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riaki · 6 months

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nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

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portaldraws · 6 months

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Reference sheet of my OC, Shoulder Canon!

Plus some funfacts under the cut!

He's 19 years old

He works for a security company that often assigns him to watch over various locations; they often assign him the bank. He's been working for the company for a little over a year now.

He takes his job a little too seriously, which can often lead to him being strike and acting like a kill joy.

He's usually pretty grumpy and easily irritable, even around friends. (He could be having the best day of his life and still look like he ate a sour lemon)

He heavily dislikes whenever Phights are arranged in the bank as he has to clean up after them.

He's only about 5'3, but he's sturdy and somewhat built.

He has fairly broad shoulders due to the nature of his weapon.

Shoulder Canon was adopted by Banhammer as a baby; Ban is more considered as his Legal Guardian than an adoptive father

HUGE sweet tooth

#phighting #roblox phighting #oc #original character #phighting oc #shoulder cannon

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kcrossvine-art · 6 months

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Hiiii friendssss! What the FUCK is up. What the fuck is up. What the Fuck is up. On todays cute little cookin excursion we are going to be deep frying things and using a wok. If you dont feel comfortable deep frying, and dont have a wok, im sure theres other ways to do it silly :DDD

I believe in you.

From LotR online we're gonna be making Fried Beetroot Sticks!!

(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 Fried Beetroot Sticks?” YOU MIGHT ASKSlices of sweet little beated root dipped into a batter with, watch out, special flavors too.

2 Beetroots

Corn flour

Salt

Red Chilli Powder

Garlic Paste

Baking Soda

Water

Peanut oil

And we'll also be making some horseradish sour cream dip to go along with it;

Sour cream

Prepared horseradish

1 Green onion

Few splashes of lemon juice

Salt to taste

Ground pepper to taste

"Cooked, tender beetroot sticks are dredged in a light batter and fried to give a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet interior. Served with a bracing horseradish sour cream, this snack is both filling and delicious."- LotRO Tooltip

AND, “what does Fried Beetroot Sticks taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is like homemade fair-food and it sounds like a contradiction but its not

But maybe its just because its fried food? American brained, sorry.

Retains the inherit sweetness to beetroot

And similar to pickled beetroot the sweetness contrasts the spicey of the batter

(which i encourage you to amp up if youd like more spice)

The horseradish sourcream dip is to die for

Measure with your heart for that one, and save some green onion to top it with when you serve

This would pair very well with a lime italian soda or with shaved ice cones

Im always very anxious about deep-frying things, or working with oils at high temperatures, but i didnt run into any complications with this dish. Just make sure to keep best practices and safety precaution in mind, especially with a wok as it can tilt!

. If you dont have corn flour, you can substitute all-purpose flour . If you dont have peanut oil, look up oils with the same smokepoint to decide what else to use

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The recipe stuck out to me, as i was assembling a list of foodstuffs from tolkiens work, for being such a "regular" named food. Also its worth 19 silver 69 copper in the LotR MMO and im immature.

I think the dip has the most room for improvement and tinkering. I've never made horseradish sourcream before, so more practiced tastebuds could perfect a simple thing like this. In the future id also like to try adding red pepper flakes along with the the powder and garlic paste, to give more visual variety and spice. I think cumin in the batter would be a nice midtone flavor too.

I give this recipe a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its relative simplicity and modularity with things you could add.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Beetroot Sticks Ingredients:

2 Beetroots

130 grams corn flour

1 tbsp salt

1 tsp Red Chilli Powder

1 tsp Garlic Paste

1/4 tsp Baking Soda

178 grams Water

432 grams peanut oil

Horseradish Sour Cream Ingredients:

225 grams Sour cream

200 grams Prepared horseradish

1 whole green onion (green and white parts VERY finely chopped)

1 tspn lemon juice

Salt to taste

ground pepper to taste

Beetroot Method:

Peel all beetroots and cut them length-wise into rectangles.

Combine flour, salt, chilli powder, garlic paste, baking soda, and water in a bowl.

Mix well into a smooth batter.

Heat peanut oil to medium in a wok and dip beet roots into batter. Deep fry until golden brown in color.

