#so like...falling in love with your private chef???

[chrrychills]

i love your writing its so yummy i was wondering if you could maybe wirte school bus graveyard main cast with a reader who forgets to eat and spends alot of time sleeping

have a good day/night

in my head i do everything right .

main six « forgetful, sleepy so!

ashlyn banner:

•she's not amused. at all. at first, it starts off as annoyance because she thinks you're lazy/ don't take care of yourself. once you explain that you can't help how tired you are, she eases up.

•she'll 100% scold you every time you tell her you forgot to eat. without fail. it's out of love, though.

•ashlyn doesn't have a huge appetite, but she'll keep snacks like granola/ protein bars in her locker in case you need them during the school day.

•she can't cook at all, but she'll invite you over for dinner with her parents. they love having you over and will make your favorite food every time you wind up at their house, wether it's for dinner or to spend the night.

•since she's not a fan on pda, she probably won't let you sleep on her shoulder or anything like that in public, but it's fine in private.

•she'll also let you fall asleep in class and make sure the teacher doesn't catch you.

•will never understand how you're always so tired, because she's witnessed you sleep for a good 10 hours.

aiden clark:

•in contrast to ashlyn, he is highly amused whenever you fall asleep near him and uses the opportunity to mess with you.

•he's (horribly) braiding your hair, drawing on your arms, the whole nine yards. the only reason he's not drawing on your face is because he knows you'd get mad when you woke up.

•certified big back. he 100% has snacks on him at all times and won't hesitate to share when you tell him you're hungry/ you forgot to eat.

•his pantry is stacked with snacks, so best believe he's dragging you off the bus with him almost everyday to hang out/ raid his pantry. his parents are so tired of having to restock it. save them.

•he knocks out when he gets sleepy, so if y'all are having a sleepover it's the best sleep of your life. you two have slept through the day on multiple occasions.

•will let you sleep on him anytime, anywhere. he'll mess with you, but he'll still offer a shoulder if you're tired.

•menace. if you fall asleep in class/ are eating in class, he keeps threatening to snitch and get you in trouble. he never does, though.

ben clark:

•another snack carrier, but he has all of your favorites and probably keeps one or two drinks in his locker.

•we've established that ben's a giant teddy bear, and you 100% use that to your advantage. whenever you're tired, you can tuck yourself against his shoulder and conk out. he never minds.

•huge worrier, especially when you first started dating. he still does worry when you don't eat for hours on end/ sleep for an entire 12 hours, but he's gotten better at managing it.

•loves naps. it's routine for you two to end up at his house and nap until dinner time. aiden's tried to wake you guys up multiple times but it never works, so he doesn't do it anymore.

•he loves to bake, so it's not uncommon for him to send you home with something sweet to snack on whenever you feel like it. he loves having you cling to him and gush about how good the food was, so he keeps doing it. plus, it keeps you fed.

•tries his hardest to help fix your sleep schedule, but it never works. you either fall asleep at 4 pm or 4 am and he has no idea why.

tyler hernandez:

•tyler's big on taking care of people he loves, you know that. so it's no surprise when he's scolding you for forgetting to eat but pulling your favorite snack out of his bag, or forcing your head on his shoulder and telling you to sleep because you keep yawning.

•another big napper. when he doesn't have practice– and even when he does, he'll somehow end up in your bed, cuddled up next to you and fast asleep.

•he can COOK. tyler is master chef. whatever you want, he can most likely make. and if he can't, he'll look it up online and it always turns out amazing.

•you honestly get a lot better with remembering to eat after being with him for a while because he's always on your ass about it. you can't even be mad because you know he does it out of love.

•he'll keep food with him in case you need it, but he'll steal bites of it while you're trying to eat. he's so amused and finds himself hilarious. you don't agree.

•he's either scolding you for not eating, not sleeping, or sleeping too much. you can't win.

taylor hernandez:

•she's a sweetheart, so not only will she have your favorite food at all times, but she'll recruit (force) tyler to make/buy it whenever she's running low.

•she's more concerned than anything. first of all, how do you sleep so much and still manage to be tired? second, do you just not have an appetite? she doesn't understand.

•taylor invites you over for dinner at least five nights a week and tyler does not appreciate it, because that means he has to make more food.

•she'll let you fall asleep on her in public, private, wherever. she doesn't care as long as you're getting the rest you need.

•biggest cuddle bug ever. as soon as you tell her you're tired, she's dragging you to bed to cuddle.

•if she misses you, she's not above coming over uninvited and waking you up from a nap so you guys can hang out. she'll deal with the half asleep grumbling if it means she can see you.

•taylor banned you from her bed because it's so soft and comfortable that you literally fall asleep immediately.

lacey's notes:

honey im home.

send requests or just talk to me i missed my bestest friends

title:

[getonite]

i lowkey don't like him, however comma, private chef sanji? 👀

alr in drafts 🫡

[irndad]

She favorites recipes on Instagram. 

It’s a little embarrassing how Carmen knows- that when she’s at his place watching him sketch dishes she can’t taste, he’s also paying attention to what’s on her phone. And it’s usually kistchy things- dresses and outfits with legwarmers, pop-culture breakdowns he doesn’t have time to understand, and yes, occassionally, recipes. 

Carmen adores her company. It’s a private truth, one that they boht know and yet he can’t admit under her gaze. She’s a friend of Richie’s which is endlessly fucking confusing. Both because of how incredible she is, and because it is truly insane to imagine Richie with friends. 

Carmen supposes they’re friends too, now. It doesn’t feel quite right, the way she scribbles notes for him in the mornings and has slept over quite often. She’s busy, has her own life and her own career and he’s lucky for the time he spends with her. He doesn’t really have time to date her the way he’d like to, with dinner dates and late night drives down Lake Shore, watching the sunrise over the lake on mornings where time feels like no object. 

He’s clearly given this some thought. 

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter now. Now, she’s slept over. He’s got a full-size, which felt like a good enough excuse to share the bed, even though every time they do he still ends wrapped around her like a vice, like roots of a tree, raveled in a way that seems inpenetrable. 

She’s sipping on an energy drink- he’s offered her the coffee that he’s imported, and prepared with care, but she’d obviously thought it was too bitter. And now he keeps energy drinks in the house when she stays over. She’s popped in one of her wired earbuds, and the light washes over her like a halo. She’s got a bonafide glow while she sits on his counter, scrolling through recipes. 

“That looks good,” he hears himself say, a little outside of himself, as she stops scrolling. It’s a pasta dish, and she’s favorited it. It looks more complex than it is, really, but he’s not sure he’s a good source.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I had it once when I was in Paris. It was fucking insane, Carmen, it’s so good. I’m always looking for a place to get it. I don’t really think there’s a place in Chicago where you can get it, actually.”

“It was seasonal actually,” he says back, her eyes fixed to his now, “Ever used to make it every fall. Easier to source the pine nuts.”

She looks so, so fond of him that Carmen could entertain the idea of leaning over the counter and kissing her. It’s incredibly tempting, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, endeared by his knowledge. He feels guilty, how he plays with the pencil, knowing she’s stared appreciatively at his hands. He enjoys being pretty to her, leaning into the fantasy that he could be more than her weird fuck-up friend of a friend that’s too chicken-shit to ask her out. How odd is it, that he knows what it’s like to wake up to the smell of her shampoo, but has no idea how she likes to be kissed?

He’s so bad at this he’s failed before he’s even started. 

He can cook, though. 

Cooking is methodical, and so he does it. it’s an easy love language, for him. he dices the parsely and the other fresh herbs, sautes them wirh precision, uses some of the nice butter from work- it’s a marvel, at the end of it, fragrant and warm, waiting for her arrival. 

When she does make her arrival, just on time for him, he plates the dish before she comes in. 

“Oooh,” she preens, raking her eyes up and down him. He feels perciebed, but in a way that he’d like to be. Look at me, he thinks. What a pleasure to be seen by her. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers out, “Thought I’d thank you for all your help. Late nights you’ve been staying up with me, talking through the menu and all- thought I could make you something.”

When she tastes it, it’s careful and adoring, and he’s good at this. 

“Yes chef,” she says teasingly, “Oh my god, Carmen, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. I like being here.”

He wants to kiss her again, doesn’t know why he’s not letting himself. She meets him halfway, though, kissing the corner of his mouth that only a fool would imply has plausible platonic deniability.  

“Thanks, Carm.”

“Anytime.”

He’ll kiss her properly next time.

[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[bountycancelled]

EASY PEASY, LEMON SQUEEZY

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

opla sanji x reader

in which sanji teaches you a few basic cooking skills, while you try to ignore how close to you he's standing

genre: delusional oneshot, pretty suggestive, gn! reader, my sanji/taz obsessed ass shining through the cracks

requested: nope, but they're open so feel free♡

a/n: I don't have anything to say besides I'm sorry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

this was all your fault.

you just had to open your mouth and spill the beans on the fact that you didn't know the first thing about cooking, which led you to the predicament that you were in now.

or was it Sanji's fault for offering to give you private lessons with a tone in his voice that could be mistaken as flirtatious and a wink your way (which in hindsight, you should've definitely refused) and for being a kind, flirty, witty, compassionate piece of work who could cook like a god, who you couldn't help but fall deeply in love with?

no matter whose fault it was, all you knew was that you weren't mentally prepared to spend alone time with Sanji in the kitchen, as you knew that this experience would only aid your feelings in flourishing.

but what you were or were not prepared to do didn't matter, because you were already in the kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man in question as you washed your hands and he looked at you with his typical honeyed gaze and a slight smile on his face.

"you look extra beautiful today my love, how am I supposed to focus on teaching when you look like that?" he questioned out loud in an airy voice. you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could, cringing internally because you had in fact, dressed with a little more thought today than most days, and the fact that he noticed made you want to bash your head against the counter until you saw blood. how much more obvious could you be?

"okay. so first, I'm gonna need you to dice up an onion for me, alright?" he stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you peeled the onion and picked up the knife, and you could swear that his lack of distance was genuinely giving you respiratory problems.

"how would you like 'em, chef?" you asked sarcastically, missing the way his breathed hitched at the nickname.

"hmm... super fine." now, the logical side of you knew that vegetables could be chopped very finely, you weren't completely inept in the kitchen after all. buuuuut, the absolutely unsavable side of you, aided by the fact that you could legitimately feel his breath on the back of your neck as he spoke so so sweetly with that accent of his, believed that he wasn't just speaking about the onions.

you shook away those thoughts, and began cutting the onion. you could almost feel his correction before he corrected you, but you were definitely not prepared for his next actions. his hands held your own as he guided your knife movements, his front almost pressed against your back. he whispered praises in your ear, although you severely doubted that your subpar knife work was worth any compliments, but that didn't stop him. a "there you go." here, a "so so perfect" there, even a cheeky little "you're doing so good for me" just to make you squirm.

maybe it was his tone of voice, or his hands (which had now moved away from yours and found purchase slowly moving up and down your arms) or the fact that your hand was so shaky that you were sure you were gonna lose a finger at this point, but you had had enough.

you put the knife down, not bothering to finish cutting the onion, because he could cut his own damn onions if he so pleased, and spoke before your more timid nature could stop you.

