp, carefully add your chopped bacon to the pan with a very small amount of water.

Add your chopped bacon and stir-fry until almost cooked.

Add your shallots and garlic. Cook for about a minute or until the shallots have softened.

Transfer the bacon, shallot, and garlic mix to a bowl. Set aside. Lower the cast iron skillet to medium heat.

Place your daikon cubes in the cast iron skillet, you should still have enough bacon grease. Add salt and cook until lightly browned on each side.

Add roughly 1 tablespoon of water. Lower heat and cover. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Once your daikon are softened, transfer to same bowl containing your bacon, shallots, and garlic.

Crack your eggs into a seperate bowl and whisk for 2 minutes until 'frothy' with no egg whites visible.

Bring the cast iron skillet back up to medium heat. There might not be enough bacon grease left, so feel free to add butter! If the butter browns you've gone too hot.

Pour your eggs into the skillet. Use a spatula to spread the eggs, scraping down the sides of the pan. Sprinkle salt and pepper in, to taste.

Once your eggs are mostly solid, pour the bacon, shallot, garlic, and daikon filling into the center. If it starts to separate- stop touching and let it rest. Gently fold the edges of the omelette overtop the filling.

Lay a few pieces of arugula on a plate, and flip your omelette onto it :) enjoy!

[inuhodo]

soris and shianni being redheads/auburn/brunette what the hell ever brings up the important question of how can i justify shallot having beautiful luscious Main Character silver hair

[blunderpuff]

weird al why does this always happen to me dot mp3

[kitchenwitchtingss]

WITCHY MUSHROOM LINGUINE

A whimsical pasta that makes you feel like a forest dweller~

INGREDIENTS

8 oz chopped mushrooms (you could use any kind, or even mix different kinds! Just make sure they are edible.)

1/2 cup chicken stock

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 1/2 cups half and half

4 cloves garlic, minced.

4 shallots, chopped.

1/2 cup parmesan cheese

1 box linguine pasta

4 tbsp butter

1 tbsp thyme

Salt and pepper

Italian seasoning

DIRECTIONS

Melt butter in a pan and cook shallots and garlic until soft on medium heat. Add in the mushrooms, thyme, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper, and cook until tender. (About 4 minutes.) Add chicken stock and red wine vinegar and cook for another 4 minutes on medium heat.

Add in half and half and simmer for about 3 minutes, or until the sauce thickens a little more. Add in parmesan cheese. Cook pasta according to the directions on the back of the box with a salted pot of water.

Taste the sauce to see if it needs more seasonings, then add to taste..

Drain the pasta, reserving about 1/4 cup of pasta water. Add your pasta into your sauce and toss to coat. Add in your pasta water so it combines well.

Top with parsley and enjoy!

Editors Notes:

You could add some shredded mozzarella to make it super cheesy!

Use an assortment of different mushrooms!

Using fresh thyme from your own garden is a good pick

Source your ingredients locally!

[1427]

would you? (pt 1)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: height of the Saviors-era Sanctuary. 

Warnings: step-dad!negan (kind of), still it’s all morally questionable (morally objectionable probably), Negan being manipulative and neglectful (listen it’s Negan at his most King Dick okay??? Just know what you signed up for if you’re going to read it), mentions of dead relatives, masturbation (m and f), sexual themes (obvi), virgin!reader

Word count: 4k

17+ mdni

// part 2 //

masterlist

You were off limits. It’s not as if they weren’t allowed to talk to you, but no one wanted to even find out where that line was. Being Negan’s “daughter” had more downsides than perks as far as you were concerned. A glorified prisoner that just happened to have all your needs met. Well, except one. Human connection, physical contact. 

You’re so sick of being in your room. The Sanctuary was suffocating enough, but one room? The only time you ever left was to go down to get food, and even then it’s not like anyone spoke to you. You just grabbed whatever you needed, from whatever table. From the Saviors down to the prisoners, everyone avoided even making eye contact. 

You didn’t live in the same area of the Sanctuary as Negan and his wives. You used to. You’re sure that one of his wives had probably taken up the space that you’d left, the room next to his. You’d left after he took his second wife. You’d been debating it since he’d taken the first one, the noises coming from his room alone were enough to send you packing. But isn’t that what adults do? So you’d tried to just ignore it. Like you imagined you’d have had to do if none of this happened and you were still with your mom. 