Stack beetroots on paper-towel lined plates to cool and dry as you go.

Serve with horseradish sour cream!

Dip Method:

Mix all ingredients

Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour for the flavors to blend.

#cross cooks lotr #lord of the rings #middle earth #food recipes #digital art

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mintmatcha · 7 months

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MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn.

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed, “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted.

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.”

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you. “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth.

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him.

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

“Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle. “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,” he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues, tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast."

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent. Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him.

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?"

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride.

Another tug on his horns pauses him.

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him.

"Are you alright?" Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked?

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-"

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you.

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts.

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself.

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too.

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces.

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed.

"Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits.

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back, "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--”

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth, “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable. Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine.

“‘m gonna pass out,” you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused. You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh.

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention.

You settle for the next best thing.

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it. It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.”

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone.

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement.

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.”

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!” Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?” Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal. His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

609 notes · View notes

totheblood · 8 months

Text

I WISH I NEVER MET YOU. (2)

pairing: ex!ellie williams x reader

warnings: cursing, drinking, bitchy ellie, bitchy reader

a/n: . ellie sings in this one... ai audios in the fic <3 reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.3k

"texted and saw you read it, lately i'm so pathetic."

This was turning out to be the worst trip you have ever been on.

It was one thing to be stuck in a house with your ex-girlfriend who hates your guts, but it was another thing to be stuck with her and her new girlfriend. Her new perfectly pretty and normal girlfriend who was probably going to give her everything she ever wanted. Who probably made her happy. You don’t know why that thought upset you so much.

You ignored the pit in your stomach as you hauled the bags out of the back of Cora’s car and into the house. The comfort this place used to give you now had a sour tinge to it. This would now be forever known as the place where you watched your ex-girlfriend move on. The worst part was that you deserved this. Whatever sick and twisted game Ellie was playing, you deserved, and you knew that.

As you approached the French doors, Jesse burst through them, arms coming up to squeeze you tightly. You laughed as he took the air out of you, lifting you up from your spot, your bags dropping in your hand.

“If it isn’t Miss Lemon Drop,” Jesse beamed, putting you down and examining your face, touching it with his bare hand “You look older.”

“Oh, shut up,” you swatted his hand away from your face, a smile plastered across it, “aren’t you pushing thirty?”

“I’m 25,” he shook his head laughing, picking up your bags and helping you bring them inside, “and I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Jess,” you pulled him into a hug, needing the comfort that only he could provide.

“What’s wrong?” Pulling away, his eyes searched your face frantically. He always knew when something was up with you. You were not convinced he couldn’t read your mind.

“Nothi-” your voice was cut off by the sound of laughter coming through the door. June, with her long blonde hair, was giggling as she held onto Ellie’s arm, Ellie holding two pink bags on her other arm. They were clearly not her luggage.

“Oh,” was all Jesse said as he gave you a pitiful look and pushed past you to greet Ellie and her new ‘friend’.

They all began laughing and hugging, the introductions overflowing as they stood in the foyer. Deciding you didn’t want anything to do with it, you picked your bags up and made your way up the stairs to the room you usually stayed in. Plopping your shit down, you laid down on the bed, closing your eyes for just a moment. You needed to catch your breath for a moment away from everyone. The peace was just starting to set in as the door swung open and in walked Ellie.

You leaned up on your elbows, giving her a confused look as you watched June’s figure appear behind her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, tone still laced with coldness, however, there was a much lighter air to it now. She was trying to save face in front of her new girlfriend.

“Resting on my bed,” you replied matter-of-factly, looking towards the bags in her hand.

“This is our room,” Ellie stated, pursing her lips before giving a quick glance to June who opened her eyes slightly, giving Ellie a knowing look.

“This has always been my room,” you looked at her, sitting up straighter now.

“Yeah, but it’s the only other one with a double bed,” Ellie put the bags down on the large dresser, shaking her head and shrugging, “and you don’t really have anyone to share the bed with.”

June snorted from her place in the doorway, causing you to look at her with a scowl on her face. Ellie was smirking to herself as she pushed her hands into her pockets.