"you didn't ask me here to teach me how to cook, did you?"

silence.

maybe you had misunderstood the situation? oh god, oh god, oh god. you readied yourself to apologise for making him uncomfortable before-

"am I that obvious?" you could almost hear his smile as he spoke seductively, his hands moving from your arms to you waist, gently caressing your frame.

"yes, you are. not that I mind." okay, this was not how you were expecting this lesson to go. but it was days like this that you daydreamt about in the comfort of your room.

"I know this is a bit forward, even for me but-" he cut himself off with a soft kiss to your neck, and you felt yourself shudder at the contact. "-I honestly can't resist you any longer-" another kiss, this time to your shoulder. "-would you give my the absolute pleasure to taste you, please?"

if you weren't already against the counter with Sanji behind you, your legs would've given out from under you on the spot. you nodded, not trusting anything coherent to come out of your mouth at that moment, but snapped out of your daze as a confused sound rang through the kitchen from the doorway.

"you busy Sanji? I'm kinda hungry right now." Luffy spoke with a certain normalcy, as if he hadn't just walked in on, well, whatever was about to happen to the two of you.

Sanji chuckled, placing one more kiss to the back of your neck before moving away from you, but not before whispering in your ear once more. "why don't you go to your room and relax for a bit, love? I'm still aching to taste you."

you were in for a ride today.

[thebearer]

i'll be so happy loving you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a two for one special- the proposal and the elopement :) or how you and carmen get married.

contains: language, alludes to sexual references, some smut at the end but not super graphic. mainly just lovey dovey fluff!!!

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Looks pretty in here, bear.” You hum, looking around the newly renovated restaurant. “I love that painting.”  Now that The Bear was bringing in some revenue, Carmen and Sydney could decorate more how they envisioned, tiny touches that made the place dazzle- look and feel more like how they dreamed it would be. 

“Yeah? Like it better than the old one?” Carmen grinned, arms looping around your waist, cheek pressed lazily to your own. 

You melted into his touch, nodding gently. “Yeah. Much better.” You turn so your noses are nearly touching. “A lot better than that watercolor piece.” 

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, I told Sugar it looked weird. Told her we needed fuckin’ abstract or somethin’.” 

You looked at the painting, a configuration of muted lines and colors that somehow fit the aesthetic of the restaurant perfectly. “Yeah, I think everyone will like it. Looks perfect.” You mutter, lips brushing against Carmen’s cheek for a sweet kiss. He shouldn’t have flustered so easily, but how could he not? When you kissed him, looked at him, loved him this way. 

“So what’s on the menu for tonight?” You asked, turning in Carmen’s arms, lazily looping your own around his neck. 

“We’re closed tonight.” Carmen hoped you couldn’t feel the pounding in his heart, running his clammy hands down your waist while your brows knitted together. “Got a private event.” 

“Private event? Ooh, very fancy, chef.” You quipped. “How did I miss that? I swear it wasn’t on the calendar-” 

“-It wasn’t.” Carmen said quickly, far too quickly to be cool and unsuspecting like he’d hoped. You pulled back, a little shocked at his tone, his hands pulling you back to him, running soothingly down your spine. “I mean… It's a private party. A sort of celebration just for all of us. For the staff. Since we’ve been, uh, doin’ so good.” 

You paused for a moment, eyes darting all over his face, trying desperately to read his expression. Carmen hoped you couldn’t see through him, hoped that the lie Richie made him rehearse would work on you. Hoped he wouldn’t ruin this like he ruined everything else. 

“That’s sweet.” Your pursed lips melted into a smile. “I think that’ll be really nice, Carm. That’s very sweet. They deserved it. You deserve it, Carm.” 

Carmen blushed, letting his eyes fall down between the two of you. He was still getting used to that, after all this time, the sweet compliments you gave him freely. Not as an apology or to get something out of him- use it to control him like others had. 

“You deserve it too, y’know.” Carmen could feel his chest beating, rising and stomach turning the way it did when his heat rate picked up. The rational voice in his head was telling him there was nothing to be worried about, but it was a hushed whisper compared to the roar of “what if’s” and self doubting screams that took over. 

Your lips curled in a little smile. You didn’t agree, but you didn’t argue either. Carmen could feel the lurch of his heart flutter back down into his chest. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

You laughed, brows lifting in amusement. “Oh? It’s a date? Thought this was staff appreciation.” 

“More like a fancy kinda family.” Carmen schmoozed you easily. “But one where you should maybe wear that dress? Or really, whatever you want, but ya know… I’ll be dressed up and so will everyone else. It’s stupid, but-but I wanted it to be nice like the real experience sorta thing-” 

“-Carm,” You cut off his rambling with a hand cradling his jaw, thumb gliding over the stubble on his chin. “I think it’s really sweet. I’ll dress up. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I don’t want to be a jack off in jeans.” 

“A what?” Carmen barked out a laugh. “A jack off?” You frowned, nodding slightly. Carmen bit back his laugh, lips pulling in a wide smile. “It's a jag-off, baby. Gotta let it roll off the tongue.” 

You blushed, rolling your eyes at him to hide your own embarrassment. “You’re a jagoff, Berzatto.” You jammed your finger into his chest, leaving him laughing. 

Present 

“This is it.” Carmen muttered, pushing the creaking door of the house open. You looked around the room, dimly lit with creaking planks of wood for floors. House plants everywhere and the sound of the waves rolling gently on the water outside when the boats cruised by. 

“This is it, hm?” You grinned, looking around while Carmen set the bags down by the door, nervously tracking you. 

“Yeah. It-It’s not a lot, baby, I told you it wouldn’t be. But I-I just… Wait until you see the view in the morning or-or at sunset, when it goes down over the water it’s so clear, you won’t believe it-” 

“-Carmen,” You laughed lightly, a grin so wide your cheeks were hurting. “It’s perfect. Cute, I love it.” You giggled, pushing the blinds open to let the light in. Carmen’s chest aches with the release of tension from hearing that- that you liked it. 

“So where’s this cat?” You hum, ducking under the table and couch to look, eyes scanning the small space of the boat house. 

“The cat that doesn’t exist?” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“You and Marcus say that but I know it’s here.” You hum, scanning the room for a cat door, anyway that the animal might come in and out. “Probably just scared of the two of you.” 

“Kinda the charm of this place, honey. You don’t see the cat. Just feed the invisible cat and water the plants.” Carmen was beaming, watching your frame illuminated by the bright Denmark sun shining in through the windows. 

“Hm, I’m gonna see this cat before I leave.” You declared, checking the cabinets, the hall closets- all the places your own cat liked to hide. Anchovy, you and Carmen’s precious boy, found in the dumpster outside of The Bear. 

Carmen’s lips quipped in a smirk. “I wanna see your cat. How about that, hm?” It was corny, cheesy, made you cringe and laugh and gag exaggeratedly all at the same time; which is exactly why he said it. Arms wrapping around your waist, he pulled you close, lips hovering over yours. 

“Carm,” You sighed gently, a trace of a giggle following with the breathy moan that hitched in your throat when his hands kneaded the fat of your ass. “Thought we had to meet your friend later? I still have to get ready and shower-” 

“-We got two hours, baby.” Carmen purred, tongue running over your bottom lip teasingly, feeling you tense under his touch. “C’mon, we got time. I’ll take a shower with you, too. Save time.” 

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. He was insatiable, and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you here, back at the “most beautiful fuckin’ place on Earth” according to Carmen. He looked so good, so pretty. The way the sunlight would catch in his eyes. They were brighter here, bluer. You didn’t know how that was possible, but it was, and it left you clinging to his hand while you strolled down the street, gazing into his eyes positively dopey and love drunk. 

“You gotta be quick.” You pointed at him with an exaggerated glare, already giving in. “Not like last night. We almost missed our flight, bear.” 

“But we didn’t.” Carmen grinned, his breath hot when it trailed down your cheek to your jaw, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in its wake, hands tilting your head back gently to get to your neck. 

Carmen walked you back towards the kitchen table, hands gripping and sliding down your waist up to your neck. “You just look s’pretty. My pretty girl.” 

You blushed, enveloping his lips fully, letting yourself melt into him, maybe he was melting into you- the two of you molding into each other, fusing together like it was your only purpose in life. Your legs around his waist, lying back on the rickety oak table that Carmen assured “It’ll be fine, just relax, baby. I got ya.” His hand in yours while he rolled deeply inside of you, skin to skin, a chorus of whines and mewls mixing in harmony in the kitchen. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Oh, looks like we’re early.” You look around the restaurant. The tables were set and lights dim, but only you and Carmen seemed to be the ones in it. 

“Uh, they-they finished late, but, uh, they’ll be here.” Carmen stuttered, hands running down the front of his pants again, eyes darting around the room. 

Your eyes narrowed lightly, but shook it off. Carmen was nervous, he had been for weeks. You thought it was because of the restaurant’s new Michelin star holder status, or maybe because of the countless interviews and press that came with it. Still, that had been weeks ago, the press had died down slightly, and Carmen was still anxious. 

“Ah, good evening, folks.” Richie beamed, sliding behind the hostess stand. “How are the two of you this fine night?” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Great, Richie. How are you?” You played along. 

“I am having a lovely night, even better not that you are here.” Richie schmoozed, leaving you snorting lightly at his dramatics. “Right this way.” 

“So what time does everyone get here?” You ask, sliding into the booth. 

“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Richie said easily, calming your suspicions. “I'll go ahead and get you two started while you wait.” 

“So you didn’t get the night off?” You laugh gently. 

“Someone’s gotta take care of everything, sweetheart.” Richie shrugged. “Champagne? Or is that too early?” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed at Richie. “I just want water, Cousin.” 

If there was any hostility, Richie didn’t seem to notice, simply turning to you. “And for the lovely lady?” 

“Uh, I’m good with water for now too.” You nodded. “I’ll wait until everyone else gets here.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie grinned, eyes cutting in a glare towards Carmen’s. “I’ll be back with that for the two of you.” 

You waited until Richie was gone, turning to Carmen carefully. “Hey, what was that?” You asked. 