Two wives, though? You’d never felt close to Negan. Not like he was your father. But… shouldn’t he be? Shouldn’t he have acted like it? He’d protected you like you were his own when you were still out there - but once he founded “the Saviors” and became their oh-so-ruthless ‘leader’ he almost acted like you didn’t exist. Or worse, that you were some thing he had to look after. Some sniveling little child that he seemingly wanted nothing to do with. 

That was a few years ago. Now you’re 18, and totally fucking bored to death. Trapped in a Fuckin’ smelting facility like it’s a goddamn high tower, and you’re the lady of Shallot. Interacting with the world around you, but not really. Oh, and he has 5 wives now. Gross. 

You’ve finally fucking had it. Negan has a strict policy about you leaving the Sanctuary even to just go outside. He can come collect you himself if he really cares that much. Stupid fuckin’ rules. 

You bring one of your notebooks and a pen. With no plans of leaving, or doing something stupid, you just want some fresh air. You just want something different. And maybe, a little bit, you wanted to piss him off. 

You’re sitting on the ledge right outside the Sanctuary, legs dangling off the concrete. Your notebook at your lap and your pen in your hand, scribbling little doodles and shapes. Writing out small flashes of feelings as you feel them. Just wanting to document the outside as if you’d never see it again. 

You were in bliss a grand total of twenty minutes before you heard his tongue clicking behind you. Maybe you’d have been better off just running while you had the chance. “I know you know better than to be out here, kid.” 

You roll your eyes and look up from your notebook, taking in the scenery while you still could, “Eighteen. Not a kid.”

“Shit, 18 already?”

It hurts. That he doesn’t remember your birthday, or how old you are. That no one in the whole world cares that you spent three birthdays by yourself, with no one to even remember or know that they’d happened. You try to be grateful, you have really really tried. But everyone���s got a breaking point. “At least, I think so. If no one wishes you happy birthday, does it still count?” Okay, so you could have come at him a little harder, but he was still Negan and you were fairly sure that he didn’t feel any responsibility for you anymore. Especially if you’re an adult now. You try to gauge things on if this were the real world, if things were still how they used to be. And 18 meant Negan held no legal responsibility to be your guardian anymore. 

“Goddamn that is sad!” But he makes no attempt to comfort. Doesn’t even wish you a belated happy birthday. 

“Yup.” You don’t move from your seat even as you hear him suck on his teeth, clearly expecting you to get up and get back inside. 

“Alright, come on, kid. Can’t have you out here.” 

“Not a kid.” You bite back again. 

He stifles a laugh, “Yeah. Right.” He’s smiling that same shit eating smile that seems to be plastered permanently on his face nowadays. You can’t figure out what’s so fucking funny all the time. Especially now. 

You don’t know how to ask him, what words to say I need a friend. I need a boyfriend. No one talks to me because you’re terrifying. You think about it the whole walk back to your room while he shadows behind. You get to your door and as he starts to walk away you manage to stammer out, “I-I need a friend!” 

He turns around, a confused (but still amused) look on his face, “So get a friend?” 

“No, you don’t get it. No one will even look at me because you scare the shit out of everyone.” 

He looks at you like he’s trying to hold something back, rubbing a gloved hand over his clenched jaw, “Ever think maybe you’re just not very like-able?”

You look back and forth on the ground in front of you. Honestly? you’d never even wondered that, it takes you back that he’d even suggested it. Negan smiles, Gotcha. Obviously that wasn’t why, and obviously it was because of Negan and the way he’d decided to lead through fear. Fear was all he had. But you were 18, emotionally neglected, and desperate for approval. Your own self worth was paper-thin. He knew that. And instead of letting you, or himself, feed into the idea that he’d failed you, he’d put all the blame elsewhere. Like he always did. Like he was good at. 

“Tell ya what, kid. I’ll spend time with you.” Your hero. 

You could see through it, but what could you really do about it? You chew on your lip trying to figure out how to respond to such a ridiculous and ludicrous display of manipulation. “Fine.” After all, it was better than being stuck in your room. Maybe you’d meet someone, maybe one of the Saviors was cute. Maybe something could happen organically and Negan would lighten up on you a little bit, “Not a kid, though.”

Negan laughs, “Yeah, alright. Lunch tomorrow, come to the common room. You remember where that is, right?” It felt like a taunt. 

“Okay.” You nodded without looking up at him, and finally turned the knob you’d been holding behind you. Letting your body fall back into your room, and shutting the door behind you. 

This was a bad idea. You could feel it down to your bones. 

✨🦇

You’re silently grateful that he sent his wives away to do other things. And though he’d told you to meet in the common room, you were sat in his bedroom eating lunch. You’d never seen so much food put out for just two people, but you weren’t surprised. Any and every opportunity Negan had to show off, he did. 

