#not eating soup with forks just yet

[raining-anonymously]

i need more spoons where did they all go :(((

[hotvintagepoll]

Hello! Do you have a favorite winter recipe? I'm looking to expand my repertoire, because I've only lived in a climate that snows for a couple years, and I don't have enough cozy, bone warming foods!

PS - I keep having to feed my cat pumpkin puree because he has some tummy troubles but he will only eat it if I gently hand feed him with a spoon. Just thought you might enjoy that.

YES HERE IS JOYOUS SOUP

(i have never actually called it joyous soup but it's what i feel everytime i make it and i feel like everyone should make it)

This soup does not have a proper recipe because uhh, my mom is bad with recipes but ALSO this soup truly adapts to whatever you have in your fridge, as long as you have 1) some kind of oil or butter to sautee things with and 2) potatoes. this is the sam gamgee make-it-on-the-side-of-a-mountain-winter soup.

Step 1. Take your potatoes—6 is the ideal but 4 works—and chop them up rough. "What kind of potatoes?" Whatever they have on the side of the mountain, Sam. You now have a bunch of 1" potato chunks or discs (I like discs). I assumed you washed them first but if you forgot you can wash them now.

Step 2. Get your oil or butter sizzling. I use about two tablespoons of butter to start and add more as I go if the potatoes don't look fully covered. I am probably cooking the butter on medium.

Step 3. You're putting the potatoes in the butter. You're pretending to fry them. Watch them get all buttery and golden and a little brown and crispy. You're thinking, man, I could eat these as they are right now. You could do that. Don't. Add garlic and onions if you have them. Add lots.

Step 4. Just as you're like oh MAN these potatoes and garlic and onions look really good fried just like this, you're going to swamp them in water. You're going to stare at what you've done and thought you made a mistake. You have not. The water should just be covering the potatoes and now you've turned the water up to high, staring at your weird sad soup pot, that smells deliciously of butter garlic onions and potatoes.

Step 5. In another saucepan, you are melting more butter (or oil, or what have you) and figuring out what else you have in your cupboard. Carrots? Those can go in. Parsnips could too. Spinach works nicely. Any onions or garlic you forgot can be added again now. Mushrooms are fucking fabulous. Leeks? Sublime. The only veg you should be avoiding are the ones that are secretly fruits (no watery tomatoes or squishy cucumbers) or the ones that you think are insipid (celery).

Step 6. You're chopping all of that up as much as you like and browning it up in the butter. You're also adding whatever spices strike your fancy. I love salt, so that's always going in, but I usually add black pepper and cayenne, and then I get fruity with it and start adding in paprikas and cumins and turmerics or corianders and thymes and basils and parsleys. It all depends on what smells right to you combined with the steams you're making, and how much spice you want kicking you later.

Step 7. How are your boiled potatoes looking? Are they soft yet? Good. Can you stick a fork in them yet, and has the water boiled down to almost nothing? Excellent. How are all your buttery brown vegetables looking? If you want to give up the whole experiment and eat them right out of the pan, it's time to make another mistake and add all your gorgeous browned vegetables to your disastrous wet potato pot.

Step 8. You now have a lot of delicious stuff looking wet and sad in your potato pot. Pour in a bit more water (or veg broth, or stock if you have it) and stir that all up. Let it stew together a bit and combine flavors. Turn it back down to medium so you don’t scorch any of your nice wet veg things. If you're fancy like my mom, you get out an immersion blender here. If you're broke and possess your grandmother's food processor, like me, you're pouring that all into the food processor with the biggest blade you have and turning it into a smoothie. If your concoction seems oddly chunky you need to add more water.

Step 9. Wet sad potato smoothie is not much to look at but now you're adding CREAM. and CHEESE. and MORE SPICES TO YOUR TASTE. If you don't have cream MILK WORKS FINE. If you don't have cheese THAT IS OKAY. If you like your soup with chunks LEAVE OUT SOME OF YOUR VEG NEXT TIME and ADD IT IN HERE. At this point, you have a gorgeous creamy soup that's soft and luscious (that's the potatoes), includes all your favorite veg (that's everything you got out of the fridge), and can go in any number of taste directions depending on what spices you put in (I've made this with Indian spices, English herb garden spices, Mexican spices, Hungarian spices—every time it's delicious and works a different way).

Step 10. I hope you have a lot of bread because you're going to be dipping it in your soup saying :) man this is a nice soup :) and knowing you can make it whenever you have weird leftovers, as long as you have potatoes and butter. and what else does a person need in life than potatoes and butter?

enjoy your joyous soup <3 i may have forgotten several steps but as long as you follow -brown some veg -add water -add spice -blend the shit out of it, you can never really go wrong <3

[thoughtssvt]

trying to match the jjk men's eating pace

that one tiktok trend where you try to match the pace your partner eats bite for bite

featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

g. satoru

Satoru was actually shocked when you told him you were going to get as many burgers as he was, joking that he was going to have to finish your leftovers (not that he minded). everything was going smooth as he calmly unwrapped the first burger, taking a bite that didn't seem to under or over fill his mouth, giving you a false sense of security as you chewed your food like normal. panic began to set in by his third bite, practiced hands picking up a pinch of fries to add to the bite he was working on.

you weren't sure if his bites were getting bigger or if he was starting to chew faster, but before you knew it your cheeks were full and he was already crumpling the wrapper to start his second burger, taking a casual sip from his soft drink.

it was laughable, honestly, the way you were still holding half your burger, cheeks almost painfully full, sauce extending your smile, unable to match his sip of burger-filled mouth as you tried your best to hold in your laughter. satoru none the wiser. effectively making you choke on a crumb that had you keeled over, shoulders jumping with your silent chuckles.

"woah, baby. baby, slow down." His voice full of concern, unwrapping his third burger before patting your back in attempt to clear your throat.

g. suguru

suguru always savored his food no matter what it was or how many times he's eaten it. it was great, you were glad he found solace in food considering the toll his curse technique had on his body and his relationship with food. you'd never ask him to change it, but now that you've decided to partake in this silly internet challenge the rumble of your stomach has given you some regrets.

all you wanted to do was dig in, salivating at your steaming bowl of ramen. suguru sitting in front of you, a soft smile on his face as he carefully crafted a smaller ramen bowl in his soup spoon. chopsticks steady and meticulous as he let two noodles coil onto the spoon, dipping the edge of the ceramic into the soup until the noodles just barely peeked through. you sat there, noodles pinched by your chopsticks though still submerged in the broth as he slowly arranged green onions, garlic, pork, fermented bamboo shoots and strips of dried seaweed onto the utensil.

"ah, here we go." he finally said, setting his chopsticks down making you bring your noodles out of the broth and up to your mouth until he reached for a small spoon full of chili oil.

"not that hungry yet, love?" he quirked his brows at you when he noticed your creaky movements as you waited for him, finally bringing his mini bowl of ramen into his mouth, letting the flavors melt on his tongue before starting his slow chew. you followed suit, taking a bite and a sip of the broth.

"so hungry, suguru," you comedically sniffled to yourself, averting your gaze when he began repeating the process all over again.

n. kento

kento was quick skewer the contents onto his fork or scoop his rice onto his spoon, but slow to chew. he'd been excited for this meal after all, waltzing into the kitchen with a pep in his step after leaving work on time, still in his tie as he rolled up his sleeves to begin cooking. the table ending up with a beautiful spread of new dishes that caught his attention in the magazine he picked up last weekend.

unsurprising, the conversation would be about his thoughts on how all the components melded together, how one highlighted another, what it reminded him of. always a memory of a place you two went to together, then a small smile gracing his lips as he tells you that the two of you should go there again in the future. he'd ask you your thoughts, lips forming a small o as he listened to your suggestion of adding a little bit of that the next time he wanted to cook the dish.

the only thing surprising about trying to match his pace was actually how much bread he consumed, which you hadn't realized before until you felt like bursting at the seams when he picked up his forth roll-- a new recipe with his homemade garlic oil painted on top. you'd given up a while ago, choosing to enjoy the food he cooked, his love for bread unmatched. your head in your hand as you watched him chew, anyone on the outside would've assumed that he was eating out of necessity, but under your gaze you were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes as the flavors danced on his tongue. the momentary pause of his jaw as he conjured up a tweak in the recipe to bring it to the next level.

f. toji

you honestly weren't even going to try matching his pace. he devoured. the short skewers of yakitori disappearing into his mouth in an instant, the only thing able to pull you from your amazement was the soft 'ahhhh' he let out as he widened his mouth to accept the food. he barely took the time to finish chewing before bringing another skewer to his mouth. meals with toji usually ended with him running a lithe tongue over his lips, patting his stomach before eyeing whatever was left on your plate.

"gonna finish that?" he asked, hand already reaching whether you were done with your food or not.

he hummed to himself as you walked side by side just having left the restaurant.

"a branch from a sendai restaurant just popped up, want to try their gyutan with me?"

ah, toji's bottomless stomach and his love for meat.

A/N : aahhh i'm sorry toji's section is short, not much to write when the food is gone before you can even look at it LOL i just had suguru's so clearly in my mind and i had to stop myself from writing kento actually cooking. lowkey don't think i'm equipped for these mutli character posts lol

picnic divider by @/thecutestgrotto

line divider by @/firefly-graphics

jjk men x reader masterlist

[mwahsol]

Hot sauce makes me nervous

Description: You have been invited to go on Hot One's First We Feast. It was recently announced that you're releasing an album but when some were looking through the title names they noticed some were romantic names, there have been rumors of you and a specific Uconn basketball player, leading there to already be a lot of attention on the anticipated album. Later on in the interview, you get asked about a specific song already out asking you who and/or what was the inspiration for it. I am using Sabrina and her music as well from other artists as yours in this because I can't think of good song titles…enjoy :)

“It's the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today we’re joined by Y/n L/n, she is one of the most talked about artists. Her debut album from 2021 still to this day is one of the most played in the last four years, some of her latest singles being Please Please Please, Espresso, Nonsense, and The Diner. As well as her new album called Sort n’ Sweet. Y/n L/n welcome to the show.” Sean announces while turning to look at you during the end as to give you the greeting.

“Hi thank you for inviting me, this has been a dream of mine to be here so I am honored and nervous,” you reply a bit nervous since you're fangirling on the inside.

“We’re excited to have you, how are you feeling going into this, are you a fan of hot sauce or prefer to keep things more tame?” He starts with a simple question to try and get you a bit comfortable, keeping things light and steady.

“Umm, I wouldn't say I'm a fan.. when I'm out at dinner I don't go for the spicy flavors but like as a small snack like chips or something yes I'm a fan. Hot sauce makes me all sweaty and nervous if I'm honest.” You say giggling towards the end because you know if you lied your girlfriend's team would never let you live it down when they watch this. “Like one time I thought it was a good idea to try those hot soups filled with peppers and stuff I started to tear up by like the fifth bite.”

At your retelling of the event, Sean is also laughing with you before he starts asking you the question he's prepared and having to dig in.

“I never eat wings with bones in them so this is a little new to me,” you tell him while taking your first bit of the first wing.

“Really? I thought most ate them with the bone in.”

“Yeah I just have an irrational fear of my teeth falling out if I bite down on the bone, that's also why I hate eating with forks.”

Sean and the rest of the people behind the cameras can't help but laugh at your admission. In the background of everyone laughing with you both, you can hear her laughing as well knowing that what you're saying is very much true. Hearing her you turn your head subtly, thinking people wouldn't notice this when posted, looking at her laughing admiring her for a second. You would find out later on people could decently see you turn your head, and if you listened close enough you could hear Paige's laughter in the back.

As the show went on Sean asking you questions about your career, your opinions on your songs, and how you came to be a singer, he asks, “So your song Let the Light In is one of your more romantic yet darker songs. Is there a story behind it or how did the inspiration come to you to create a song like this?”

When hearing his question you started worrying a bit knowing the inspiration wasn't just yours but Paige's too. You look at her in a way asking if she's ok with you answering knowing that this involves a personal situation with her and yourself, when you see her nod and give you an encouraging smile you know she's giving you the go-ahead and will be supportive of your answer. “Well, I wrote the song from my girlfriend mainly, when she had a serious injury and was in a dark place at the time when I met her. As she slowly got better the day she was cleared to play again she told me that she was grateful to have me because meeting me was like a light coming into her life encouraging her to get better. When she told me that I cried because I admitted to her that when I met her I was also at a dark place in my life so meeting her was also like the sun shining after the storm for me. We are each other's lights so I wrote the song for her.” You answer tearing up at the memory but smiling remembering her face when you told her she's your light too.

“It such a heartwarming thing to see how you can take special memories like that and write something beautiful for it, thank you for sharing.” He replied also smiling fondly at you seeing how you made sure with Paige first and telling such a personal moment.

“Thank you too for asking,” you know some interviews would keep pushing for more details, and you're grateful he didn't seeing as how it's not just your story to tell.

By the ninth wing, you started crying while laughing, there were funny instances from you getting a wing and running to Paige telling her to eat it since she was dying by laughing at you, to you falling out of your chair from how fast you turned and reached to grab the milk from the table away from you.

“I feel like my makeup with melting off just by my sweat and tears,” you say struggling to just sit upright but still laughing at your situation.

“Yeah, you look like it.” You heard Paige mumble in the background teasing you knowing it would get a reaction out of you.

“Babe I swear I will go back there and pour this hot sauce down your throat.” Threatening her, not being cautious anymore, while you felt like your mouth was on fire. This makes her laugh even harder as well as the crew and Sean.

After most of the laughter settled down Sean gets ready to ask another question. “This past year you have been spotted at a lot more WCBB and WNBA games, when did you get into watching women's basketball, and why?”

“When I was younger I had brothers that played basketball, they would teach me to play, and tried to get me to watch the NBA. As most big brothers do I just never could get into watching men play but anytime I would find a WNBA game you could bet I was fighting for the controller to put on the game. This year I’ve had a bit more free time since the tour for my last album was done and I took a bit of a break before I started writing this new album so I decided to attend as many as I could.” You weren't technically lying but you did leave out the part where you would mainly go to Uconn games to see your girlfriend back on the court and support her.

“Do you still play?”

“Yeah, a bit nothing serious though,” which is true if anyone on the team asks you to play you would say yes. Paige, while you are both away from Connecticut, if she finds a court shell beg you to play. Even though they're very much significantly taller you'll sometimes land a few points.

“Alright Y/n last one,” he tells you while shaking the last bottle.

“Oh gosh ok ok,” You can feel yourself shaking a little with nervousness but you have to see it through, or else she will never let you forget it. Shaking the bottle as well you try to put a of hot sauce enough to get it but not too much where you're burn your tongue off.

“Before I do this I want the camera and people to see that I did put some on there so she can't say I wussed out,” you tell everyone holding up your wing and looking directly at Paige while she shakes her head laughing at your expression.