“What?” Carmen tried to appear calm and chill, his body tensing beside you. “What-What was what?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Carmen… Are you ok?” You asked, reaching out to grab his hand lightly. His hands were clammy, tensing in yours, and pulling away quickly to wipe the perspiration on his jeans. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No.” Carmen shook his head furiously. He felt like he might throw up and sob at the same time. Felt like his own heart might just give out entirely. “I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m just… I’m still trying to figure out the summer menu. Make sure it’s good because we’ve never done that before. That’s what we’re trying tonight, and-and I just hope it’s good, ya know?” It wasn’t a total lie, Carmen was worried about the menu and you were testing it tonight. 

You seemed to believe him, his chest loosening when you scooched closer to him, cuddled together in the booth. “It’ll be good. You know it will, bear.” You hummed, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, laughing when you pulled apart. “Shit, I’m sorry I forgot I have lipstick on.” You giggle, wiping the imprint away lightly off his blushing cheeks. 

“Sorry for the wait.” Richie hummed, dropping the two waters off easily with the new starter for you to try. A classic Mediterranean salad and pita spruced up “Sydney style” as you would say. The term had caught on in the kitchen, finding its way into the names and actions done there. Carmen loved it. Loved the way you said it, the way the staff said it, that it came from you. 

“I’ll leave this here, and I’ll be back with the first course.” Richie smiled. 

“Richie, why don’t you sit with us and try it until the others get here?” You nodded to the spot beside you. 

Carmen froze and so did Richie, the two of them looking at each other for only a moment- but it was a moment too long. Your suspicions rose again, eyes flickering between the two of them. “Ya know, I would love to, but I gotta help the newbies in the kitchen.” Richie said easily. “Gotta make sure they got everything covered. I’m head chef tonight.” 

You didn’t laugh or roll your eyes like you normally would. Instead, you glared at him lightly. Richie’s eyes flashed to Carmen’s. “Alright, well, uh, if the two of you need anything? I’m your guy, alright?”

You waited until he was back in the kitchen, Carmen’s eyes focused on the food, knee bouncing furiously under the table. “Carmen, look at me.” You demanded, turning to him fully. His eyes lifted hesitant towards yours, wide and round like a child caught coloring on the walls. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothin’, baby, I promise.” Carmen said quickly, trying to soothe you but his rigid, frantic tone didn’t help. 

“Carmen-” 

“-It’s nothing.” Carmen said, matching your firm tone. “Just Richie bein’... I dunno what the fuck he’s doin’. Pissin’ me off.” Carmen grumbled, shaking his head. 

“Did you two get in a fight or something?” You pressed. “Is that why you’re being weird?” 

Carmen blinked. “Yes.” He blurted. That wasn’t true, not even remotely. He and Richie had been getting along great, actually, for once. But if it would throw off your suspicions, then he’d gladly throw Richie under the bus- this once. 

“Oh.” You frowned lightly. “Why? I thought you guys were getting along?” 

“You know how Richie is.” Carmen rolled his eyes for emphasis. “He just… He can’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, reaching for the pita, scooping it in the blended dip of sorts. 

“Just… It was stupid and gross. I really don’t want to talk about it.” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about him. Wanna talk to you. How is it?” 

You hummed, chewing lightly. “Amazing. As always.” You beamed proudly at Carmen. “I told you it would be. You’re the best, bear.” 

Carmen blushed, chewing on his own piece. It was good. Sydney had found the perfect balance, she always did. “Well, this is Syd, not me. Can’t take the credit for this one.” 

“Mm, I thought it tasted very Sydney style.” You giggled. 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, hoping you didn’t see the way his hands shook when he took a sip of water. He could barely eat, barely drink around the lump in his throat. “She did most of this, but, uh, I did the dessert.” 

“You did?” You gawked gently. “Not Marcus?” 

“No.” Carmen nudged you lightly. “Well, he helped a little. But it was mostly me. He said I could take the credit on this one” 

“That bad, huh?” You laughed. “Marcus doesn’t even want to put his name on it? Yikes.” 

Carmen rolled his eyes, grinning fondly at you. “I think you’ll like it.” 

You eyed him playfully. “Well, I have high hopes, Berzatto.” 

Me too. Carmen thought, shoving another torn piece of pita in his mouth, hand rubbing anxiously over his pocket again. 

Present 

“So the two of you met in school?” You ask, hand on Carmen’s knee under the table, lightly rubbing over his slacks soothingly. 

“Yes. And he was so much better than me, I thought about dropping out every single day.” Luca grinned playfully at Carmen. “You know, that’s why I went to pastry? Because I knew I’d never compete with Carmen in the other areas, but making a tart? I could outdo him on a tart.” 

“I could never get the crust right.” Carmen shrugged. “Could never figure out how to get it flaky enough. Used to drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

Luca grinned smugly, refilling his own glass of wine. “Well, your chef, Marcus, has got it. Might have it even better than me. Real talent on that one.” 

“Yeah.” Carmen beamed. “He’s good. Real good.” 

“He is.” Luca nodded, before looking over at you. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t want to be rude, talking about all this cooking nonsense. I’m sure you’ve had enough of that back home.” 

“Oh, no. I love to hear about it.” You beamed, reassuringly. “I wish I could cook like that. You can ask Carm, I’m a hopeless cook. Horrible at it.” 

“No, you’re not, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head lightly at you. “She’s good. Can make a better grilled cheese than any of us.” 

Luca grinned at your blush, the way Carmen pulled you into his side lovingly. It was good to see Carmen like this. The last time, right after Mikey’s death, Carmen was dull. It worried Luca. Carmen had always been tightly wound, anxious, meticulous to a fault, but it seemed to get more extreme- damaging. It was refreshing to see him now. Luca could hardly recognize him, the relaxed, cool man in front of him. No ounce of competition in his tone, his guard down for once. Here with you; happy with you. 

“So, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I have to ask.” Luca said, leaning forward on the table gently. “Why here? Why not at home for the two of you? Not that I mind, at all, of course. I’m honored, but I have to know why here?” 

You looked at Carmen, lashes batting lightly. “Well, Carmen always said it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Marcus, too. And… I dunno, I’d always wanted to come, so we figured why not?” 

“This place has always been good for me, ya know?” Carmen muttered, his knee bouncing lightly. “I-I… nothin’ bad has ever happened here like it has other places.” He didn’t need to say it, you both knew. “It’s always been good, and-and I wanna keep the good. We’re already good, I just wanna do it somewhere good, too.” 

Luca nodded slowly, lifting his own wine glass up to the two of you. “Well, then; to keeping the good.” He grinned, his glass clinking against your own when they touched. “And I’m honored to be a part of this, really.” 

“Thank you for bein’ a part of it.” Carmen said, jaw clenched with emotion. “Means a lot, Luca. I, uh, I-I really-” 

“Don’t mention it, friend. I’m happy to. Excited, really, for the two of you.” Luca nodded warmly. 

“We are too.” You grin, beaming up at Carmen lovingly. 

“Yeah… yeah we are.” Carmen hummed, hand sliding down your hip and squeezing it gently. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“I think it’s great, but you know me, bear. I’d eat chicken tenders every day if I could.” You giggled. 

“Still?” Carmen beamed, eyes dazzling in amusement, huddled into you in the booth like you two were the only two in the restaurant- and well, you were. You hadn’t seemed to notice, thankfully. 

“Thought I finally got you outta that?” Carmen teased. 

“Nuh-uh, no way, bear. I’m still a tender defender-” 

“-Tender defender?” Carmen howled in laughter. 

“Yes! I love chicken tenders, and frankly, your disdain for them is off putting, Berzatto. You should love and appreciate all foods, Mr. Michelin star Chef of the year.” You tickled his side lightly, making him squirm gently, a little blushy under your praise. 

“Yeah, maybe not tenders. Nuggets? I can get behind nuggets.” Carmen hummed, his smile falling gently when he saw Richie come out, holding the small covered tray. His heart hammered, feeling his stomach turn while you still giggled beside him. 

“And dessert is here.” Richie said smoothly, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“Ooh, what is it?” You asked, reaching over to pull the cloche off. 

“Eh, eh, hold on.” Richie pulled it away gently. “The Chef,” His eyes cut dramatically to Carmen’s. “Wants it to be a surprise. Wants to surprise you himself.” 

You looked at Carmen, an amused grin on your lips. “Oh, does he?” You quip. 

Richie winked at Carmen, backing away. “Enjoy, you two.” 

Carmen waited until the doors shut to look at you, sure his heart was going to stop entirely. “So?” You lifted a brow, a finger tracing the bottom plate lightly. “What’s the big surprise?” 

Carmen’s heart fluttered in his chest at your smile, wiping his hands one more time on his pants before he grasped the lid, a white knuckled grip so his shaking would still. “You, uh, you remember how Marcus was talking that one time about the cake he had in Copenhagen? And how-how it was the best thing he’d ever had?” Fuck, he was stuttering, his mind racing, and his hands were clamming all over again. 

“Yeah, the sponge one, right?” You asked, nodding gently. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” Carmen nodded. “So, uh, I was thinking… You should try it.” 

“Oh?” You grinned, eyes flashing to him excitedly. “Is that what this is? Carmen, that’s so sweet-” 

“-No.” Carmen shook his head, watching your face fall in confusion. “Fuck, I mean, yeah, it is- it’s- I’m just-” Carmen took a deep breath, trying to still his nerves, stop his ramblings. “I think you should try it for yourself,” His hands shook when he pulled the lid off, revealing the plate. 

You gawked, looking at the tiny sponge cake, covered in a thin layer of chocolate separating the many layers, a dollop of cream of some sorts on top. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. No, it was the two tickets sticking out of the top, plane tickets to Copenhagen. 

“Carmen…” You gasped lightly, looking at him with bright eyes that made his heat leap. 

“I think you should get to try it for yourself, there.” Carmen grinned. “I-I want us to go together and try it.” 

“Carmen, oh my god, this is-this is just… You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” You grin, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into you in a hard kiss. One that had his mind stilling, body melting to yours. Kissing you always made him feel like that. Like he had no other purpose than to just kiss you, and to him, maybe he didn’t. 

“This is so sweet. I-I can’t wait!” You squealed, hugging him tightly. “Oh, I want to go to that restaurant your friend works at! And maybe we could go to those gardens? I saw them on TikTok and I’ve wanted to go so badly since then.” 

Carmen nodded, your head on his chest, he was sure now that you could hear his heart still hammering. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. Whatever you want to do.” His eyes closed, taking a cleansing breath. Carmen looked at you, the excitement in your eyes. It’s now or never, Berzatto. Let it rip. 

“There’s, uh, o-one more thing I’d like to do.” Carmen shuddered, sliding away from you gently, his hand slipping in his pocket as casually as he could. 

You were bubbly, positively giddy with excitement, you didn’t even notice it. “Yeah? What else? Anything, baby.” 

Carmen fought back a tiny laugh, his sweaty hand clasped in front of you, free one taking your hand. “I, uh, I-I… I wanna marry you?” 