You felt awkward, uncomfortable, and worse - afraid. Negan could tell, and while a part of him reveled in it, another part of him could tell that he was fucking you up. That he already had. No 18 year old girl should be this afraid of having lunch with the only family she knew. The only person she knew. Fuck yeah, he’d fucked you up. “So, kid - I mean, shit. Sorry, gonna have to get used to not calling you that.” 

“I think you’ll manage.” You grumble, pushing the food around on your plate. You should have just stayed in your room. One thing that you’d picked up over the year or so with Negan out there? His attitude. 

He laughs in response, “Yeah,” he nods, chewing his food with an open mouth, “Guess I’ll have to, you’re going to have lunch here from now on.” 

Your eyes shoot up from your plate to look at him, “Why?” 

“Because - you’re getting all fucked up and stupid.” 

That makes you snort a laugh in response. “Yeah.. wonder who’s fault that is,” you say sarcastically back at him, taking a bite of food. 

“Probably your dead as shit mom.” Negan knows he went too far as soon as he says it, but he doesn’t make any attempt to take it back, to apologize. Instead he just looks at you, a half smile cocked on his face, twirling his fork in a giant helping of spaghetti. Like he’s almost impressed with himself for taking it there. 

“Wow.” You mouth, completely taken aback. You’d cried over your mom so many times, and this? From Negan? You were too shocked to react emotionally. Not here, not now. Maybe he was right and you were more fucked up than you realized. 

“So, uh, what do you do all day?” Negan had been genuinely curious. Well, for the last day or so. He had more or less forgotten you even existed until then. 

You push food around on your plate again, “Write, sew, read, draw. Started painting a few months ago but I fucking suck at it.” You sigh, “anything to keep my hands busy.” 

Negan chokes on the water he’s drinking and you give him a look of mild disgust. “Not that.” His eyes twinkle a little in disbelief. Yeah right you didn’t do that. You were 18, of course you did. But without anything, or anyone, to think about it got boring quickly. Sometimes a good book came your way and you’d have some material, for a little while. A chapter, or a page, or more usually just a few paragraphs that would keep you somehow sated. Somewhat. 

Still, you weren’t about to have that conversation with him. And Negan was more than grateful, his mind reeling at the idea that no one had ever had ‘the talk’ with you. And now, in this end of times, you didn’t even have television to teach you. No, Negan could absolutely not discuss the birds and the bees with you. He was not built for that. 

The rest of lunch is uneventful. He talks, you listen. He feels better about himself, and you feel nothing.

✨🦇

Lunches with Negan get better. Less awkward, more like an actual friendship… or something. You find yourself laughing at his shitty jokes, at least they’re jokes. At least it’s something. You stop needing to convince yourself that you only enjoy it because it’s better than nothing, you actually seem to like his company. You look forward to lunch, getting out of your room, laughing with him. Negan enjoys it too, but it’s still off. You’re still.. how he would describe ‘fucked up’ or ‘not normal’. You flirt with him. Relentlessly. He tries to ignore it, tells himself that maybe it’s just your personality, but he knows. You don’t. You’re completely oblivious. After all, you really have nothing to go off of. Nothing to base anything around. 

He gets you romance novels, asks the Saviors to grab them when they’re out on runs. He thinks this is the closest you can get to having television, to having someone or something teach you about that kind of stuff. Maybe that they would teach you the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. 

Really, though, he’s just making you horny. Even more than you had been, and he’s still the only person you talk to. He figures he could and probably should use his position to get you some kind of boyfriend, but it feels all wrong. Like some sort of arranged marriage, and it disgusts him. 

You touch yourself more often than you ever have. The romance novels finally feed this need. You think about the characters in the books, the lewd imagery described. It’s all so new and exciting. You never think about Negan, or something gross like that. 

It’s been a few months since the last one he brought you, but today at lunch he pushes over a whole stack. You jump up from your seat, too excited to contain yourself, and you jump on him in a hug. Burying your face into the crook of his neck. You can feel your heartbeat all the way down to your fingers as you pull back and, with a blush, sit back down in your seat, “Thank you.” 

Negan’s body is stiff while you hug him, and while you sit back down, an uncomfortable smirk on his lips. “You are very welcome.” Even through his discomfort he can’t help the pride bubbling over within him. Every other aspect of himself is weak to his desire for worship. 

When you leave that day, with your stack of books, you hug him again and kiss his cheek before running off to your room. 

