#they look bad and half of them are over cooked

[venmondiese]

KEEPING NEW YEAR'S TRADITIONS

PART TWO OF A NEW YEAR'S TRADITION

-ˋˏ| summary: As a new year comes by, you make sure your tradition of eating grapes keeps going. And Aemond's tradition as well.

✧ | Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

✧ | word count: 3.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Masturbation, Submissive Aemond..., Sending nudes and stuff.

✧ | notes: happy new year!! this comes as an unexpected part 2 (?) i know it's late but atp, i always post everything late ;(

Aemond was in a bad mood. He liked holidays, when he had the chance to be alone with you. And on this occasion, he was ‘forced’ to spend it with his family.  

New Year last year was something he enjoyed very much. He was alone with you, Vhagar and the fireworks that the Blackwater bay throwed every year. You went to bed fairly early and of course… your little traditions.

You’d eat grapes, he’d fuck you. To him, it was an amazing tradition. All over the year he was teasing you about it, how this year he’ll try another position, how he’ll rent a private yet to see the fireworks firsthand, how he’ll do so many things for…

Nothing.

Nothing, because he was stuck with his family. And that pissed him off. 

‘It might be the last year we spend the New Year with your father, you know how delicate his health is…’ his mother and his half sister would say over the phone, and he would roll his eye. Still, you were softer, kinder and more open to the idea. 

“We should go” You said one time, as he had come home late from his work and you served him tea and some leftovers of the lunch you prepared for yourself. 

“I see they contacted you…” he murmurs, drinking his tea. “I think that us spending the New Year here is perfect as it was…” 

“I know that it isn’t your favourite thing to spend Christmas with your family, but everyone is going to your father’s home. Your mother and her husband, your siblings… even Aegon” You add with a raise of eyebrows “And your half-sister too”

“You are just listing reasons not to go” 

“If it is your dad’s last year, I think we should go, Aemond…” you say, looking at him with those wide eyes of yours, you walk closer to him, standing by his side as you press a hand on his shoulder “He is really excited about the baby…” 

His eyes go to your pregnant belly, as he sighs, one of his hands going to rub his forehead, thinking about it. “All we will do is fight, you know” he mutters. “That’s all this damned family can do nowadays”

He presses his forehead on your belly, sighing slightly as he feels your hand moving to caress the back of his head. Aemond likes to speak with your belly, or resting close to it, or anything that has to do with the baby. You were all day, every day with the baby, but he wasn’t, so he tried to do everything he could to help and feel the baby before the arrival. 

“Fine” he murmurs, begrudgingly. “But we’ll leave early… and, and don’t fall for their excuses…” 

After all, he was a weak man for you. More so when you carried his baby, anything you desired for, he tried to make it happen. As crazy as your cravings were, he cooked them all. When you complained about the clock, he had to take it to Aegon’s apartment for the meantime.  When your body ached, he massaged it. And if you wanted to be with his father’s family for the New Year… he could manage, if you were with him.

That’s how he finds himself now. Sitting at the end of the large feast table of his father’s house, hearing his cough and the small talk the rest of his family did to each other. He was leaning back, one leg atop of the other as his arm rested on your chair by his side. You didn’t turn down good food such as this, and ate happily all of it.

“A toast” His father says, as he takes his glass.

As his father talked and talked, Aemond looked at you, holding your orange juice. He saw his glass, also with orange juice, in some kind of sympathy for your inability to drink. He wasn’t the greatest fan of drinking, sure, he would often drink whiskey, maybe some fancy wine from the reach, but never to the level of drunkenness (unlike Aegon) 

He caressed your back gently, eating his food little by little. 22:50. Seven gods, this would be eternal. He wanted to go home already, he chatted with his mum, with his father, and even exchanged a dry ‘hello and happy new year’ to his half-sister. It was enough. He ignored his nephews and chatted with you, and his siblings. 

He rubs his forehead as he hears Aegon talk about how it is a shame not to be able to drink, and whatever Aegon talked about, Aemond never listened long enough to know. 

“Well, I have developed a craving for orange juice” You say to Aegon. “Next to the apartment there is an old house, and it has a lemon tree, an apple tree and an orange tree. The old lady that lives there is lovely, and she always gives me natural fruit, more so since she saw my belly, she used to deliver all the babies in the street back in her age, so she always looks after me…. Doesn’t she, my love?”