Your breath hitched, body stilling. You were sure you’d heard him wrong, grip tightening in his. “W-What?” 

Carmen’s hand opened slowly, revealing the ring, dazzling even in the low light of the restaurant. Your breath hitched, falling out of your lungs sharply at the sight. 

“I wanna marry you.” Carmen repeated, steadier this time even of the rapid fire beats of his heart. “I mean, I want to marry you even if it’s not there, but-but we talked about a destination wedding if we ever did… And-And I… I can’t imagine living another day without you. I have never loved anything- anyone the way I loved you. Never been loved the way you love me, and… I want to do it every single day for the rest of my life.” 

Your lip wobbled, tears pricking your eyes as Carmen picked up the ring, holding it between his pointer and thumb. Your eyes flickered back to his. “You're the best person I’ve ever met; I ever will meet, baby. You’re-you’re fun, and you’re caring and sweet, and you always are so good to me. Even when I don’t deserve it.” 

“Carm-” 

“-No, I mean it. You are. You are the best. And I love you so much, it-it makes my fuckin’ chest hurt sometimes how much I love you.” Carmen let out a breathy laugh. Your own watery laugh bubbled out of your chest, making your lip wobble, tears streaming down your face. 

“I want to go to Copenhagen with you, and-and I want to go to France with you, and- fuck, I wanna go everywhere and do everything with you for the rest of my life.” Carmen rambled, his own eyes glassy when they looked into yours. 

He said your name, letting each syllable roll off his tongue, your own heart squeezing with joy. “Will you marry me?” 

Your throat felt strangled with emotions, a wet sniffle and a tiny squeak of a cry falling from your lips. “Yes.” You nodded, your own hand shaking in his. “Yes, Carm, yes. I’ll marry you, yes.” 

“Yes?” Carmen was sure he was hallucinating; dreaming, maybe. Had to be. But yet, there you were, wiping your eyes, nodding and giving a watery laugh that had his heart aching in the best way. 

“Yes, Carmen, are you kidding me? Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” You muttered, your hands finding his jaw easily, pulling him for another kiss that had his head reeling, a small sob passing through his lips onto yours. 

Carmen fumbled through his own teary sniffles, hands shaking with adrenaline when he slipped the ring on, your foreheads pressed together. “Holy shit, it’s… it’s beautiful, Carmen.” You gawked, pulling the ring up to see it. The design, the cuts, it screamed Carmen in the best way- made your lip quiver all over again. 

“Yeah? I-I designed it, and I just… It looked like something you’d like.” Carmen muttered, turning to wipe his eyes. 

“I love it.” You beam. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” Carmen whispered, hands cradling your wet cheeks, moving sweetly back to you. 

“So,” Richie’s voice interrupted, halting the two of you. You turned, seeing the staff standing excitedly behind him. “Do you want the champagne now?” 

Present 

The ceremony was a whirlwind. The two of you, standing hand in hand in the Copenhagen City Hall. Carmen in a suit, sans tie, a blue gray sort of jacket that made his eyes pop even more, if that was possible. You,  in your wedding dress, casual and short but still so pretty. You knew when you saw it that it was the one. A tiny veil and a bouquet of flowers, Carmen had surprised you with this morning, your ring dazzling. 

Luca passed you the ring, a warm smile when you took it, repeating the vows to Carmen before you slipped it on his inked finger. A couple signatures and a kiss later, and the two of you were married- married. The photographer you’d hired snapped photos in the garden out front, Luca gifted you a bottle of Jouet and well wishes. 

Carmen carried you through the threshold, insisted on it, scooping you up and kicking the door open while you squealed and giggled. The two of you were giddy, climbing on a high of adrenaline and oxytocin. 

Carmen kissed you in the kitchen, his wife. His hand cradled your cheeks, your hand slipping over his, rings scratching lightly- metal on metal. A reminder that it was real- this was real. 

For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto. 

For the first time tangled in the sheets with his wife. Feeling your lips against his, your fingers in his hair, diamond scratching his scalp when your fists curled. His ring left an imprint on your thighs when he gripped them. 

Carmen’s head was buried between your thighs, lapping at your dripping heat like his heart might give out if he didn’t. “Oh! Carm, right there, right there…” You hummed, eyes fluttering, and back arching off the creaking bed. You didn’t care that it shook, part of you hoped you'd break it. 

Carmen could barely hear, your thighs clamped around his head like earmuffs. He was in his own ecstasy driven state, high off the day's events and his love for you, mindlessly lapping at you until he felt your hands push him away. 

“What?” Carmen panted, your slickness coating his mouth, pupils blown with lust. “What’s wrong?” 

“Look,” You whispered, pointing to the corner of the room. 

Carmen turned, hands still gripping your thighs, neck craning to see. There at the edge of the door, two blinking eyes gazed back at him. An orange tabby, perched and clicking back at the two of you curiously. 

“No fuckin’ way.” Carmen muttered, cheek resting against your thigh lightly. 

You giggled, running a hand through his hair. “Told you! He’s probably just scared of you.” You hummed. 

Carmen snorted lightly, standing to coax the cat out gently before he shut the door. He didn’t need you distracted or worse; the cat jumping up on the bed while you two were going at it. 

“Can’t believe that fuckin’ cat’s real.” Carmen grinned, shaking his head lightly. 

“He’s just scared of you and Marcus. I must have good energy.” You beamed playfully. 

Carmen rolled his eyes, pushing you back lightly on the bed. “Just lay back f’me, alright? Let me take care of you, baby.” 

You purred, hips grinding into his touch. “Yes, Mr. Berzatto.” You giggled, back arching when he licked a long, flat tongue stripe through your drenched folds. Copenhagen was better than you could have imagined, even better now. Weeks later, you’d frame the photo of the two of you in the garden, grinning fondly at the memory. At your husband. At your life together with him now and forever.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

You: Someone unable to appreciate "real" food because you're desensitised to junk (your fav meal is McD chicken nuggets and you're convinced that no one can take that from you.)

Chef! Simon: A fine dining, Michelin-starred chef who's determined to train your taste buds to appreciate real food.

The only vision of this I have:

You go to Simon's restaurant with idk maybe your girl friend because her partner was called away to work on emergency, and she didn't want to waste the booking to the fancy place, whatever it doesn't matter. You get the simplest thing on the menu, nibble at it and then send it back half-eaten. Simon is so aghast at this that he comes out to the floor himself, wants to meet the customer who dared send his food back. Asks if there was a quality problem. Asks what about the dish wasn't to your taste. Asks if he can make you anything else.

When you say no to all of the above, he's polite (but seething inside) and leaves. Comps your meal. Invites you back privately.

His form of romancing you is inviting you back to his restaurant after hours and taking you on a culinary journey, introducing you to flavours and textures you've never tried before, finding the tastes that you like, feeding you iterations of those until you feel comfortable to try fancier stuff.

You both fall in love in the process.

He stands in between your legs as you sit on his kitchen counter after hours one day. Two dishes in front of you - one containing McD chicken nuggets, one containing nuggets that he's made. Per his request, you try both.

He kisses you for the first time when you tell him you can't believe you ever liked McDonald's.

[buckets-and-trees]

Since it’s still Monday… Happy Horny Monday!🥵

Imagine Bucky telling you to get on your knees🥵

Oh… and when I tell you there are so. few. men. I have ever wanted to have in my mouth…

But he would be one.

Especially Devour Bucky…

And it’s not Monday anymore, but who can complain about a little smutty something on hump day Wednesday?

Collection: Devour Title: MINT Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: male receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, sex in a semi-public space, mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after Heat but before Yeast. Written on my phone while waiting for my departing flight…

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You had dated before the incident (and you’ll always call it that because it was the height of his audacious pursuit) but that was different to how things were with James now.

Now you were his, and he was so assuredly assertive about it. He touched you easily - a hand on your back, on your arm, reaching for your hand. When you weren’t next to each other, his eyes sought you out - not constantly, but frequently. It was devoted with a hint of possessive that was healthy, not insecure. It bespoke a confidence and contentment that you had never experienced in any previous relationship, situationship, or entanglement.

It felt good.

At tonight’s benefit for the museum his warm hand had found its way to affectionately rest on your thigh under the table, but it wasn’t long before his hand had shifted, sidled under the high slit of your long silk dress, and his fingers drifted over to the tender and traitorous skin of your inner thigh above your stockings, dangerously close to your core.

But no further.

Only the quirk of his mouth told you he knew how he was teasing you, but he was essentially well behaved the rest of the night.

Somewhat maddeningly so.

He continued to be physically affectionate, but only in the most appropriate way.

And his eyes danced with the mischief of it.

So you concentrated on the rest of the evening - the other VIPs you were grouped and mingling with, the performances by some of the city’s symphony and opera stars, and the culinary delights.

You had been nervous for your first public appearance like this with James Buchanan Barnes, but it had been surprisingly nice. One of Bucky’s associates and his fiancé were at your table, as were the governor’s nephew and niece and each of their plus ones, and one of the members of the museum’s board of directors and her partner. James had whispered in your ear that the charming elderly woman from the museum board terrified all the old men on the board because she was so charming they were constantly surprised by her devious control of the board without ever having been the chair.

After dinner, there was dancing, but your table was one of a handful of tables swept away first for private tours of the new collections.

That’s where he struck.

Holding your hand, fingers interlocked, James had been falling further and further back in the group, engrossed in many of the works.

And it might have been genuine, but when he pulled you into one of the enclosed galleries and you saw one of his security step in front of the entrance, you knew you were in for discreet but delicious ruin.

“James…” your voice drawled in a cautious question.

He mimicked your tone, murmuring your name right back.

“Won’t they be trying to secure a sizable donation from you tonight at the end of this tour?”

“I’m already a generous patron of the city arts council. If they leave us alone long enough, I’ll increase my patronage before we leave,” he said with a cocky smirk.

One you had come to love.

“Been wanting to have you all night,” he said, voice going lower, right to your core, and taking a step closer to you.

“Oh?” You pretended to be unaffected, the way he had pretended to be only innocently touching you at dinner.

“And I would bet you’re ready for me,” he spoke directly into your ear.

Your eyes fluttered closed, but you tried to keep the rest of your cool. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He chuckled then pressed you flush against his front, and you felt his hard cock press into you. “I’m ready for you.”

And within half a second, he’d rucked up the long skirt of your dress, exposing your ass in your lacey underwear and large fishnet stockings. You gasped his name into his chest, but he only proceeded, cupping your mound, undeterred.

And you couldn’t hide the heat of your wetness or your soft whimper as his fingers worked over your already ruined panties.

“Get on your knees for me,” he said, gently pushing down on your shoulder, and a little dazed, you complied. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip then cradled your cheek - affectionate but with control in those fingers. “I want your pretty mouth.”