Shit, Negan thinks to himself. Shit fuck shit. You’re only getting worse, more obvious. Now you’re hugging him and kissing him on the cheek? Maybe you’re just grateful for the books. But he knows.. this is wrong. He’s making it worse, maybe you’re past the point of being able to fix. For now, he ignores it. Maybe… hopefully… it’s just the books. 

If he had asked you, you would have reassured him. Obviously it’s just the books. You don’t wonder if it’s weird that you touch yourself after lunch, before even opening one of the new books. You don’t think about Negan, just the feeling of stubbled skin under your lips. The warmth of a person in your arms, your chest pressed up against someone. It was the first human contact you’d had since you got to the Sanctuary, and it set you on fire. 

✨🦇

Negan knows he fucked up. You hug him now after every lunch. Only giving him a kiss on the cheek when he brings you a new book or some other small gift. He doesn’t acknowledge within himself that since you started doing that, he’s started getting you more gifts. 

Eventually, though, he can’t keep ignoring it. One particularly bad week, where it seems everyone hates him, none of his wives will have sex with him. Not even a fucking handjob. He’s forced into the degrading task of jerking himself off, something he hasn’t done in years. And, while the shame doesn’t come until after he’s finished, he thinks about you. 

You, with all your nervous glances of prying eyes. The way your developed chest feels against his when you hug him. He fantasizes your lips asking him questions like, “Is this what I’m supposed to do?” 

“Do boys really like that?” 

“You want me to use my mouth?” 

His forehead pressed firmly against the closed door of his bathroom, he opens his eyes to look down at himself. His swollen member in his hand, throbbing over the thought of you. 

“I don’t think that’s going to fit inside me.” He groans keeps going, imagining his cock is the first thing ever pushed inside your tight hole. 

Streaks of his cum paint the door, and he peels his forehead back before slamming it against the wood again. Fuck, this shit is not fucking okay. 

✨🦇

Negan doesn’t know that he absolutely would not be the first thing inside your precious virgin pussy. No, you’d started to get creative. Finding your fingers almost useless when it came to hitting that spot you’d discovered deep inside. They were never hard enough, fast enough, thick enough. The handle of your hairbrush was your favorite. It was the easiest to keep clean, the easiest to maneuver. But it still wasn’t exactly what you wanted. Nothing ever seemed to be quite enough. Every orgasm left you wanting. 

Wanting what? Because you never found yourself wanting a boyfriend anymore when it used to be all you thought about. You think of feeling Negan’s facial hair against your cheek, and your body is rocked by its second orgasm for the night. Tossing the hairbrush to the end of the bed, you roll over and fall asleep. 

✨🦇

You startle awake to the sound of a knock on your door. It’s loud, demanding, Negan. 

Getting off the bed you turn on the light with a sleepy grumble. You pull some pants on, and he knocks again. “I’m awake!” You yell, “hold on!” But this only spurs him to knock more aggressively. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is going on?” You mutter as you finally unlock and open the door. Obviously it was Negan, but what you weren’t expecting was how absolutely disheveled he looked. “Woah, what happened to you?” 

“Remind me to teach you manners.” He says as he pushes past you and into your room. 

“Come right in.” You say sarcastically, turning around and shutting the door behind you. He’s sat on your bed, looking around at all the things in your room, his eyes settling on your rows of romance novels. He gets up from the bed and walks over to the bookshelf, pressing a finger into one of the book spines before pulling it out and skimming through it. 

“Are you… drunk?” You ask him, the smell of alcohol emanating from him only becoming more obvious the longer he stands there, slightly swaying on his feet. 

“Why?” He asks defensively, his eyes not moving from the page of the book he’s trying to read. 

“Because you smell like booze?” 

He ignores your question and your reason for asking, slamming the book shut as he gets to a particularly dirty part and he can’t bear to read anymore. “We need to talk.” And he looks at you. 

You’re nervous, standing there anxiously you start to play with your hair and look away, “Oh, okay… wha- what about?” 

“This!” He exclaims with an extended arm, motioning at you, “You. What are you doing?”

You look at him confused, brow knit together trying to purse some sort of answer, “I’m not… I was sleeping.” You shake your head, not understanding at all what he was getting at. 

“You’re twirling your goddamn hair.” Oh. He was right, you had been. But what does that mean to him? You look at him even more confused. 

Closing your eyes, one hand comes up to massage the bridge of your nose, “Okay, I’ll never twirl my hair again?” You shrug your shoulders as if to ask him if that would be all. Too sleep-kissed to comprehend what the hell he was going on about. 