“Yes, no one can claim you didn't go through with it, going out with a bang,” Sean tells you backing you up.

When you bite down you can already feel yourself regretting this. You start sweating again, eyes tearing up, nosey runny, you're defiantly making her drive you to go get ice cream.

“So Y/n you stated that in you're elementary through middle school years you took ballet lessons,” as soon as he said those words you knew where this was going and started to mentally prepare yourself, “we wanted to see if you could choreograph a small routine to your song All mine.”

“Of course, I can't promise it'll be good,” you respond while laughing and sniffling.

“Alright let's move these tables and chairs,” Sean says while laughing with you.

When doing your routine you only got a few steps in before you stopped and could continue because of your laughter, “I'm sorry omg I can't do it.”

“Fanominal dance couldn't have asked for better. There it is Y/n L/n taking on the wings of death, living to tell the tale, is there anything you would like to promote.”

“Short n’ Sweet comes out August, listen to it please it'll make me feel better from this. Watch the WNBA they're really cool and watch WCBB they're really cool too.” Biding everyone goodbye while still panting a little.

“Those wings got you good hm baby?” Paige says while driving to a McDonalds to get you a ice cream you almost demanded for.

“Paige, honey, I love you but I swear on everything I love I will make this car crash if we don't get ice cream. I can feel my face melting off.” You claim not even looking at her too busy trying not to keep sniffling.

“Ok ok we're almost there,” she can't help but laugh. I mean can you blame her, you were excited to do this a few hours ago now you look light you lost a fight.

After finally getting you your ice cream it's like your mood did a complete 180. “Thank you my love,” you say as you kiss her all over her face showing her how much you wanted that ice cream.

“The switch-up is crazy,” Paige says while chuckling at your attitude and holding your waist.

“I can stop.”

“Now I never said that come here mama.”

I'm slowly defrosting y'all (I'm losing my mind.) ANYWAY, I hope you guys enjoyed this <3

Kiss the sun 🌞

[devildom-moss]

October poll story

Barbatos - Monster kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (top!Barbatos / bottom!MC) (NSFW tags: monster!Barbatos - non-canon/enhanced demonic features including increased greed and lust, claws, sharp teeth, forked tongue that matches his tail, bigger tail, and bigger "tail"; sex involving magic; no specified sex organs for MC; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; tail penetration; double stuffed by one man - tail and penis penetration simultaneously; technically masturbation; mild bloodplay, mild primal play; begging; multiple orgasms; seriously judging myself at this point CNC - Somno; mild temperature play; implied being used as a human sex toy; no lube - but tail is naturally wet, so mostly no lube; no condom; overstim - receiving; creampie; mentions of very trusting sex)

(other tags: Plot heavy - in the first half, then it basically all erotica, everyone is annoyed with Solomon poor guy kinda?)

Word Count: +4,600 new longest fic for me?

When you heard that Diavolo was going on an overnight trip without Barbatos, you knew you had to go to the castle and get as much alone time as you could with your favorite butler. Considering that Diavolo was also being left in Lucifer’s very capable hands during the trip, you figured Barbatos wouldn’t be in the anxious state that typically overcame him when Lord Diavolo wasn’t under his close watch. So, when you turned up unannounced at the castle that morning only for Little D. no. 2 to answer the door, something seemed off. You tried not to worry, though. Barbatos was probably preoccupied with one of his many tasks.

“Well, if it isn’t Number 2, how are you doing today?” You smiled and patted his head.

“MC! I’m so happy to see you! Are you here to visit Mr. Barbatos? Ooh, I wonder if he’ll come out of his room for you. No one has seen him at all this morning, and when I knocked on his door to check for him, I heard this weird noise before he asked me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? Well, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling good, so I brought him some tea – now, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the tea he makes, but when I brought it, he told me that it wasn’t necessary. I left it at the door, but guess what? When I checked back, the tea was cold and untouched. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call anyone yet because that seems like something Mr. Barbatos would get mad at me for, but since you’re already here, maybe you could check on him and make sure he’s okay.” The monologue recounting this morning’s events spilled from Number 2’s mouth quickly and with no room for interruption.

Without much thought, you had followed Number 2 in the direction of Barbatos’s room – some attempt to physically follow along with his story as your brain processed the information. You let the words absorb into your mind, fishing for a relevant question. It was already past 10AM. Barbatos was always up and about by now. “Did he sound sick?”

“Can’t say. If not sick, he definitely sounded strange – like he was talking with his mouth half-full or something.” Number 2 hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Or, you know how when you bite your tongue or burn it on your soup because it smells too good not to eat it right away – even though Mr. Barbatos warned you to be careful and let it cool?”

“Sure.” You shook your head and stared down the hall. Barbatos’s room was just a few doors down.

“Anyway, I think something is wrong, so I’d really appreciate it if you could look out for Mr. Barbatos. If he really is sick, you’ll take care of him, right?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great.” Little D. no. 2 stopped in front of Barbatos’s door and turned around to face you. “I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure the rest of us can find a way to keep the castle running while you tend to Mr. Barbatos, so don’t worry about anything else!”

“Thank you, Number 2. You’re so reliable.” You could tell how worried and eager to help he was. Number 2 nodded and left you outside of Barbatos’s door. You stood there silently for a second, listening for any strange noises or coughs, before gently knocking. “Barbatos, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“MC?” Your name was quiet and muffled.

“Barbatos? I’m going to enter, alright?”

“Wait. I –” he started to protest in an unusually slurred speech, but it was too late. You had already opened the door.

Barbatos’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of his bedroom. He had backed himself against the nearest wall. His typically gloved hands were bare, revealing sharp, claw-like nails. One of those hands shot up over his mouth. You heard his tail thump against the wall a few times before he grabbed it with his free hand, stilling its aggravated motions.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him cautiously. He looked different – more demonic than usual.

“Solomon,” Barbatos responded with his hand still over his mouth, only exacerbating his strange enunciation. He was frozen in place.

Of course. You sighed and shut your eyes. What did he do this time? You closed the door behind you and took a few steps into the room. Barbatos eyed you with every move – even as you reached into your pocket to pull out your D.D.D.

“I’ll call him, okay?”

You waited for the phone to ring once before you put it on speaker. Solomon picked up in seconds. “MC, my adorable apprentice, what can I do for you?”

“What the fuck did you do to Barbatos?” you asked him aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong with him, and he said it’s your fault.” Technically, that was a bit of a jump considering the facts you had at hand, but it was a logical conclusion.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s see, slightly glowing eyes and the sudden appearance of claws to start. And – if you don’t mind me adding, Barbatos – his tail looks bigger than before.”

“His tail . . .is bigger?”

“Longer. Thicker. Girthier. Do you need more adjectives?”

“Just his tail?”

“For fucks sake. I didn’t strip him down and give him a full body exam.”

Solomon hummed. “Anything else?”

“He sounds weird – like he has a lisp.” You glanced over at Barbatos, whose cheeks had grown pinker since the beginning of the call. He dropped his hand slowly and opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that looked like his tail. A shiver shot down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath before adding, “that’s new.”

“What’s new?” Solomon asked, unable to disguise his intrigue.

“Sharp teeth and a forked tongue.”

You heard a breezy laugh on the other end of the line. “So, good news: I figured out what happened. I accidentally swapped the magical tea blend I made for Barbatos with the one I made for Asmodeus. Oops.”

“Oops?” You sighed while Barbatos let out a low, guttural growl.

“Asmo asked me for a tea to enhance some of his more demonic features for a photoshoot. It seems Barbatos got Asmo’s tea, so Asmo – oh, speak of the devil. He’s calling.”

“Add him to our call.” You looked over at Barbatos, wishing you could apologize for Solomon’s behavior silently.

“What gives, Solomon? Your tea was a total flop. I tested it as soon as I got up this morning. I wanted to check out my enhanced demon features before the shoot tomorrow – maybe indulge in them a bit on my own. Nothing has happened. You promised quick results. I’m still my same, gorgeous self, and all your stupid potion did was give me the urge to organize all of my make-up and tidy half of my closet. I was really depending on you to come through for me here.” Asmo complained, clearly annoyed by Solomon’s failure.

“You basically made Adderall tea for Barbatos?” you asked, staring between Barbatos and your phone.

“Barbatos?” Asmo questioned. “Also, hey, MC~! Are you calling to yell at Solomon, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded.

“Can I speak?” Solomon added quickly, coming to his own defense since no one else was going to. “First, Barbatos asked for something to soothe him and enhance productivity so he could make good use of his day without Diavolo. Second, we had a little mix up, Asmo –”

“ – we?” you interrupted.

“Okay, I had a mix up. You have the blend I made for Barbatos. Barbatos took some of yours. MC is with him now.”

“Ooh. Enhanced demon form Barbatos sounds sexy. Does he look sexy, MC?” Asmo cooed.

“Focus, Asmo,” you responded, too embarrassed to admit the truth. Well, the truth other than that Solomon clearly sucked at making magical Adderall.

“Asmo. I have plenty of the magical blend I made for you left over. I’ll bring it by in a bit, alright? Will that resolve everything on your end?” Solomon’s voice sounded sweet, but there was a grave calmness to it.

“Yes.”

“Then hang up and wait for me, please.” Asmo did as Solomon asked, leaving the sorcerer to clean up the rest of his mess. “As for you and Barbatos, MC, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to reverse the effects. Depending on how much he drank, it should wear off anywhere within a few minutes to a full day. Until then, I suggest you leave Barbatos alone. All of his demonic senses are heightened – that includes his urges. He may be dangerous to be around until the effects clear up.”

You looked at Barbatos. His glowing eyes were wide and damp, and his gaze hadn’t left you once during the entire call; even when you looked away, you could feel him staring. His knuckles were white from gripping his tail so tightly. He was even trembling slightly. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He looks miserable like this. I’m not leaving him. It’ll be fine, just trust me.”

“MC.” Solomon wanted to warn you against it again, but there was no use in arguing with you. “Be careful and call me if you need me.”

“Alright, and Solomon? Learn how to label your shit.” You said it sweetly, but he knew you were livid.

“Sorry! Don’t be mad.”

You hung up the phone and returned your attention to Barbatos. He backed away, pressing his shoulders flush against the wall, as you approached him. It was hard to believe that this was a more demonic version of Barbatos. He seemed so timid and scared. Slowly, you reached your hand out to smooth his hair down. His low growl echoed off the walls like there was thunder muffled inside his chest.

Barbatos gulped and opened his mouth to speak, showing you a glimpse of those magic-sharpened teeth and that tongue – now forked and dyed black and aqua. Overcome by a sudden shyness about his new state, Barbatos covered his mouth again to speak. His breath was unsteady, and his words were quiet. “You should go.”

“But you look miserable. Isn’t there something I can do to help?”

Barbatos dropped his hand, and his gaze followed, landing on the floor. “Help? Please don’t tempt me when I’m like this. I’ve been holding back since you walked into that door – since I first caught your scent from down the hall, if I’m honest.”

You inched closer, testing the waters – testing his control before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and searched his face. When you finally caught his gaze, you realized up-close how unusually terrified he was. You’d never seen him like this, and it only made you want to protect him more – to soothe the fear this spell had pulled from him. Barbatos bit his lip, and for a second you worried he might draw blood, but he didn’t.

“Please,” Barbatos begged with a shaky exhale. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, hoping to ease his mind. “Don’t touch me any further. I’ll only want more. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Greed. That was his innate sin. You knew that, and it had never been a concern – even when he lost control. There was always a spark of fear – worry on the lighter days – in his eyes when you caused his composure to faulter. It flashed like lightning. Sometimes, you had to wonder if you had seen anything at all or if your eyes – if his eyes – were playing tricks on you.

The love Barbatos offered was a love that said, “I would like to cherish you always. I will treat you sweetly, and if I must be rough, it will be thoughtful and restrained.” He had never pushed your limits – never even toed the line – unless you asked him to. Now, he was warning you that he did not know his own limits. A dark, selfish, possessive need in him threatened to take everything you would offer him and then some. Barbatos was pleading with you to turn him down, to not indulge him. This was your last chance, and you knew it. All his willpower, reduced into one last-ditch effort to dissuade your trust in him – a final, feeble, “please.”

When you brought your lips to his, it was over. Until that potion wore off, he could indulge his greed until he was sick and bursting with sin; until every ounce of it had spilled over into you, you had committed to take it.

Barbatos wasted no time deepening the kiss. His forked tongue slithered into your mouth, wet and oddly cool compared to the heat of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, you felt a slight shame in how erotic you found this strange new sensation. His tongue entwined with yours like it had never done before. Barbatos also found himself aroused by his new abilities – even more so when you moaned for him. Eager to explore further, Barbatos plunged his tongue deeper down your throat until you could barely breathe. You felt seconds – millimeters – away from gagging on him and pressed against his chest, trying to break the kiss.

Barbatos pulled away, allowing your lungs to recover, but the desperation on his face was worse than ever. Panting and ravenous, he spoke in half-growls: “More. I need more.”

His impatience displayed itself in the way he stripped you of your clothes – reckless with buttons and balling the fabric up tightly in his hands. All the restraint he had went towards refraining from tearing your clothes to shreds. He needed access to more of your body, and with every bit of skin he revealed, Barbatos licked, sucked, and bit part of your exposed flesh.

The feeling of his cool tongue gliding up your forearm made you shiver. Barbatos sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a tingling pain through your body. He soothed it by running his soft tongue over the bite mark in slow circles before he licked a trail up your neck, paving a path for him to place hickeys along. Time was lost to you between Barbatos sucking your neck and pawing at your naked body. The sensation of his claws gently scraping along your lower back left you arching into him.

When Barbatos was satisfied with his assault on your neck, he dropped to your chest, marking you and teasing your nipples between the prongs of his tongue. For someone who claimed to be unable to control himself, he sure was taking his sweet time building up your pleasure. If he hadn’t dipped between your legs when he did, you might have found yourself reduced to begging for him.

Barbatos took in the sight of how aroused he had gotten you. His breathing was labored, causing his chest and shoulders to heave. He had waited long enough. You felt his tail wrap around your thigh and pull you closer until you were right in front of his face. His warm breath primed your body for that first, slow, tender lick. Followed by another. Then, one more before his tongue was swirling circles around you. He sucked and licked you ravenously, moaning repeatedly into your body. Barbatos’s moaning was peppered with the occasional growl – reminding you, lest the lust caused you to forget, that Barbatos was an untethered beast.

He clawed up your thighs in the same ravenous manner. Claws sank into the flesh of your ass and thighs, scratching you and pulling you back against him whenever you had squirmed too far away for his liking. You couldn’t escape the constant barrage of stimulation and pleasure. Barbatos refused to stop until he pulled an orgasm out of you. Even then, he overstimulated your sensitive skin with a few teasing licks, cleaning up some of the mess he had made of you. Your knees buckled, but Barbatos got to his feet and pulled you close to support you.

