#this is a lie its about having food and not wanting to eat any of it

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if u could write something about the obey me brothers (plus diavolo if ur up for it) with an mc who randomly feeds them their own food. for example mc is snacking on chips and theyll just walk up and hold a chip to his mouth until he takes it/refuses. doesnt matter what hes doing theyll just offer a bite or two.

i do the same thing with my younger siblings and friends so its kinda like a love language. ^^

hi! sure thing :)

enjoy <3

Mc who shares their food randomly

Lucifer

he won't lie, he was confused the first time and actually asked what you were doing haha

once he learns it's just because you care, he gets the warm fuzzies

he works so much that sometimes he forgets to eat or skips it altogether in favor of getting more work done

he's very glad to have you in his life and he thinks that every time you offer him some of your food

Mammon

he's ecstatic to take snacks from you even if it's not something he likes or think he'll like

he never thought he'd be so loved

he learnt about this habit early on into your trip in the devildom and while he thought it was a little strange but he grew used to it

now he can't imagine you without that! he tries his best to reciprocate

Levi

when you offer him your snacks, he actually might not notice for a second

usually he's in the middle of gaming

but he really appreciates the habit and you <3

like lucifer, sometimes he forgets to eat since he's always in the middle of play a game so sometimes the snacks you feed him are the only snacks he gets that day

Satan

as long as any crumbs won't get on his books, he's more than happy to let you feed him

he himself is guilty of getting crumbs between the pages so if it happens on accident, he's not mad he just wants to prevent it if possible

he'll offer you a seat beside him and even if all you do is continue to snack and not share, he's happy

he loves having you around and your presence is a comfort <3

Asmo

he thinks it's so sweet!

while he has lots of fans and is very popular, you're so easily able to look past that

sometimes you don't even say anything when you offer him the snacks and he knows you do it just because you care about him

he always shows the love back with a quick hug or verbal confirmation

Beel

bestie he is SO on board!

he he wasn't already snacking he's taking it without a second thought

even if we was snacking, it's just something to mix up what he was eating

he'll be sure to tell you how tasty it was and how the flavor of the food you gave him and the food he was eating combined in his mouth haha

Belphie

he's asleep more than he's not

you might just be sitting by his side ready with snacks that you will probably eat all of in the process

when he is awake though! he couldn't be happier

he's more than happy to accept but if it's something he dislikes he's not afraid to voice it because that's more for you and less for him

Diavolo

he thinks it's very cute! he cares about you very much and he finds it very endearing

whenever you offer him your snack, he'll stop whatever he's going to turn all of his attention to you

as long as it's not pickles, he will accept

never accepts it absentmindedly, and will always always say thank you!!

[worldlxvlys]

Can you write a fic based on Wednesdays video and we notice he not wearing underwear and it’s visible -don’t know how to explain it well🫣

distracted

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, fantasizing, choking, oral (male receiving), handjob, degradation

a/n: @sophssturn also requested something very similar but my dumbass accidentally deleted the request 😭

hope you enjoy !!

i swear i wasn’t looking on purpose.

ok, that’s a straight lie.

but it’s almost as though he wanted me to look, he knew exactly what he was doing.

he wore those grey sweats, which he knew made me go crazy.

and to top it off, he decided not to wear any underwear ? what a slut.

he knew good and damn well that he was too big to be walking around without any boxers on.

and to do it while he was filming ? when he knew there was nothing i could say or do about it ? yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

i was sitting behind the camera, watching as he cooked burgers for everyone.

every time he moved just a little too quickly, his dick would press against his light-colored sweatpants, the outline of his bulge showing.

of course i was aware of how big he was, but that didn’t mean the entire internet need to know too.

as i continued to stare at him, my eyes scanned over his entire body, imagining him in a completely different scenario.

instead of his wrists flicking with every flip of a burger, they were straining against a restraint, and i was watching him squirm desperately under me.

his pretty mouth was being suffocated under the weight of my body, while my aching heat was shoved in his face.

instead of the oil from the cooked meat dripping down his hands, it was a layer of my arousal decorating his long fingers.

when he threw his head back, moaning at the taste of the hamburger, i imagined him moaning my name while i bounced on his-

“helloooo? did you hear me?” chris asked, pulling me back to reality.

“oh, sorry. i was distracted” i answered, now realizing that everything was cleaned up, and matt and nick had already went off to do whatever.

in front of me sat a hamburger, placed perfectly between two buns on a plate.

“distracted by what?” he asked as he watched me take a bite of the food.

i took a minute to finish chewing before answering, “what do you think?” i deadpanned, watching as he looked at me in confusion.

“you seriously don’t know?” i asked, continuing to eat the burger.

when i finished, he pointed to my mouth, “you have a little..” he trailed off as he collected a bit of juice that dribbled down my lips from the meat.

before he could do anything else, i grabbed his finger, looking up at him as i licked the small bit of liquid from his finger.

he stared at me with his mouth hanging open slightly, before i let go of his hand.

“ tastes good” i spoke to him, making him whine in response.

i reached forward, palming him through his sweats, making him moan out in surprise.

“tell me, what did you think was gonna happen?” i asked as my hand made its way into his sweatpants.

“i- fuck, i don’t know” his head fell back as he whispered, hands gripping my waist.

“yes, you do chris. you did it for a reason, what is it ?” i asked as i left a light kiss to the shell of his ear.

i didn’t get an answer as i began to stroke his length.

i squeezed his base lightly, making him groan in response.

“answer me or i’ll make you cum in your pants out here like the dirty slut you are”

“shit” he breathed out raggedly, attempting to compose himself, “i wanted you to fuck me”

“you could’ve just asked baby”

“but i-“ he shuddered the feeling of my hands continuously squeezing him, “i need it rougher”

at those words, i pulled my hand from his pants, “say fucking less” i spoke as i grabbed his hand, pulling him to his room.

when we got there, i closed and locked the door behind us, before pushing him into it roughly.

“talk to me chris. tell me what you want” i spoke.

“ i told you already, i-” i brought my hand to his throat, squeezing it slightly.

“excuse me?” i asked him, eyebrows raised.

his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to my lips. “try that again” i told him.

“i need you to fuck me” he whispered. “louder” i spoke.

“need you to fuck me” he spoke, his voice slightly raised.

“louder”

“they’re gonna hear-” he started before i cut him off, “i don’t really give a fuck. you wanna act like a little bitch in heat ? i’ll treat you like one, say it louder”

“please, please fuck me. need you to fuck me so bad” he spoke up, whining desperately.

“was that so hard?” i asked, tilting my head to the side.

i slid my hand up to grab his jaw, pulling his face toward mine into a heated kiss.

my hands wove into his hair, harshly tugging on his brown locks while his found their way around my waist.

i swallowed his moans as my lips danced along his greedily.

i ran my hands down his clothed chest, letting my fingertips toy with the hem of his shirt.

he took the hint, pulling away for a second to pull his shirt off, before his lips found their way back to mine.

my hands explored the new skin, running along his chest before stopping at his waistband.

i teasingly rubbed his stomach, fingers brushing the waistband but never moving past it.

he pulled away to speak, his mouth slightly open, “don’t tease”

i raised my eyebrows at him, grabbing him by his arm and guiding him to sit on the bed.

“maybe if you weren’t walking around without any underwear on, i’d listen to you” i spoke as i sunk down to my knees in front of him.

his eyes widened slightly as i left a kiss to his clothed dick.

he looked down at me with hooded eyes, watching as i slowly pulled his sweatpants down.

his hard dick slapped his stomach, pre-cum dripping onto his abs.

chris’s breathing sped up in anticipation, his hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

i placed my hands on his thighs, keeping them pulled apart while i leaned forward, collecting his arousal with my tongue.

i started at his stomach, licking at the small beads of arousal, before swirling my tongue around his tip.

“fuck” he breathed out, his head instantly flying back.

“talk to me, baby. you feeling good ?” i asked him.

CHRIS’S POV

“yes, feels so good” i whispered, brows furrowing as she teased me.

she brought the palm of her hand to my tip, rubbing me in quick, circular motions.

my hips jerked up at the feeling, my mind growing fuzzy at the amount of pleasure that coursed through me.

“you think you deserve to cum ?” she asked, looking up at me through her lashes.

she pulled her hand off of me suddenly, deciding to tease me more.

my mouth hung open, but i was unable to form any words as my mind was consumed with her.

her hands, running up my thighs, but always stopping just before her fingers could graze my dick.

her face, glaring up at me with that look in her eyes that told me i was going to be gone by the end of tonight.

her lips, so plump, curved to fit around my dick perfectly.

“please, i need your mouth” i whined as she moved her face closer to me, her breath tickling my painfully hard cock.

“yeah? well i need you to learn how to listen” she spoke, moving away from me.

if there was one thing she loved to do, it was tease me. she wanted to push me to my limits until i lost it.

and she knew exactly how to get me there.

“ok, ok, i’m sorry. please, please, i need your mouth so bad”

ignoring my pleas, she pulled her shirt over her head.

“you never answered my question earlier, chris” she spoke.

her words went in one ear and out the other, however, when i saw what she was wearing underneath her clothes.

“fuck” i groaned out at the site of the black lace that adorned her skin.

the bra had a low cut, her tits sitting perfectly in the cups.

the bottom left little to the imagination, the lips of her pussy hugging the small string of fabric that barely covered it.

“do you deserve to cum?” she repeated her question from earlier, tilting her head at me.

“yes” i spoke quickly, desperate to have her in any way i could.

“i don’t know, you didn’t answer me the first time” she spoke, moving to straddle my waist.

“guess i’ll take that as a no” she spoke as my hands found their was to her hips.

“cum before i tell you and i swear to god i’ll edge you until you start crying” she spoke firmly as she lined herself up with my dick.

“f-fuck” i groaned at the feeling of her pussy sucking up my sensitive tip.

i held her close to me while she continued to take me inch by inch, until her hips met mine.

when i bottomed out, we both let out moans of content.

she began to roll her hips into mine slowly, before bouncing on my cock.

i watched as her covered tits bounced in my face with every one of her harsh movements on top of me.

i squeezed her hips tightly, needing something to grab onto as she found her rhythm.

her tight pussy continued to squeeze me, each pull of her hips pushing me deeper and deeper into a euphoric state.

“g-god, feels so good” i groaned out, watching her eyes light up at the praise.

“yeah?” she asked, grabbing my jaw to pull my face closer to hers.

“fuck yes, you’re so good to me baby” i spoke against her lips.

she ground her hips down against mine as she pressed a fervent kiss to my lips, her fingers finding their way back to my hair.

when i pulled away, i left kisses on her neck, making my way down to her boobs.

“so beautiful” i whispered up to her.

“hmm, so sweet to me” she spoke, “but i’m still not letting you cum” she pushed my chest, making me fall back onto the bed.

she laid her hands on my chest, using it as leverage to increase her speed on top of me.

“you look so good on top of me like this” i groaned out.

i was barely holding it together, something about the way she took control made me lose my mind.

“i’m so close” i whined as the sounds of our skin slapping against each other’s filled the room.

“well that sucks for you then, huh ?” she asked as she brought her hand to my throat, lightly choking me.

my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the action, my fingers digging into her thighs.

“i- please, i need it, need it so bad” i struggled to form a logical sentence as she leaned back, placing her hands on my thighs.

“oh my g-god” i moaned, desperately trying to hold back my orgasm.

“wait until i tell you” she spoke, moving my head to look at her.

i glanced down to where our bodies met, getting lost in the way her glistening pussy engulfed my dick.

i could’ve came from the sight alone.

“please, please, please” i repeated the word like it was a chant, knowing i wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“i’m almost there, baby. so close, just hold on a little bit longer for me”

my head flew back when she clenched around me, eliciting a loud moan from me.