“You could share the guest room with Faye,” she offered, the stupid smirk still on her face, “I mean that was usually my bed but you are free to have it.”

“You’re too kind, Ellie,” you gave her a sickly sweet smile. If this was the game she was playing, you would be playing just as hard. Smiling, you picked up your bags and turned to June who was still standing in the doorway, “I guess we both get sloppy seconds this trip.”

With that, you pushed past her and down the hallway. That would have been satisfying if you hadn’t felt snubbed by Ellie. When you opened the guest bedroom Faye was already sitting on her bed, phone in hand as she texted. You didn’t know Faye that well, but you still got along. She smiled when she saw you, putting her phone away as she got up to hug you.

“Oh my god,” She laughed as she squeezed you, “You’re staying with me?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hugging her back before dropping your things on the ground, “Ellie and her new girlfriend stole my room.”

She looked at you with wide eyes, “Ellie has a girlfriend?” She gasped as she moved back to sit on her bed. You picked your stuff up again, moving around to place them on your bed.

“Yup,” you said, popping your lips on the ‘p’, “she’s very pretty, glossy lips type. You know now that I mention it, she’s more like your type.”

Faye squinted at you before rolling her eyes as her cheeks tinged a deeper color. Faye was probably the most outwardly open out of the group. She grew up in a fairly liberal family that allowed her to express herself from a very early age. Due to that, she never shied away from her sexuality. She liked women, and she let them know, but she never was the committed type. A fuckboy of sorts.

But beyond that, Faye was just nice. She knew how to listen and give advice without sounding condescending, always sitting close to you with a warm hand on your back. And she was pretty, insanely pretty with chocolate brown eyes and perfectly tanned skin. Faye was dreamy wrapped up in a 5’5 body.

“What do you know about my type?” She joked, eyes watching you as you began to unpack your things.

“I’ve been out with you,” you laughed, pulling clothes from your bag and moving to put them in the closet, “I’ve seen who you’ve gone home with.”

She giggled, getting up again to help you hang stuff up. She was so nice that it pissed you off sometimes. It mostly pissed you off when you thought that she and Ellie had a thing before she revealed to you that she was more into femmes. The jealousy subsided, but the wish that you were more like her remained.

“Maybe I’ll steal her from Ellie,” she smirked as she collected the rest of your things, holding them to you as you put them in the closet.

“You?” you scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips, “yeah right.”

“Hey,” she pouted, nudging you with her shoulder, “I’m not that ugly.”

“No!” you yelled, stopping for a moment and looking at her, “Not like- I didn’t mean it like that. You’re pretty, really fucking pretty. It’s just that you’re too nice to steal anyone’s girlfriend.”

Her cheeks tinged pink again, “You think I’m nice?”

“Shut up.”

When the clothes were put away and sorted, you and Faye went downstairs for lunch. The dining room was large and scattered with fruit, small premade and cut-up sandwiches, and little eateries. You never got used to how rich Cora actually was. But when you got there, June and Ellie were already at the table. Ellie was feeding June a grape, June’s legs splattered over Ellie’s lap. Her free hand held firmly onto her thigh. You wanted to throw up. However, when you looked at Faye, she also looked like she wanted to throw up.

Quickly, she pulled you out of the room and back down the hallway, her breath heavy.

“Faye, what the fuck?” you whisper yelled, looking into her eyes as they kept glancing to the opening down the hallway to the dining room.

“That’s my ex-girlfriend,” She whispered back.

“Your what?”

“My ex-girlfriend,” she repeated.

“I thought you didn’t date,” your face had confusion etched into it.

“I don’t,” she whispered shaking her breath, “not since her.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a little relieved that this trip wouldn’t just suck for you.

“You need to pretend to be my girlfriend,” Faye demanded, her face serious. You burst out laughing, but when she didn’t even crack a smile, your laughter faded.

“I can’t-”

“It will make Ellie jealous,” She replied quickly, eyes frantic and wide, almost like she was begging, “Please, I cant make her think she has one up on me.”

“She doesn’t have one up on you,” you tried to remind her.

“Except she does,” she sighed, “she’s able to move on, and I’m not. Even after 3 years.”