You had not even caught your breath nor come down from your high before Barbatos was kissing you again. He slipped his cum-stained tongue back down your throat, ensuring that you tasted yourself. A low growl rumbled deep in Barbatos’s chest that shook you to your core. The storm had not passed. You weren’t even in the eye of it yet.

As Barbatos continued to kiss you, the familiar sensation of his tail wrapping around your thigh caught your attention. This time, instead of pulling you close, he pulled your legs apart. Had he not been holding you tight, you would have stumbled with the sudden jolt. The silky tips of his forked-tendril-like tail teased between your legs in gentle alternating strokes, occasionally lingering to cup you for a few seconds before the pressure slipped away. Barbatos was building you up all over again. You gripped his shoulders, simultaneously trying to ground and support yourself.

Despite the cloud of lust disorienting him, Barbatos recognized the signs of your weakness and dragged you towards his bed. Even as he pulled you across the room, his tail refused to stop teasing you and preparing you for what was to come. Barbatos had no sooner finally stopped kissing you when your back hit his mattress with a soft thud. Staring up at him, you saw a distorted image of the demon you adored. Maybe it was the enhanced demonic features and those glowing green eyes, or maybe it was the look on his face that told you he was not quite the same Barbatos. His hunger for you had never been this strong – perhaps it would never be this primal and ferocious again. Repressing any fear or hesitation, you wanted to revel in his uninhibited lust.

Fortunately, Barbatos’s tail had a natural wetness to it that aided in the insertion. He lacked the clarity and patience to apply lube before the tips of his tail squirmed into your body. Barbatos delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure – how you bit your lip to hold back a moan. The prongs of his tail felt cool and soft as they stretched you out, applying pressure to the most sensitive places inside of you. You writhed under him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch you more.

Barbatos scratched his claws gently down your ribs and towards your navel. He fucked deeper into you with his tail and applied slight pressure to your pelvis with his palm, stretching his fingers out above your stomach. Those claws loomed threateningly above your skin while his tail pumped in and out of you. You thought his tail had looked bigger than before, but now you could feel just how much thicker he was. However, you only had a few seconds to dwell on the size before the threat of claws came to fruition and dug into your stomach. The outermost layer of skin split for him, and five distinct pink marks appeared on your stomach; he nearly drew blood. You whined at the pain, but the way your back arched and your muscles tightened told Barbatos that you were in more pleasure than pain.

A brief flash of normalcy came when you heard Barbatos chuckle and saw his lips tug into a wicked smile. “Are you cumming again?”

The noises you were making as another wave of intense pleasure overtook you were the only response Barbatos needed. He was kind enough to slow the movements of his tail as you tried to bring yourself down. It wasn’t fair. Barbatos was making you feel incredible. You were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but there you were, stripped and writhing on your back. All the while, Barbatos was still fully clothed – barring the lack of his standard gloves which had already been removed prior to your arrival. You wanted to make him feel good too.

You reached out for his pants, trying to undo them so you could at least touch him, but Barbatos took hold of your hands and stopped you. “Please, let me focus on you for a bit longer. Please?”

There was no sweetness in his begging – only desperation. It was less of a plea and more of a demand. Refusal seemed off the table, even if you chose it, but you couldn’t. You could hardly refuse Barbatos when he said “please” under normal circumstances – and even less so when he stared at you with such wanton desire.

Barbatos entwined his fingers with yours and held your hands while he watched you come apart on his tail. The way you rolled your hips to get him to press the spot that left your mouth agape was so cute. If he had been gifted with more patience and less greed, Barbatos would have relished in the sight of you fucking yourself on his tail and using him – especially in the exhausted, fucked-out state you were in. Did you realize how flushed you were? Could you feel how hot your skin had become? Were you aware that you had scarcely stopped whimpering and moaning for him in the last few minutes?

“You’re taking it so well,” Barbatos cooed. His affectionate gaze held your attention, even as he pulled another intense wave of pleasure from you. Something about the dim glow of his eyes captivated you. “You’re doing such a good job for me, but can you keep it up?”

Barbatos slid his tail half-way out of you as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was trying to go back down on you, but with no opportunity to recover, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You tugged his hair and stopped his lips and tongue from overstimulating you, earning a whine from him.

“Barbatos, I need you to fuck me now,” you demanded. You couldn’t take another round without at least making him cum once.

Barbatos savored that desperation in you – even if it was just a fraction of his own. He nuzzled your inner thigh playfully. “Just one more taste?”

“No.” You pulled his hair again and made him look at you. “I need it now.”

“Very well.” Barbatos pulled his tail out of you completely and got to his feet. For a second, the way he spoke was so calm that you believed the tea must have been wearing off. Those shining green eyes stayed fixed on your body as he removed his clothes, tossing them into a dark corner of the room. Perhaps the storm was showing signs of passing.

When Barbatos dropped his pants, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his underwear and the damp stain, but he didn’t stay contained for long. He stripped fully, finally releasing his cock. He was so hard, and he dripped precum onto the floor. Your mouth watered. Well, if Solomon asked again, it wasn’t just Barbatos’s tail that was bigger than usual. However, you had already taken his tail; you could take this, too. You wanted it.

Your eyes glanced back up at Barbatos’s face as he aligned himself, rubbing his dick against your entrance. Those glowing eyes caught yours, stalling your breath. Even in the dim lighting, those eyes now seemed to be the darkest thing in the room. A low, satisfied growl escaped Barbatos – the last warning from a predator closing in on his prey. The storm was not over, you had merely found yourself in the eye of it for one brief, relenting moment.

He rocked his hips into you, relying on precum and the combined fluids from you and his tail to lubricate himself as he slowly pushed every inch he could get into you. You gasped. The sensation was so different from his tail – so much warmer, pulsating and throbbing inside of you. That initial slow thrust was for your benefit, but it was not intended to set his pace. Barbatos quickly picked up speed, transitioning into rapid, shallow thrusts that repeatedly rubbed against your walls. Still, he seemed to be focusing on maximizing your pleasure.

“I need more,” Barbatos warned you, but you were drowning in too much pleasure, moaning and panting beneath him, to register his warning.

Instead, you whimpered at the shock of Barbatos slipping his tail inside of you. The forked ends swirled around Barbatos’s cock as he continued fucking you, stimulating you both at the same time. It felt like thick, cool, squirming ridges around a hot, throbbing core. Not even an advanced toy could do this to you. But it wasn’t enough for him. Barbatos reached down between your legs to stimulate you further – somehow lucid enough to take care not to scratch you. His touch was light and gentle, contrasting his other insatiable actions, and making your head spin. It was all too much for you. You came again, tightening around Barbatos as you did. He kept fucking you through it.

A pleased moan escaped Barbatos, signaling that he was close. His hands slid up your body slowly, and then, without warning, he clawed down your sides and grabbed your hips. A stinging sensation immediately followed. He gripped your hips so firmly that his claws broke the skin as he forced himself so deep into you that it almost ached. Barbatos gave you a few more deep thrusts before he bottomed out and held you in place. He pumped his cum into the deepest parts of you, filling you up.

Barbatos lolled his head back with a sigh and a smirk. His chest heaved. It took you squirming against his pelvis for Barbatos to realize that he was still holding your hips up against him. He slid his cock out of you, released his tail’s grip around himself, and gently laid you back down.

You looked so blissful and exhausted, but Barbatos had just gotten started. Simply looking at your flushed face and heaving chest was making him hard again. He caressed your cheek; some of the blood he had drawn from clawing at your hips smeared onto your skin. Barbatos leaned down and licked up the mess. When your cheek was clean once more, Barbatos whispered into your ear, “I’m so sorry, lovely. I’m not done. Do I have your permission to keep going?”

His words floated around your hazy mind. You smiled at him affectionately with your eyes half-lidded and reached up to stroke his cheek. Exhaustion was overcoming you. “Yes. Take whatever you need until you feel better.”

“Even if you fall asleep?” Barbatos asked with some of the timidness from earlier.

“Even if I pass out. Even if it hurts. Even if I cry. Be as greedy as you have to be with me.” Maybe you were cum-drunk. Or maybe you just wanted to make Barbatos feel better. Either way, you resigned yourself to being used for the next few minutes or hours or days.

“Thank you, my love.” Barbatos kissed your cheek sweetly.

You watched the dim glow of his eyes dreamily, focusing on them until the rest of the room began to disappear. With your body spent, all you could do was whimper as you felt Barbatos enter you again. Even the pleasure began to dull as you let yourself slip further into the haze. His deep growls and panting were the last thing you heard as your mind fell silent.

Your last thought before a sweet dream swept over you was that, without a doubt, Barbatos would be a mix of grateful and apologetic when you woke up again.

In the morning, Barbatos would ensure you were hydrated, well-fed, and tended to. He would be an affectionate, doting butler for you. And then, someone would have a hefty price to pay.

A/N: I did not think this was going to end up so long, but please enjoy. I am worried I got a little too carried away here. . . but this was still the less deranged Barbatos monster kink idea. Anyway, requests are open and will be until the end of Nov. 5th. And I hope this one does something for some of you.

[weightgainworld]

You messed up fatass

You messed up fatass. You believed me when I said I would be gentle. Did you really think you could lay there like a beached whale full of sugary and fatty foods without me pushing you past your limits? God, I was holding back so much during dinner. You kept taking such small bites and only grabbed 3 plates of food. I just wanted to hit that fork out of your hand and replace it with a soup spoon to shovel the carb-covered protein down your gullet. Don't get me started on the drinks. I can't believe you drank water the whole time. Do you think a greedy food addict like you is healthy now? We need to fill you back up with bottles of unhealthy Coke. I bet you only had half your daily recommended sugar today. Fuck from the few plates of food you eat, you better have some room in that heavy belly. Don't tell me that just because you can't move, you are too full for me. I don't care what you think piggy, I only care about you maxing out your scale as soon as possible. You can't do that if you are always whining, and you are going to burst if you eat another bite. Look at your sides, they aren't even bulging yet. Your stretchmarks aren't a dark shade of red. You haven't even been making any cute groaning sounds from being too full. There is no way I am letting you sleep tonight till you are stuffed to the gills. Don't fucking move a fat-riddled muscle. No burning calories till you split those pants open. In fact, you aren't leaving this room till I hear your too full nauseous burps. I never liked someone who doesn't clean their plate. Lucky for you, hogs don't use plates. I am buying a funnel first thing in the morning. If you think I am letting you sleep without being hooked up to fattening slop then you are insane. I want you massive now, and I won't be waiting for your stomach to empty. Learn to stretch that shit out for me like a food balloon. Now where is my phone? I need to call a few restaurants to make sure they have enough food to make you an all you can stuff buffet.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Consequence Last night I was met with major consequences of my actions. 

A buddy of mine asked me to come over and help him set up his house, as he just moved. I said yes (as any friend should) and we worked for a few hours straight. 

His wife is quite the cook. She’s made us countless lovely meals that are by all accounts quite lavish: plenty of fresh vegetables and herbs, finely cut and marinated meats, perfectly prepared noodles or rice or soup, and even at times delectably indulgent desserts. They are a modest family but often there is enough to eat seconds or thirds if one desired, and she has often welcomed or encouraged it, as that is how she was raised. 

Last night she made a huge pot of noodles and sausage and cut vegetables, even with fresh spices and homemade sausage. Truly some of her best yet. I helped myself to 4 portions or so…there was tons and only 3 of us, and no one was in the kitchen when I got mine. 

I sat down at the table and got to work. It took deliberate effort by the end of my absolutely piled plate to finish it all. My poor gut was so filled up I had gotten to a point where I was having to hide my heavy breathing. Luckily both my friend and his wife were preoccupied with a phone call and the tv, so I could gorge with little fear of being noticed. I finally finished it all. I took a deep breathe and just kinda zoned out in a blissful, food induced daze. I was quickly snapped back to reality by her. She sort of just appeared out of nowhere to get my plate. 

She asked if I liked it. I said it was great. She asked if I wanted more. I was looking down to grab my plate and hand it to her. I struggled to find a nice way to say I was so full I couldn’t have anymore, and then I looked up. She was almost…frowning? Maybe pouting? I couldn’t bear the thought of turning her down then, she looked so distraught…so I said sure. 

She practically jumped forward to take my plate, and she was beaming. A big smile flashed on her face and she expressed how thrilled she was to get me some more and that I liked it so much. 

I could hardly imagine eating any more. My stomach was already packed full. I absolutely dreaded her return. In just a minute or two she came back with my plate, and dear goodness it was stacked. She had chosen the choicest slices of meat and more than I got the first time as I was being modest with something such high quality. She had given me the nicest looking vegetables, and plenty of the fresh herbs. She even made sure my noodles had plenty of sauce. I was shocked. It was easily rivaling the portion I got earlier, but she chose so many delightful pieces of everything. With an excited, grateful word she set my plate in front of me. She was smiling ear to ear.  I had no choice now.

I said thank you and accepted my fate. Every forkful was laborious. Every mouthful tougher to swallow than the last. My mouth was overwhelmed with wonderful textures, flavors, and shapes. Truly this was the best plate you could’ve gotten. Yet I could barely stomach it. I ate so much of my own accord earlier that I ruined this finely prepared second portion. What should have been a happily welcomed indulgence was now practically a punishment. Slowly but determinedly I stuffed it all down. The chewing was just getting to hard. Not because it was tough or poorly done, but because I had eaten so much that my jaw became fatigued. 

Finally it was all inside me. I finally ate it all. Nothing remained on my plate, and I could barely imagine getting up. I sat there at the table, focusing on my positively swollen gut. I felt it strain my shirt differently, and my body was starting to focus all its reserve energy on processing all this food. 

I grew more tired then I had been. Food was supposed to be rejuvenating after a break from work, but I had now eaten so much I was starting to fight off sleep. 

Eventually I got up, and lugged my heavy belly back to work. I was so full I had to focus on breathing normally and annunciating  my words. My belly was this hefty, sagging sack of lard on the bottom(like usual) but the top was jammed full of simply too much food, and it had stretched and distended so far that my 5XLT shirt was starting to look a little tight in the middle. 

My choices finally caught up to me. My unchecked gluttony was finally taking its toll. I was being inadvertently punished for pigging out so intensely. 

honestly, I was hoping she would ask me if I wanted 3rds.

[roostersbby69]

0.3 | I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley tell your parents you’re expecting a baby at 18.

Warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

“So, do you want to say it or me?” You asked as Bradley parked the Bronco in the driveway of his house.

“How about we do it together, and I’ll take the hits. Literally.”

You smiled and nodded, “Okay.”

Your belly wasn’t showing yet but you just felt like everyone could tell you were pregnant, like it was obvious.

The both of you walked up to the door and went inside and you caught sight of Carol fixing dinner. Bradley had asked if it was ok for you to come over and Carol was more than happy to set out an extra plate for you.