“fuck, let go for me chris. let it all out” she moaned as she continued to clench around me.

i sat up to close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her close to me.

my legs began to shake, my abdominal muscles tightening as i was hit with a shockwave of pleasure.

my hips bucked up into her, making her moan while i shot my load into her weeping hole.

“fuck chris, right there ! right there” she cried out as i unintentionally thrusted into her, my cock buried as deep as it could go inside of her.

she let out one last moan as i felt her release all over me, my dick coated in her pleasure.

my body went limp underneath her, letting her take control as she worked us through our highs.

once we both calmed down, she lifted herself off of me slowly, before making her way to my bathroom.

when she returned, she held two towels in either hand; one wet and one dry.

she gently rubbed the wet towel against my skin, cleaning up the sticky substance that resided from our previous orgasms.

“are you ok my love? did i hurt you?” she asked me while she continued to clean me up.

she took the second towel, drying my wet skin while i answered, “no baby. i’m ok” i smiled lightly at her.

“good” she answered before finishing up, and doing the same for herself.

she discarded the towels in the hamper before coming back over to me.

“wanna take a shower?” she asked as her hands found their way to my waist, rubbing light circles into it.

“yeah” i spoke as i went to stand up, immediately halting my movements when it felt like my legs were going to give out.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the way i quickly sat back down.

“my legs are…” i trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn’t make the effect she had on me so obvious.

i didn’t need to feed her ego any more than i already had.

it was no use, though, as she picked up on what was happening.

“you can’t walk ?” she asked, a smug grin growing on her face.

“shut up” i spoke, shaking my head at her.

“awww, it’s ok baby, i’ll take care of you” she spoke, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

she went to help me up before pausing, “want me to pick you up?” she teased.

🦢🦢🦢🦢

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @chrisstopherfilmed @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @evieolo @riasturns @sturnssmuts @nicksmainbitch @luverboychris

[ajortga]

cute and absolute

pairing: jenna ortega x actress!fem reader

word count: 1.8k+

summary: it doesn't go unnoticed that you are one of the only people that jenna lets her walls down with.

based off request!

-

Where Jenna only accepts r's touch ??? Tyy

-🥝

-

Jenna is squirming in the car, screaming at her friend to drive faster so she can eat. 

“I’ve been on set since 6 fucking AM! It’s been 10 hours and I’m hungry! I skipped breakfast for this damn shit! What the hell do you mean you can’t get a burrito right now? All I want is a damn burrito and you’re telling me that we have to pick up Y/N, our friend, and first buy the book you wanted because it’s closer? CLOSER?” She screams, gripping her knuckles that were already white enough.

Jacob, one of Jenna’s friends laughs hard, a little threatened but not enough to be stopped. “It’ll only take 15 minutes at most! It’s more convenient, the bookstore is along the way and closer to our location, then we can just buy any burrito you want aft-” 

“CLOSER? YOU KNOW WHAT’S CLOSER?” Jenna throws her arms up in dramatic effect, huffing, “Me going insane! My sanity is at 10% right now, and if I don’t get my burrito this instant, I’m going to crash this car and fucking run to the nearest place that has a burrito. DON’T touch me!” She yells, smacking her friend's arm away because she cannot think properly at this moment.

“I’m STARVING, and I’m a woman who needs food to survive in this film ECONOMY! Can’t you drive any faster?-"

Jenna suddenly hears your voice outside from the slightly opened car window. She peeks her eyes out, her hands holding the glass. She suddenly sees you, looking sweet, happy, and perfectly sane as you come out of your driveway. “Hi, Jenna!” You exclaim, completely unaware that she was just ballistic for a burrito 5 seconds ago.

Her frustrated demeanor melts off suddenly, a goofy grin on her face as she sees just how happy you are. She brings her hand up, waving. “Hi!”

She just forgot how hungry she was and the person she just was less than a minute ago. Why was she so upset that she had to wait longer so Jacob could pick you up? She stopped feeling the need to bang her head on the nearest wall. 

“Jacob was telling me that you had a long time on set, something about how I had to save him because you were going crazy, so I got you some snacks.” You pull out a bag filled with goodies from your pantry.

The man that was driving stuttered as Jenna slowly turned to him, “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing your phone and swiping and squinting. “It says here, “Please save me from this woman, she’s acting like a toddler that just shit her pants. SOS, crying crying emoji..” Um, oh and here. “This girl is so dramatic, complaining about not getting her burrito, she's wailing in the back seat. Please save her.” Don’t lie to me.” You state with a grin as Jenna munches on chips.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling. 

Jenna interrupts, “Okay, Jacob, you traitor.”

“You cannot be talking, slapping my arm away when I try to calm you down but Y/N being some sort of angel and making you all cuddly.”

The fuming brunette slowly turns back to normal as you slither your arm around hers, laying your head on her shoulder. “Glad to know you love me. How was filming without me?”

Jenna sniffs, letting you ruffle her hair, “One of the directors was trying to show us how the scene should play out, the popcorn in the microwave caught on fire.”

You nod, awkwardly as you look around. “Was it your popcorn?” You guess.

She huffs and sinks into you, “Yes, and now I'm starving."

-

Aliyah is losing her mind. First, her father was fixing the doorbell, and now it seems to be ringing on its own. Now, her older sister won’t cooperate as she tries to steady Jenna’s legs that are in the air. The brunette shrieks, causing Aliyah to pull away and make her tumble.

Aliyah groans, “This is the thirteenth time already! Let me make this clear, you asked me to help you do this random one handed handstand, but you won’t let me even touch you so I can get you into the right pose? You’re so weird.” 

Jenna shrugs, her head on the floor as she hangs upside down from the couch. “I am letting you touch me!”

“No you aren’t! You start shrieking and then falling face flat when I do! How the hell are we going to make this work if you won’t cooperate?”

The two siblings hear some shuffling as you crawl through the dog door, fitting yourself in. They blink, staring at you as you wiggle yourself through and throw a hand in the air, showing that you brought food. “Burritos!”

“Y/N! What are you doing? Go through the back door you doofus! You could’ve just knocked!”

You finally manage to squirm your way in as you stand up, brushing some leaves off of you and throwing them into the trash. You flip your hair, crawling through doggy doors were one of your talents. You signal her Jenna to hear you out as you put up a finger, “First of all, I was ringing the doorbell like, five thousand times, then I knocked, and no one was answering! I’m not letting the food get cold.” You pause, looking at Jenna who is currently staring at you upside down and hanging from the couch. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to do a one handed handstand.” 

“Oh, wait. Oh! I know how to do that!” Happily, you hand her sister the bag with burritos and tacos, before collapsing to the floor.

There was awkward silence as Jenna and Aliyah stared at each other, “Um..”

Jenna always knew you as the silly girl across the block. Even after 5 years of friendship, she thinks you’ve just gotten sillier.

“That wasn’t it, I haven’t done it in a year. Hold on.” You position yourself, slowly doing a handstand. Jenna can see your shirt slowly rising up and showing your stomach as you keep yourself steady. You lift an arm off and hang it up. “Did I do it?”

Jenna giggles and flops down the couch. “Yeah. I think so.” She crawls behind you and picks up your body that was upside down.

“Hey!”

-

“Okay, slow and steady..” You say softly, squinting and holding Jenna’s legs, making sure she was in the right position. “Aliyah, try steadying her while she puts one arm up.”

“No way, nope.” She argues, eating her taco, “She literally kept shrieking when I tried to and starting kicking and squirming.”

“She’s not shrieking right now?”

“Well you’re just different I guess, you’re her best friend, so..”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile tugging on your lips as you tickle Jenna and make her fall on you. “You just love me, don’t you!?” You giggle, hugging her as she squeals and nuzzles against you.

-

It was late in the evening as you got changed into pajamas and flopped onto your bed. Nights like this always felt better, where you would switch on a show, read a book, or call friends. You decide to check some emails, looking over some asking for you to star in movies, replying to companies that want you as their ambassador, you click out of the tab. 

A small ding sounds on your phone as you see that Emma had texted you. 

meh meh myers: LMAO look at this article i found about u and jenna: https://hypotheticalsofcelebrities

y/n: okay my own researcher and detective, or should i say pippa fitz amobi? u get me?

y/n: lemme go check it out

meh meh myers: yus ily

y/n: ur the pip to my ravi 🥺

meh meh myers: corny

You laugh at yourself as you open the link, the article named ‘Escalating Relationships, Cute or Absolute?’

You roll your eyes and scroll down.

Fans say that they’ve picked up on the actress’s behavior, scooting away from castmates who’ve gotten too close during interviews and only staying close to one or two close ones. Not that she’s uncomfortable, taken from the way she seems unfazed most times. But, it is noticed that she seems like a bundle of happiness with individuals. A clip right here shows her with a fellow castmate, Y/N L/N, both starred in the famous series, Wednesday. It is caught on how Ortega was silently making sure that her friend was okay during an interview that had turned a little more uncomfortable for the other girl, squeezing her hand and clinging onto her. It seemed to have worked, for how the girl began to relax. What a friendship they have!

The tiny moments of comfort and physical touch occur in other interviews too, as well as cute Instagram comments on each other's posts that come off as playful flirting. Some comments are pasted here.

Jenna Ortega commenting on Y/N’s post of a photoshoot press for Wednesday last year in September:

jennaortega: That’s my girl

Another one on a post of the girl just doing an Instagram photo dump this year in March:

jennaortega: if you squint closely you can see me doing the dishes for my wife in the third photo

jennaortega: i will take your last name if i have to

jennaortega: my woman, i love you

Y/N L/N commenting on a post for Jenna’s Adidas campaign last year in November:

y/n_l/n: i will be the only one applauding the longest for u

y/n_l/n: tis is why i got adidas merch

Fast forward to Christmas with a dump of Jenna’s favorite people (Y/N included) in December last year: 

y/n_l/n: I love you this is why I wanted to bake the turkey

y/n_l/n: merry christmas to my favorite person

Another one to a selfie of Jenna posted this year in April:

y/n_l/n: oh i’m interested, what’s your number?

y/n_l/n: sign my contract to be with me forever? comes with a long time of house wife chores!

-

What do you think? Are they just really good friends with the cutest flirting? Or secretly dating? Answer us down in our poll, cute, or absolute?

Final vote with 20K votes

Cute: 24%

Absolute: 76%

—

carrots4life: but like, their relationship is both cute and absolute! why aint that a option?

mangofrosties: they are def dating istg i’ve never seen them both this happy unless they are together

-

You smile, looking away from your laptop as you kick your feet. You do feel like Jenna had a soft spot for you, she always hugged you first, tried picking you up, falling asleep with each other on set. But she was just your best friend, you would all say to interviewers.

The door slightly creaks as you turn, smiling. “Hey baby, I think you should see this.”

Jenna flops on the bed with you, letting you cuddle her as she kisses you and reads your screen, a goofy grin on her face.

“I guess they caught on that we might be more than friends. I mean, it's not a lie that we are best friends, girlfriends is just a small little detail."

“Cute and absolute.”

[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ

✶ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Choso x Reader

✶ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

✶ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,003

✶ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: As sweet as he was, your boyfriend really couldn't cook to save his life.

✶ ᴀ/ɴ: never written for choso but i wanted to start with something little and hopefully something thats not ass as ive planned a choso longfic for the future and wanted to practice a bit. also i like to hc that he'd be a terrible cook ngl lmao. hope you enjoy!

✶ twitter - ao3

“Um…”

Not your most eloquent response, but you supposed it could match the… delicacy of the situation.