You took a deep breath. The idea of making Ellie jealous made your heart flip in the best way possible. Even though you ended things, you still wanted her to want you. You were pretty sure you still wanted her. It also wouldn’t hurt to help Faye out. Maybe living in the delusion that you were in a happy relationship was the only thing you needed to get past this trip without multiple meltdowns.

“Fine,” you spat out, “but it needs to look realistic. You need to be all touchy with me.”

“Easy,” she coughed for a moment, “done.”

Faye stuck her hand in your back pocket as you made your way down the hallway and back out into the dining room. You pretended to fake laugh at something she said, putting your hand on her waist as you entered the room. The laugh caused both Ellie and June to look up at the two of you. To really play it off you quickly separated yourself from Faye as if you had been caught. You looked towards Ellie who had a blank look on her face, her lips turned downwards as she looked between you and Faye.

“Faye?” June asked voice sing songy as she stood up and ran to give her a hug. Faye didn’t hug back, just lightly stepped back as she placed her arm around your shoulders.

“June,” she looked at you with a shocked face as if this was her first time noticing her. Get this girl a fucking Oscar, you thought, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m with,” she turned around, gesturing to Ellie who gave a small smile and waved to Faye before her eyes drifted back to her phone, ignoring the arm placed around your shoulder, “I’m here with my girlfriend, Ellie.”

“How do you two know each other, babe?” you asked, looking at Faye and then back to June. June paused, looking between the both of you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“We, um,” Faye started, pretending to not know what to say.

“We used to date,” June blurted out quickly, a cocky smile on her face.

“It’s so cool how we have the same taste in women,” you smirked at June, pushing past her with your hand lodged in Faye’s to grab a pre-cut sandwich from the table, taking a bite of it and sitting down across from Ellie. You made a conscious choice to not say anything to her, but she looked mad. She was on her phone at this point, pretending (and failing) to act like she didn’t hear the conversation. But you could tell from the way her eyebrows twisted, and her nervous habit of biting her nails that she heard the entire thing and did not like it.

Ellie knew she was a mess as she kept her head low. Get up and leave, her mind rang over and over. She was frozen in place, staring at her phone and trying not to drown in the scent of you. She moved on, she was better, so why did she feel like this? Why did it still gnaw at her stomach to see someone else touch you? Why did she care when you made it clear you didn’t care about her?

Ellie’s mind was flooded with images of you daily. Her fingernails digging into the sides of your hips, the weight of you next to her in bed, the way she had a permanent smile around you. All of it felt like an open wound, deep and fleshy, and no matter how much she stitched it up, it would open again. Her brain was all noise as she did her best to not look up at you, to not look at you intertwined with Faye.

She couldn’t help but compare herself to her at this moment. Was she not as nice as Faye? Or as pretty? What about Faye made you pick her over Ellie? Was she softer with you? What about her did Ellie not have? Ellie didn’t even realize she was holding her breath till June placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going upstairs, El,” she whispered lowly, “might take a nap.”

“Cool,” Ellie smiled, leaning up to give her a quick peck on the lips, “I’m going outside.”

Finally, Ellie stood from her place, not taking a second glance at you before heading outside to where the hydrangeas littered the garden and the expansive still pool hummed lightly. Placed out there was her guitar, covered where she had left it a few weeks prior. Taking it out she started strumming, singing a song she only started when you had broken up with her.

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting. I’ve had the shinest wheels now they’re rusting.”

She began singing, the song getting caught up in the hair. With the strum of the guitar and her mind somewhere distant, she didn’t notice you tiptoeing out into the garden. She didn’t notice you intently listening to her lyrics, in a song that she wrote for you.

“I didn’t know if you cared if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that.”

This lyric came a month after the breakup, her fingers scrolling through the wall of texts you left her. She hadn’t replied to a single one, assuming that you didn’t really care what happened to her anymore. She thought that maybe if she didn’t have all this pain brewing in her chest, she wouldn’t feel this way anymore about you, but that was a lie. The more she left unsaid, and the more she assumed you never wanted her around, the more she hated you.

“Pulled the car off the road to the lookout. Could’ve followed my fears all the way down.”