“Hey mom!” Bradley called through the house as he came behind you and closed the door.

She peeked behind the corner and smiled at the two of you, “Hey kiddos! Come in!”

Bradley smiled and walked with you to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for you at the table.

You thanked him and sat down, nervously, and watched as she took out a pan from the oven that was filled with roasted potatoes.

The kitchen smelled delicious, Mrs. Carol was an amazing cook and baker. She made the best homemade pancakes in the morning and potato soup in the winter. And her chocolate cake was to die for.

She came to you and pulled you in for a tight hug as she kissed the top of your head, “Hi sweet girl, how are you?”

You smiled and felt all warm inside, “I’m good, how are you?” Truth was you were not good, you were sweaty with anxiety, nervous, and your stomach was aching.

“I’m well, just whipping up a simple dinner.” She turned back to Bradley and kissed his cheek before going back to cooking.

Simple dinner was not the correct term for her dinners, they were over the top. The potatoes were buttered and steaming, the roast was spiced to perfection, the washed strawberries for the chocolate cake were sparkling with water droplets, and the kitchen smelled amazing.

Your stomach growled as you were happy you weren’t sick of a meal. She called Bradley for help with bringing the plates to the table and you got up to help, but Bradley placed a hand on your shoulder, “Sit down, it’s ok, you don’t have to get up.”

You nodded and sat back down as Carol brought the plate of potatoes and roast to the table. And Bradley brought the napkins and cutlery.

He placed a water in front of you and sat down in the chair across from you. Carol sat at the end and smiled at the perfect scene in front of her.

“Let’s eat!” She grabbed a fork and knife to cut the roast as you gave Bradley worried glances, You probably should’ve talked about when you would be having the conversation.

“It’s ok.” He mouthed which made you nod and fix your plate.

-

While eating, you talked about school and what your plans were. They were fake, since finding out you were pregnant, but you tried to make it seem as true as possible.

When you were finished, you pushed the plate away from you and placed your hands in your lap.

Bradley nervously gulped his water down as he eyed Carol, trying to find out when he should speak up.

And when you gave him a look he finally did.

“Hey mom?” He gripped his jeans between his fingers and felt his throat tighten.

“Yes honey?” She looked up and smiled.

You stared between them as he swallowed and stuttered, “Can we talk for a minute?”

She scrunched her brows and nodded, “Yeah what’s going on?”

He looked at you and saw your face was red and you were nervously chewing on your lip.

“Um,” he picked at his plate and sighed, “We uh,” he had no words, no words were forming in his mouth right now, “Well I uh,” his chest tightened as he looked at her confused eyes before he finally spit it out, “Y/n’s pregnant.”

The whole room went silent, you could hear the washer washing the clothes in the other room and could hear all three of you breathing.

She looked to you with a shocked face as she gasped, “What?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, prepared for the cursing, before nodding your head slowly.

“By who?” She watched as your eyes lifted up to Bradley’s and she put two and two together.

“Bradley?” She whipped her head to him and he grimaced as she screamed three words he hadn’t heard out of her mouth since he egged his math teachers house, “What the fuck?!”

Carol had so many questions so she started off with the first one, “How did this happen?”

Bradley took a deep breath before opening his mouth and he heard your quiet voice speak before him, “It’s my fault.”

Both of them turned to you with wide eyes, “It isn’t.” Bradley immediately said while shaking his head, “We were studying and one thing lead to another and it just happened.” He tried to keep it as PG as possible for her.

“I talked to you about condoms Bradley!” She kept yelling at him. That was true, she had multiple talks about contraceptives and even one day, while brushing his teeth one morning, he found a box of condoms under the sink.

“I know, I’m sorry mom. She’s on birth control and we weren’t thinking.” He explained.

“I told you to not have sex with anyone you weren’t in a relationship with!”

That one hurt, your chest tightened as you felt tears welling up in your eyes. This was all your fault, why would this happen to you, you’ve never felt so embarrassed in all your life.

“I’ve gave you many talks before Bradley!”

“Mom, please clam down.” Bradley noticed the tears dripping down your cheeks and tried to calm her down.

“How? You got a girl pregnant! Let me rephrase that, you got Y/n pregnant!”

Bradley heard the scraping of the chair against the floor and watched as you got up and excused yourself from the room.

He turned to her and begged her to stop screaming, “Please mom, please calm down. It’s my fault not Y/n’s so don’t get upset with her.”

She sighed as she rest her head in her hands on the table, “Bradley, I have given you too many talks about safe sex by now and this is what you bring to me? I don’t mean to be rude but she’s your best friend. Not your girlfriend. I mean, did you talk about this before? Are you in a relationship?”

“No we aren’t in a relationship, it was something that just happened. We were at her house and things got carried away, things were moving really fast.”

It took a while to explain to her, but when she calmed down Bradley went to you in the bathroom.

“Y/n?” He softly knocked on the door and heard your quiet sniffles.

You unlocked the door and he slipped inside before shutting it behind him, his heart broke at your words, “She hates me.”

He pulled you into him and held you as you wiped the tears from your face, “No she doesn’t. If anything she’s mad at me.”

“I’m sorry this is happening, you don’t have to stay with me through this.” You cried into his chest.

“Stop, stop,” he grabbed your face and made you look at him, “Stop it, I’m not leaving you alone with this, I don’t care that my mom is mad at me. This is both of us.” He made you understand.

You nodded your head and sniffled as he wiped the tears away and pulled you into him for one last hug.

“It’ll be okay.”

-

Bradley had made sure you were ok and walked with you back into the living room where Carol was sitting.

You cautiously walked in and her eyes lifted up to yours, she immediately stood up and sighed.

And to your surprise, she pulled you in for a hug, “I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just this is a surprise, and you two are so young.”

You nodded in understanding, “I get it, it’s okay.”

“Have you told your dad yet? I’m sure the sooner the better.”

You shook your head and sighed, “I’ve been dreading it.”

“Don’t, he wouldn’t ever want anything to happen to you. He’ll be there when you need him.” She said.

If Carol acted this way about the situation, there was no telling how your dad would react. You’d just have to brace yourself for tomorrow.

—————————————————————

[claritys-silly-things]

I forgot I ever wrote this so imma give it to you now outsiders tumblr. It’s unfinished and also I haven’t read through it so whatever typos are there are just there ig

Ponyboy stumbled through the front door of his house and collapsed on the couch. Today had been busy.

It was the end of his freshman year, so there were lots of tests, and he had a track meet right after. Not to mention he had stayed up studying and barely ate anything because his anxiety over testing was too much for him to keep anything down.

Needless to say, Pony was exhausted. But he wasn’t able to rest just yet.

“Ponyboy, is that you?” he heard Darry call from the kitchen.

Pony groaned and stood up. “Yeah. Coming.”

He walked into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway. “Whatcha need?”

Darry looked up from the vegetables he was cutting. “Some help with dinner would be nice.”

Pony looked at the ingredients Darry was using and came to a conclusion the older boy was making soup. He checked the potatoes in the pot and decided they were cooked enough and drained them.

They finished the dinner, mashing all the veggies and mixing them with milk and seasoning. Darry cut a few slices of bread and started to portion the soup into bowls. Ponyboy went to set the table.

As he was readjusting the napkins for the fifth time, Pony heard the front door open and shut. He watched as Johnny walked inside and peeked around the corner to see if anyone was in there. Then he saw Ponyboy and walked over.

“Hey Pone,” he said. He sounded about as tired as Pony did.

“Hiya, Johnnycakes,” Ponyboy said, trying to wake himself up a bit now that Johnny was here. “You hungry?”

Johnny paused for a minute before nodding. Pony gestured to a chair and went to fetch more stuff to set his spot at the table.

As he walked into the kitchen, Pony said, “Johnny’s here,” in Darry’s general direction before grabbing more silverware and walking back out to the dining room.

“So,” Pony started as he placed down the spoon and fork he had grabbed on the table, “What brings you over this time?”

Johnny looked up at Ponyboy. “Same shit as always, man…”

Pony sighed sadly and walked behind Johnny. He grabbed his shoulders from behind.

“It’s okay Johnnycakes. One day you’ll leave those wretched people and we can go live out in the country or something.”

Pony leaned forward and turned his head to look at Johnny. “Won’t we?”

Johnny chuckled. Pony always got more cheery and loose when he was tired. He placed his hand over one of Pony’s.

“We will.”

Pony smiled and stood up straight again, shaking Johnny’s shoulders as he spoke.

“Yesss, it’ll be so fun. The scenery will be so nice, and we could put flowers on the windowsill—“

��And you could read us stories, and outside we could have a garden! We just wouldn’t work too hard!”

Pony laughed as Johnny joined in his fantasizing. He leaned forward and hugged Johnny’s shoulders from behind, sighing.

“It’s real nice talking to you, Johnny…”

Pony was so relaxed he could fall asleep standing up at that point. And he just might’ve if Sodapop hadn’t walked in.

“What, uh- Whatcha doin’ there, Pone?” Soda said, voice faltering. He was trying not to laugh.

Pony shot up so fast he almost fell over.

“Whaddya mean?” He shook his head and sat down in the chair next to Johnny.

“Y’know what? Never mind,” Sodapop said, taking the seat across from Pony. “So. What’s for dinner.”

“We made cream of potato soup and there’s some bread to eat with it,” Pony said, telling both Soda and Johny because he realized he never told Johnny what they were gonna eat.

“Oh, hell yes.”

Pony snorted at Soda’s response before turning back to Johnny.

“You staying the night, Johnny?”

Johnny thought for a moment. It was nice enough weather that he could stay in the lot, but honestly, he didn’t want to.

“Yeah, I’ll stay tonight. I can sleep on the couch,” he decided.

“Naw, I’ll just sleep in the spare room or somewhere else,” Soda replied.

Pony raised an eyebrow at how quickly Soda decided.

“So quick to get away from me, huh brother?” Ponyboy bantered.

“And what if I am,” Soda said back jokingly. They met each other’s eyes with mischievous grins for a second before Soda broke eye contact and shrugged.

“But actually, I don’t want Johnny sleeping on the couch, cause he’s obviously tired,” Soda gestured towards Johnny’s disheveled look, “And I know he’s more comfy sleeping around you.”

Ponyboy reddened slightly at that. “O-okay.”

Thankfully, Darry started bringing out servings to everyone and they dug in. Well, Pony prayed first, a habit he’d gotten from his parents, and then he ate. After basically not eating all day, the soup tasted like the most delectable thing ever.

Darry sat down at the head of the table and ate a few spoonfuls of soup before asking, “So how was everyone’s day?”

Soda was the first one to speak up. “It was good. Some girls came into the DX today. There was this one girl named Sandy, she seemed really nice.”

Pony looked over to see Soda a little dreamy-eyed and sighing. He scoffed.

“What? Can’t a guy have a little crush on a chick every now and then?”

Pony snickered and rolled his eyes. Darry was stifling a laugh as well.

“What about you Ponyboy? How was your day?” Darry cut in before they went on any longer and it turned into a back and forth.

“Eh, it was fine. Tiring as hell, but there wasn’t really anything too special about the day I guess,” Pony answered between bites of food.

Darry hummed in acknowledgment. There was a silence while everyone ate a few bites of food. Finally, after a minute or two of quiet, Darry asked Johnny, “What about you, Johnny? Anything noteworthy happen today?”

Johnny looked up from his bowl, spoon halfway to his mouth. He put it down and thought for a minute.

“Um…I basically did the same things as Ponyboy. Lots of tests and stuff. I’m sure they were different because uh…we’re in different grades. I don’t think I did too well. I just hope I don’t get held back…”

Johnny paused for a moment and everyone waited.

“I- uh… Got kicked out of the house again. Same ol’ same ol’ I guess.”

Everyone looked at Johnny with empathy and a bit of pity. Johnny didn’t like being pitied, but it happened anyways.

Darry spoke first. “One of these days we’ll get you out of those monsters’ care and you can come stay here or wherever else and never have to deal with them again.”

Johnny nodded. He heard a similar sentiment pretty much daily from different members of the gang and just accepted it every time. He knew them meant it, and it felt nice to know someone cared.

Suddenly he felt Pony squeeze his hand from under the table.

“Don’t forget you can still stay here now. You don’t gotta be scared that you can’t,” Ponyboy said, looking at Johnny.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Johnny said with a small smile.

Eventually, everyone has finished their dinner and started to clean up. Once the table was cleared and he dishes were washed, everyone started to get ready for bed.

Ponyboy lent Johnny some pajamas and they sat together on Pony and Soda’s bed. Darry came in to say goodnight to the two.

“Don’t stay up too late, boys.”

“You really don’t gotta worry, Dar,” Pony laughed, already getting under the covers. “I am spent.”

Darry chuckled and turned the light off. “Goodnight, Pony. Goodnight, Johnny.”

“Goodanight, Darry,” they both said before Darry shut the door.

Within a few minutes, Pony was already asleep. He could be the heaviest sleeper in the world. He’s out in seconds and will stay out until the person he’s sleeping with leaves.

Johnny was the complete opposite, a result of the household he grew up in. The slightest noise would wake Johnny up, and it was hard for him to get to sleep in the first place. And he seemed to be having that problem right now.

[entomologistt]

Frederick Kreiburg x Fem! reader

Plot/Content: Before the match, you are offered a plate of shrimp. 🦐 But you consider declining it, even if it is your favourite… How do they know??

And more importantly—why in front of the others?? You wouldn’t dare eat shrimp in front of the others! Because… You don’t know how to unpeel the shell properly. And you cannot eat in front of people even if your life depended on it.

You’d rather go against opera singer, the shadow, goatman, hullabaloo—whoever is the strongest hunter here. But a certain composer notices your internal struggle, and offers to help you. <3 🦐

Ento note: Requested by anon! Me 🤝 you: unable to unpeel shrimp shells… This is why you get the frozen ones without shell🙂‍↕️ Also! Using Dragon hunter art makes me want to write for him… another essence au I’d like to write for is Sophia… Maybe one day! Also apologies if this is a little mid, I finished this while on the verge of passing out.

Wc: 1,575k

You pulled the chair out for yourself at the table, sitting down as you yawned, tapping at the surfacewhilst you waited for the oters.

Suddenly, the strange creature that sat at the table wandered off, returning with a plate… The strange creature hops onto the table, pushing the dish in front of you. What’s this?

You look down at the plate with a surprised expression… Huh. So now it’s just you, and your beloved…

Shrimp. 

Oh, how you’d been craving the seafood delicacy since… forever! How did they know this was your favourite food?

Should you… reject it? Refuse it? Why would you refuse something that looked so delicious? Well… Your reasoning was unlike the Lawyer’s who refused to eat here.

You considered refusing because you struggled to peel off the shell…. Yeah. The way you eat shrimp, you were sure they others would look at you like how they looked at Naib when he eats at those parties.