By your side you felt him move, his shoulder bumping against your own as he shifted on his feet at your mumble and ducked his head lower to put his ear closer to your mouth. You could almost feel the sweat lining your forehead, his dark eyes boring into the side of your face as you fought to keep a straight face and stared pointedly at the… ‘food’ in front of you. It was hard not to laugh, your lips quivering and stomach knotting in a ball from holding your breath for so long, but the last thing you wanted to do was hurt your fairly new boyfriend’s feelings.

Even if he couldn’t cook a damn thing to save his life.

(No way Yuji lived with him like that… Either he cooked, or he was eating out every night.)

In your peripherals you eyed Choso for his body language. It was clear he was eager for your answer; perhaps a little praise here and there for his ‘astounding’ cooking expertise, but you weren’t oblivious to the anxious undertones he was permitting as well. It was almost like he knew he fucked up, but he wanted you to give it to him easy, so he didn’t have to come to terms that you and Yuji possible grinned and bared it every time he made something for the either of you two (and you didn’t even want to think about Eso and Kechizu. God they probably scarfed the shit down while Yuji’s stomach fought for its life).

Though looking at the dessert he made…

Choso’s finger dug into your side, effectively cutting off any more mental insults you could throw at the food, and he poked you twice in the hip while latching onto your belt loop, “You’re just standing there staring at it.”

Well, what could you say? “I’m just in awe how you cooked something that looks so good.” Something along the lines of that would butter him up.

Choso sighed, “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” Or not.

You dared a glance at him, sucking in your lips at the dejected pout and longing gaze at the hockey pucks he created out of cookie dough, before relaxing your shoulder and leaning into him, “I mean it. Just a tad overdone –” he shot you a withering look, making you laugh sheepishly – “we can just throw it in the microwave to soften them up a bit.” You really didn’t want to lose any teeth, and Choso had such pretty ones you didn’t want him to lose those either.

The side-eye you were receiving was uncalled for in your opinion, and he was gazing at your face for a rather long time to gauge the expression (and see through your lies) on your face before he scowled and looked back at the mess. Part of you wanted to reassure him, knowing he really did try his hardest, but other part of you didn’t want to lie straight to his face and save yourselves both a future mess on your hands for lying. Honestly, it wasn’t a huge deal, but Choso also looked so sad… like a little baby panda sad…

You went to reassure him (truthfully that time), yet at that moment your boyfriend uncurled his fingers from your belt loop, took one of the hockey – cookies and promptly banged it against the counter in a sound so deafening it promptly stopped the words on your tongue as you both stared.

“…”

“…”

You both stood in silence for a moment, and then – “Wow, it’s so hard not a single crumb fell off.”

Choso sighed – again – and grumbled something under his breath while scratching the back of his head, “You hate it.”

Your eyebrows rose, fingers curling around his wrist to throw his arm over your shoulder as you fought off another laugh from his behavior, “I don’t hate it. It’s just… you burnt them.” Leaning further into him whenever Choso finally relaxed, you began to pull on his cheek and relish in the tint turning a charming shade of red, “Plus I think it’s sweet you wanted to make me cookies.”

He hummed, eyelashes fluttering and lips twitching as he avoided your eyes to showcase his embarrassment, “It’s been three months since we started dating.”

Your heart and stomach flipped timeously, still not used to Choso’s blunt attitude when it came to expressing parts of his feelings for you. He was still rather reserved in some instances, but more often did he leave you speechless when he decided to openly show his affection for you in ways that didn’t involve any physical intimacy. You couldn’t blame him for trying, but you did want to get away from the burnt cookie smell…

“So sentimental,” you teased, giving his cheek one more pinch before guiding him back to the couch where popcorn and a movie you had planned awaited, “Let’s just stick to this tonight. Maybe one day we can make cookies together… so they don’t burn.”

He answered you through a squeeze with his hand, following you dutifully and at ease from your suggestion. Though as you flicked through possible movies to watch, you couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“How did you forget they were in oven?”

“I don’t think I set the timer.”

“I mean it happens to all of us.”

“…They could be edible –”

“No.”

“No, I mean – I think Eso and Kechizu might eat them.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Though it’s a wonder how they’re still alive if you were cooking for them the entire time.”

“I can cook some things, even Yuji says so.”

“Yes, the Yuji who eats takeout almost every night. Imagine what’d he say if he saw –"

Choso’s fingers found your lips, pinching them together and effectively shutting you up as he decided on a movie himself and not having to hear your mouth.

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

-

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands. 

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush. 

-

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

-

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

-

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

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(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

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@kiyomi-uchiha777

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Just a little bit where Bucky takes care of you when you’re sick.

// Pairing // Lumberjack!Boyfriend!Bucky x Girlfriend!Reader

// Warnings // Reader being sick a tiny little bit, fluff

// Authors Note // This one is dedicated to @thevillainswhore. Hope you’re feeling better soon and I sent you some Lumberjack!Bucky to help you.

// Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist //

When Bucky opens the door this afternoon he thought you would run towards him, jump into his arms and kiss his slightly sweaty face over and over again. But when he opens it, the only sound he hears is the television in the living room and soft noises form light movements.

“Sweets? Where are you?” He asks, even though he knows exactly where you are. Bucky narrows, taking off his shoes and jacket.

He once did the mistake and walked into the apartment with his shoes. And he did it only one time because you stand there, way smaller than your big, muscular boyfriend. Your finger poked into his broad chest while you stared up into his eyes. He had to clean the floor he made dirty, and it was a lot of work, especially when the dirt he brought into the apartment dried and was stuck to the ground.

After that, he always took off his shoes before walking further into your shared apartment. He sighs softly when he sees you wrapped up into a blanket, looking like a small little thing that needs your boyfriend’s big arms around you.

“Doll?” He asks, worried when you don’t move just hum in response. The big man makes his way through the room, getting on his knees in front of the couch to look into your face.

Your eyes are almost shut, your lips quivering while you whimper quietly. Bucky’s huge hand makes its way to your cheek, his long, thick fingers stroking strands of your hair out of your face before he leans close to kiss your forehead.

“You’re not feeling well, love? Have you eaten?” You shake your head, tears well up in your eyes. Bucky shows once again, smiling softly even though he worries about you.

The tears fall slowly down your cheeks, you don’t only feel sick now but also like you disappointed Bucky because he always asked you to tell him when you don’t feel well and to eat and drink.

He shushes you, wiping your tears away and presses his soft lips against your forehead once again. His digit slides across your dry lips, Bucky hisses quietly. And even though you feel like you’re burning because of the fever you want Bucky to cuddle up with you to warm you up.

“B—“ With a shake of his head, you stay quiet. Bucky knows what you want to say, but your throat is sore and he understands you without any words.

“I’m gonna make you some food and you will eat it, then we can cuddle as much as you want,” Bucky assures you, causing a soft smile appear on your lips. With a cough you agree, sitting up — or at least you try but your body feels so heavy, you only want to lie and sleep until you’re feeling better again.

Bucky chuckles when you reach up to grasp him to help you up. Your hands sliding over his stubbled cheek and you immediately do it again. His trimmed beard feels so soft and you would touch it all the time. With a groan you roll your eyes.

“Planning to help a lady who needs you, Barnes?” You ask with trembling voice. Your fever is really doing the best with your emotions.

“Now we are going to be bratty, sweets?” Bucky asks, shaking his head before he gets up, standing in front of you in his full size. You admire his still sweaty body, covered in his work clothes. “You’re drooling, doll.”

You close your mouth, smirking up at him when he finally leans down, lifting you off the couch and placing you on his hips to carry you through the apartment into the kitchen. Exactly what you love about your broad boyfriend, not only the size kink he is making worse but also that you just look and feel so tiny but always know that Bucky is always being cute and lovely around you.

When he walks his muscles tense underneath his shirt, your fingers moving over his shirt to feel them, and you giggle softly when Bucky hums. “It tickles, you know?”

You nod, doing it once again to cause him to chuckle softly. Bucky digs his fingers into your waist, causing you to laugh before you start coughing.

Bucky rubs your back, holding you close in his warm embrace until you stop coughing. Your throat feels even more sore. You place your head against his shoulder, inhaling his sweet and sweaty scent before he places you on the counter to make you some food.

Even though he cooks for you, it doesn’t stop him from kissing you and hugging you. Assuring you that he loves you, and that you can tell him that you don’t feel good earlier so he can stay home and take care of you. “You know, the trees won’t run away, sweets.”

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[handful0fteeth]

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source. 

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face. 

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

 You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger. 

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat. 

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin. 

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school. 

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder. 

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.  

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different. 

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look. 

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

 Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds. 

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it. 

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles. 

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat. 

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right? 

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about. 

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead. 

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did. 

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits. 

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter two: benji

summary: [name] can't seem to shake off benjicot blackwood even with every precaution she takes to avoid him.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

notes: if any of you are british, please dm me and tell me i used the right terms for schools 😃 i live for accuracy. also yes, reader is meek and shy and i want to hear NOTHING from any of you.

masterlist | playlist

The rumors circled faster than [Name] running home the same day she had announced she was dating Benjicot Blackwood at Nyra's Nook. When she had gotten home, she texted her boss, apologizing for the commotion and explained a white lie about eating a bad pasta for lunch finally getting to her that afternoon.

Luckily enough, Rhaenyra was more than sympathetic and told her to have the following day off. [Name] spent the day doing what she knew best: hiding out in her room and watching horror movies to avoid hearing anything about what her loud mouth said the previous day.

She hadn't heard anything up until Chiara had barged into her room, howling, "YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE WITH BENJICOT BLACKWOOD?"

"Any louder and the deaf old women two doors down will hear you." [Name] replies, pausing the Babadook.

Chiara ignores her, shoving her friends feet off on her bed to make space for herself. Chiara Tyrell had been one of the many students who came from affluent families - her's being well known for their sustainable food production company - but had hit it off when they were assigned as roommates. She had never hid the fact that she was a Tyrell but also didn't treat [Name] like a piece of gum under her shoe for being a scholarship student, the latter appreciating the treatment.

Still, Chiara always managed to learn about circling gossip and would tell [Name] whether she wanted to or not. Now with the newest information revolving her own roommate, Chiara looked more than pleased to hear directly from the source.

"How'd that happen? Didn't we have plans to watch the movies? Not to mention - Benjicot Blackwood of all people? This is rich."

[Name] dug herself further into her blanket. "Well, first we are still watching movies that and second we aren't going on a date..."

She explains to her friend what had happened, to which she nearly fell over laughing after hearing the whole situation. [Name] swung a pillow at Chiara's face when she wouldn't cease her howling and warned her about their neighbors again.

After taking a few heaving breaths, Chiara stopped, gasping out every word she could think. "That's amazing - and to avoid Aeron of all people? This is even better than the horror movie!"

"What's the deal anyways with those two? I wasn't sure if they wanted to kill or kiss each other." [Name] comments, remembering the scene in front of her.

"Well, they might as well have done either. Their families do similar businesses in trading and unfortunately have property close by so they've always been at each other's throats. Father to son usually. Its like an inherited right to want provoke the next generation." Chiara explains. "Those two, however..."

A look of amused contemplation falls on her face before she giggles. Leave it up to Chiara to not take anything seriously, though [Name] enjoyed their differences, unlike Benjicot and Aeron. "Get on with it!"

"Aeron and Benjicot went to the same schools, all the way up to Sixth Form." Chiara continues. "And anything one had, the other wanted - that included girls and guys. Them coming to university at the same time just about caught everyone's interest. I was hoping one of them would fight again but it seems like Benjicot's pulled back since he entered uni. No one's seen him with anyone that way since we started our first year."

"Why?"