She drove out to your spot one day, eyes still red and puffy from weeks of crying. She was doing this to torture herself, in some sort of sadistic way she was punishing herself for you leaving her. This was the place she started realizing that she may never be enough for anyone, and that deep-rooted fear of ending up alone was still alive and well.

Snap.

You stepped on a branch and she stopped playing, turning around to face you but sighing deeply when she saw you.

“Can we please not do this?” She sighed, watching as you made your way around the fire pit and sat next to her, “I really don’t have the energy.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” you commented. You never knew what you were doing when it came to her. Your feet moved long before your brain ever did.

“Thanks,” She shuffled in her seat, staring down at her worn-out Converse.

“I just want to say that,” you took a deep breath, looking away from her and out into the backyard where the light was hitting the grass, “I am happy for you. You seem really happy with June.”

“Are you really?” She chuckled lightly, “Cause you were kind of an asshole back there.”

“I know,” You sighed, looking at her now, “I guess I don’t know how to handle seeing you with someone else. Just wasn’t prepared.”

She scoffed at that shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Ever,” you tried to reason with her.

“Well, you did,” her voice was small again.

“And I’m sorry,” you pleaded with her, “I have been apologizing forever for this.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she sighed, “I want you to want me.”

“I have wanted you, Ellie. For so long. But things aren’t that simp-”

“Oh, cut it with the ‘things aren’t simple’ shit! I loved you and you didn't love me. That’s simple. It doesn’t get any simpler than that but save me the fucking theatrics. You owe me more than that,” it was going down that road again and you were nervous the trip would be over before it started.

“I did love you,” you replied watching her eyes shift for a moment, the light reflecting in them beautifully, before she was scoffing again and shaking her head, “I did love you!”

“Bullshit!” she spoke over you, standing from her place now, her hand tightly wrapped around the guitar.

“Ellie, just because you are insecure you don’t get to act like I didn’t feel what I felt,” you stood, voice faltering as you spoke, the words getting caught up in your throat, “you don’t want to believe I loved you so you can feel sorry for yourself but you never once heard me out or cared about what I had to say. You just needed to feel like the victim so you could hate me.”

“I don’t hate you!” She yelled back, standing straighter now watching as anger was written all over your face, in your scrunched-up nose and doe eyes- What the fuck was happening to her?

“You sure treat me like you do,” you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as she placed her guitar on the chair and took a steadying breath.

“I hate the situation,” she breathed out, “I hate that I loved you so much and it still didn’t work out in the end. I hate that no matter what I do and wherever I go I will always have to compare whoever I’m with to you. And god forbid I meet anyone that holds a candle to you, I would just… I would lose my fucking mind thinking about all the ways they could leave me and I would have to be reminded of you again. You, who probably years into the future, I will still love. I hate that you did this to me. I hate that no matter what I do, no matter what you do to me, I will always love you.”

You were winded by her confession, by her wild eyes, and how defeated she looked as she stood in front of you. All of it overwhelmed your senses. You reached out for her hand, head bowed as you took a step towards her. Her breath hitched in her throat as you stepped closer.

“I love you, Ellie,” you whispered, looking up at her. You were so close to her now you could hear her ragged breathing. She leaned in closer about to make a move or say something, honestly, you were unsure what was about to happen next because you were cut off by the sound of the back door slamming open and Jesse and Orion lugging a cooler outside.

As if she was snapped back into reality, Ellie took a quick step away from you, her eyes completely glossed over as she made her way back inside without another word.

What the fuck just happened?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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urperfectcinnamonroll07 · 3 months

Text

Falling In Love With You

requested?: no pairing(s): hwang hyunjin x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst (kinda, not much) warning(s): mentions of insicurities (not specified), angst if you squint, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ladies nd gents), mentions of crying, hyune being whipped for reader, praise, breast play, hyune being a boob guy, soft sex, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything:) summary: the reader is feeling insecure, so hyune tells the reader in his own little way that they're perfect word count: 1.5k a/n: was thinking of writing one of these, so here you all go. reader's body type is never specified, so, go wild. remember to eat and drink some water, love yas mwah

lately, you were feeling quite insecure. you had an idol boyfriend, and you just thought he could do better. you saw all of these pretty girls fawning and flirting with him, but he chose you? he could do so much better.