Plus, you never ate shrimp around people! It was an unspoken rule you had set for yourself. 

You’d surely die of embarrassment with how you basically ripped the shrimp apart like an animal, not knowing how to deal with it properly. 

Nobody else was at the table yet, so maybe you can eat in peace without humiliating yourself. 

Out of curiousity, you looked over the table’s contents, the other dishes that were neatly placed in their designated spots. A bowl of cream of mushroom soup, a plate of crystal gummies, and a cup of orange juice. 

You wondered who those belonged to… Well, they aren’t here yet—so it’s you versus time. 

You knew rushing to eat was bad, but it will all be worth it once you taste the shrimp’s delicate flesh, the flavours melting on your tongue… with hints of shell. 

You immediately took the fork and butter knife into your hands, ready to rip apart the shrimp and get it over with. Nobody was here to judge you, and you were fighting against fate, and right now, it’s just you and the shrimp ready to be devoured.

However, the world seems to hate you as you hear footsteps approaching the table, your heart dropping to the floor. And with that, the chair next to yours was pulled out, the one with the mushroom soup. 

It belonged to Frederick Kreiburg, the manor’s dearest composer. 

Why him out of all people? If only you were faster! This is truly a tragedy, right??? Well, no, maybe you’re being overdramatic. You liked Frederick! And maybe… he simply wouldn’t care. Maybe.

Ahh but still…! You didn’t want him to see how you ate shrimp… Well, anyone for that matter!

You really are something if this is your biggest worry here at the manor. 

“Good evening, Ms. L/n,” Frederick greeted you as he settled in his seat, placing his tuning forks down onto the table. His eyes meet yours, and you are quick to break the eye contact, your eyes now glued to the table. “Good evening to you as well… Mr. Kreiburg.” 

Thinking your actions over, your eyes immediately flickered back onto his, a tight smile on your face. You haven’t gotten many chances to interact with Frederick, and now was your chance. Alone…

Frederick returned your smile, and you were glad he wasn’t as put off with you as he was with the others. Silence filled the space between you two as Frederick began to eat his mushroom soup. 

You, on the other hand, stared down your at your own dish, sliding the shelled shrimp around the plate with your fork. You’ve already eaten the lettuce beds for the shrimp, so now… you wait.

Yeah, you’ll just wait this out, and when the match is done, you’ll ask for the shrimp later. 

It was rather quiet you had no idea what to talk about… Maybe about the upcoming match? Well, maybe not, he seemed content with the silence—

“Do you… not like shrimp?” Frederick suddenly spoke up, questioning you as your eyes met once again. An awkward laugh left your throat, an embarrassed expression on your face as you looked off to the side. “Ah, well, I do…! It’s just, uhm… you trail off, mind racing for an explanation. 

Frederick watched with underlying amusement, curious as to why you were so hesitant to eat the shelled seafood. He knew you had to enjoy this dish since all of the guests here seem to have their own special accommodations, so why have something you didn’t like? 

However, the composer felt like he already had the answer. The shrimp was cooked in its original state, the shell still protecting its delicious meat. Plus, with the way you toyed with your food, glancing at him with worry then down at your plate… He’ll give a helping hand; why not?

He found you exceptionally talented with your occupation, feeling a gravitational pull to you—so he wasn’t as stuck up or off-put with you. You weren’t mediocre to him… Bonus points if you’re a fellow musician. So he slowly slipped off his white gloves, setting them neatly onto the table. 

“You know… If you need help, I wouldn’t mind unpeeling the shrimp for you,” Frederick offered, breaking you out of your internal panic. He raised a brow, his head turning slightly to the side, his eyes staying on yours. “If that is the issue here.” 

You could feel your face burn up, blinking away. You weren’t sure why you were so flustered by the offer, mixed in with a little bit of embarrassment. He was offering to help you, and you were very hungry… 

“Ah, that would be wonderful…! Thank you!” You beamed, slowly sliding your plate towards him. You nervously licked your lips, another awkward laugh leaving you. “I—I would definitely do it myself, but I am not the best at it… And…” You trail off, feeling a tingling sensation on your face. “I dislike eating shrimp in front of other people.” 

Frederick gently pushed his own bowl to the side, taking your plate in front of him. A small, amused smile painted his face at your confession, a slight hum following after. “Oh? That’s certainly an interesting trait,” he commented as he stabbed the fork through the neck part. 

“Take no offence, though; I mean it as a way to say I’m a little intrigued by it, Ms. L/N,” Frederick added, his focus on the shrimp. “You can watch as I do this as well, and next time, you can flourish after learning how to do so.” He added, flashing another smile at you. 

Your eyes stayed on his hands as he worked on the shrimp shell, using the fork and butter knife with skill. However, your focus was more on his hands… Oh, you should probably reply.

“Oh, goodness, none taken,” you said, a returning smile on your face. “I know it’s a little strange… But again, thank you so much…!” You thanked him again in an appreciative tone. 

“It is my pleasure…” he responded, his eyes flickering to yours once again before drifting down to the plate, working on tearing the shell; he was even deveining it for you! Frederick seemed to be working up the courage to add something, a pause between you two. 

“I… used to eat quite a lot of shrimp at my father’s formal dinners, so this does bring me back. Maybe after I… find something, I can return again.” 

You were a little taken aback as Frederick opened up to you just a little. “Really? Ah, I’m so sorry for whatever reason why you can’t join them now… And I wish you the best in finding whatever you’re looking for…!” You quickly reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

If only you knew. And maybe you will, one day. But for now, he will have to put you in the back of his mind, his goal of restoring his existence in the Kreiburg family first. 

And maybe he can come back to you after he knows a little more about you in return. If you both made it out of here.

“I appreciate your encouragement, Ms. L/n… Now, let us eat before the others get here,” Frederick said as he slid the plate of shrimp back to you. “If we ever find ourselves in this situation again, I wouldn’t mind peeling your shrimp for you once more.” 

Your felt your chest squeeze a little, finding yourself oddly warmed by his offer. Fighting back the urge to kick your legs a little under the table and gush about how delicious the shrimp looked, you gave him another genuine appreciative smile. “I would appreciate that, Mr. Kreiburg… Again, thank you so much…!” 

“Please, do call me just Frederick,” the composer asked of you as he slipped his gloves back on, gently pulling the bowl of soup back in front of him. “And again, you are very welcome… Y/N.” 

Your lips parted to speak again, but maybe it was best to leave it off like this. You nodded your head and turned to your plate, a sweet smile on your face. And with that, you enjoyed the delicious plate of shrimp with delight.

The silence between you two wasn’t awkward, it was rather comfortable. Not only that, but Frederick respected your boundary, not once looking at you as you ate.

You definitely appreciated that. Now, you hoped to be close to him… And eat shrimp with him sometime.

This was probably the most you've talked to another survivor here.

Oh, and if you were wondering who the other dishes belonged to, that would be the psychologist, Ada Mesmer, with her sweet crystal candy, and José Baden, the first officer, with his refreshing cup of orange juice.

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (28)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (29) | (30)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.7k

Romance authors often portray dancing with one’s beloved as an endless joy, something that could easily last well beyond nightfall. Yet your throbbing feet, bound and constrained by the white straps of your low-heeled shoes, silently resented them for such a lie. That’s why, when lunch was served, you eagerly welcomed the opportunity to sit down for a moment or two and catch your breath before inevitably dragging him back to the dance floor. After all, when else would you have the chance to slow dance against his chest, your chin resting cozily on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped protectively around your waist?

When you savored the first mouthful of peppercorn stuffing you realized that the Koch’s definition of good food was remarkably similar to yours. Everything, from the velvety gravy soup, the endless procession of assorted biscuits, the indulgent servings of steamed pudding, and the generous dollops of raspberry jam you coronated each of them with, prompted contented hums from your lips whenever you took a bite.

“I don’t recall ever seeing you this happy during a meal, not back at the base at least,” he noted from the seat next to yours, a playful smile on his lips and a forkful of roast venison in his hand.

“Well, that’s because you’ve never actually seen me during a meal. Have you, Commander Smith?” you responded casually, eyes completely focused on the extra dollop of jam you were serving, while your mind wandered to all the times you urged him to put his pen down and join you and the others in the dinner hall, even if just for a piece of bread. “Maybe if you graced us with your presence at dinner from time to time, you would see that I enjoy the Survey Corps’ food just as much. But you insist on eating alone in your office so...” you shrugged nonchalantly before bringing a spoon loaded with pudding to your lips.

“Have I upset you, my lady?” he asked with a smile that denoted he wasn’t the least bit concerned, and then, lifting a napkin, proceeded to wipe red jam off the corner of your lips.

And what an absurd question it was. No one with that shade of blue in their eyes and that disarming smile on their lips could ever upset anyone. There was no possible way, especially not when his face was this close to yours; his caring gesture, as sweet as it was unexpected, completely dazzling you, disorienting your senses until you found yourself nodding dazedly, your own eyes hopelessly lost in his.

“How very rude of me then,” he concluded, softly brushing the cloth against your skin, and you honestly couldn’t tell which was softer: the silk or the back of his fingers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed abruptly, springing up from your chair the moment you discovered her poised frame standing beside you. “We w- I mean I was- how do you do, Mother?”

“Darling,” she sent an acknowledging nod your way. Her usual composure, evident in both her assured demeanor and controlled voice, masked any hint of what she thought or felt, and at the same time, sent your heart into a flurry. Her gaze flickered to the Commander, who rose with practiced ease, a stark contrast to your own fumbling attempt from a few seconds ago.

“Madam,” the Commander offered your mother a warm smile along with a welcoming hand, a silent invitation you desperately hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

“Commander Smith,” she replied after a stretch of silence, which you wished had been shorter, placing her hand in his with ladylike charm.

Although your heart still pounded and raced inside, a flicker of relief found its way within when you saw the genuine smile blooming on your mother’s face as the Commander helped her into the vacant seat beside him.

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” she declared in that regal tone she reserved for social occasions, and it dawned on you: how long it had been since you last heard her speak that way. At home, her voice was always so mellow, less measured, especially around you and your father. And a sting of longing shot through you, a sudden wish for more of those casual evenings shared around the dinner table. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander Smith,” she added.

“Not from the press, I expect,” he said, earning a hearty chuckle from your mother. And you lowered your head, trying to resist the childlike smile shyly tugging at your lips as you watched the scene unfold.

“Rest assured, Commander Smith. Despite the occasional critique about the Survey Corp’s overbaked tomato pie, my daughter’s letters are otherwise filled with glowing reports about her days under your leadership.”

“So, Mother! Where’s Father?” you blurted out abruptly as soon as the Commander turned to look at you, a questioning eyebrow raised above a widely amused smirk that spelled ‘I knew you didn’t like our food!’ on his lips. “I was hoping he could meet Commander Smith today.”

“Your father? I was under the impression that he was right behind me,” she sighed in disappointment, glancing around in an attempt to find him among the partygoers. “Guess I shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe one of his… secret society buddies snatched him, or maybe the government finally got him,” she spoke with a touch of nonchalance that made you huff, shaking your head in playful disapproval of your parents’ bickering as you exchanged a smile with the Commander, who seemed downright entertained by your mother’s presence.

“If those bureaucratic buffoons you call ‘our government’ were to find us, color me surprised,” a masculine voice emerged from behind, and you didn’t need to turn in order to know who it belonged to. “Let's just say, Hansel's neck would be on the chopping block way before mine. We can worry about this head above my shoulders after they scrape his off the floor,” with that, your father materialized beside you, snatching a piece of bread from your plate and biting the best part off.

“Father,” you rose to your feet in greeting, gesturing towards the Commander with your hand, “This is Commander Erwin Smith.”

“You bet he is!” he yelled enthusiastically, the bread he had previously shoved into his mouth now getting in the way of his words, so he tried to wash it all down with an indulgent sip of his apple toddy. “What a momentous occasion! Today will go down in history as the day we finally crossed paths, my Commander,” he declared, a wide grin splitting his face.

My Commander? Since when? You thought, a silent snort almost escaping your lips. You wouldn't dare say it aloud though, not wanting to disrupt the moment or make the Commander uncomfortable. You knew time had softened your father's stance on the Survey Corps, especially towards their leader, but it was just too comical: to think this was the same man who, not too many seasons back, used to rant every week about the government wasting their funds on the Scouts.

Regardless, you were glad he had come to see him in a new light. Because Erwin Smith, his people, and the sacrifices they constantly made deserved nothing less than the utmost respect.

“Well met, my lord,” the Commander replied with a cordial smile. Standing right by his side, you blushed at the height difference between you two. There were moments when you felt genuinely small next to him, and this was one of them, but it always brought you a strange sense of security. And suddenly, you found yourself longing to experience that comforting feeling again, to be held in his strong embrace once again today, like the first time, that late summer afternoon in the forest of Giants Trees… To feel even smaller and overpowered by him, his solid muscles, his manly scent... Yes, that would be the perfect ending to a truly fantastic day.

“I have heard a great deal about you from your lady daughter,” he added, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. “She even mentioned your... unique ability to interpret nature's signs.”

“Is that right?” your father turned to you, pride shining in his round eyes. “Do you know what wisdom Augusta’s azaleas are revealing today?”

“Unfortunately, my lord, I wouldn’t be able to interpret such… botanical pronouncements,” the Commander replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. You weren’t surprised by his skepticism. By now, you had made peace with the fact that a man of science like him would, most likely, always remain in disbelief, no matter how many times nature proved you or your father’s predictions right.

A hearty laugh erupted from your father. "Ah, but perhaps they whisper of blossoming relationships today! Maybe even lifelong bonds taking root, huh? Wouldn’t you want to know, my Commander?" he winked at you, causing you to immediately duck your head in an attempt to hide the kaleidoscope of reds your face had become.

The things he says! Since when did he even-

You took a deep breath, exasperation and affection wrestling within your chest. Classic Father, you thought, always saying what’s on his mind, even if his comments leave everyone a little flustered. You mentally made a note to apologize to the Commander for not warning him about this side of your fa-

“Lifelong bonds. An interesting interpretation, sir,” you looked up, his blue eyes choosing to share a moment with yours even though his words were aimed at your father. “They are a treasure worth cherishing, indeed,” he said, warmth blooming in your chest the longer his gaze lingered on you. And… was that longing in his eyes?

Was he thinking about those days too?

We used to spend hours collecting wildflowers by the stream near our cabin, drinking fresh lemonade in the summer, making love with the bedroom door ajar and the rainiest of mornings ahead of us…You reminded him in silence, surprised by the sudden urge to share with him the memories of your future together. And you swore you saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips before he chose to replace it with words.

“Perhaps some things are best discovered through experience, rather than foretold.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, tightening your throat with bittersweet nostalgia, and blurring your vision with vivid pictures of memories you were yet to create. Blinking back potential tears, you looked away, a blush creeping up your neck as you realized it was probably your turn to respond. So, taking a deep breath, you hid your longing with a smile.