Chiara shrugged. "Who knows. He does have a group of friends he hangs around with nowadays; doesn't hang off with his cousins as much and never floats around groups anymore. At least, according to Janna Terrick."

[Name] nodded, staring at the ceiling as she finally asked herself what had she gotten into? For once her political science lessons finally taught her something and that she just put herself between a family feud and more likely than not brought a couple of monsters out the closet.

"I'm so excited," Chiara continues, laying her body on top of [Name]'s. She just about choked on her curly brown hair and attempted to push her off when all her weight was placed on top of her. "My roommate - my cute little roommate of all people to be in this!"

"This cute little roommate will hit you with another pillow if you don't get off me!" [Name] counters, shoving her off. She turns to the wall, her anxiety building in her chest as she thinks about having to face one of them the next say. "And its not like I wanted this to happen. It just came out because Aeron is such a prick!"

"I'm only joking. If you really do need help, just let me know. I know a few people that can do something about this." Chiara offers ominously, patting [Name]'s arm. [Name] eyes her suspiciously, trying to decide if she wanted to know what she meant or not. She kept her eyes on the wall instead.

"I'm sure another issue will come up soon to mask what happened; besides, almost all the Targaryens and Hightowers are in this year too. There's more than enough drama to go around." Chiara reassures before a mischevious smile comes on her face. "Although it would be fun watching you finally do something outside of studying and working--"

"Chiara."

"Right, I'll leave."

For some reason, [Name] prayed to the gods, old and new, for something to happen to the Targaryens and Hightowers like Chiara mentioned. It had been about two and a half weeks since her blunder and she was still getting strange looks from classmates that just about ignored her until now.

One of them, a Tully brother she couldn't distinguish from, had been brave enough to ask her during her shift at the library, "Is it really true? You got Ben to finally go on a date? Y'know I hadn't pegged him to be the type to date someone like you but I'm glad!"

If she hadn't been so mortified, she would have told Kermit/Oscar off but was beaten to it by the other Kermit/Oscar who smacked his head after he had heard the end his brother's sentence. He sent [Name] an apologetic look.

"My brother was dropped when he was a babe. I'm so sorry. He means well; we're all glad Ben isn't as gloomy as he was before." He offers with a smile before grabbing his brother by the scruff of his shirt like an alleycat and walking away to the other side of the library.

[Name] had just about dropped everything and hid away into the archives section after that. It was embarrassing enough she kept remembering the conversation; it was even worse when people came up to her and ask abouf it.

Still, she made use of her two jobs always finds herself hiding in the archives room or the back of the bookstore whenever she caught sight of Benjicot or Aeron these past few weeks.

The day she had come back to the store, Aeron hadn't shown up but Benjicot had, setting down the books he wanted to buy the first time he was there. "I wanted to get them but Nyra sent me away after you left." He explained to which she only offered a nod as she scanned his selections and packed it quickly into a bag. "Look, I--"

"Thank you for shopping with us, come again. Bye!" [Name] said hurriedly, the guilt of bringing him out of his built in shell overcoming her. She walked away to the back, not coming out until the next customer had come in and she was sure Benjicot was gone. Any time they would be in the same vicinity to one another, he was tried to talk to her but she evaded every attempt he made and seemingly found new routes to her usual spots around campus.

Aeron, surprisingly, pulled back, only giving her long looks across the campus grass during sunset. Still, she wasn't sure the trade in with Benjicot was any better, even though the latter significantly less pushy and condescending as his sworn enemy (though she wouldn't know that much since she never gave him a chance to speak with her).

The archives had been her biggest form of respite from the world it seemed; the silence was a welcome change to the every bustling college town of King's Landing. There were no customers or library patrons to ask her of anything, no nosy classmates staring or making comments, and there was no Benjicot Blackwood or Aeron Bracken to bother/or glare at her.

She sat at one of the long tables down there, contemplating nothing and enjoying it as much as she can before reminding herself that the head librarian, Alicent, would be looking for her soon. As she made her way out the door, she nearly slammed into another body.

"I'm so sorry--"

"Its fine--"

"But I was in the way and I should have been looking forward--!" She started before her mouth clamped shut and met Benjicot Blackwood's brown eyes.

He gave her a reassuring smile as he repeated, "Like I said its fine. I was looking for you anyways." He frowned to himself before correcting himself. "No, well, I was looking for the archives for a class project but I was looking for you. I wasn't following, I promise. I wouldn't do that."

His nervousness seemed to outweigh his appearance - still in the learher bomber jacket and dark clothes. A fashion sense polar opposite to him right now. For some reason this eased [Name] a bit more, though not enough to keep eye contact with him. Her sneakers were a bit more entertaining to look at over Benjicot.

"Um, right." [Name] started, not sure where the conversation should go next. "I'm, uh, sorry. By the way."

"Whatever for?"

"Pulling you into that mess with Aeron. I panicked and wanted him off my back. If I'd known both of you knew each other, let alone hate each other, I wouldn't have brought you in this mess." [Name] explains, finally glancing up at him, fighting the urge to look down again after realizing he had been watching her the whole time as she spoke, listening to every word she said. She adds quietly, "Now we're both pulled into some ridiculous scandal with the school."

Benjicot blinks at her before asking, "You really didn't know about our families? So you didn't just pull me into all of that because you knew about us?"

"No!" [Name] nearly shouts. She wasn't the perfect person but bringing people into her problems hadn't been something she was proud of. "I panicked and you walked in at a seriously unfortunate time."

He nods, seemingly taking on everything she said becore shaking his head and laughing. [Name] frowned, unsure how to take the reaction. Was he mad? Confused?

"Are you upset?" She asks, relief flooding through her as he shook his head.

"No not at all. I just uh..." He starts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Feel a little embarrassed now."

Huh? "Why?"

"Well I was going to propose we continue--"

"What?" [Name] says, her voice echoing in the empty hall. Benjicot nodded. "What? Why? Aren't you sick of having to answer questions about us already?"

"No actually, I've just been giving vague answers to keep everyone guessing." Benjicot admits, smiling in amusement as [Name] stared at him in shock. "Its fun when you're bored. What have you been saying?"

Nothing. I've been avoiding everyone. "That's not the point. Why do you want to even continue?"

"Ah well, you seem familiar with our families a bit, right?" He starts. "I'm not looking for any trouble but I just enjoy getting under Bracken's skin a lot. Its our second year here and I don't go and poke around with him as much as I did when we were kids. He's on edge and overconfident. I just wanted to remind him that I'm still here to knock him down a bit, yeah? Also, he doesn't seem to hang around the bookstore anymore so you haven't been dealing with him lately."

"Yeah." [Name] said, a little dizzy. He wanted to continue this? Even with the explanation, she had a hard time wrapping her head around it. "So if we pretend to go out a little longer, it irritates Aeron and he'll leave me alone?"

"Something like that, yeah. You don't have to agree to it. Not after you said you knew nothing about the fueds. I know you didn't like him that much either so I thought you bringing me in on that was part of some plan." Benjicot says hurriedly. "I just thought it'd be fun for a little bit - a couple weeks at best - and you'll get time away from that prick forever if we continue."

A bit of the Benjicot from a few weeks ago had came up at that moment when he mentioned Aeron. He really did hate him. Enough to propose to a stranger they should continue "dating" just for some laughs. [Name] stood for a minute, staring down at her shoes again as if they had the answer to this problem.

Now, she could have just told Aeron off but what would that do for someone as dense and self absorbed as him? If she followed Benjicot's suggestion and continued this ruse, it would mean he'd leave her alone since Benjicot is around.

She chewed her lip, following the pit in her stomach as she said, "Fine."

Benjicot's eyes widened, looking like a new person from the sudden agreement. "Seriously?"

[Name] nodded. "On some conditions." She held her fingers up each time she spoke. "One, we only do this on campus and at the bookstore. And try not to be seen with other people around Aeron and his friends; they might get suspicious."

"Easy enough."

"Two, no kissing on the mouth or anything of that sort." Benjicot sent her a confused look.

"How would we convince them then? You act like you've never been kissed before--" He stops himself as [Name] sent him a scathing look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She says defensively. "Not all of us had time for relationships if we wanted to get into a good university."

"No, I just - you're um, really pretty?" He says the statement like a question, but that only set a fire in [Name]'s chest as she glared at him. He shakes his head in panic. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to make it sound like an insult. Its just uh... Yeah." He ends whatever he says, clearly not wanting to piss [Name] off anymore. "How about no mouth to mouth of any kind? Just head kisses? That's still convincing enough."

[Name] stared at him, narrowing her eyes in suspicion to see if he gave that suggestion for real or just to appease her. "Fine. Head kisses and that's it."

She held up a third finger. "Two months at best with this. Six weeks basically. We pretend to date, 'break up' and we go on with our days like before."

"We can't even be friends?" Benjicot jokes, though she can hear the hint of genuineness behind it. Given what she head about Benjicot Blackwood, he seemed like nothing but trouble. But being in front him now, so quiet and considerate of her feelings, she wasn't sure what to think anymore.

This time, she was the one to give a reassuring smile. "Let's see in a couple months, Benjicot."

"Just call me Benji. I don't get called Benjicot unless I'm in trouble."

"Sure. Benji."

After laying all their ground rules, Benji offered to walk her home ("Its almost dark and now's a good time to start since everyone's walking home!"). The walk was silent, both unsure of what to say to each other at that moment in time.

Between the both of them, Benji seemed the most natural about acting everything out. He kept an arm around her and often glanced her way, as if completely enamored by her appearance even if she looked like she crawled out of a sewer after a long day of pushing heavy books around all day.

Regardless, she could feel staring again but she didn't mind this time now that she had Benji around to be in on this. By the time they reached her apartment, she pulled away from him. She looked at him and for once she seemed to have a good look at him.

His brown hair was messed up from the autumn wind. The leather jacket fit him well but he clearly seemed to have just grown into it from how he awkwardly kept his hands shoved into his pockets and moved his shoulders around it with uncertainty. In that moment, Benji was just like any other person and not some lone wolf with a rakeish history.

"Thanks for walking me home." [Name] says before pausing. "Benji."

Benji grins. "No problem. [Name]."

The door swings open, Chiara stepping out through the door. Her eyes dart between the two before stepping askde to let [Name] walk in. They both wave at Benji, who reciprocates before turning to walk back to his own place. After he'd been far away enough, Chiara pulls [Name] by her sweater into their apartment.

"What happened?"

The question itself wouldn't give a clear enough answer for her friend. [Name] puts her bag down as she speaks, "I think you'll need to sit down for this. You might faint after you hear everything."

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia

[eldritch-spouse]

[The results of the poll came in, thenk you for voting! :]. Fem reader. You live in a house for this one. Sorry for the wait, it got longer than anticipated (4.7k).]

TW: Dubious consent (reader is somewhat scared); Altered states of mind; Heat/Rut.

It's the fifth time you've been dumped into this rat's nest today.

Breg is in heat, or rather, the earlier days of such.

You knew trouble was coming when you found the breeder laying on the kitchen tiles this morning, an overheated and overly sweaty body trying desperately to cool itself on freezing ceramic. He had panted like a dog under the blaze of a Summer evening and barely noticed your presence before excusing himself to make undignified noises in the bathroom. Showering, arguing with himself, jerking off? You didn't know, and you didn't care- You just wanted to eat something before any of this madness really kickstarted.

As you shoved toast in your mouth, slowly but definitely not calmly, you got to see the monster stress himself out, walking between rooms with various items in hand. It was almost funny, if you didn't know exactly what was coming. When his rut starts, Breg always behaves like a bear who forgot to stock food before hibernating. Oh but he didn't forget anything, the cabinets are full, and he learned to buy instant meals for you after the first couple of heats where you tried to explain to his fried brain that you can't just eat dead animals he plops in front of you. Nonetheless, you got to see him strip the couch of its cushions, struggle with dragging your mattress into a corner, fetching all the spare sheets, coats, towels and blankets he could find- For fuck's sake, he ripped the curtains off this time.