“No, Jesus-fucking-Christ, girl, the flirting. You gotta stop. I’ve let it go on too long, and it’s not.. shit, it’s not appropriate, all right?” 

You rub your eyes harder as you hear his words, what a fucking idiot, you think. You can’t help the smile that starts to form on your face as you answer him, “Negan, I’m not… I don’t….” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. 

He puts the book down and shakes his head, even now you were clearly into him. All nervous, smiling. Giddy. 

“You are. And you need to stop. I can’t… I can’t keep having meals with you if you’re going to be hugging me, kissing me on the cheek. It’s wrong.” 

You actually manage a laugh at his ridiculous behavior. Coming in like this, filled with liquor and angst and thinking he’s figured something out about you. “I’m not into you, Negan. Hugging and kisses on the cheek aren’t always romantic.” You say it like you’re letting him in on something he’d never considered. 

He nods, “Yeah, that’s true.” Negan turns to face the wall away from you, shaking his head as he looks up to the ceiling. “It’s not just that. It’s the way you look at me, the way you laugh. Shit, girl, it’s the way you’re lookin’ at me now.” 

“Don’t you think I’d know?” You cut in, without responding to his most recent accusation. 

“I don’t know, kid, would you? You probably have a bunch of hormones running wild in your body and you have no idea what to do with them. I’m not blaming you. I mean…” he stops himself before he starts talking about how attractive he is, and how no one could blame you for feeling this way. 

“I know what to do with my hormones, Negan.” You say blankly, is he really trying to have this conversation? You’re not. Jesus Christ, he can’t really think that you don’t know how to relieve that ‘tension’ on your own. What did he think you were doing with the romance novels? 

He smiles at your little admission, nodding and rubbing his jaw, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Let me ask you something..” he takes a step toward you and you feel your heartbeat skyrocket. His eyes staring you down with such intensity you have to look away, “how do you feel, huh, when I get close to you?” He steps closer, now only a foot away. Your eyes cast down to the ground, a knot forming in your throat, “you can’t even look at me,” he whispers. 

As if to prove him wrong you look up at him. Your breath hitches and he can hear it. You can hear it. Your heart hammering against your ribcage, you swallow. Shit. 

Big doe eyes look up at him, and he feels all the blood rush between his legs. Hard as a rock for you in seconds, that deft innocence, those pretty lips moving without a sound. Trying to form some kind of response. You… looking up at him and having feelings you’ve never felt before. This is why it has to stop. Negan’s never been good at controlling these urges, and the more you look up at him like that the less he wants to. 

You try to speak, to tell him he’s wrong, but your voice quivers, “I… I don’t. I’m not…” Your smile that you can’t manage to stop only confuses you more. 

“You are.” He slams his fist on the wall next to you, causing you to jump a little. He looks back down at you, your eyes enveloped in fear and nervousness, cheeky smile gone. Negan takes two fingers and holds them to your throat, “Do you feel your heart beating out of your chest? I bet if I..” he takes your throat in his hand and you whimper out the slightest moan. 

His lips turn up in a smile as he brings his face even closer to yours. “See? I’ve barely got my hands on you and you’re already moaning.” 

It hits you fast, the shame and desire all at once. Mostly the desire, with his hand at your throat and his voice saying words you’ve only ever read. Shit. 

You don’t know how to respond, you can’t think straight. You just nod, he was right, it seems. Right? Because this certainly was having an affect on you. You wanted him to keep going, your body begged for it, but you couldn’t move. Too caught up in a fearful nervousness. This was wrong? It didn’t feel wrong. 

“Doesn’t feel wrong,” is all you manage to breathe out, unable to break your gaze from his lips. In response Negan leans back as his grip grows tighter at your neck, and you panic, bringing both of your hands up to his wrist to try and pull him away. He doesn’t let go but his grip loosens. 

Negan isn’t thinking clearly either, he hadn’t anticipated all of this. Having to convince you, prove to you, that you were having inappropriate feelings only made his own envelope him. And he was drunk. You, completely at his mercy and seemingly happy to be. Fuck shit fuck me. 

He finally lets go and pushes past you and out of your room. Leaving you completely blindsided. For once, though, you’re not confused. Not unsure. No, there was no question what you were going to do next. You were going to make it absolutely impossible for him to say no. 

Burning up your core and through your chest, into your brain. That spot, that insatiable feeling, that desperate heat that throbbed through you. Now you knew for sure, he could satiate it. 

pt 2