"Perhaps they are, Commander Smith," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the backdrop of laughter surrounding you.

“Are you enjoying the reception, sir?” The Commander asked, and you knew him well enough to recognize this as his way of diverting attention from you, giving you space to steady yourself.

“Greatly,” your father replied, taking a hearty gulp of his drink to freshen up his throat. “And now that they've started serving apple toddies, this whole thing’s gotten a lot better! Ha ha! Although, to tell you the truth, the food can’t hold a candle to my wife’s cooking,” he added, trying to appear unassuming as he swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully, and you could vividly picture the discreet eye-roll your mother had answered him with. “Her green tomato pie is absolutely heavenly… Tell you what, Commander?!” he suddenly looked up, a mischievous glint appearing in his face, and while you didn’t know exactly what idea had crossed his mind, you certainly recognized the sparkle it had ignited in his eyes. “How about I show you my sincere appreciation with a proper dinner? Consider it a thank you for looking after our precious daughter.”

Your heart skipped a beat, hammering completely off rhythm against your ribs, the butterflies in your stomach swirling uncontrollably, creating a wave of nervous excitement that destructively washed over you. Surely, he couldn't be suggesting...

“I’m sure you’re a busy man, but I also know you are a highly intelligent one, which makes me think you have already assessed the situation, and identified this as probably the only opportunity you’ll have to enjoy my wife’s phenomenal cooking. In the nearby future, at least,” your father declared, leaning forward, his proposal making your stomach clench tighter.

Your gaze flickered to the Commander. He was about to respond to your father, but paused to steal a glance at you, a silent question exchanged between your eyes, unspoken… yes, but you believed you understood.

"Father, that's not necessary! Commander Smith is much too busy—" you blurted out, the memory of the Commander’s dismissal of Angelika Wald’s invitation still fresh in your mind. And you weren’t brave enough to risk facing the same rejection. “He has a long journey back to the base and… needs to leave shortly after the reception.”

“Is that so?” your father asked crestfallen, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to the Commander, and you had to admit he wasn’t the only one feeling dejected over the situation. Even though it may seem you were a little too eager to discourage the dinner, in truth, you were just doing your job, making it easier for the Commander to decline unnecessary appointments.

“My duties require a swift return to the base indeed,” he interjected, his words awakening a dormant discomfort in your chest, a faint ache you felt guilty for even having. Of course, he had responsibilities waiting, a mountain of paperwork and a whole base relying on him, to be more precise. Not only that, but he had already generously given you Sunday free, insisting you spent the entire weekend with your family. What else could you ask of him? Nothing. Doing so would be selfish, an indulgence you couldn’t justify.

“But perhaps…” he added unexpectedly, leaving you momentarily breathless, “Perhaps I could manage to find a way to fulfill both my obligations and experience your wife’s legendary cooking?”

Your chest rose and fell in rapid motions, trying to keep up with the beating of your heart, which had been hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs just moments ago, and now soared with a lightness you had only felt when you were together with him… secluded in your imaginary cabin in the woods.

“Only if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for her, of course,” the Commander clarified, gesturing towards your mother. “I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality, sir, madam."

A radiant smile bloomed on your face, threatening to split your cheeks in two, as the weight of your earlier anxieties now seemed to melt away slowly, getting gradually replaced by a giddy anticipation that bubbled up exactly like the fizzy contents of the bottle you knew your father would pop open for dinner tonight. And you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the Commander, the warm smile he gave you in return held a knowing glint, a silent confirmation of your suspicions: He knew exactly how happy he was making you. And suddenly, although still a little guilty, you felt the uncontrollable need to hold his face in both hands and kiss him. Yet the image of what your mother would do following such events, quickly destroyed that notion.

“Nonsense. Allow us to treat you to the relaxed evening a hardworking gentleman like you deserves every now and then. Right, pumpkin?” your father said, turning to your mother for confirmation.

“Consider yourself most welcome this evening, Commander Smith,” she replied promptly, a subtle smile gracing her lips, and an inviting warmth unfolding in her voice, both very reminiscent of home. And you hoped the Commander could feel it too, you hoped he could understand: Just how welcome he was.

“Lovely! We shall expect you at the entrance within the hour, my Commander,” your father concluded, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “Until then, please enjoy the remainder of the festivities.”

With that, he walked away with your mother for a final indulgence in refined mingling. As you watched their backs blend into the crowd, a soft smile played on your lips, cherishing the heartfelt kindness they had enveloped the Commander with. Maybe he needed it, maybe not, but you definitely wanted him to have it.

“So…” he leaned in to whisper in your ear once your parents were out of sight, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We overbake our pies…”

“I never said that,” you countered with a hint of innocence, meeting his gaze with the unwavering confidence typical of someone who has no secrets to hide. Although a mischievous grin betrayed your amusement. “I called it ‘enthusiastic baking.’ Mother may have taken some creative liberties with her interpretation,” you added, wrapping several biscuits in a cloth napkin for the carriage ride home.

-

“Surely, my Commander, the situation is as clear as day," your father's booming voice resonated from the tearoom at the other end of the hallway. Even if by the time it reached the kitchen, it had softened to a murmur, neither you nor your mother needed to understand the exact words in order to know what he was talking about. The sheer excitement in his tone was a dead giveaway. "The true power lies with a hidden hand, content to manipulate a puppet king while they themselves remain hidden in the shadows. Their motives you ask? One can only speculate.”

The conversation, which at this point risked becoming your father’s monologue, sharpened as you neared the end of the hallway, the crinkling of porcelain against your fingertips accompanying the sound of your heels against the floorboards.

“However, unlike that old gossip Hansel," your father chuckled, a hint of disagreement lacing his tone, "I believe the answer lies in preservation."

“If the public, or some foreign power were to set their sights on this so-called king…” your father continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper.

“The true royal family, whoever they may be, could remain untouched, veiled in secrecy and free to continue their reign… from the shadows,” the Commander interjected, and you arrived just in time to see a flicker of genuine curiosity cross his face. “I see your point, sir, a most intriguing notion indeed. This 'so-called king' would serve as a convenient buffer, deflecting any public discontent or potential threats aimed at the true power behind the throne.”

The Commander, you knew, had a liking for devouring dusty tomes on royal history. Did he, perhaps, find amusement in the conspiratorial air of the conversation? Or was there a spark of something deeper behind his words, a thirst for uncovering the truth about the hidden hand your father, and his own late father perhaps, believed controlled the Walls?

“Precisely, Erwin. I may call you by your given name, right?” Your father checked again, his question painting your cheeks warm shades of red. At some point between Lord Koch’s front door and your own, the Commander had been promoted from ‘my Commander’ to just ‘Erwin’, as if sharing a carriage ride automatically granted your father the right to address him by his first name.

As you placed the silver tray on the small table in front of them, you stole a glance at the Commander, curious to see his reaction, which came in the form of a smile, quietly playing at the corner of his lips as he inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your father's request.

“It’s a solid theory, wouldn’t you say?” the mischievous glint in your father's eyes hinted at a newfound understanding between them, perhaps forged over their shared interest in royal intrigue rather than whatever gratitude your father claimed he held towards the Commander for saving your life in the Forest of Giant Trees. “Now, here’s where Hansel and I disagree,” he continued, leaning forward in his chair with a conspiratorial air. “He thinks it's all about keeping information locked away, some dark secret they desperately want hidden,” he paused, clearly for effect, his gaze flickering around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“A dark secret, sir?”

Your father nodded, leaning in even closer, his voice now a low rumble. “Hansel believes it’s about manipulating the very fabric of history itself. Imagine," he said, his eyes widening with a dark intensity, "rewriting the past to suit their needs, erasing any trace of their true origins or some terrible deed they committed."

He leaned back again, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. Controlling the past is the ultimate power, wouldn't you agree, Erwin? By messing with the records, they control what everyone knows, they keep people blind to the truth, forever dancing to their tune. Thank you, buttercup,” your father said when you added two cubes of sugar to his tea. You mockingly mouthed a silent ‘buttercup’ at the Commander across the table, who tried to hide an amused chuckle behind a raised teacup.

Despite his apparent amusement, however, you recognized the struggle flickering behind his eyes. Concern, perhaps. After all, royal calumny was supposed to have claimed the lives of many, including his own father. Or was it an even heavier burden? A reminder of all the unanswered questions he had voluntarily inherited from him, those haunting mysteries he had vowed to unravel on his behalf.

“Aren’t my daughter’s pastries fantastic?” your father boomed, switching the mood with a hearty laugh. “I think the Survey Corps kitchen could’ve used her talents more than your squad, wouldn't you agree, my Commander?” he joked, a proud smile splitting his face as he dunked the corner of a freshly-baked biscuit in his tea, “no dangerous expeditions for her, just pastries and biscuits for everyone at the headquarters. A win-win situation for each one of your soldiers, wouldn’t you say?”

The Commander dipped his head slightly, a barely perceptible smile gracing his lips for a fleeting moment before it vanished. He took a measured sip of his tea, his eyes locking with yours across the table before he murmured, in a voice so low it brushed only your ears, “Everyone except for one.”

A faint smile, almost imperceptible, tugged at the corner of your lips. Two. You answered in your head, a conversation flickering between the two of you without a single word spoken.

It was a secret message only he could decipher, similarly to how the hint of affection now hidden in his gaze was something only you could see. This was your secret language, born from shared peril on the field, one you had perfected through stolen glances, clandestine touches, and secretive moments like this.

“Goodness! I should invite Erwin more often!” your father jumped excitedly, his eyes widening at the sight of the overflowing platter your mother brought in. “I'd ask what the occasion is for all this hospitality, but it’s not every Saturday we have the Survey Corps commander over for dinner, is it?”

You chuckled as you carefully arranged the small pies your mother had brought on individual saucers, each one holding their very own miniature piece of sunshine: the vibrant yellow slice of tomato you had placed on top.

"Don't forget your vegetables, everyone," you teased, placing a dainty silver fork beside each pie.

Though they weren't exactly an everyday treat, tomato pies were a familiar comfort you enjoyed quite often. They were simple, nourishing, not particularly difficult to make, and your mother could practically whip them up in her sleep. Today, however, you understood your father’s surprise. His favorite treat was still familiar in taste, yet transformed in appearance, which you had taken special care with this afternoon, an unusual twist meant to be a delightful surprise for the Commander.

"These look fantastic, Madam," he remarked, taking the plate your mother was offering.

"All credit goes to her," she replied, her hand gesturing your way.

You met his gaze in the middle of the tearoom, another silent exchange passing between you as your lips offered him a small, furtive smile in return.

"A delectable surprise, indeed," the Commander said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes before they returned to the pastry, his gaze leaving a lingering warmth on your skin as some sort of ‘thank you’ note, perhaps. And then, when he took a bite of the buttery, brandy-infused crust, and the taste made those same lines beside his eyes deepen, a quiet yearning started to bloom within your chest.

Here, in your parent’s tearoom, bathed in the gentle afternoon sunlight and the comforting scent of baking, he seemed a world away from the horrors he faced daily. This was the kind of life he deserved, wasn't it? Quiet, comfortable, a far cry from battles with flesh-eating giants and the mangled pile of bodies they left behind. An afternoon tea with a nice conversation, and a plate of perfectly golden, tomato-topped pies – these were the simple pleasures he rarely, if ever, experienced.

As you watched him savor the pie in quiet appreciation, a sting of possessiveness, sharp and unexpected, twisted in your gut, as you found yourself desperately wishing that you could be the one to create these peaceful moments for him, not just this once, but for a lifetime.

"Sir, Madam," he began suddenly, bringing you back from the sea of thought you drifted to ever so often, "your daughter has a real talent for making the simple appear..." He paused, letting his deep, husky voice please not only your ears, but a secret, sensitive path down your body—a path that, though hidden beneath your dress at the moment, he happened to know very well "...utterly delightful."

The steam escaping from the teapot wasn’t a match for the eager summer now burning between your legs; his lips, as well as the smirk tugging at them, acting as a delicious reminder, both tempting and frustrating, of a desire you couldn't indulge, not while your parents were present at least.

"Thank you, Commander," You answered, your eyes still indulging in the sweet curve of his bottom lip, “but it's truly not difficult when the produce is this beautiful," you said, gesturing towards the vibrant yellow decoration atop the pie. And it was true. The Lemon Blush were a gentle variety. Sweet, sunshine-colored things, their bottoms blushed in lovely sunset pink. “Truly a pleasure to work with," you finished, your smiling lips tainted with a bit of mischief that betrayed you weren’t referring to the fruit exclusively.

A soft chuckle escaped his in response. Like honey on a summer afternoon, you loved the way it lingered in the air: the sound of his laughter, a sweet reminder that beautiful things still existed, a melody you always replayed in your head, long after it was gone.

Still wearing the same smile on your lips, you settled beside your mother, whose vigilant eyes you suddenly became very aware of, and when you turned to face her, you were not met with her characteristic warmth, but with the unreadable mask she now wore over her features. Your entire face started to mirror the blush of the tomatoes themselves upon realizing she had been watching you intently, it was unclear how long, but it was certainly long enough to make your joyful demeanor falter, your smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Luckily for you though, your father, always blissfully immune to any type of awkward tension, unknowingly came to your aid with a hearty chuckle. "Don't let her fool you, Erwin. Most nights, it's a way simpler fare in this household."

You flashed him a playful glare, his intervention momentarily making you forget about the weight settling within you.

“Seems ages since my darling daughter graced us with her culinary flair. Last winter, wasn’t it? Can you believe it? Ha! How long must a poor old man wait for his sweet buttercup to spoil him again!” your father continued, a touch of mock-hurt in his voice, and your eyes involuntarily rolled at his words.

“Admittedly, it was a special occasion back then too,” he conceded, his voice adopting that pretentious tone he reserved for embellishing stories, for making them grander than reality. The playful glint in his eyes gave away the exaggerated version of whatever tale he was about to tell, even though his lips were yet to utter a single word. “Hansel’s nephew, a fine young lord, came to formally request my daughter’s hand in marriage,” he finished with a conceited smile, his mouth blissfully stuffed with cake and a large crumb clinging to his beard, sweetly oblivious to the way his words had dragged your heart to the very pits of your stomach.

-

next chapter

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 😊 If you’d like to support my writing, you can do so at ko-fi/missbubblesoda 🫧

taglist: @mysticalnightbeliever @aliasrising @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando @thicc101q @shittyprofilebutfuckit @dilfenthusiast-union

[bkglovergirl]

hi! could i request a hawks x male/depressed reader? reader struggles to eat/get out of bed, mostly non verbal + struggles with executive dysfunction:) been having a rough time lately being stuck in a depressive episode and keigo really keeps me going LMAO

pls don’t feel pressured to write this if you don’t feel comfortable/able! <3

I hope you feel better! And of course, I’ll do it! I get it completely lol

╭₊˚๑Keigo Takami(Hawks) X Depressive reader﹕☁️₊˚

TW: eating struggles, Depressive habits 

Anyone feeling like this just know it gets better and I hope this helps!