All to make a padded, crowded mess of your bedroom. It's always the bedroom with him, it smells like the two of you, so it does make sense, you bitterly suppose... You'd rather this than the uncomfortable bathroom.

You barely got to finish your coffee before a clammy, darkened hand had grasped your arm and you were not so gently tugged into the bedroom, to "evaluate" the mess your eccentric (putting it criminally lightly) boyfriend had made. Having gone through the motions of this charade more than once, you already knew the correct steps to make sure everything went well. Turning towards the muddled breeder, you kissed him and complimented his skills, calling the crime against your sanity he had just committed beautiful before physically stepping into it and sitting down.

Predictably, Breg let out an elated trill from deep within his throat and forced you to lie down, tangling you in a mess of warm fabrics before slotting himself above you protectively. Heavy as he is, the monster's weight was crushing, although you managed to nudge him aside when he dozed off above you. In this phase of his rut, you're not really sure if he's going to try to fuck you or just hold you and fall asleep, so there's some leeway to roam if you're sneaky about it.

It was when you were trapped under the monster's cocoon, sweating yourself into an early grave, that the doorbell rang and you realized something horrific.

You have a package outside.

God fucking damn it.

You were usually so careful with timing things perfectly, having the days where Breg was likely to start a heat jotted down in bright red ink on your calendar so that you'd never make plans for those days. You went as far as to orient a lot of your work life around his cycle, which is annoying, but at the very least possible. To think you were stupid enough to order something and not even care to check the estimated delivery date is pathetic. Maybe you did see it- But it didn't click in your brain what those days were.

Well shit, you had thought at the time, I can't just let it sit there.

And you were right. It was an expensive purchase. Brand new equipment, high-value tech for one of your favorite hobbies. It had been a costly sacrifice, and the specs were a rare find. The package itself isn't small enough to pass by unnoticed, you know one of your scummy neighbors can see if it they look twice at your doorstep. It could be stolen! It will be, if you don't fetch it eventually.

You had tried to stay still, knowing the monster in heat wouldn't take kindly to any perceived "escape attempts", but it was nerve-wracking. You're sure that package will be taken away if you don't get it fast. You can't lose it, can't lose all that money, that effort.

Your first attempt was a blunder, having moved too fast and woken Breg before you could even make it out the bedroom. By the second, you simply got unlucky and he woke by himself, fetching you back in a panic. On the third, you could spot signs of irritation, having been tossed to the nest none too gently and snarled at, fondled and groped and ground at until he had successfully put a gross mark on you. You'll admit the fourth incident was more of an attempt to get his musk off you than a dash for the package, but it got you barked at nonetheless, caught by the living room while Breg tried to slur out warnings, shaking you, hand around your neck while you were lead back into the bedroom. You know you hit a nerve with the fifth because his face disfigured for a moment.

But you can't give up.

This is too important to you. He can't understand it, but you need that fucking thing inside your home.

That's why you're up again, having weaseled out of his clumsy trap of coats. It's impressive he was coherent enough to use the sleeves to tie knots around you, but that's about where his expertise ends in this precarious state. You've played it safer this time, letting the breeder calm down, letting him tongue-bathe you -Gross- Feed you, let him fuck your thighs even. All just so his hormonal brain can forget you even tried to step out the nest. He's sleeping soundly, but you go through the effort of putting a shirt you recently wore next to the monster, hopefully to keep him lulled.

Breg shifts in his sleep, picking up on the scent and making weird murmurs before clutching at the fabric- As if it were you there. Almost cute, if not for the fact that you're really stressed.

Instead of walking across the house, you crawl, slow and measured to make sure not even the sound of your breathing could rise Breg. There's furniture askew, remotes and decorations on the floor from the previous times he fetched you in a hurry. Although you do your best to muffle your nerves, your arms shake with anxiety. Anything could make him stir awake, you can't ever run away from him, he could hurt you.

Perhaps it's because you're sheltered, or maybe you have too much faith in the breeder, you could just be stupid- But you weigh those odds against the pain of losing your expensive purchase and, in the end, decided you'd sooner twist an ankle than let it get stolen by a filthy porch pirate.

Reaching the front door is a milestone you smile brightly at. The problem comes when you glance at the keys. They'll jingle if you're not careful, the front door thankfully never creaks, but you know for a fact it makes a distinct click when it unlocks. Kneeling, arm outstretched, fingertips almost grazing the keys, you hesitate.

Should you...?

Maybe you should head back. Pretend you never left, snuggle up to him and just give it up for today. But then, this is only just the beginning, his instincts are only going to get worse from here on out. If you can't reach the package today, then it's pointless to even try your luck the following days! Right, this is no time to falter, you need to get it now.

With newfound resolve, an inkling of it at least, you hold the keys with both hands. One to make sure the others don't clink and clank, the other doing the actual turning. Slow like molasses, calculated, even the way you inhale and exhale is measured. On the last turn, you apply pressure and keep the grip on the key as firm as you can, trying to nudge the lock open gently enough to avoid that telltale click. Sucess! Soundlessly, you feel the door move, fully unlocked.

Yes!

The hardest part is over. Removing the keys from the door, you take great care when depositing them on the carpet. Specifically the carpet, to muffle any sort of faint jingling.

The weather outside is nice, but you're too preoccupied to consider something as simple as that. No, your eyes are locked onto your prize. There, only a couple of feet away, your package! Untouched, neatly arranged, perfectly fine as it should be. You nearly cry in relief, crawling outside, beyond caring if any of your neighbors see you like this- A disheveled, stinky mess wearing only a top and casual shorts on all fours.

When your hands wrap around the cardboard, it feels as if all is well in the world. You made it. You secured your purchase. You don't have to worry about anything else anymore, you can just head inside and-

VROOM

A car zooms past the street. You hear it before you see it pass. At first, you don't even think about it. After all, what could be meaningful about a stranger driving by in a hurry, right?

And then you realize your "boyfriend" is in a hypersensitive state with notoriously augmented hearing.

Ah.

Once more, you hear it before you see it.

A jarring thump thump thump THUMP. And a shiver crawls up your spine hard enough to make you freeze. Oh God. Clutching the stupid cardboard box like a lifeline, you glance upwards, towards the doorway, seeing none other than who you dread the most right now. Breg.

He's positively fuming. You're surprised there isn't literal steam coming off his body. Hunched, tense, but it's not the size of him that scares you. It's his face. His distorted, stretched out maw- Fully extended, gums visible, pushing those horrid teeth outward as he drools on the ground. You know, in spite of his lack of visible eyes, that Breg is glaring daggers at you, specifically.

A steady hissing fills your ears and you know it's over. You know you fucked up- Not directly, but you did. Because you left the door wide open and didn't account for the noise. You're a fool. The first thing your instincts tell you to do is rise and prepare to sprint, but the moment you sit straighter, Breg releases a chilling snarl, so you opt to fold further into yourself and remain utterly catatonic. Can he understand you still, through the haze of hormones? Would he grasp it if you apologized? Should you speak at all?

The choice is made for you.

You close your eyes the moment the ground shakes with his sprinting, choking on the collar of your shirt as you're physically dragged by it and picked up by the breeder. Where before Breg's hold had been more protective than anything, it's now oppressive, squeezing you to his chest, claws denting your meat. The proximity allows you to feel the bizarre bumps on his raised skin, frigid, yet coated by steaming sweat drops. You don't open your eyes until you're airborne for a very short period, falling face-first on the musk-heavy nest.

Breg slams the door to the bedroom shut and pants harshly, landing a fist to the wall several times. Each pound makes you jump and tense, huddling into yourself with tears in your eyes. Oh God what if he's had enough? What if he does that to you?! He makes an ambiguous roar and seems to slam his own head on the wall, but it doesn't crack or chip the infrastructure like his hand did.

You wonder if he's giving himself a concussion on purpose, for your sake.

" B-Breg? " Scared, gawking eyes plead with the breeder stationed at the wall. You note the attempts he makes at steadying his breathing, fruitless, as his chest continues to heave dramatically. What the fuck is happening anymore.

" Whah... "

Oh. He's trying to speak. Usually, he can still do it in the first day or so, this looks like it's an especially intense rut, because of course it is. That's just your amazing luck shining through. You wait patiently for the monster to come up with something in between his slurring mumbles.

" What isss wrong with you?! "

" H- Huh? " His words and voice are distorted by the shape of his extended jaw, shifting his mouth and tongue to make the proper sounds of the language you both speak becomes a challenge.

" WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! " Breg bellows, turning around to face you properly. You resist the urge to crawl under the the mess of sheets and clothes.

" I- I just wanted to get the package. " You try, voice light and tone pleading, searching his face for any sort of recognition -A miracle epiphany that doesn't seem to be surfacing any moment soon- and finding nothing but growing confusion. Irritation.

" NO! " He shrieks, gesturing wildly as if you're the one missing an obvious point. " OUTSIDE. "

" Don't- Don't scream at me... "

He rolls his head, looking away, then back. " Outside- " He hisses, quieter at least. " Don't. Go. Out. "

It would just take one second. One second to get that box in and it would be over. Is it really that big of a sin? Breg starts moving upsettingly fast towards you, when an arm shoots out, you do what you usually have to when he's deep into his rut. Belly up, hands back, legs spread and neck bared. Good ol' trusty "please don't kill me".

It works.

The breeder's motions halt altogether and he seems to stare at you vapidly for a couple of static seconds. His jaw retracts a chunk, but his maw is still stretched, still that haunting grin. Good, he's distracted.

" ... You know you can't... Go outside. " He drools, to which you nod frantically. " Here is safe... Here is... "

You get to see the exact moment when hormones kill off just about any higher thought process in Breg. The monster shakes his head and crawls atop you, looking mildly bothered by the amount of clothes on your figure before lifting the hem of your shirt and burying his head underneath. Surprised, you can only giggle incredulously, feeling his humid hot breath fanning your stomach and chest. The breeder replies with an instinctual chirp and his breathing finally begins slowing down.

There, you think while slowly stroking his gross back, he's going to settle down, maybe hump a little and then fall asleep. Fool.

The monster stirs after a couple of comfortable moments, muttering something incoherent. He stands much too quickly and begins tugging you up as well, expression creased with what you think might be worry.

" What- What are you doing? " His grip on your wrist is uncomfortable when he starts walking out of the bedroom.

He spends his entire ruts making sure you stay in this room, now he's pulling you out? Geez, how many brain cells did he fry this time?

He only starts speaking after you tap him a couple of times. " Need to move! " He hisses, like you're particularly dumb. " ... Another cave. "

Cave...? Oh, the house. Yes.

You try to stand your ground, but given he's holding onto such a delicate part of you, it's not a good idea to pull. If he dislocates or fractures your wrist while in heat, there's no telling when you'd be able to reach a hospital- You can't risk that damage.

" But what's wrong with this one? " Really, you don't see what's wrong about the house for him to be fussing. You only have a couple of night lights on, the place is warm, there's food, he made his nest, what's missing? Is he getting pickier for no reason now?

" Not safe enough! " You're led to the living room while Breg has his weird freak out fit, glancing at the front door.

He must have shut it as he dragged you in, at least that. Unfortunately, your delivery remains outside. Though, in hindsight, if anyone saw that little stunt between you and the irate breeder, there's a pretty good chance they won't be ballsy enough to come fetch it. You certainly wouldn't be.