hyunjin had just come back from his choreo practice with the rest of stray kids, you didn’t hear the door open as you were too busy scrolling through your phone in bed, reading all of the comments on hyunjin’s latest insta post. it was a pic of the both if you, chan had taken it. he had his arms around you with his chin resting on your shoulder. you had your head facing him over your shoulder, smiling widely.

the comments started out sweet, at first. you had all of your friends and long-term fans supporting you and him, saying you were cute together. but then all of the comments just turned sour, like you had just bitten into a lemon.

you scrolled through them, letting tears flow down the sides of your face, you couldn’t help them. it was only when hyune opened the door to your bedroom and saw you curled up on your side, that you realized he was home. you tried to wipe away the tears as fast as you could, but hyune was faster.

he took your hands in his and kneeled at the side of the bed, looking for the source of why you were crying.

“honey, what’s wrong? have you started your- oh wait, you don’t start for another week. honey, what’s wrong? I won’t judge, I swear” he spoke frantically and fast, his words tumbling out of his mouth. you shook your head in response, signaling nothing was wrong, he knew you were lying, he always did.

“don’t bullshit me love, I know when you’re lying” he spoke, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

you glanced at the phone in your hand, it was still open on twitter, the comments on the screen. hyune followed your gaze and frowned. you were quick to try and hide it, but he was quicker in snatching your phone and reading the comments. he scrolled for a little bit before looking at you with a serious look.

“jagiya” he spoke softly, lifting your chin to look at him, “i told you not to look at those comments” his tone was soft, much unlike his face. his brown eyes were piercing straight through you.

“i know, i’m sorry” you whispered. he clicked his tongue and brought you in for a hug, wrapping your arms around him.

you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being with him, until you felt feather light kisses on your neck.

“y’know, you really shouldn’t listen to all them, they don’t know what they are saying, you’re absolutely gorgeous jagi”

you whimper lightly as you feel him begin to nip at your neck and leave small bites. he smirked against your neck, knowing it was getting you worked up. he knew everything about you, how to get you to sleep to how to get you so turned on with the slightest touch. he knew damn well it was working, and you were already horny, he just liked taking the piss and teasing you, making you melt like putty in his hands.

“hyune” you whimpered out, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. he quickly got up and on top of you, pinning you down onto the bed and pinning your hands next to the sides of your head, making sure he kisses every inch of your neck before moving down.

he makes quick work of getting his shirt off, and then yours (his). he fiddles with the clasp of your bra before you try to intervene, but he just pins your arms back to where they were at the side of your head.

“i can do it” he says with a small pout on his lips, you giggle softly and he melts at the sound, smiling softly.

he’s quick to get back into it though, managing to unclasp your bra and throwing it god knows where in the room. he slowly kissed down your collarbone, leaving small nips and love bites on his way down to your tits. he took one of your hardened peaks in your mouth, sucking on it. you arched your back up into him, trying to give him more access. you moaned loudly as you felt his other hand roll your nipple through his index finger and thumb, giving your other breast attention while he licked and sucked on your other.

he looked up at your face, taking in all of your facial expressions and memorizing them for later on while he was on tour to jerk off to. he would have to think about that later, there was a much bigger task at hand which he needed to solve: getting your panties off and fucking you slowly, just how you liked it.

“so fucking gorgeous, jagi, every inch of you. your hips” he squeezed your hips, “your stomach” he left a kiss on your stomach “and these gorgeous fucking tits that only i can see and suck on like this” he said, taking your other breast in his mouth and groaning at the feeling of your hardened nipple against his tongue.

“but the prettiest part of you is your pussy. is it wet for me? wet enough for me to fuck you so slowly just how you like it, and tell you how gorgeous you are? hm?” you nodded softly, biting your lip lightly as you look down at him, his mouth still attached to your right breast.

he smiled at your response.

“can I see jagi? your pretty pussy wet for me?” you nod again, “jagi” he says in a warning tone “what did we say about using our words baby?”