Word Count; 1.1k words

 ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

For the past two weeks, maybe more—honestly, who is counting—you have been lying in bed. You've barely gotten up to go to the bathroom and eat. It’s not like you are sleeping. No, you are quite literally just lying in bed doing nothing. The energy it takes to grab your phone or even charge it is a lot, and the last time you checked, it was five percent. You know what caused this yet being in bed is causing more stress but you just can’t get up. Work, training, and studying. You are so behind on both yet you refuse to sit up and at least open a book. 

“Baby?” You don’t know when this man went here, but he’s kneeling down in front of you. You glance at him, and he looks worried. God, you hate when he’s worried, especially when it involves you. “It’s been four weeks, You gotta get up.” So he’s keeping count, great. You use the energy you have to turn and face away from him but he quickly stops you. “Come on, talk to me at least what’s going on?” You just stare at him. He sighs and walks out of the bedroom. You bring the blankets over your head and let out a little sigh. He just walked out, he’s so over this and over you, you think. You don’t know how long you were under the blanket for overthinking but the heat is getting to much so you kick the blanket off you and you smell… food? It smells good but also nauseating, Your stomach growls and you realize you havent ate in a while. Keigo waddles back into the room, holding a try with pasta and water, he walks to the side of the bed you arent rotting on and slowly places the try on his lap. “Come on baby, sit up and eat.” You slowly sit up and rest your back on the headboard. He grabs the bowel and hands it to you, You take it and stare at it. “What’s wrong? Isnt this your comfort food?” You nod but still just stare at it. “You gotta speak to me baby, I can only know so much… are you nauseous?” You nod. “It’s because you havent ate, take a bite a promise youll feel better.” Keigo debates in his head a bit before grabbing the fork and bringing it up to your mouth. You take a bite and slowly chew, you let out a satisfied sigh and grab the fork from him and start eating. “Slow down!” he laughs.

 𓂃⊹

After you ate Keigo had walked out to go clean up and wash the dishes, he had left the cup of water you without knowing avoided. You were just staring at it. Slowly but surly you grab it and start drinking it, the coldness felt nice and you ended up chugging it until there was only ice left. Keigo walked back in and quickly noticed the glass empty, he smiled looking at you and you smile back. He goes to the side of the bed you are on and picks you up, surprised you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s alright baby.” 

He brings you into the bathroom and the smell of the room hits you admittedly. Keigo had lit a Vanillia candle and it rest right near the sink. Next you notice the bath he set up, filled with bubbles and your hair products, face products and soup all set up. Keigo sets you down slowly and you look at him, “Hands up.” you listen and he takes off your shirt. You blush and cover yourself quickly. “It’s okay baby, youre beautiful.” slowly you put your arms down. “Do you want help with your shorts?” You shake your head ‘no’ and take them off yourself. “Alright baby hop in.” He takes off his shirt and you get into the tub, sitting down. Keigo runs out of the bathroom quickly and runs back in holding a cup? “Almost forgot!” You smile.

Keigo kneels down besides the tub and fills the cup full of water, “alright tilt your head back and close your eyes.” You listen and he wets your hair. When he thinks he got it wet enough, he grabs your shampoo and massages it into your hair. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” You giggle as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He repeates and does the same thing with the conditioner, you fight back the sleep. “All done, now turns and face me.” you listen and he grabs your face cleanser, you watch as he puts some in his hands and rubs it on our face slowly, “what is I give you a soap mustache?” You shake your head no and he laughs, he wets a face cloth and gets all the soap off your face. With the same facecloth he rinceses it and puts your body soup on it, he slowly washes your body and you can’t help but avoid looking at him. “Oh don’t do that.” he whines and you look at him. Smiling he gives you a quick kiss.

 𓂃⊹

You stand there shivering in a towel as Keigo runs back into the bathroom with a fresh new pair of clothes for you. “Do you want me to do it?” You shake your head ‘no’ and get yourself dressed, Keigo takes this as a win. He knows you have the energy and strength to walk back into the bed but he picks you up and beings you into the bedroom and softly puts you on the bed. He goes and grabs your brush and sits behind you, he carefully brushes your hair making sure not to hurt you. 

“M’sorry…”

“Shh don’t apologize baby.” he kisses the top of your head. “I know everything is a lot right now, and I should have stepped away from work sooner and helped you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I thought you just needed time but I ignored you for to long. Just know i’m here baby and I’ll aways be here.” He puts down your hair brush and pulls you onto him, he combs his fingers through your hair. 

“You don’t hate me right..?”

“Of course not baby! Don’t make me laugh! Stuff get’s stressful I understand. I Love you and this won’t change that.”

“I love you so much.” You turn and hug him tightly.

[nevermore-grimes]

I was writing an entry for Daydreamtober, got distracted, and then... Has anyone tried sticking their paras in the Headcanon Generator yet?

Here's what happened when I stuck my sillies in there, and I also ranked how accurate these would be:

REJECTED - I originally accepted this, but honestly, I think she'd hatecrime anyone she caught eating soup with a fork, lmaooo!

ACCEPTED - Bibically accurate Aerith behavior

REJECTED - Giffany definitely has some sort of cuteness aggression, so maybe the tackling part is true, but girlie does not wrestle

ACCEPTED - She sure can!

ACCEPTED - BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HIS ASS WOULDDDDD!!!

REJECTED - THIS IS NOT EVEN REMOTELY TRUE!!! Why the royal fuck would you say that! He was a prince! He takes personal hygiene extremely seriously! If anything, I think he gets cranky on missions where he has to spend time without access to things like... soap and water. DON'T INSULT MY HUSBAND LIKE THIS AGAIN! BYE!

REJECTED - Tell me why my brain went "Oh, I wonder if he'd play Work at a Pizza Place! ...Wait."

ACCEPTED - Also, is the kid okay? I could just imagine either Nevermore or May going to check on him and then slowly backing away from his door because all they could hear was him scream-singing "PAIN, YOU MAKE ME A YOU MAKE ME A BELIEVER!!!" because he thought he was home alone.

Fun fact! I actually associate Believer by Imagine Dragons with a moment from The Chronicles, but I think that's a story for another time...

ACCEPTED - Well, duh! He loves him some vintage clothes

REJECTED - This would genuinely break my heart. Don't play with my feelings like that!

ACCEPTED - Poor guy's too anxious for this world, fr...

REJECTED - Elaine is an absolute neat freak. That's part of being a head maid, for you! I think mismatched socks might give this woman an aneurysm.

UNDECIDED - I've never heard her use nicknames for anyone, but I don't think that's out of the realm of possibility for her

UNDECIDED - I dunno why I chose to include a para I know next to nothing about in this, but I have no idea how the woman feels about kids...

ACCEPTED - Yes, but only with Nevermore because, since she lived in her brain, she always knew what Nevermore's next move was gonna be and then tied with her out of pure spite just to piss her off, lmaooo!

REJECTED - I dunno if this is a reference to something specific, but Tony cannot cook for shit. I think Neil Cicierega of Lemon Demon would be disappointed.

REJECTED - Just because she knows how to protect her peace, lmaooo!

ACCEPTED - He absolutely would, on accident, obviously. And then all the Avengers would have to bust their asses to un-summon it, lmaooo!

This was so fun, I'm making it a tag game! Don't feel pressured to go as crazy as I did, or to even do this at all. I just thought y'all might be interesteddd~

No pressure tags! @acircusfullofdemons @star-drip @kitkat-dreams @caffeinated-eccentric-polymorph (and also anyone else who sees this and wants to give it a try!)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yves has a very special way of eating his food.

When it comes to pastries or bread wherein cutlery isn't provided, he would tear it into small pieces that are guaranteed to fit in his mouth and leave ample space, so you wouldn't see a bulge on his cheek as he chews. He would daintily cover his mouth as he grinds his meal between his molars.

The same goes for pizzas, he wouldn't take a direct bite off the slice, he has to tear it into miniscule chunks. Always using his thumbs, index finger and middle finger only. The other two fingers on each hand would be slightly elevated and never touching the food. His pointer and middle fingers would serve as a platform while his thumb discretely pushes the food into his mouth.

It's always hand-to-mouth, never mouth to hand, so that means he never leans forward to eat. Constantly static in his straight posture as he elegantly enjoys his meal.

Yves never licks his fingers. You don't think you saw his fingertips even touch his teeth before, any sauce or residue would be wiped away on the napkin before taking the next piece.

It's so fascinating to watch him eat. He wouldn't use both hands at once to bring the food to his face; hence, watching Yves eat a burger or its equivalents is a whole different experience that it's hard to imagine without witnessing it first hand.

He would cut it with a knife and a fork if it was available, eating it as if he was feasting on a steak in a fine dining restaurant. It doesn't matter how many layers there were, Yves would manage to fit all of it in the tines of his fork.

When he has to use his hands, Yves would tear it just like how he would tear pizzas or croissants, with all the toppings intact.

When it comes to soups and stews, Yves scoops the liquid away from him, gathering such a small amount so it wouldn't drip and gently scraping the bottom of his spoon against the rim of his bowl to make the ordeal much less messy. No slurping, just silent sipping.

While you would dip your toast into the soup, Yves would again, tear into it with his fingers and eat separately.

He doesn't scoop rice, Yves would "gather" them onto the back of his fork, on the tines, pushing the grains using his knife.

Whenever he eats from his fork, the utensil is positioned such that the prongs are facing downwards to his tongue. It's so peculiar to see, very impractical, yet so undeniably graceful and expensive.

You don't know if he's right or left handed. Because you would see him naturally writing with both, but the fork is always in the left hand and spoon on the right.

When it comes to snacks or finger foods, he would use his sanitized hands in public, but a pair of chopsticks at home. It was impressive how he could pick up smooth grapes between two sticks without skewering them or deforming its shape.

However, when it comes to feeding you, he has a preference for using his bare hands. Yves thinks it's more intimate that way and he doesn't mind if you unintentionally lick them or take in your mouth, whole. Yves would actually seize the chance to secretly check on your teeth and oral health by touch.

Despite all these stuffy etiquettes he's following, Yves never forced you to follow his ways. You're free to eat comfortably, no matter how casual; unless you're eating like a rabid animal with food falling off the table and splattering all over yourself and the wall, he would never comment on your own habits.

Therefore, please do not make fun of his. It's Yves' way of appreciating his freedom from his past life, a promise to himself that he would never again, find himself like how he was before.

[slippinninque]

💕🍲Fontaine unlocks his inner Ramsey 🍲💕

Hear me out.

He would be a big fan of Good Eats.

Expect being taken on his tasty adventures. Different parts of The Glen that holds culinary wonders you never knew about.

He was so flustered when you brought matching aprons.

Fontaine would definitely be a glass Tupperware type and you better bring his shit back.

He's being mentored by Ms. Jeanine and takes it very seriously, "Ain't no one got crust like hers. Not yet, at least...."

He's the "stand there and watch the face closely" type, so he'd be the last one standing at dinner. He'll sit when cheeks are full and the sounds of forks scraping is in the air.

Surprisingly, he remembers his his grandmother having him on her hip over looking a pot of fragrant stew. Fontaine isnt sure if it's a dream, but he's been on a mission to recreate it for you.

You buy him any and every dish set he lingers on when you're out. Even if you have to find it thrifted, it's worth the sparkle in his eye when he's trying to decide what meal would look best in it.

It starts when you're sick and you can't keep anything down. He wasn't showing it, but he was starting to panic. How long could you go without eating?

"It'll be okay, I'm like this sometimes" You'd rasp, still smiling after the thunderous dry-heaving you just survived. You only asked for water and crackers if you could stomach them.

He wasn't having it.

The soup he makes is not the greatest but you kept it down and was finally able to get some sleep.

It opened the flood gates. Specifically a lot of internet searches and hours spent on YouTube.

Fontaine takes to sautéing like a duckling to water. He found the measuring more than easy--ounces, quarts and all that. He found recipes online with pictures and names that intrigued him.

Lucky for him your kitchen was a wonderland of gifted, unused utensils and appliances that flourished his new hobby.

It also helped that he had a very enthusiastic taste tester in you. Willing to try anything at least twice and to bring the best batches to share at work.

He begins packing your lunch with hearty sandwiches and chopped fruit. The fragrance of his first ever lasagna was the envy of the lunchroom, you quickly becoming the Queen of Aromas and you made sure to tell Fontaine every compliment tossed around over your lunch.

Fontaine brought you a more than generous amount of pinwheel sandwiches when you worked a double. They were delicious but the fond look on his face as he watched you rant and eat was even better.

The best part was knowing that Fontaine had something waiting for you to try. He often stood at the mouth of the kitchen to escort you in, towel over his shoulder and hands damp from being washed.

Even if he could school his features into being nonchalant, he couldn't hide the eagerness in his shifting or the twitchy fingers--just ready to feed you something.

........

"Don't mind the mess, c'mon and sit with me."

You were still standing at the mouth of the kitchen, taking in the delicious cluster of food cramped into island. Fontaine looked as if flour went nuclear on him and the background was a disaster but he had that near-shy look in his eyes when he really wanted to be excited about something.

The ache in your back left you and the annoyance lingering in your chest disappeared. You couldn't remember the last time someone had a meal waiting for you when you got home.

Your eyes stung but your mouth watered as you neared the island. Fontaine was oddly reserved to you earlier in the day when he called you on break, but now you see what he's been up to!

Your lanyard and purse went sailing into the living room, quickly followed by your shoes. When you rushed back into the kitchen, Fontaine caught you around the waist to steal a few kisses. You indulged until your stomach rumbled, then you squirmed away and neared the spread.

"Fontaine, this all looks so good! What's that?"

He came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, "Ever had a Roulade, baby?"

The feel of his lips at your ear made you giggle and cuddle into his hold, "I have not, but how lucky is it that you make me wanna be adventurous."

He pointed and went clockwise, "We got Potato Gratin Stacks as an appetizer, the Nana's Italian Roulade I picked 'cause it has noodles. You like noodles."

Your heart sighed and you could only confirm, "I do like a good noodle."

Fontaine nodded and moved away to the fridge. He carefully brought out a nicely sized flat pan and peeled back the foil. You gasped and hovered as he sat the with the other dishes.

"They were supposed to be smaller," Fontaine scrunched his brows in distasted, "I made 'em bigger. Strawberry Cheese Cake Bars. Wha' the fuck a bite is gonna do? 'Specially for dessert."

"Okay then, I see you Mr. Michelin!

He grinned and grabbed one of the plates waiting off to the side.