When it seems the rutting monster is determined to actually go outside, you start offering minimal resistance. Anything could happen with Breg in that state out and about, he could maim someone, he could force you to God knows where, he could fuck you in the streets openly- The scandal would follow you forever. A thousand yard stare settles on your face.

" B- But I think it is? " You have no cards to play with when dealing with a monster in rut. How can you logically counter his points when he's not thinking logically at all?

" NO. " Finally, he releases your wrist, now pacing restlessly, claws dragging over his own arms. He's clearly distressed and angered, but you don't know how to calm him without seemingly making it worse.

" YOU'LL RUN. " The breeder pauses to snarl pointedly in your direction, returning to barely coherent mumbling and frantic pacing shortly after.

Ah. So that's why he thinks it's not safe. Granted, you know damn well you put yourself in this spot. Now you'll have to weasel out of it.

" I- I won't. " Your shaky, tiny voice is extremely convincing, surely. " I p-promise! It- It's alright. "

Breg stops clawing at his arms, mumbling halted, his pacing ends with the monster right in front of you. His looming, tense figure has you fixed on the spot like an ant. Part of you wants to start bawling for help, another desperately wishes to reach out and soothe him.

" You- You liar... " He seethes, glancing between you and the door as you sweat bullets. " You WILL run! I know you will! YOU'LL LEAVE ME- "

His volume startles you again, beneath the anger he's showing, beneath those drooling teeth waaay too close to your face, there's genuine panic in his tone. Almost wheezing for a second. You're momentarily reminded that it's not just you who's at peril here. When Breg gets really aggravated, the way his metabolism kicks up several notches has consequences for him as well. This isn't good for anyone, and in your blindsided excitement about your purchase, you completely forgot that your failed attempts have only been stressing his already overloaded organism out more. Suddenly, a wave of guilt crushes your spirit.

There's not much time to wallow in it, because you're being grabbed. The lack of reaction must have upset the breeder, who's darkened arms clutch your own. " YOU'LL LEAVE. I can't let you leave- Can't let you go- Mates can't escape- YOU NEED ME. " Each rise in intensity has him jostling you back and forth.

Ooh boy, this is not looking good.

You consider opening your mouth to say something, try to appease him by whatever means necessary, but given all of your attempts have failed so far, what's the use? There's got to be another way...

...

"You need me"... Hm, maybe it's not so hopeless.

Keeping your gaze focused on the breeder, you know trying to slip away from his grasp is useless, but your intent is to reach down enough to grasp the hem of your shorts, quietly shimmying the cloth down. At first, the breeder doesn't realize why you're squirming, growling in warning at your perceived attitude, until he has the wit to glance towards the movement, watching you drop the fabric to your ankles and step out of it. His gaze is wholly fixated on your pussylips, a string of drool oozing from the side of his face to the floor. This secret smirk spreads on your face at the state you have him in, feeling mildly flattered even if you know how volatile he is right now.

In an effort to distract the male just a bit more, you part your legs a little, hearing him very clearly snort grossly, inhaling. His grip lessens ever so slightly, and you take advantage of it to start edging your now tattered shirt off. He barely twitches when his arms drop, squatting on the ground like some frog as he edges closer to your pussy, about to stuff his face on it most likely. His members steadily poke out that engorged slit, already soaked in their own precum, more than ready for anything.

Summoning all the bravery you have to stick to your possibly not very bright plan, you tense on the spot, allowing him but one second of calm, before hauling ass. Your goal is not the outside, not at all, you're actually sprinting the way you came from, teeth grit with nerves.

Predictably, it's a very short dash, Breg darted after you not even a second later, hot on your tail enough to physically crash against you on the way inside the bedroom and effectively throwing you onto the nest. You're getting really tired of landing face-down on this thing... But it's exactly what you wanted. Because when the breeder looms over you, hips instinctively slotted against yours, his hand keeping your head still, you get to turn things on their head before he can bark at you.

Quickly, you bump your bare ass against his cocks, making sure to grind and sway like you're the one in heat. You can feel the startling temperature of them on your skin, spreading their slick and his scent on you in a way that makes shivers ripple through you. The movement apparently startles Breg's already muddled brain into stillness again, you can tell he's probably very confused, ping-ponging between irritation and delight.

" Hah, guess you caught me again... " You bullshit, arching your spine beneath the monster as much as you can and bumping harder against him. Breg shudders. " So, will you do something about it this time, or do I have to keep running until my mate fucks me hard? "

Please buy it please buy it holy shit-

There's a chuff above you, you're positive he understood the words perfectly when he makes an excited crooning trill that tapers off into a chirp. He pushes his dicks onto you in response and you know it worked flawlessly the moment he dips to lick from your neck upwards. Good, this is good. Not optimal, but better than getting tossed outside.

The key to making him forget about your stunts is to convince the breeder it was all a sort of "challenge", and to do such, you'll have to keep up this attitude. Sloppy rutting turns into pushing yourself onto him when Breg poorly lines one of his dribbling cocks against your pussy. Having been through this song and dance before, you don't let him get any ideas regarding his twin length, awkwardly reaching beneath you to grasp and gently stroke at whatever parts you could reach.

He's thrilled, but your taste of control is short-lived as soon as he can sheathe himself inside you. It's a stretch, lord knows it always is with him, but he's excited this time, ramming himself. If he wasn't leaking lubrication like a broken faucet, you probably would have gotten hurt. As is, you only scream in surprise, fisting the sheets and ripped curtains beneath you. He moans, low and loud, a cry of pure animal relief. And, perhaps to your chagrin, fulfills your request.

" Hhrk-! "

Not a single second of mercy is spared your way. Breg doesn't care to build you up, his goal is one thing and one thing only, to fuck his cocktease of a mate full of his hatchlings, a fruitless effort. Not that it's ever stopped him from trying, you often get the feeling he desperately thinks he can will a pregnancy into existence, even outside of heat.

The monster on top of you is fast and ruthless, all self-serving thrusts kissing deep into your cunt while his spare cock twitches and occasionally slaps against your mound. It's a far cry from how he usually behaves, obviously, but the novelty of getting the breath quite literally fucked out of you never seems to wear off. Thighs shaking, you can't muster the composure to buck against him very aptly, body wracked with intense waves of pleasurable heat every time the somewhat more pronounced ridges of his fattened girth drag on that spot -Oh, that little spot- That has you sobbing soundlessly. In reality, Breg isn't making any efforts to offer you much, if any, pleasure, but it'd be impossible not to brush against something nice every now and then with this pace. Being used like a favored, dirty little cocksock, all you can do is grit your teeth and try not to drool as much as the monster making a puddle of your neck and hair.

Apparently, Breg begins to get annoyed by the way you'll bounce forward a little too far for his tastes, rumbling. It's really not your fault there's so much horsepower behind those legs, but you'll admit you don't like getting delicious friction disrupted too much either. The monster readjusts, an arm snakes beneath to grab your neck, grip firm but not squeezing, the other captures your right hand under his, your thighs are nudged closer together to trap his unattended dick and finally- Bold teeth latch onto the skin on the back of your neck.

He's done this before, in controlled settings however. You don't think it's a particularly good idea to let Breg's currently sharpened teeth around your neck for long periods of time, so really, the faster he cums, the less danger you're in. It's difficult to think about much of anything when the rutting breeder's pace resumes, this time not as deep but fast enough to make your vision blur, the smack of skin on skin and frantic shared panting putting you in a trance. God, he fucking stinks like this, you can't escape the smell, ever, it's on you now. He growls and occasionally clips out short moans in response to your helpless flexing around his wet cock, surprising you with another chirp.

Ah, precisely. There's something you can use!

Knowing full well you've never been good at it, you cough to clear your throat before attempting, quite poorly, to imitate the sound. You do it twice for good measure, immediately rewarded with an enthusiastic, hard grind that lifts you ever so slightly off the nest while Breg makes a keening sound that melts into a more complex trill. Your eyes roll and you feel yourself cumming hard around him, grunting at the sudden pleasure. Fuck, how do you make that one? He clearly loves it, you have to at least try. Drunk on the afterglow of your orgasm, you let out a series of vaguely similar whistling clicks, not really sure what you're transmitting to the breeder, or caring really.

The monster's hold of your neck tightens enough to make you wince, though the vibrations of his muffled moaning are shamefully arousing as his next series of hard pounds nearly jostle the few contents of your stomach. You know he's cumming when claws dart to hold your hips perfectly still and his head drops on yours, braying out a shameless noise that devolves into harsh puffing and gasping. Naturally, the cock nestled between your now sticky thighs coats your front and the sheets in a stupid amount of pearly cum, making you whine at the feeling while your womb tries to accommodate as much of the other's load as possible- What it inevitably fails to hold having no choice but to ooze and squeeze out, dripping to your front as well.

Long moments pass, though the shaking of your legs only grows, causing Breg to flip you both on your sides before he ends up crushing you. it's gross, you're laying on a small pool of warm seed while he plugs you happily, glancing up to see him smile happily at you through the haze of hormones. Contented and calm, the ideal state. You don't struggle or react much when the male predictably reaches to start tongue-bathing your upper body, merely grimacing at the scent of excess saliva.

Just to make sure things are even and smoothed out between you, you turn slightly, placing a peck on that long neck and chastely licking him back. There's no way you're going to groom him in this gross state, but it appears to be rewarding enough, his tail swatting around violently.

" ... Angel. " He mumbles, head nuzzling yours lazily. " My angel... "

Crisis averted.

[sanjimi]

my past haunts me, but i'm forever yours.

sanji x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of daddy issues, alluded abusive home, angsty but not because of sanji, reader is scared of falling in love, sort of suggestive but not too suggestive.

calloused fingers brush against the skin of your shoulder. you sit there silently, and he observes. 

sanji has gotten used to your behavior—sometimes you were distant, separated.

“is everything alright, darling?” he still asks every time, despite always getting the same answer. 

it makes your heart warm, but even now you still feel empty. you don’t want to get attached, you don’t want to trust him. trusting leads to eventual disappointment and heartbreak. you knew this well. 

nonetheless, you somehow find the energy to reply in a hum. 

“m’ fine, sanji.”

he loved the way you said his name, even when you were lying. 

sanji brushes your hair out of your face and tucks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. 

“you hardly touched your food,” he says softly, a hint of concern in his voice. is it real concern? you do not know. “everyone’s already gone back.” 

you realize you’ve been staring into his eyes a while, and you avert your gaze, pulling away from him.

he was right. the rest of the crew had scarfed down their dinners long ago, leaving you to sit at the table alone while sanji did the dishes. they say something about slow eating and trauma response, but you try not to pay any mind to it. you were fine. you had to be. even if chopper has been giving you worried looks all week and zoro keeps a watchful eye on you when you walk down the stairs. even if usopp and luffy notice you didn’t goof off with them this morning, and nami and robin notice that you toss and turn all night. even if sanji's been asking you the same question every day for the past month.

“i’m just not very hungry. i’m sorry, the food is really good i just… i can’t eat right now.” you look up hesitantly, afraid of backlash. he doesn't yell, he doesn’t get angry. he doesn’t force you to eat. he just nods and picks up the plate, turning to the kitchen and putting it away. 

“i’ll wrap it up for you and we can eat later.”

we. he always says we.

“darling?” he repeats the sweet name he decided to call you. “sweetheart, please talk to me.”

when had anyone ever cared for you like this before you joined the crew?

“i…” you start, and he perks up to listen. “i’m fine, i promise.” you try to smile, and laugh lightly. its hard to laugh. you have a hard time getting the words out, but he drinks in everything with complete and utter patience, despite knowing you are lying to his face. had anyone ever been so patient before?

sanji’s fingers find your hand that rests atop the table. his thumb traces the knuckles on your hand. “is there anything i can do?” he asks gently, ignoring the lie. your heart hurts. 