“m’ sorry hyune, you can see” you whisper

“good girl, love your pretty pussy so fuckin’ much” he husks, hooking a finger in your panties and dragging them down your legs, you help him by moving your hips upwards so he could get them off.

he groans when he sees your pussy, glistening with your juices. he drags his grey sweats down his hips and throws them to the floor.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes half lidded, a seductive look glistening in his eyes.

“please hyune” you whimper, trying to widen your legs even more, if it were possible.

he nods before sinking himself inside of you, slowly stretching you out around his thick cock, but that wasn’t the aim of what he was doing. he wanted to fuck you slowly and sensually, making sure you thought you looked so gorgeous all of the way through and remembered how absolutely stunning you were in his eyes.

you pulled him closer via the back of his neck, tugging lightly at the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. slowly moved in and out of you, making sure you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein every inch, everything. he wanted to make you feel special tonight, not the usual where you’re all fucked out and tired, no, he wanted you to feel so good while he told you that you were enough for him.

he moved in and out of you, whispering soft praises into your ear, telling him how well your pussy took him in, how well you fit around his fat cock.

“fuck, so pretty jagi, so fucking pretty. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, you look so fucking gorgeous the way you are, you don’t need to change for anyone” he groans into your ear, you moan out in response

“say you’re gorgeous baby, wanna hear you say it” he close to whimpers

“fuck hyune- i’m gorgeous” you say, mostly to him than yourself

“louder” he says, quickening the pace, but not by much

“i’m gorgeous” you moan out

“louder” he growls loudly in your ear, hitting that gummy spot inside of you over and over

“fuck gonna cum- i’m gorgeous!” you scream out as you’re thrown over the edge into pure ecstasy, your orgasm shaking you violently. hyune came not long after, feeling your gummy walls clench around him was enough to make him come.

he pulls out and lays next to you.

“seriously, jagi, you are absolutely the most gorgeous human being in this universe, don’t let all those people online tell you otherwise, they hide behind vile comments for a reason, they’re all too scared to say it to your face” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “lets get you in the bath, hm? and then we can binge that show you love so much and take a nap, sound good?” you nod and smile in response, he smiles back “good, lets go then” he says, helping you up to the bathroom to run you a nice hot bath.

you knew people online hated you and hyune’s relationship, and they thought he could do better. but at least you had reassurance from hyune to tell you that you’re gorgeous and no one can change that for him. he will always love you, and you love him too.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #stray kids #kpop

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strawbxrryanime · 3 months

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red sweat dripping from his back - cale henituse x male!reader

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a bag of lemons?..." Cale scoffed, he hated sour things, so what bag of lemons could be useful than anything? "Do the neighbors think I'm trash? Cause they're absolutely right..." Cale muttered. You watched from a distance in the comfort of your own space. You were living your own lavish life with him, during his trips to find relics he'd always take you with him.

He fell in love as soon as he met you, and you can't possibly deny that. As soon as he saw you it clicked instantly for the both of you. You were his beautiful angel, someone whom he can redeem himself to. You always counted and depended on Cale no matter what and you would do anything for him.

Cale was sweating, rooms get hotter during the day. "Hey..." Cale approaches to you, smiling. "My sweet guy, how are you feeling?" Cale questioned you, as your eyes were graced by his abs after just having his shirt taken off due to the heat. Cale caressed your cheek slowly as he generously smiles, you reassured yourself that you were doing just fine to him.

Cale kisses your lips softly, as he crawls up to you in the bed. "My baby has to be doing alright~" Cale mutters as his eyes focus upon your pretty face. Cale loves you no matter who you are, he loves all your impurities, he loves the way you stand out by anybody. Cale's heart skips a beat whenever he sees you. Cale slicks back his bright red hair as his reddish-brown eyes adjust to glare at you even more.

"It's so hot in here.." Cale smirked. "Even when I have the slightest motivation to get up and turn on the air conditioner, the heat always manages to get to me..." Cale was always known as the lazy type, but often most times when it comes to you, he'd do anything for you. "You know what I really love about you?" Cale said to you. "I love everything, the way you speak, the way you laugh... sure, you may be insecure about it, but I think it's beautiful.. I replay it everyday just for me to relax.." Cale smiles, oh my goodness he's really reeling into your heart.