You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, and pushed his boxer briefs down, exposing his thick, glorious, hard cock.

Then your gaze flickered to the side, toward the entrance to the dark gallery.

James brought his other hand up to frame your face, now holding your head in both his hands.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

You bit your lip but nodded. He smiled. Every moment had your body more abuzz - desire, the rush of being so exposed in public, this new relationship, how intoxicating he was.

“Now open up.”

You parted your lips, placed your hands on his thighs, and he eased his cock into your mouth. The tang of his precum hit your tastebuds, and the warm weight of him had you hum as you closed your lips around him.

“Mmmm, like that,” he cooed, slowly pushing his length to the back of your throat. He drew back a little, still holding your head in his hands, and pushed in again. Back and in again. Then he pressed his tip a little more insistently against your esophagus. “Relax and let me in, let me use your throat.”

You whimpered, but blinked once, still looking up into his deep blue eyes, and squeezed his thighs a little to let him know you were ready.

He didn’t rush, but he set an insistent pace, rocking in and out of your throat, groaning when he finally pushed all the way in, your nose nudging against the pubic hair at his base. You concentrated on breathing evenly through your nose, blinking through the tears that sprung from your eyes. His fingers were there to brush away those tears immediately, and the tenderness while he forcefully took your throat made you keen.

He rutted into you a few more times, and you could feel him absolutely throbbing, ready to let him spill into your mouth and down your throat, something you almost never let anyone else do before him, but then suddenly he pulled out, and hauled you up.

“Wha-“

He stopped your words with a consuming kiss, licking into your mouth, growling when he tasted himself there. He hauled your leg up around his hip, and you clung to his shoulders.

“My good girl deserves my cock in her dripping cunt, doesn’t she?”

“God, yes!”

He pushed the delicate lace of your panties aside, quickly lined up his thick, throbbing head inside of your slick heat, and drove up into you, claiming your lips immediately again once he was sheathed in you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling closer, desperate to anchor in this moment of desperate passion.

As your leg gripped around him, his hand slid down to control your hip and leverage his thrusts.

You expected him to draw away from your lips, say more filthy things, but he didn’t for once, seemingly as needy as you to race to this finish. His other hand moved between your bodies and quickly sought your clit, already knowing each inch of your body better than his own. Quick circles over the bud at his fingertips escalated the tightening in your stomach, rough, punching thrusts, and then you were clenching and cried out against his lips, turning your head to pant into his neck as your orgasm washed over you in a rush. You trembled in his arms as he pumped furiously into you, and then he groaned as he shot his own release into you.

Quick, rough, claimed.

Satiated.

He laughed softly then kissed you again, more softly, still inside you for another moment.

Then he sunk down on one knee before you and brought your left leg up to perch on his knee. He drew a handkerchief out of the inner breast pocket of his dinner jacket, and then gently cleaned up your mixed spend from your core. He pressed a hot kiss to the exposed flesh of your thigh just above your fishnet stockings and righted your panties.

“You’ve so quickly become everything to me.”

Your heart stuttered, and you pulled him up for another kiss. He smoothed the long skirt of your dress back down, smoothed his hands up and down your waist, pulled you flush against his chest to run his hands up and down the expanse of your exposed back.

“All mine,” he murmured against your lips.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few after dinner mints he had apparently snatched from the table. You giggled and shook your head, but took all three eagerly, popping the first into your mouth.

He took your other hand in his, threading your fingers together, and drew it up to his mouth. “And I’m yours,” he added before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[sleepymarimo]

𝕤𝕟𝕒𝕡 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥!

summary: when he sees you falling for the charms of a particular chef, law decides that he needs to step in... pairing: law x gn!reader cw: law is lowkey (highkey) manipulative?? an: a little longer than i thought it would be lol but i hope y'all enjoy wc: ~900 ⤷ based on this song! ⤷ part of this arctic monkeys mini event!

law's decision to take you to punk hazard with him was based on, more or less, rational reasons. you had a level head on your shoulders, your loyalty was unwavering and you were skilled in your area of expertise.

but most importantly? he could keep an eye on you.

yet, as the thousand sunny sailed off with the two of you in tow, he can't help but regret his decision.

with crossed arms, he leans against the railing and watches the love sick cook tend to your every need. the blond pampers you with flirtatious comments and treats of your choice, his eyes pooling with lust.

law can just tell that you're flattered by the attention.

for a second he opts to look away, his gaze snapping downwards to the swordsman who was napping a couple feet from him. he rolls his eyes at the sight, unable to keep his focus off of you for long.

your fidgeting fingers, bashful smile and the way you don't even attempt to push away the cook all wear law's patience down. you even lean into sanji's personal space, your whole body turning as you offered him all of your attention.

are you completely blind? law wonders, unable to hold in a scoff. briefly, he considers grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking the foolishness out of you.

he gets it.

confined to the walls of the polar tang, surrounded by crew mates who were akin to family, this kind of attention must have been appealing to you. that doesn't mean he has to like it, though. especially when, for nearly the past month, he's been thinking of a plan to tell you how he feels.

between managing the crew's best interests and his own desires, he chooses to bide his time. he can hold out. he's been holding out, ever since you came aboard his vessel. but he's smart and wary when it comes to such matters, so he takes to making things happen behind the scenes.

it's a little much, sure, but the surgeon is adamant on getting what he wants.

does he know what's best for you? law likes to think so.

the moment sanji drapes an arm around your shoulders, he decides that he's had enough. a familiar blue hue encapsulates the deck of the ship. "room."

accustomed to the spectacle that is law's devil fruit ability, you simply look towards your captain and offer him an inquisitive expression.

"shambles."

now, you're right beside him.

your head snaps towards where you were once standing, bringing a hand to your mouth when you notice sanji's arm wrapped around the shoulders of a groggy green haired swordsman. the two men don't have time to focus their attention on law, instead turning their anger towards one another as they began to exchange heated blows.

now in your own private corner of the ship, you give law an incredulous look. "law..." you say with some caution. "what was that about?"

he says your name, sharp and direct. "you need to snap out of it."

your brows furrow, arms crossing over your chest. you struggled to connect the dots and understand what he was referring to. the surgeon wasn't exactly the most open when it came to matters of the heart, so it didn't cross your mind that he'd be referring to anything of that nature.

"snap out of it?" you echo back, head tilting. "what're you talking about?"

that perverted chef. he thinks to himself, masking away any hints of displeasure by rolling his eyes and giving you his signature indifferent, observing expression. he'll fall for anything with two legs and a pretty face. just wait for this to all blow over and then i can take care of you how you want me to.

he can't tell you all that though, so he coolly manipulates his words and frames his concern in a more rational light. his tattooed fingers curl around your chin, squeezing lightly as he turned your face back towards the cook. he can't let it show, but he savors the feel of your soft skin under his fingers.

your eyes widen when you see sanji swooning over nami, pulling all the same lines and offering her her favorite dishes. you can feel your cheeks get warm as a sense of clarity runs through you, realizing that maybe you were a little too naive when it came to these things.

but at least you have a captain you can trust to steer you in the right direction, right?

"distractions." he says, simple and to the point, not giving you room to consider any ulterior motives he might have. "we're here for a reason, understand? don't forget what's at stake here."

he lets go of your chin and waits for your response, already thinking about what he would say if you kept insisting on wasting your time with the cook. luckily, you get the point.

you give him a nod and appreciative smile. "yeah, you're right." your shoulders shrug, your fondness towards your captain growing. "i won't forget. i mean, even though we're in an alliance and all that, we should make sure to take care of each other first, right?"

the surgeon can't help but smirk, satisfied. "bingo."

law has patience. he can wait for the right time to make you his, but until then, he'd make sure no one else got in the way.

taglist: @dimplewonie

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Gepard with a chef! reader who enjoys cooking for him?

Reader loves to spoil Gepard with homemade bread or cake. Upon realizing that he skips meals, reader decided to take action and make him boxed lunches.

SWEET LIKE BUTTERCREAM! ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Gepard Landau x Gn! Chef! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Your husband has been neglecting himself, and you decide to spoil him rotten. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.5k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request, Anon! I know you didn’t specify whether the reader was married to him or not, but Gepard is so husband material that I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully you don’t mind! Please enjoy!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Honey,” Gepard echoes through the entryway to the kitchen, “I’m here.” 

You can’t hear him through the chaos, but he can hear you barking orders at your coworkers. Even your yelling soothes him to a certain degree. Still, he wants you to talk to him, so he shuffles through the tight squeeze in between the kitchen island and the ovens. Honestly, even though he’s a guard, his workplace is almost as dangerous as yours. The smell is heavenly, saffron and spices waking him (and his stomach) from a stress-induced daze, but the discord is immeasurable. 

He can hear you asking (shouting) for someone to check on the tiramisu, followed by a louder, “Thank you!” which makes him chuckle. That’s what the blond first noticed about you: even in dire situations, you never forget your manners. The memory of a rainy day in Belobog flashes through his mind: on his daily rounds, he finds a figure dressed in an adorable frog raincoat, beating a thief with their matching frog umbrella, hollering tearful apologies with each strike. Whilst as a Landau, his teachings have raised him to believe that ‘manners maketh man’, that scene was a rather overexaggerated use of the phrase. Nevertheless, the second he met your teary gaze, he was so enraptured by you that he nearly stumbled into a puddle. He’s about to melt into one too, watching you work away with that little look of concentration that makes him want to scoop you up. 

“Darling?” Your husband calls once more, just metres away from you. Finally, you turn around. Meeting his deep blue eyes, taking in his tired tiny smile and outstretched arms, you leap right into his arms. You’re not one to throw yourself at people, nor are you one for physical touch, but of the many years you’ve known him, Gepard will always catch you if you fall. It’s that trust that allows you to dive into his embrace every time he visits you at work, he’s just so reliable. 

“Hello handsome,” you hug him so tightly he nearly stumbles backwards, “back from work so early?” It’s then that you do a double take at him. Gepard is never home from work early. He’s a doting husband, yes, but he’s an equally hard-working Captain. You hug him harder and realise just how much skinnier he’s gotten. “You must be sick, sit down. Let’s get you to the private lounge.” You take a deep breath, ready to yell once more, and Gepard shuts his eyes in anticipation of another wave of noise-barrier-breaking-banter. “Jiaoqiu, I trust you’ll keep things running?” The new foxian chef nods, and you leave your domain with your husband behind you. 