Fontaine turned to find you watching him, eyes shining. Wordlessly, he opened his arms and you happily skipped into his embrace.

"What's the matter, baby?"

"I'm good. Just a bit surprised, but very happy."

Fontaine nodded and hesitated a bit before asking, "You think I did too much?"

You kissed him. Touching his face and tasting spice on his tongue, you pulled away to press your nose against his. Fontaine's hands came to your waist, thumbs rubbing soothingly.

"What you did is make me hungry as hell," You pulled away enough to meet his besotted gaze, "Them potato stacks are a good start."

Fontaine pecked your lips once more before he passed you a plate.

..........

ending notes: something small to free up space in the brain, lol! thank you for reading!!! Tell me whatcha think!

taglist: this is an older one that I just wanna reblog, so I removed the tags. I appreciate those who read already and those who are just coming in! 🥰

[gwen-ever]

Until My Last Breath (Prologue)

Hello everyone,

First of all, I want to apologize for disappearing for so long. Life has thrown a lot my way, and I’ve been navigating through some major events. But now, I’m excited to get back to writing and continue the fanfiction that I left unfinished.

I also want to let you know that the existing chapters will be republished, as I’ve done some reworking and rewriting to improve the story. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy the updated versions just as much as I enjoyed revisiting them.

Thank you all for your patience and support—it truly means the world to me. I can’t wait to dive back into this adventure with you!

See you soon!

____________________________________________________

Summary: When Smaug arrived, he not only killed the dwarves of Erebor, but he also destroyed the lives of the few who survived… whether he did it on purpose or not.After a hundred years, a part of Thorin’s past will come back to haunt him in the form of a dwarf who last knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins’ house, resurrecting old grudges and the pain of a life no one wants to talk about. Geira, daughter of Geiri, is anything but an open book, an exiled who no one wants around, a warrior who has no one to fight for, but only an oath she must fulfil. Relationships: Thorin x FemaleOC Rating: M Warnings: none. AO3 LINK: HERE

____________________________________________________

I am blood of your blood, and bone of your bone, stone of your stone

I gift you my body so it can fall instead of yours.

I give you my soul so it can  wait for yours in the Great Halls.

I lend you my voice so it can order your commands

I present you my sword so it can slay the ones who wish to harm you.

No other dwarf will be mine, no other dwarf will own me, 

no one will sleep next to me, no life will come out from the womb of mine.

No one I will serve over the crown, over the Seven Stars, over the Father of all Fathers, over the King of all Kings.

I offer myself to you, until the end of times, until the mountains soar to the sky, 

until all the blood dries, until the fires of Mahal’s forge blaze high.

Until my last breath, until my last glance, until my last blow, 

until the last time my hands touch the rock our Father gave to us, 

my life is yours and your wish is mine.

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

The house of Bilbo Baggins was more crowded than usual that evening, and the owner was more than a little disconcerted: not only had his peace of mind been disturbed, not only was his larder completely, utterly, depleted, but his kitchen, indeed his whole house, was overrun with dwarves! Thirteen dwarves! Plus a wizard he had met in the morning whom he barely knew and had marked the door with a rune, thanks to which his guests had recognised the Hobbit's dwelling. Truly, Bilbo Baggins did not know how to begin to drive them out, he had been trying since the first one (Dwalin, if he remembered correctly) had walked in through the round door, obviously without being heard by any of his unwanted guests.

Crockery, knives, pots and pans, everything had begun to fly from one side of the room to the other without ever stopping. He tried more than once to stop them, without ever succeeding! At that moment his Took blood was more useless than a fork is when eating soup. In fact, his Baggins blood had gotten the better of him, leading him to accept the situation with no small amount of annoyance, including those muddy strokes on his yellow walls and the fragments of food scattered on the floor. Oh, not to mention his best wine, totally gone! It had taken him hours to sort out his pantry between days before and now all his food, all his tomatoes, all his wine, all his cheese, everything, gone, vanished, and it was not even the time for the spring solstice party yet!

And now, or in heaven's name, now Gandalf had even had the courage to tell him that he would have to get used to them! To all of them! To the twelve dwarves in his kitchen! And what on earth did the wizard mean by saying  that he would have to put up with them forever!

Annoyed, he began to walk down the corridor arguing with Gandalf and putting his hands on his hips.

"I don't understand what they are doing in my house!" he shouted, raising his voice.

The wizard didn't reply, but a small voice behind him did and before he knew it his entire set of porcelains was in the air.  His cutlery was being knocked over his table. Knife blades were being dulled by their rubbing against fork handles, and before he knew it, in time to the music, his entire kitchen set was flying through the air.  Oh no, no no no, not that chair, no, not that plate, no not that other plate! No, stop, please!

His pleas were soaring through the air, as if they were leaves on a wind, as were his dishes. And Gandalf sat smoking his pipe on a chair with an amused smile while all this happened before his eyes. Bilbo ran to the kitchen to put an end to this madness, but as soon as he did so, he noticed to his surprise that all the things that had been flying over his head until just now were neatly stacked on top of each other on his kitchen table.

He blinked, several times adjusting his braces, unable to believe his eyes.

The dwarves seemed highly amused by his reaction, and began to laugh, until three knocks on the door brought silence and an icy air that he could feel all the way down to his hobbit ankles.

"He is here," Gandalf said.

Aa short while later,  another dwarf entered from the doorway and it didn't take him long to realise that he was different, very different from the others who had entered Bilbo’s home moments before. Every single beard turned to face the newcomer as he walked inside.

Bilbo didn't know who it was and he didn't even really care, no one would enter his house unannounced, no one.

But he couldn't admit that his blood ran cold in his veins as soon as that dwarf started talking to him and asking him all those strange questions. What did he mean by axe or sword? Did he really believe that a hobbit like him had ever picked up either weapon? Who did he think he was? He could not hide his confusion at the last statement of the so-called Thorin Oakenshield.

"He looks more of a grocer than a burglar," he joked.

It was all too absurd for Bilbo's poor hobbit ears, all so surreal! His life, monotonous and lonely until a few hours ago, was now changing, he could feel it in his bones, and he could not understand if it was a good thing or not: he had always dreamed of adventure when he was a young hobbit, but now it was different; the walls of his home were so comforting and safe, every object was a certainty for him. His life was there and he would never leave it, no sir!

Calmness, however, continued to reign for a long time, during which the largest of the dwarves, one with a long red beard, went to Bilbo’s  kitchen and with an almost surreal care began to prepare a soup. Thorin Oakenshield sat down at the head of the table and was soon joined by the oldest of the dwarves who had entered his house, Balin, and two of the youngest, the two brothers, Fili and Kili.

They began to talk in low voices, in a calm and quiet tone, just like everyone else in his house. It seemed absurd, but at least Bilbo was able to sort out some of the leftovers that had been left behind in the kitchen back in his own larder and eavesdrop, even if he didn't want to (it was rude) on some of the conversations that various small groups of dwarves were having. The ties of kinship were quickly understood, as was the realisation that Thorin was not really just another dwarf. No more flying plates, no more singing songs – not out of fear but out of respect.

He turned his head, watching the almost regal profile as the newcomer spoke to the bear-like dwarf who came into the house first, but Bilbo could not hear what they were talking about, the fact was that their faces were dark, and Dwalin's eyes moved insistently over him.

A short while later Bombur returned with the soup, handing it to Thorin, and in the blink of an eye the groups of dwarves in his house gathered together again, sitting around the table. He wasn't invited: how rude of them, there's a meeting in a house and the owner of that house isn't invited! Not that he cared, of course not, the apple he was putting in the basket in the kitchen was certainly more interesting.

But he couldn't help but listen.

"What news from the Ered Luin, did they all come?" asked an older dwarf with a long white beard and a red coat.

"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms," the voice of Thorin was heard, setting off a round of small laughs and joyful murmurs.

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?"

A long wait ensued in which Bilbo swore he could hear the heart of every single dwarf in the room beating wildly.

"They will not come."

The dwarf's reply was sharp and decisive. Disconsolate murmurs rose from his dining room that only increased in volume and quantity when he spoke again. "They said this quest is ours and ours alone,"

They began to talk in low voices, in a calm and quiet tone, just like everyone else in his house. It seemed absurd, but at least he was able to sort out some of the leftovers that had been left behind in the kitchen back in his own larder and eavesdrop, even if he didn't want to (it was rude) on some of the conversations that various small groups in that group were having. The ties of kinship were quickly understood, as was the realisation that Thorin was not really just another dwarf. No more  flying plates, no more singing songs, but not out of fear, out of respect.

A coughing noise, however, stopped the murmurs and caused Bilbo to turn to the table from behind the kitchen wall as well, distracting himself from his chores. Gandalf settled into the small chair and began to search the sleeve of his grey robe.

"This indeed, it is not entirely true," he explained as he slowly pulled a long wooden pipe from his sleeve. "There is someone else who has yet to arrive," the sorcerer explained, barely looking Thorin in the eye.

F or all the pipe weed in the world, again?

The dwarf at the head of the table stopped sipping from his goblet of ale, giving him a sidelong glance but remained silent. Instead, the dwarf named Gloin spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. "This means yet another division of profit, all of which should have been agreed upon first," he muttered.

"Agreed, this matter should have been dealt with weeks ago," Dori pinned, pulling himself up.

Gandalf did not even look up at the elder dwarf, adjusting the tobacco in his pipe.  "My decision was made after our meeting in the Ered Luin. And Master Gloin, I think that our member does not wish any of that gold in that Mountain."

"Who is it?" grunted Dwalin suspiciously, looking up at the wizard who lit his pipe with his fingertips.

Bofur chuckled under his big black moustache, puffing an avalanche of white smoke from the side of his mouth. "Another burglar?"

"A burglar for the burglar," Fili grinned at the back of the room.

"A burglar made for the burglar," Kili added. Their banter invited the murmurs from just before. This time, however, they were louder, more confused, as was his hobbit head.

A torrent of questions flooded the room as they all asked questions of the wizard, who, bewildered, tried to answer; only Thorin's intervention put an end to the commotion created, shouting warnings in their native tongue. Then he turned to the sorcerer himself, glancing at him.

"The questions that have arisen around this table are fair," he began earnestly, "I have not been informed of any others, none of this was a part of the bargain, Gandalf."

Gandalf smiled with the side of his mouth taking a puff of his pipe. "I was told to find the fourteenth member of this company and so I did, the addition of a fifteenth should not be an unsolvable problem."

"As I said it wasn't in the agreements and last minute clauses at a time like this are not convenient, not at all," retorted the dwarf bringing silence again.

Bilbo looked at the dwarves, clouded by the smoke from the pipes and the warmth of the candles around the table. They looked at each other's hands or watched Thorin in silence, not uttering a breath.

Gandalf put down his pipe and crossed his arms on the table, moving slightly closer to the dwarf with long raven hair.

"I assure you that my choice was not taken lightly, and if I had thought it was right a few months ago I would have reported it to you back then. But it was not possible," Gandalf lowered the tone of his voice even further. "You must trust me on this."

"Is this person crucial to what we must accomplish?" he asked quietly, looking straight into his eyes.

The wizard murmured a small "yes" between his lips, nodding slightly as he continued to look the dwarf lord straight in the eye.

Thorin said nothing, watched the wizard for a few more seconds before letting himself go off the back of his chair and then he took a sip of ale from his mug again. The conversation had ended in a few simple sentences, yet Bilbo noticed how the wizard continued to look at Thorin insistently.

Gandalf brushed his gloves around his hands with his fingertips dropping his gaze downwards for a few seconds before turning his head back towards him.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," he called to him in a manner far more cheerful than his face was capable of showing. "Let us have a little more light".

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

A snort passed her lips.

She was dreadfully late, which she hated from the bottom of her heart; and she hated the fact that she was going to a strange house of a Hobbit whose identity she did not know, although after all those years she had become accustomed to being in the homes of strangers quite often. Perhaps the real reason for her stomach clenching was not whose house it was but who she was supposed to meet in that house and the reason why she was going to that house. Because when she would see them again, all of them , it would not be pleasant or easy. 

Far from it.

She didn't even think it would ever happen, nor did he want it to happen again.

She slung her sack over her shoulder as she climbed up the little dirt road, passing funny grass-covered houses by the round door: if it had been daytime, a riot of colours would have accompanied her path and perhaps, for a few minutes, she would not have thought about the imminent meeting.

She would have stopped for a few brief moments on that bench next to the path and sat there for a short while, perhaps lighting her pipe or watching those very peaceful people go about their simple business. Watching them do simple, mechanical things, perhaps in another life she might even have stayed in such a place, in peace, with someone. But no, too many years had passed, she had seen too much, heard too much, and she would not be able to live like that, not there.

Suddenly, a faint pale light caught her attention: she approached it and, with a thump in her heart, recognised the rune that the sorcerer had traced so that they could all see it. She reached the garden and climbed the small steps that led to the round green door. She ran a hand over her leather bodice and gathered in her heart all the emotions she could possibly feel.

Hatred, fury, pain and anger, so much anger.

She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the voices she could hear through the door.  Taking a deep breath to calm her already jangled nerves, she knocked, hearing a great commotion and excited voices from inside.

The door suddenly opened, and it was the sorcerer himself who filled her field of vision: he broke into a rather smug smile, proud to have been right for the umpteenth time.

He knew she would come at last.

She had met him only a few weeks before and he was exactly as the rumours said. Gandalf's every move was studied and planned and, who knows why, everything corresponded to the plan he had devised; how every cog in that mechanism worked was a great mystery. Yet for that, she could not but admire him.

So, after he had silently nodded his head, she entered the cosy, warm house that smelled of good food and wine and was lit by the soft light of candles; she followed him into a corridor and the smell of ashes and moss entered her nostrils, as well as that of processed tobacco and malt. In a few steps she found herself in front of a small room where, around a table, were crammed all the others who, as soon as they glimpsed their new guest, assumed the most surprised and astonished expressions she had ever seen. 

Only one of them stood up so fast that he knocked over the stool on which he was sitting.

"What is she doing here?!"

The rumble of thunder rumbled through the room and like a thunderbolt it brought to light old hidden shadows, old whispered words, broken oaths.

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

You're blood of my blood, bone of my bone, stone of my stone,

I embrace your body to let it protect me

I take your soul and forge for it a place next to me in the Great Halls

I take your voice which I will hear above all others

I take your sword and I present to you my shield which will protect you from my enemies.

No other dwarf will be yours, no other dwarf you will serve,

no one will  keep you company at night, no life will come out from you.

No one you will serve over me, over the Seven Stars, over the Father of all fathers, over the King of all Kings

I offer myself to your hands until the start to the end, until the skies fall on the ground,

until all the bones crack, until the  fires of Mahal’s forge blaze high.

Until my last breath, until my last glance, until my last blow, 

until the last time my hands touch the rock our Father gave to us

my desires are yours, your pain is mine.