You began to kiss Cale again, in the heat of the moment as you thanked him. "I guess you feel the same way too hm?" Cale mutters, as you nod your head. "My beautiful baby~ You're the cutest..." Cale commented as you make more of a move, kissing him and being in the moment, as Cale kisses back more aggressively as grunts echo in the room. "Do you really want it Y/N?~" Cale asked... you nod your head vigorously. "So needy aren't we?~" Cale smirked.

And so you two hit it off, oh how you loved Cale so much. You loved every aspect of him, as the both of you stripped of clothing, bare as Cale smirks. "You're the only one I could ever want Y/N~" Cale mutters as he kisses you and lays you down at the bed. “My guy~ My one and only~” Cale would whisper as he slowly inserts his cock inside of your asshole, making you whimper and groan.

“Shhhh…” Cale smirks as he holds you against your waist. “Save the noises for when I really get you screaming~” Cale covers your mouth as he starts to thrust deep inside of you, burying his cock so deep in your ass that you tried your hardest to not moan out louder and louder. Slowly but surely, his thrusts slowly start getting harder and harder, slamming his ballsack into you.

His hands wrap and grip tightly around your mouth now, as he's now starting to thrust even faster, his cock being submerged by your walls as he kept fucking you over and over. Your muffled groans and grunts echo across the room as Cale scoffs. "You can't be serious right?~ Moaning now?~ Already~ It's like you barely even know me~ You'll see how hard I'll go~" Cale groans as his thrusts get bigger and bigger.

"Don't be shy, you can take it~" Cale started to chuckle, grunting as he shoves his inches in and out of your asshole, fucking you so good and hitting the right spots. "Oh, you're so pretty~ I'll fuck you so good~" Cale would praise you, but also humiliate your pathetic little moans as he thrusts harder and harder, telling you to save them for when he's really in it.

Now, Cale is really putting in his works, he's now thrusting deep and fast inside of you, panting and groaning each time he thrusts inside your tight ass, you couldn't contain the moans anymore and you just start to scream, scream in the mixture of pain and pleasure. "Fuck~ You're so cute~ Gonna fuck you so good~ Mm~" Cale would keep grunting as you moaned and moaned, he's really doing your ass amazingly. The heat fills up the room even more as the two of you are both sweating and panting.

Cale's thrusts, now laced with precum, is getting more sloppier and sloppier as his pants start to shake, his breaths becoming more shallower as he tries to hold back his load onto you. Slamming deep inside of you like there's no tomorrow, groaning and grunts echoing the room without a care in the world. Cale kept thrusting harder and harder, he's already at his limit. "FUCKING TAKE IT Y/N!~" Cale would yell out as he fucks one more thrust inside of you until he splurts inside you, painting your walls white with his cum as Cale chuckled.

"Shhh.. don't worry, you can do it baby~" Cale smirked, he was now lying down as you tried to lower yourself onto his fat cock. Fucking you crazy was enough, but fucking yourself onto him was another level. You started to take all his inches down. "Fuck~ Look at your hole swallowing all of me hm?~" Cale would chuckle again as you'd moan and groan, as you try to bounce, riding him as your eyes rolled back.

"Look at you~ You're fucked senseless~" Cale smirked as you start bouncing even faster, already getting addicted to the pleasure, fully in the heat of the moment. Already pounding deep, crushing his ballsack going faster and faster as groans and pants from the both of you echoed the room. Cale kept grunting as you kept moaning. "Fuck!~ Gah you're so good!~" Cale would yell out, as you just kept bouncing on his cock.

Cale's gleaming red hair shined through the sunlight as the heat was getting hotter and hotter. As you kept riding him faster and faster on the brink of pleasure, Cale arches his back upwards as he grabs onto your neck and gave out one last final groan as he cums deep inside your ass, you start screaming and panting as you were filled up.

"You're my baby~" Cale said as he caresses your cheek, you and Cale were sweating, in the heat of the moment, as you cuddled with Cale in the end. "I love you so much~" Cale kisses you, as he smiles. "My dear Y/N~"

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