“please don’t.” you pull away from him again. always running, always pulling away. “don’t. you don’t need to do anything.”

he sighs and turns your chair towards him. you try to get up and leave, but he grabs your hands and kneels on the floor below you. he kisses your palms, then brings them up to cup his face and holds them there. 

“please let me care for you.”

his eyes search your face. you sit there, staring at him. you want to pull your hands away, you want to run away and lock the door so you can hide. away from him. away from his prying gaze. away from how he makes your heart burn and feel hopeful because what else can you do when those warm eyes look at you and ask for permission to give you the world? 

do you really want to run away? you run your thumb across his cheekbone. do you really want to, or is that the coward inside of you telling you to push people away? 

“i- i can’t-” your voice shakes, and his hands tighten over your own. you can’t pull away, even if you tried. you suck in a breath.

“i know how this will end. you’ll leave or- or you’ll stop loving me or… or…” you trail off and finally look him in the eye. finally, you let your vulnerability show. “i don’t want to end up like them.” the sentence is said in a whisper, your voice threatening to crack if you let it grow any louder. 

who could have been the cause of this fear? of course, none other than the people who raised you and gave you your name. your parents, with their artificial love that echoed on the walls of your home and made you suffocate until you finally stepped outside. but then you realized you’re still suffocating, everywhere you go. 

you suffocate when you’re sitting alone in your bed on this pirate ship, thousands of miles away from your childhood home. you suffocate when you are at the market, when you sleep. when you eat, when you cry. even when you're around others, you feel alone. 

but why is it that when you’re with him, you can feel a release of the pressure on your throat? could he really be relieving you? or… what if he’s just going to hold you under until you suffocate to death? 

“y/n.”

his voice calling your name is what brings you back to earth. his hands on your skin, he turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist this time. 

“i don’t ever, ever want to do that to you.” his tone is sincere, his words clear in your head. “please let me help you.” his request comes again, and you feel your heart ache once more. 

you don’t want to say yes. to agree to this outrageous request. how could he expect that of you? but then again… maybe you actually do. how nice it would be to say yes. if you said yes, would the pain go away? the fear?

your body defies you as you nod, wordlessly agreeing to his request. 

he smiles. warm and sweet like the feeling of sitting by the fireplace and drinking hot tea. 

he trails his hands to your thighs, then your waist. he kneads your skin, thumbs pressing small circles into the pain that had settled there over the years. he pulls you up to your feet, one hand now cupping your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist. he leans forward, then stops. his nose gently touching your own, you realize he’s giving you one more chance to run away. 

do you really want this? love is hard. love is breakable. love fades. it hurts. wouldn’t it be easier to just be alone? 

he presses his forehead to your own and brushes his nose on yours. one more chance. will you crawl back into your shell? 

a flash of bravery, and you close your eyes, then lean forward. suddenly, the world didn’t seem so bad. 

soft lips pressed against your own and you’re enveloped in the scent of smoke and rain and warmth—did warmth even have a scent? it must. it smells like sanji. 

kissing him is easy. suddenly all the fears of falling drift away and you’re welcomed with the feeling of something soft at your feet, in your hands, surrounding your body. his hands travel around you and are now on your back, making you arch into him. slowly, as though not to startle you, he pulls away. you chase after his lips. 

he smiles, looking into your eyes and he holds you close. a small smile forms on your lips and he kisses you again. 

you should’ve known. loving him is easier. much, much easier than pushing him away. pushing everything away. it feels like the hands on your throat pushing down have been burnt up, now replaced by lips sucking his name into your skin. 

a small sound escapes you, and you feel the curve of his smile against your throat. his fingers dance at the edge of your shirt, slipping under and pressing against your bare skin. his hands are warm as they tear you limb from limb, pulling you apart and putting you back together. 

yes. maybe loving him was easier. 

is this a cry for help? maybe. anyway, i wish we all had a sanji

[portgasdwrld]

Hiii <3

Could you maybe write the monster trio + ace reacting to when their s/o is sick and has a fever? I’ve been pretty sick this week and I think this would be a cute idea T-T

Tysm<3

Hiii, you are my first ask and yes no problem! I hope you will feel better soon 🤍 Sending you much strength 🫶🏻

I Hope you will like it somehow. I didn’t know truly what direction I wanted to go but I would like to think it still satisfied your demand💕it’s 2am here so sorry for any mistakes, I will correct later 🤷🏻‍♀️

📂Op men + sick s/o reader

Featuring: Monster trio + Ace

Warning: Pure fluff so none, F!reader

Note: I got carried away. I wrote sm oml 💀

Luffy

Your name was being screamed across the ship by none other than the captain himself. He was excited to show you a new goofy trick that Chopper and him had come up with. But when he didn’t receive any response from you, he turned to the small reindeer with a confused expression.

-Oi, where is y/n ?

-She said she felt dizzy so she went to lie down in her room.

Nami answered him while putting down her magazine. She furrowed her eyebrows now also worried about your silent behaviour. It’s been now around three hours since you had left. You weren’t one to be overly loud like your boyfriend, but having you completely out of sight was worrisome.

-Aahh?! Nami! You should’ve told me she was feeling unwell!

Chopper screamed worried as he ran across the ship to grab his medical bag. He ran to your room, soon followed by Luffy and Nami.

As they opened the door, they watched your frame all curled up in the sheets as if it was cold outside. Luffy ran to you and touched your warm forehead.

-Chopper ! She’s burning hot! Do something!

-Yes!

Your eyes slightly opened from all the noises suddenly filled in your room.

-Everyone…what are y’all doing here…

-Y/N! ARE YOU OKAY?!

Luffy screamed happy to see you awake.

-DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT! ITS NOT GONNA HELP HER HEADACHE AND FEVER!

-You are one to talk…, he mumbled under his breath after being yelled at by Nami.

-I think you simply caught a cold. I will ask Sanji to make you something warm and you will eat some medicine to help your fever go down.

Chopper concluded as he looked at you with his big eyes, reassuring you that you will be okay. You weakly smiled.

-Thank you, Choppy

-Y/N! I will keep you company until you feel better !

He announced suddenly determined. He caressed your hair softly and his eyes filled with worries. Nami shook her head and gave you a sorry smile.

-You don’t have to… I’m fine…

-No, you’re not. I will stay here with you until you are yourself again. I won’t leave you alone.

He retorted suddenly full of seriousness. It wasn’t like him to be so serious about things in general, but seeing him like that with you made your heart warm.

He indeed stayed the whole day and the day after too. He kept you company until you started feeling better.

He tried to make you laugh by telling you stupid stories about his childhood and doing goofy ass shit. He would ask Sanji to make you the best nutritive food he could so you will heal faster. He cuddled with you at night even though Chopper told him he could catch your cold. He tried his best to brush your hair, but he let that to Nami after failing miserably 💀.

He tried his best to make you forget you were suffering even though it could be just for a second. If he was able to make you smile, he considered you were slowly getting better. He loves you so much. So for him, you needed to stay by his side until you both achieved your goals and more, and he was gonna make sure of it.

Zoro

-Zoro, I think we’re lost.

-No we are not.

He said convinced of himself. You rolled your eyes well aware of the direction skills of your boyfriend. Y’all stopped for a second trying to figure your position (mostly you) in this jungle. You leaned against a tree and let your body slide down until you were sat on the ground. Your head leaned on the tree as you searched for the map you found on the ground yesterday.

-Aren’t you a bit too exhausted for a little walk in the forest?

Zoro teased unaware with a slight chuckle as he watched your frame completely relying on the tree to hold your body. You have been sweating a lot more than you are used to and fatigue waves were hitting your body since y’all slept in this jungle. You didn’t say anything not wanting to worry your boyfriend or the crew, but it was starting to take a toll on you.

-Yeah, I don’t know…

You replied without much interest to bicker with him. You pulled the map out of your bag and started to try to localize y’all position.

-Hey, are you okay?

You feel your boyfriend tower over you, creating a much needed shade. You blinked at him as you felt your vision getting weak and nodded. He shook his head and leaned towards you and placed his hand on your forehead.

-You are burning. We need to get you to Chopper.

-No don’t bother, I’m alright. It’s probably the heat from this place.

-Y/n, you’re obviously not feeling your best. You’re sweating and your body is barely keeping you conscious at this rate.

-I’m fine seriously.

You insisted with now tears in your eyes because of a sudden sharp pain you felt in your head. You had a bad headache in the morning but it seemed to have left, but now it came back even worse. Zoro eyes filled with worries seeing your eyes get teary. He picked up your body in a bridal style and pecked your forehead.

-Okay let’s try to find the others as quick as we can.

You chuckled knowing it would probably take hours with his poor direction skills. You let your head rest on his chest and closed your eyes. You trusted him no matter what anyway.

-Okay

It was the last word you said before you fell asleep in his arms. Sanji and Chopper had randomly fell on the both of you as Zoro was walking with you in his arms and yelling the crews name to grab their attention. He explained shortly the situation to the doctor. They decided it would be better to head back to the ship.

After some time you opened your eyes and saw y’all were still walking in this warm jungle, but with now Sanji at the front followed by Chopper.

-You’re awake? How do you feel?

Zoro deep voice asked you softly, but his eyes were still following the cooks figure.

-I’m okay, thank you for carrying me.

He didn’t reply but simply smiled and nodded. His eyes looked down at you with a rare grin.

-Let’s just heal you already so we can go back to our explorations.

-More like finding our way out of being lost, you mumble weakly with a weak smirk.

-Yeah yeah whatever.

Sanji

-What a beautiful day, especially when I’m accompanied by my beautiful lady~

Sanji exclaimed while lightening up the cigarette at the edge of his lips. He tightened slightly his grip of your hand as he gave you a sweet look. You chuckled and rested your head for few seconds on his shoulders.

-Of course, how could I say no to a grocery shopping with my beloved man.

He blushed like crazy at the nickname and left a quick kiss on your cheek.

-AHHHH, Im so lucky to have you~ Look! The vegetables look fresh which is perfect when we have to sail for a long time.

He excitedly walked to the few standing shops to see the quality of the vegetables and you followed behind him, your hands still intertwined in his.

You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying due to a little fever you caught this morning. You didn’t know the cause but you were still able to function, it was just giving you a harder time to do simple task. Like walking around the new island and spending time with your boyfriend, it was surprisingly more demanding than you would’ve thought.

-Did I lost you, ma jolie ?

He asked worried that he got carried away with his excitement to try new ingredients and buy fresh food for everyone. You used your other hand to caress his arm and reassure him.

-Of course not, I’m sorry. I think the heat is getting to me, it’s making me feel a little dizzy.

-Would you like to sit somewhere in the shade until you feel better ? We can go back to the ship if you want? I will make you something refreshing.

-I think sitting in the shade for a moment could help.

-Alright my love.

He kissed you once again and you two walked to a cafe and sat on one of the table on the terrasse. He ordered a cold drink for each of you. You closed your eyes and let your body lean over the back of the chair. You felt nauseous on top of the fever, it wasn’t your day.

-You look pale, darling.

Sanji expressed in a soft and worried tone.

-I think I’m sick, you retorted plainly, accepting your fate. You hated being sick but you knew not to push yourself too hard to heal faster.

-Should we head back to the Sunny ?

-I will. You still have to shop for the food. It’s important.

-You are important too. It won’t kill anyone if I do it tomorrow or later.

-Sanji, we can’t afford staying somewhere too long. Robin stayed on the ship, I’m sure we will figure something out until Chopper comes back.