Working as a chef in a hotel is a stressful job: entitled customers who plant hairs in their food to get a discount, waiting staff who hand in an order that is completely illegible, the loud hustle and bustle of the kitchen. It’s not for the weak, and your employers are appreciative of that fact and give the cooks a little lounge. Even for a five star hotel, it’s amazing they even considered it in the first place. You take full advantage of their kindness and lead your husband to one of the cream coloured couches. The sea is visible from the lounge, full glass windows making you feel as if you’re trapped in an ice cube. The hues of sunset begin to paint the sky, light red casting light on the hollows under Gepard’s eyes. 

“Geppie, you haven’t been overworking yourself and skipping meals again, have you?” 

He looks away, slightly red: “It’s not that bad. It’s just a few meals.” He winces, his soft voice jaded from fatigue. To make matters worse, his stomach rumbles ferociously. He covers his stomach with white gloved hands, blue eyes widening with panic. “Listen, go back to work, love, I promise I’ll eat once we get home. Just, don’t do that thing where you go insane trying to cater to me. You work a full-time job too, don’t let me get in the way. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.” 

“You’re a grown man when I saw you are, Geppie. I’m bringing you pasta, just the way you like it.” You flash him a pout, frustration building up inside of you. You hate seeing your husband neglect himself like this, every time you see him convince people around him when he’s fine when he’s obviously struggling, it hurts. You two lead your lives in effortless synchronicity, like a perfectly executed ice skating performance, so observing his health deteriorate when you two are so close it’s like you share the same chambers of your heart is hurtful to you too. You’ve given him his space, but now it’s time for an intervention.

“You don’t have to cook me pasta, darling, I can cook too, you know?” 

You grab both of his legs and rest it on the white fancy coffee table in front of you so suddenly, he startles and jumps back like a frightened rabbit. You fetch him a blanket from the hotel cabinet and drape it over him. “I know you can, love,” you run your hand through his soft hair and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, “but just let me handle it tonight, okay?”

He yawns, finally giving in. “Okay honey, but only for tonight.” Gepard replies, his Captain’s authoritative lilt leaking into his words. 

But that voice doesn’t work on you, it seems, because the next day during his patrol, you bound up to him like a puppy. Gepard may walk into you at times, and you will greet each other, maybe share a kiss. But you know not to interrupt his work, as any lack of diligence may result in casualties in rare cases. But Gepard doesn’t want to take that gamble. Today, however, in this picturesque sunny day, the sky the shade of his eyes, there is something hidden behind your back. 

“Darling, hello! Are you enjoying your day off- oof!” The second he reaches out to kiss the back of your hand, you smack an adorably wrapped box into his arms. Although he is in his uniform, perfectly built to protect him, he does stumble back slightly. He assesses the box, unwrapping the floral pink fabric that holds it, and finds a bento box. “Wait, love, I love your cooking but we have food at work, don’t waste your day off on-” His voice trails off, because as he looks in front of him again, you’ve already vanished. He shakes his head dismissively, “What a sly fox.” But a few of the Silvermane Guards at the same post as him watch as a wide smile breaks out on his face, along with a blush that turns the tip of his ears a deep pink. 

It has become a daily thing now. And although Gepard feels a bit ashamed that his partner is babying him, the complete truth is that on your days off, he intentionally ‘forgets’ his bento box just so you can find him and hand it to him then. It’s no different three months later, when you stomp up to him in your wellie boots, under your frog umbrella. “Hello, love.” He greets, ruffling your hair and taking the bento box. He looks at the fabric that decorates it and tilts his head to look at you better. “I like the ducks on this one, it’s cute.” When he laughs with the same softness as a tiny bell, you swoon softly, even more so now that he’s gained some of his baby fat back on his cheeks after your rigorous diet schedules. It makes him seem so much more peppier, and now that things are a bit more difficult for you at work, he’s been stepping up and taking care of you too. It shows now more than ever that he’s less overworked. There’s a pep in his step, all signs of tiredness in his face replaced with a healthy glow and rosy tint in his cheeks. He makes your cheeks bloom with heat when he kisses the back of your palm, his common Prince-like greeting. “So, what did you make this time?” 

“I made some linguini and I had some leftover battenburg cake, so that’s in there too! It’s a bit chilly today, so wrap up warm, sweetheart. I’ll get going now, I have to pick up some groceries.” You’re about to turn away, but Gerpard calls your name in such a way, it resembles the light and sweet taste of buttercream. 

“Wait! Before you go,” he sets the bento box on a nearby bench and lifts you up for a kiss. You meet his lips and exchange a cold kiss that ends up warming the both of you up significantly. “I’ll see you at home, angel.” He smiles, putting you down. You say your goodbyes and walk away, heart swelling with affection and excitement for the next time he opens the door to your house so you can leap into his arms once again. 

[totalpearl]

How he fucks… ft. Vinsmoke Sanji

cw

Smut, (slight, but technical) edging, afab!reader, typical service dom / switch sanji, use of the words “miss, angel, and baby” to refer to reader, use of “pretty boy, baby, and play toy” towards sanji, unprotected sex (wrap it up).

summary

He loves to savor everything, this extends to his private quarters.

18+ only !! Minors don’t interact. Ageless accounts will be blocked. Don’t steal my shit either 🤨.

authors note

A bit of a longer read (2k), whoops ! :3 Feedback and everything is honestly appreciated.

Sanji always takes his sweet time with you, much to your dismay. Contrary to popular belief, I think he is the king of edging. Whether it’s to himself or to you, he lives for the beauty in turning you on. He treats it like a check list whenever he has you alone in his private quarters.

L’Aperitif… he doesn’t do “quick fucks”, Sanjis’ foreplay is an all day thing. It doesn’t just start in the bedroom. He’s meticulous and calculated, he knows when you’re ovulating just so he can give you the best dick of your life. Nothing turns him on more than the way you milk him during that special week.

It took some adjusting but your sex life has never been better since you’ve been seeing him. You’ve got to hand it to him, that boy knows how to fuck you right.

You love the way he builds you up throughout the day. Whether he’s caging you in his arms while he rubs himself behind you, calling you his “pretty angel”. Warm breath on your neck deliberately attempting to make you hot and bothered. Or when he feeds you a snack he’s made the crew, making sure to slide his fingers in your mouth. “All of it,” he softly commands. Encouraging you to lick them clean, it’s something about how enraptured he looks while serving you. He’s so caring.

That’s partly why you love doing it with him so much, he’s taken the time to get to know your body. Rough fingers tweaking at your hard nipples during all hours of the night, pulling gasps from your already sore throat. He wants to know what you like, exactly how you like it. He’ll give you that and more.

He’s not degrading, he worships you too much to ever belittle you. His praise shines mostly through his foreplay, he’s practically serenading you with his sweet words. “So lovely, my pretty baby, too good to be true” he says while kissing from finger tip to finger tip. He’s a coddler, “please say you’ll be all mine tonight ma chère,” he pleads. If it wasn’t for the stiffness in his pants you felt each time he embraced you, you’d believe his intentions were harmless with how tender he was. Always the romantic.

L’Entree… you notice his touches linger longer against your ass, hips, and lower back, his fingers gripping your hair tighter when he pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue dangerously close to prodding it’s way through your lips.

You know you’re getting closer to what you want, when he’s entered the makeout stage. He can’t keep his mouth and hands off you. By now he’s preferably whisked you away to his room or kitchen, away from prying eyes. He loves the vulnerability in the sanctity of your body. How intimate it feels to be alone with you.

When he’s concluded his meal prep after a long day, that’s where he finds you waiting for him in his room. “Worked me like a damn dog” he pouts while loosening his neck tie, cig hanging low in between his lips. You’re sitting on his bed, waiting for him to finally pay attention to you. He just flops down on you, supporting his weight with his head in your chest. Arms wrapped around you so you can’t wiggle away.

That’s the other fun thing about fucking your crews chef, he’s down for anything. “Mmmm, yeah?” you say while scratching at his blond hair, trying to give him any sort of relief.

“Yeah…” he agrees while scooting up your torso, causing your legs to spread open further for him. He’s so comfortable on you he thinks he could fall asleep, but then you’re kissing his lips so softly and he remembers the meal waiting for him.

Finally springing into action he kisses you back. You can feel his impatience in the way he’s greedily stealing air from your lungs. Tonight you want to treat him. “Sanji baby,” you purrr in his ear while his hot mouth travels down your neck. “Let me make you feel good” you say while grabbing his tie, forcing him to stop his ministrations.

His eyes are falling out of their sockets at your request, no matter how many times you top him he still fucks like a nervous virgin. “Please,” he says while looking at you like you’re the only person he’ll ever love, “I’m at your mercy.”

Taking control of the situation you flip yourself on top of him. Trapping him underneath you. Firm thighs on either side of his hips. He loves the feeling of being under your control telling him what to do, it’s the job he was truly made for.

Main Course… “Like that, oh— yes please just like that,” he’s white knuckled while gripping the bed. You’re only rubbing his tip through your folds, you never understand why he gets so worked up from the littlest things.

You haven’t even sat down on him yet and he’s pleading to god right under you. It’s wicked the way it makes you clench around nothing watching him lose his eloquent composure. “You’re so hard baby, this from me?” you say lining him up with your slit, rubbings his engorged tip between your fingers. Pushing his flushed pink tip in and out of your first ring of muscle. He’s bucking his hips right into you, trying to sheath himself fully inside you.

He’s not terribly thick but he does make up for it in length. The burn of not stretching making it more pleasant for the both of you. Tired of his antics one of your hands press him fully down on the mattress, “sit.” Your cold words and firm hand on him doing nothing but making him more worked up, you can see the stars in his eyes at your bluntness.

“Can’t help it just need to touch you..” he’s so sweet, he just wants to feel your lips on his. “Don’t you want your reward sweet thing?” You ask while teasing him, leaking cock still aching to be inside you.

God he loves this, the restraint of wanting you but torturing himself so he’ll last longer. It feels so good to deny himself of what he wants because he knows you’ll take care of him, so he just nods his head. Gulping when you line yourself up again.

His dick is perfect. He’s watching the juncture of where your sexes meet and the lewd scene is going to send him into cardiac arrest. The way you sink down on him like he’s your rightful throne make his balls pulse with need. Sanjis face bright red as your slick pussy envelopes all of him.

He’s always unsure of what to do with his hands, but he loves your boobs and that’s typically where he’ll put them while you’re on top. Gripping for dear life because he’s scared he’ll cum right then and there from your warmth without something to ground him.

“More Miss, just fuck me already,” he says breathlessly, pelvis arching up into you. How much more could you take? He’s filling you to the brim with his long length that makes it impossible for you to breathe.

Putting two hands on his toned chest, you bounce up and down to give yourself leverage. Keeping the pace slow so he’s not busting into you too soon. He’s too blissed out to actually do anything, blinded by his own pleasure.