-Are you sure darling? Let me at least walk you to ship and make sure you are okay before I go. Please?

You sighed and a smile curved your lips.

-I cant say no to you, can’t I ?

He smirked satisfied. After drinking your refreshers and paying, you both started to walk to the Sunny.

-Do you want me to carry you?

Sanji asked looking down at you. You were walking a little slow and you seemed out of breath. Your sweaty hand was tightly holding into your boyfriends one. He pushed your hair behind your ear and you blushed a little.

-I think I can do it…

-Like I’m gonna let my lady walk all the way to the ship in a sickness state.

He retorted determined after you turned him down. You secretly smiled to yourself. You loved how much of gentleman he was. He carried you all the way to the Sunny and asked Robin to take care of you until the doctor was back from his exploration.

He made sure she would run to any doctor if your state got worse. You reassured him it was simply a little fever and you were fine. He reluctantly left after making sure you were all comfortable in your sheets, that you had your favourite snacks, a big water bottle, your favorite books, etc.

-You are sure, you don’t want me to stay?

-Sanji, I swear to god if you don’t go I will kick your ass out of the boat.

He caressed your hair back and pecked the top of your head. He lifted your face by putting his finger under your chin as if he was trying to read your eyes and make sure you were truly honest with him. He gave you a long kiss on the lips and brushed your cheek with his thumb before pulling back.

-Alright! I WILL BE BACK SO REST A LOT! I WILL MAKE YOU A GOOD SOUP!

He exclaimed as he ran out of your room. Robin walked in after his departure to check up on you. You collapsed in your bed, eyes closed as sleep took over you. Robin shook lightly her head as she closed the door behind her. You stayed strong in front of him just not to worry him. Sanji made a bussing soup when he returned tho.

Ace

-So my girlfriend is sick ?

Ace spoke as he opened the door of your room. You were reading a book that you bought not too long ago at the last island y’all stopped. Your eyes looked at your freckled lover that had just bursted into your space.

-I guess I’m not so untouchable, you declared sarcastically with a smile. He scoffed and walked over to your bed. He softly grabbed your face and kissed you.

-Aren’t you scared of being sick by kissing me, you idiot.

-Like I care, I know I have my pretty girl who will take care of me.

-I ain’t no doctor Fire boy. The only nurse fantasy you will get is Marco.

-Can you not put images in my head.

You both started to laugh. He sat on your bed and stared at you.

-What

You finally ask after he stayed silent.

-You are still cute even in that state.

You lightly push his big arm as you roll your eyes. You were really self aware that your hair was a little bit a mess and you had a red nose. It wasn’t your best day, but it still made you blush to hear those words from him.

-I got you some candies. I know those are your favourite.

-Omg, I was in need of those. Thank you!

You exclaimed at the view of the candies in the small bag he had brought. Your pulled him into you and pressed your lips against his. He smiled against your lips and pulled away.

-I thought you were worried about me getting sick too.

He muttered barely few inches away from your lips. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck.

-Shut up and cuddle with me.

-Don’t you have a fever?

He asked conscious of his abnormal body temperature because of his DF.

-Yeah but my body feels cold. You know how getting sick just fucks up your body temperature.

He shrugged his shoulders not truly sure to understand what you meant but he kissed your lips again before pushing himself in the bed next to you.

-Sooo, what were you reading?

-A romance book- oh babe, can you grab the bottle on my desk? Marco told me to drink some this morning before he left but I got distracted.

He nodded and stood up grabbing the bottle for you on the desk. He opened it and poured some on a spoon.

-Open your mouth.

You grinned and opened your mouth. You drank the bitter medicine with a slight chill going down your spine.

-Damn that was gross

You said while sticking your tongue out.

-When it’s gross, it means it’s gonna work fast.

You perked your eyebrow at him and smiled.

-Since when are you a doctor, baby?

-Since my pretty girl is sick.

He replied after jumping in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You closed your eyes to just enjoy the moment. You let your arm rest on his waist as your ear was pressed against his chest, hearing his soft heart beats.

-I think I’m already feeling a little bit better, you comment as you feel your body relax in his embrace.

A silent fell between you two. You furrowed your eyebrows.

-Ace ?

You looked up only to see he was dead asleep.

[shamachan]

step 3 mc not taking care of themself, what do qiu and tama do?

Tamarack & Qiu x gn!MC not taking care of themself headcanons.

step 3.

Qiu Lin.

— It’s immediately clear that Qiu will be so worried. So worried about you that every day they will ask how you are doing and just smile sadly, looking at all the mess on your head.

— They are unlikely to try to know why are you so uncaring about yourself because they don’t want to violate your personal boundaries.

— But, nevertheless, Qiu came to the conclusion that then they will take care of you as best they can, if you can't do it yourself.

— Depending on why you don't take care of yourself, they may compliment you frequently, support you, or do some things instead of you. Or maybe even all together. They just want you to feel better about it.

— They will carry snacks in their pockets that you might like, just in case you are hungry and offering them when there is a sign that you want to eat. If you refuse a snack then it's alright, but they'll still carry it with them.

— If they ever come over to your place for a sleepover several times, these nights Autumn will try to do something with your hair if you let them. They will comb it carefully, distracting you with conversations.

— They will also make sure you ate well and that you were hydrated, but they do not force you in any way. And despite all the fun you had there, Qiu will also make sure you go sleep first before falling asleep too.

— They'll make extra sure that if anything happens, you know that at any moment you can come to them and ask for help or support. Qiu will always be here, looking out for you.

— In general, they will do everything they can while trying not to cross your comfort in hope that your inattention to yourself will soon end. And not because they will get tired of caring, but because the best care is caring for yourself...

— ...and their dear neighbor deserves only the best.

Tamarack Baumann.

— From my impressions, she won’t be as sad about it as Qiu does, it's just that still you and your trait. But she will be worried too about your attitude towards yourself.

— Tama won't think for long, she will immediately move on to small, but caring actions.

— Tamarack will gently dust your clothes with her hand if you have any, while you are not looking, will also treat you to food, and probably not only snacks (I think she will be an excellent cook, I don't know why).

— And Tammy will simply be a shoulder on which you can fall asleep or which you can confide in.

— If you ever go with her to the forest and maybe even have a picnic there, Tama will definitely take everything that might be useful - more food, drinks, the softest and warmest blanket she has and even possibly small pillows, if any of you want to lie down comfortably. Because... Why not? But be prepared to walk with her a lot at first!

— After such a day with Tamarack you probably will be the most rested from all the hustle and bustle, or at least she will try to make it so! These walks will also repeat often, as she invites you anytime she can.

— Also based on my headcanon that Tamarack cooks greatly, I think that she will often pass ready-made meals to you, and not necessarily when you are at home. She will definitely try to make this food your favourite! So yeah, you'll be the most well-fed person thanks to the chef Tama.

— I can say that she will be so caring as the one who truly accepts you. She won't try to change you, because she believes that everything will come in its own time. As well as self-love and care for yourself.

— Tama will live through this with you. You are her favourite neighbor after all, so it's not difficult for her at all.

a/n: as someone who faces kinda the same problem thank u for a request! it was comforting to write.

also I'm sorry that it took such a time :(

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for lying about an allergy?

Im a picky eater, which is embarrassing to admit as an adult. I dont like any seafood at all, so sometimes when people offer/suggest it to me, i tell them i have a mild allergy. Not the anaphylactic kind, just the itchy mouth and throat kind. People usually get it and dont offer me any more.

I have a friend who has a real shellfish allergy, to whom i mentioned offhandedly that i actually just lie about my "allergy" bc i dont like it, and he said thats kind of fucked up and i should be honest and just tell people i dont like seafood. He said by lying im making people feel guilty for accidentally offering food that could "hurt" me, which is not my intention. He also thinks i should eat seafood because i can and he cant, so i should, like, indulge i guess :|

I dont think its a big deal, its a white lie and it saves me the social embarrassment of confessing to be a picky eater and having people try to force me to eat food i dont want. And like, it doesnt even come up that often. But still, i dont know. AITA if i continue to lie about this fake allergy?

What are these acronyms?

[mediumgayitalian]

The rules of Persephone’s garden don’t apply to him.

He’s not entirely sure why. He’s mortal, or at least half. No ichor flows through his veins, not that it helped Persephone. Perhaps it is because he already spends so much of his time in his father’s kingdom; perhaps the Fruit of the Underworld has lost its potency so far removed from the Ancient Lands, so long after Pam’s death.

Regardless, Nico gets to indulge.

Anything from the roundest, sweetest apples to the bitter tang of pink grapefruits, he has sat under the poplar trees and devoured. He likes fruit more than any other food group, more than any other taste. He has always had a sweet tooth. And his eyes eat as much as his lips, drinking in the glimmering sheen of dimpled lime peel and delicate pearls of round concord grapes. He has made himself sick eating strawberry after strawberry.

But his favourite, without question or pause, is a clementine.

The best he’s had, secretly, was not in his stepmother’s garden but in a tiny orchard in Algeria. Engineered for generations by human hand and grown under wide, sparkling sun, the skin had been bright and fragrant, pith minimal and pleasantly bitter, and thin-skinned globules of flesh so plump with juice they’d begged to be burst under his teeth. He’s dreamed about those clementines every week since he’d eaten them. If it wouldn’t kill him, he’d jump to the north African country every day and buy them in swathes.

Unfortunately, at camp, he’s stuck with what he’s got.

But they aren’t so bad.

“You have a sweet tooth worse than anyone I’ve ever met,” Will grumbles, poking at his shoulder. “And when she was 11, Kayla lived off Nerd ropes and Gushers for two months.”

Nico cracks a smile. “Kayla’s continued existence astounds me.”

“I do genuinely think she’s a medical marvel.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it.”

For a while there’s nothing except the tearing sound of Nico ripping off the peel of his citrus. He’s skilled enough to remove it in one go, but sometimes, as a random challenge, he tries to remove it in a certain shape. Today, for no particular reason, the peel comes off in the shape of a heart.

“I can feel you eyeing this,” he says, shooting an exasperated look over his shoulder. Will smiles small and guiltless, in response, raising and dropping his shoulder.

“Dunno what you’re talking about. Just wishin’ you’d eat a vegetable or two.”

Liar. Well, that exact sentence isn’t a lie — Will is such a bad vegetable pusher that he is often teased about secretly owning a farm — but it’s not what he’s thinking about. Nico isn’t stupid.

He sighs. “Here,” he grumbles, wedging his thumbs between the two hemispheres of the fruit and tearing. “You can have half.”

Will brightens. His smile is like clouds clearing, like the give of a snapping elastic. Startling, demanding, storm-cracking and loud. Eye-catching in every possible way.

“Thanks!”

He holds out a cupped palm, and Nico rests half the fruit inside it, fingers brushing the heel of his hand for no justifiable reason. It’s callused — most of his hand is callused. Nico wants to trace the outline of them, with his fingers and then his tongue.

He watches as Will brings the fruit to his mouth, happily munching on the whole thing without bothering to separate the sections, like always. Nico winces.

“You’re barbaric.”

“It goes to the same place! There is not logical reason to eat it section by section!”

“If the sections weren’t meant to be eaten one by one, they wouldn’t be naturally separated, you heathen.”

“Corn is naturally separated. D’you eat that kernel by kernel?”

Nico hates being friends with smart people.

Will laughs, and Nico’s eyes flutter shut, savouring.

“That’s what I thought.” He pops the last bite in his mouth, chewing and swallowing and smiling his dazzling smile, after, sticky citrus juice making his lips look shiny. “Thanks for sharing, Neeks.”

“Course,” murmurs Nico quietly, hiding his smile behind a segment of fruit. “Anytime.”