You have to hear and see more of it, sucking in your pelvic muscles you clamp down on him. “Ahhh, t’s too much” he exclaims while slurring his words. Sanji is so sexy when he’s helpless. He can’t do a thing but sit there and take it, just how you want it.

He’s writhing underneath you, grip on your chest becoming firmer. You know he’s oh so close to cumming just from the mediocre bouncing and that’s when your hips come to a halt. “No no, Miss please, why’d you sto-“ his answer comes in the form of you grinding yourself on top of him.

“Gonna make you feel so good pretty boy, my play toy,” if he could cum from words alone, he would. He can’t handle the way your hips dance across his torso, pussy sucking him, refusing to let him go. Not that he’d ever want to be anywhere else than right under you. Soft tits feel so warm in his rough hands.

He’s shameless, he can’t hide how good you’re making him feel. Sanji is most definitely a moaner (and groaner), you can’t tell if he’s feeling good or if he’s in pain; but the look on his face says it all. His eyes are squeezed shut with his mouth open in an “O” shape, pretty moans spilling from his pink lips. They’re swollen from you biting them during your heavy make out session earlier. How the mighty have fallen, defenseless against your pretty pussy.

Dessert… using him like this is almost too much for you. His fucked out face, heaving chest, and slight buckle of his hips whenever you come down too hard are going to send you over the edge too soon.

“Wanna make me happy?” you ask while pinching at one of his exposed nipples. “Anything!! Anything for you miss,” he chokes out, trying to focus on not finishing.

“Then fuck me, Sanji” you mewl while grinding down on him particularly slow. He never makes you feel embarrassed when asking for what you want, he just complies.

He sits up from his laying down position, grabbing the fat of your hips with both hands while he scoots to the edge to give himself more leverage. All the while he hasn’t removed himself from you. Your hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders because you know what he’s about to do.

“Kiss me,” is all he says while he picks you up off him, leaving just his tip in. Then he slams you back down, forcing his long length in your tight cunt. Repeating his ministrations until you’ve both found a comfortable pace, it’s fast and hard. Completely different from the sensual grinding you had been doing earlier.

His arms move from your hips to locking you in a bear hug against his chest. You can’t move as he pounds your pussy, sliding you up and down his hard shaft. He’s so deep you can feel him in your throat. You want to give in to him, he feels so good so close to you.

He’s using his position to his advantage, strong legs cushioning the sound of skin slapping filling the room. Even with your head in his chest you can hear how messy he’s making you, his grunts in your ear bringing you to your climax.

“Gonna cum Sanji…” you offer as a warning. He’s clapping your cheeks and it only gets worse now that he knows you’re close. He doesn’t have to hold himself back anymore.

“Then cum for me angel,” he says while pistoning his hips in you. You’re no match for his praise as your vision begins to blur from how hard you’re creaming around him. He loves finishing at the same time as you because he feels closer to you as a result.

The way you convulse around him makes all his patience worth it as he spurts his load in you. Fucking whatever dare seeps out right back in. Never wasteful.

He praises you as you both come down from your high (he is the type to tell you he loves you when he cums… sorry). “I love you”’s and “thank you”’s are all he can say as he settles for grinding your sensitive cunt against his softening dick.

Sanji loves to stay inside you for a bit after, just basking in your beauty after fucking you. He always thinks you’re beautiful but there’s something so superb about your after fuck glow. He needs to be close to you with his head in your tits telling him how good he was and how good he made you feel.

He is a visual hands on learner after all.

[lurkingshan]

Hellooo, do you have any recs for well written bls that also deliver on the romance front? My favorites that are both great shows and great love stories are Eighth sense, Old fashioned cupcake and I told the sunset about you ( the 2nd season is great but I dont f with cheating)...

Hello! I am interpreting your ask to mean you want bls that 1) are focused on a Big Love Story as their main purpose and 2) have strong writing that nails the romance, in particular. With that in mind, here's what I would recommend in addition to the ones you already listed, sorted into a few categories.

Dramatic and Swoony

La Pluie

Two soulmates (or are they?) meet, try to figure out their relationship, and decide whether they care what destiny has to say about it. Also features an equally swoony side couple romance. This show is Big Romance all around and very much in conversation with the genre.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

It doesn't get much more epic and swoony than this show about a modern gay man who gets sent back in time and falls in love with a young heir. This one has an asterisk next to the strong writing criteria because things get pretty wobbly in the final arc, but the romance stays strong throughout and it features some of the best bl romance scenes of all time.

Bad Buddy

It's gay Romeo and Juliet, but nobody dies (though importantly, someone does get shot). This one is tumblr famous for a reason!

Romantic Comedy

Cooking Crush

The sweetest romcom Off and Gun have ever made, with a simple love story between a med student and a chef. This show has some flaws--they let a drunk monkey take over the editing booth on a few episodes in the middle--but it's well written and the romance is great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

A remake of the Japanese original, this one shocked most of us by improving on an an already solid show. It's a fantastic romance, alternately funny and poignant and sweet as hell.

Semantic Error

The perfect bl romcom doesn't exis--

Light On Me

A high school love triangle where everyone is likable and the right boy gets the guy.

I Cannot Reach You

High school friends to lovers and done exactly right. This show is so goddamn charming and funny while still managing to get to the underlying angst of this trope. Perfection.

My School President

This one is all first love and high school shenanigans and a ton of original songs that will get stuck in your head.

Comforting and Cozy

Sing My Crush

Here's one for your constant rewatch list. A story of two best friends who love each other instantly but take awhile to make it explicitly romantic, as one of them is hurt and hiding and the other is oblivious yet somehow still devoted. You will love them.

Takara’s Treasure

This is a gentle love story between two lonely people who are exactly the right fit for each other but struggle with their own insecurities.

Our Dating Sim

A second chance romance for two high school friends who meet again as adults after a bad separation. Short and sweet with just the right touch of angst to burrow into your heart.

Angst Baby

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This is a really beautiful and evocative show.

Wedding Plan

A gay man who is preparing to marry his lesbian best friend to protect themselves from their families falls in love with his wedding planner. It's a classic romance trope but this show does it so well, with an added layer of queer angst that really deepens the story.

My Beautiful Man

A high school story that centers on a psychologically complex relationship dynamic that will not become fully clear to you until the end (by design, the writing for this show is remarkable). It's not a traditional romance but it is a deeply moving one, and if you like it there's a sequel season and movie that are both also great.

Theory of Love

The messy angst-ridden friends to lovers drama we deserve. Don't skip the special episode, it's one of the rare cases where the special is actually crucial to the story and not just bonus fluff.

My Tooth Your Love

This one is romcom shaped but also deals a lot with trauma, so on balance it's more of an angsty romance. Warning for dentistry (which I recently learned is an issue for a lot of folks on here).

Gameboys 1 and 2

A pandemic-era romance that starts long distance before our boys can come together in real life. Definitely watch both seasons!

Jack O’ Frost

The only bl that has ever used the amnesia trope well. A romance gone wrong that gets an unexpected second chance after an accident forces a reset of their relationship. I found the themes of generosity and forgiveness in this one really moving.

Seven Days

This one is what it says on the tin--spend a week with two teenage boys as they try out dating each other. I really love the structure of this one, and the romance is well done.

[kimingyuslover]

Rewrite the stars

synopsis : You met Joshua's at a party. after hiding your relationship for 3 years long, your parents want to meet him. What would they say about your boyfriend?

word count : 1,612

pairing... : Joshua Hong x fem!reader

warnings : fluff, chaebol!reader, angst, tears, forbidden love(?), stangers to lovers!au, gentleman!Joshua (yes, it needs to be warned, i literally melted)

a.n : finally finishing this, the most long oneshot i have ever made, wow (impressed by my brain tbh..)

It was a sunday night, the first that you met him through a mutual friend you had in college, you met him at omega kappa beta party, he's playing beer pong with his friends— and a few of yours too.

Mingyu spotted you on the crowd of people, and he smiled brightly. "y/n! come here!" he yells because of the music that blasts in everyone's ears.

First of all, you're not supposed to be at this party because your parents are not allowed you. They say it could ruin the family image or whatever.

Secondly, you have an early class tomorrow, and having a hungover will not be a good reason for the headache that you'll have in the morning.

Latly, you don’t think you can handle Joshua's pretty face while talking, joking and drinking with his friends & yours.

After a moment of hesitation, you go there, and suddenly, you're having the best night of your life.

and after that party, he asked you to go out with him, which you gladly accept with a wide grin spread on your face.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

"so, have you seen any boy that you take interest on?" asked your father while he's eating the dinner who was made by your private chef. Your long time to answer makes your mother speak, "you know we can set up a date for you if you don't have one, right? you need to have a boyfriend, as soon as possible i might add" your mother said flatly.

you know, if you don't tell about your relationship with Joshua, you will most likely go on a never-ending blind date until you find what they call "the one".

"i have a boyfriend. we're in a relationship for over 3 years. we met at the party in college, that party is sending invite to all the people who in the same year as me" you said while looking at them. tour mother widened her eyes, and you could see the doubt in her eyes.

"oh, good then. tell that boyfriend of yours to come here for dinner tomorrow night" your father replied curtly, and now you're the one who's really wants to furrow your eyebrows.

"isn't it's to offhand? i also don't think he's free all the time" you said after a moment of hesitancy. your father only lightly chuckles, "well, if you really have a boyfriend who's been in a relationship with you for over 3 years, don't you think he should be ready to meet his girlfriend's parents?" you stopped eating, for a moment you thought about this and decided that you have to bring joshua home, so you nodded your head slowly, "i'll tell him" you finally said, and your parents only nodded in approval.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

tomorrow comes faster than you think, which makes you wonder if this is because of your nervousness.

"no worries honey, i'll come to your house, okay?" you nodded your head. you never trust your voice when you're almost crying.

"baby! you're waiting for me?" the voice that sounds familiar makes you turn your head from where the voice came from, and there he is, Joshua. he runs to you, give you a quick hug and a peck on your lips. "i actually wanted to tell you that you've been invited to my family dinner, and you need to come tonight, i'm sorry if this tossed you off, if you don't see them tonight they will set up an endless blind date for me and we'll have to break up" you burst out with your teary eyes, you feel bad for him. instead of panicking, Joshua held you closely to him and says.

and soon the night fall, you're waiting for Joshua to come. It's nearly 8 pm, and your dinner will soon start. when you nearly get your hopes down, Joshua is ringing your home bell.

the dinner is already finished, and now your father is throwing so many questions to Joshua, made you eyed him in worry.

"so, what do your parents do and what major do you in?" your father asks straight forwardly, and now you really want to throw daggers at him.

Joshua is so calm when he answers the question, "my mom is a doctor, and my dad is an engineer. i major in law, and i currently go to the law school for my further education" he said while keeping that sweet smile on his face.

after so many questions, your father decided that Joshua could go home. you walked him to the front door, "sorry" you said. he furrowed his eyebrows, "why are you sorry? you've done nothing wrong" he says as he cupped your cheeks, "my father, he's really straightforwarded person"

"no need to be sorry, baby. i'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He hugged you close to him, and you reciprocated the hug, you hug him tightly as if this was the last time you'll see him.

when you came back from the front door. Your father is already in the living room, with a news paper on his hands.

"oh, y/n, come seat here." you have bad feelings about this.

"you need to break up with your boyfriend"

"what?"

"you heard me the first time. you need to break up with your boyfriend, his status is not the same as ours, he's lower than us" your father said makes you stare at him in shock.

"so what if his status is lower than us? at least he loves me, and i love him too!" you yell at him. you shouldn't believe their kindness towards him. you should've seen this coming.

even if you're already giving your point of view of him and love, your parents still not approved of him.

"whatever, i'll leave tonight and never come back. even if you block my credit card, i can just throw it." you get up from your seat and walk to your bedroom. you closed the door with a loud thud, with tears slowly coming out from your eyes. you pack your things inside of your 2 rimowa suitcase.

once you're done, you take your bag and fill it with your charger, phone, and every necessary thing you think you'll need. when you get out of your room, you walk straight to the front door. your mother tried to stop you from doing so, but her effort wasted and she didn’t even get anything.

as soon as you pay for your taxi, you go to Joshua's penthouse building. you cry your heart out to him that night, and Joshua whispering sweet nothings to your ear. you really don't wanna sleep that night, alas, with Joshua holding you close, you start feeling sleepy, and finally, you close your eyes.

the next morning come, and to say you smile immediately when you see Joshua on the other side of the bed that you're sleeping was an understanding.

"good morning beautiful" he said with his raspy voice when he opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was you staring at his face.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

and that happened 2 years ago. now you're in a boutique store to make your dream wedding dress, and the designer is currently measuring the size of your waist.

you run away from your house, and as you can imagine, your father blocks your credit card, but there's nothing to worry about because you had started your business when you're still a freshman in college, so you have enough money for yourself.

Joshua decided that he would take a lawyer as his job, and lots of famous law firm asking for him to be one of their lawyer because he had a perfect score in the law school.

you guys decided that you will save some of your earnings for the marriage you both have dream of.

"okay, i'll let you know when you can see the preview of your final dress" the designer said after he measured your body and picked the fabric that you wanted for your dress.

"thank you, this is unbelievable that i can pour my story with my fiancé on this dress" your eyes beaming as if they made out of the stars in the sky.

"oh, darling, i'm so honored to be your dream wedding dress designer. You touched me with your story, and nothing beats true love" he said while gesturing to wipe tears from his right eye.

2 months later, Adrien Kwon— your designer, is calling you to his boutique for your dress try-on, and of course you take Joshua with you.

"so, how do we think?" Adrien said after two of his assistants opened the curtains to revealed you with your dress.

"i love it! what do you think, baby?"

Joshua was speechless for a moment or so, he can't believe his eyes. seeing you in your wedding dress make him thinking about how beats you'll look when it's your wedding.

"i am in love with you and your dress"

Adrien coos, "proper grammar, that man is one of the kind, lucky you" he said as he winks at you.

not long after that, Joshua asked to be left alone with you to Adrien. which, of course, he accepts it.

"baby, you look,"

"what? gorgeous? your style? pretty?" you teased.

"everything, you look so beautiful, my love" he said as he kissed your hands made heat goes up straight to your cheeks, "i love you, thank you for not giving up on our love"

"i love you too, Joshua." you felt your lips crashing with his own. he held your neck as he deepened the kiss, adding more passion to the kiss.

if you're sure they're the one, please don't let them go. It's hard to find anyone like them in this universe.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

[supi-wupi]

Hospital

[pairing] SEPARATELY gojo x reader, nanami x reader, choso x reader

[a/n] 

[cw] fluff, fluff, fluff, choso cries, gojo spoils you, nanami talks to you, comfort

Gojo Satoru

The first visit went something like this;

“Fuck baby, are you okay?” Gojo say’s as he busts into the room, hair and clothes disheveled.

“I’m okay baby, nothing big” You reply back to him in a calm tone, trying not to showcase how scared you were due to the severity of the injuries.

“Just a few broken bones and scratches here and there, nothing vital.”

“Just a few? Babe you literally broke more then 5 bones at the same time, that’s got to hurt some how.” Gojo whisper shouts as to not seem mad at you.

“Doctors say I’ll be fine, just need a lot of rest and to lie down for a while.” You reply smiling to try to lift Gojo’s spirt.

Gojo looks defeated and sad, his eyes overfilling up with tears that run down his cheeks.

“You promise you’ll be okay?” It was silly to make a promise over this, but to let Gojo rest a little, you’ll agree to anything.

“Just for you ‘toru, I promise I’ll be fine”

Gojo continued to visit you day after day after breaking down in front of you. You couldn’t be more grateful for the company you receive daily, it gets lonely when your in a plain white room. But as soon as you mention it to Gojo, he instantly orders staff to move you to the best room they had ASAP, saying that he would cover the room fees. As you try to tell him he didn’t need to do this for you, he insisted its the least he could do for you right now while you were so vulnerable to others.

When you finally got release with a lot of medication for pain and recovery, Gojo opted to bring you to his penthouse for you to regain your strength slowly but surely in safety. Everyone instantly agreed to it due to how secure his house was from security and staff he hired (just for you he would add but he just said he hired them a while ago).

The food the private chef made was amazing, always making your prefered taste of food at your request. But as soon as a mistake was made, Gojo flipped out and told you he could fire them and hire a new one if you just said the word. You of course deny and say it was just a small mistake and that they were really kind towards you.

Anyway, Gojo would absolutely spoil the shit out of you all the way through.

Nanami Kento

He seemed unreasonably calm on the outside to others, but you knew him better then that. You knew he was suffering as much as you were.

Nanami always brings a present when he visits you, whether the gift were flowers or food or candy, you most enjoyed his company he brought with him.

He sits beside you at all times while he visits, updating you on what’s happened outside while you ask him to explain something further. You just enjoy the sound of his voice over the constant beeping of the machines your connected to.

He never asked you about your injuries, you think he ask the doctors about it daily, but he never brought up why you were in the hospital in the first case. You think its probably to take your mind off it, but either way, you couldn’t thank him more for being with you as much as he could be.

Overall, he just loves to give you gifts on his visits, you have a large pile of items he’s brought along with him next to the window. Your mind is always all over the place but when he visits, it seemingly calms down and just listens to him, tuning out the outside world

Choso Kamo

He always manages to tear up at all of his visits, whether it was because he had a bad day, or because he just really missed you. You’d bring his face up closer to you and start kissing all around his face in attempt to calm him down each time he broke down sobbing. After his sobs starts turning into sniffles, you place a big kiss on his lips and over his eye lids. After a while longer, you hear his breathing even out as he lays next to you on the small cramped bed, falling asleep.

He never fails to fall asleep with you, dragging you with him into dreamland. Keeping your mind off reality whenever he’s there.

[tenjikufag]

OO SHOULDVE ASKED AGES AGO BUT

Thoughts on the other male dungeon meshi characters? Shuro, Senshi, Chilchuck, Kabru, etc?

Also would like to hear about the female cast too, if that tickles some fancy to your brain to spoot (spit) out about them too :}

I adore all the men in this series, cmon they’re all so edible and tasty. My personal faves (outside of Laios) are Chilchuck, Mithrun, Thistle, and ofc Senshi. (When it comes to the men specifically!)

These characters all have very different personalities so I’d probably make a whole hc post or even relationship Drabble post for them some time in the future. I have lots of fun and nasty cute thoughts about them. But to satiate you momentarily before I get to those, I’ll give you a one or two hcs about them.

read below the cut, as usual. sfw. not proofread

Chilchuck

Man is a jealous guy, like JEALOUS jealous. He can’t help it. Even he thinks to himself how childish it is to have these feelings as a grown man dating ANOTHER GROWN MAN. It’s not something he outwardly expresses either, it’s hard to decipher him being jealous or if it’s just a bad day for him. (To him, it’s both.) under his breathe he’s muttering threats and such towards whomever is taking your attention or flirting with you- maybe they’re simply too friendly for his liking. Maybe they brushed your arm or shoulder while talking and it takes everything in him to take on the Not Half Foot at your heels. Even if it is another half foot he still wouldn’t outwardly act on it- he knows better and knows he needs to learn how to deal with these situations and emotions.

Mithrun

He is not one for physical affection, privately and obviously in public. But, he’s come to enjoy sitting infront of you while you card through his hair and thrum your fingers on his neck. Gently prying apart the small, loose knots in the strands he’s gotten throughout the day. He can’t help but lean into you, with his eyes closed with the softest smile to pair with it while you massage his scalp, moving down to gently circle or tap the soft skin on his neck. You could be talking about your day, talking about everything or anything, or maybe even nothing. The feeling of your hands so lovingly passing over the tension stored in him lets him fall asleep quite easily these days. It’s unknowingly become a routine for the two of you. When the two of you reunite at the end of the day, he’ll find you and sit infront of you regardless of where you are. And he sits there, not once has he ever had to ask and by gods he wouldn’t ever want to ask.. but luckily for him, you’ve grown to enjoy the intimate routine.

He’s comfortable. He never knew such a simple thing like a scalp massage could ease so much tension in his body and mind.

Thistle

Enjoys doing your hobbies together. Whether it’s baking, cooking, sewing, crocheting; he is more than content to sit beside you and either watch or partake in the activity. Sometimes the two of you will chat while doing it, listen to whatever music you happen to be into- maybe he’s sharing his own taste of music with you- and other times, like when he’s watching, it’s a nice time for him to relax in the presence of someone he actually enjoys and finds himself comfortable with. You don’t expect anything of him, and it lifts an unknown weight from him. It’s a safe space and time for him, with you, in these moments, he doesn’t need to worry his pretty little head about anything.

Senshi

Weirdly enough, in my head, he will not let you cook. You’re his significant other and he wants to feed you! He barely lets you eat out aswell. Even if you enjoy cooking, he’d much rather you tell him what it is that you want or tell him how to do it. You can be his sous chef but to him, when it comes to you specifically, this is an intimate act of love for him. Being able to satiate any cravings or wants in regards to food fills him with nothing but pride.

Must remember to be mindful if you happen to enjoy cooking from someone else if you’re away because he will always find some way to make it far better than however whoever else made it. Acts of service, like making food and meals for you, is his love language.

—

As for the women, I ADORE Marcille, Fleki, and Tade. Even though I don’t see myself writing for female characters (aside from maybe platonic plot lines in fics) I do like them a fair bit!