Another thing he realised was that you were so chatty when pregnant. You tease him like hell, and talk about every little adventure of the day. Vhagar fell into the pool in her cat walking time, the food you made was extra delicious, you talked to the people of the store, anything. He didn’t complain, he was used to getting home and serving dinner as you chatted about your day.

“Yes, love. She does” he agrees eating his plate. 

“Not as good as you do…” you say in a teasing tone, and he has a slight smirk.

“Aye, true…” He says proud, kissing your cheek.

“Cheesy” Aegon says making a face, but he was slightly amused. 

“Shut up” Aemond mutters to him. 

Even if his family tries to stretch the dinner as long as possible until midnight, his father was already dozing up, probably due to his high doses of medication he had to take every day, and left him sleeping like a log. 

He gets annoyed since his mother is the one tending to him, even when she was his ex wife for at least one year now. It is ridiculous, and it bothers him for no reason at all. 

Sometimes he’d visit his father, with you always. You’ll go with a sweet treat and chat for a bit, and then you’ll go. He was content with that much, his father had good conversations when he was lucid and out of medication.

“Did you bring the grapes?” He asks softly, looking at you. You raise an eyebrow, amused as he remembers that, and he rolls his eye playfully. “We do have traditions”

“I did” you assure him, a playful smirk on your lips as well. “Grapes, not a condom” you add playfully.

“Luckily for us, you are already knocked up” he whispers, kissing your cheek. 

“Uncle Aemond” the little tug on his arm, let him know it was Maelor, trying to gain his attention, which meant he wanted to be holded on his arms. 

He spent half an hour entertaining his nephews, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys were making a play with their dolls for him to see, and you were so happy to entertain them that he kept making stories to impress both of you. Maelor was quick to fall asleep on Aemond’s arms, and by 23:40 the kids were already whiny and sleepy. 

You used to chat with Helaena about maternity tips, things she would have liked to know when she was a first time mother, and that you took note of it carefully. 

He is happy with his resolutions from last year. He proposed, and you were pregnant. It was bad timing of course, since you refused to have a wedding in your third trimester, so you waited. If it was for him, eloping was good enough, and he’ll have a great honeymoon with you. 

“Did your… wishes from last year were granted by your magical grapes?” Aemond asks as Helaena takes Maelor to cradle him in her arms. 

“Not like I intended, and certainly not all of ‘em, but the most important ones I’d say… yes” You say softly. “I wanted a new cat” you say playfully, and he roll his eye. 

“Isn’t Vhagar enough?”

“I think some cute fluffy company would make her less… grumpy” 

“A baby would be enough” Aemond says with a nod as he sees the time. 23:53. 

“A human baby is not the same as a baby kitten” You state with a nod. 

“We are not taking care of two babies at once, my love” he shakes his head. 

“I’ll eat two grapes for the baby cat then” you say stubbornly, moving to grab the bowl with the twelve grapes. 

His mother sits curiously by your side, and she looks at the grapes. 

“Oh, you eat grapes for the new year?”

“Yes, ma’am.” you say with a kind smile. 

“I see… it is really against the Gods…”

“Mum” Aemond says in a stern tone, not wanting her usual lecture. 

“It’s fine” You say, trying to calm everyone. 

“I am merely saying that it is superstitious” Alicent says, not taking an aggressive tone as she holds your hand. “Not trying to be mean”

“I know how…” Aemond starts saying, but you cut him, placing a hand on his thigh.

“It’s fine. I don’t take it that seriously anyways” You say.

“You have done it for three years” He reminds you, as he knew you did everything to please his mother, since she was a bit adamant about having kids out of wedlock. As if they were living in ancient times, he sighs and rolls his eye. “Can’t we speak of something more… cheerful?” 

You had no issues with being cheerful, talking about the baby, which delighted his mother as well. 

“Luke, Jace!” Rhaenyra calls for her eldest, as the clock strikes 23:58. Aemond also stands up and helps you do so, as his stepfather calls for his mother and everyone gathers around their little family. 

“You have to give me a kiss before swallowing those grapes” he says petulantly, his hand moving to hold your hip. 

“Fine” you say, rolling your eyes amused. 

He was still slightly annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t repeat the same shenanigans of last year, his new and very own ‘tradition’ with you. You teased him endlessly, but at the end gave him a consolation prize; you could leave early to the apartment and have all the sex he’d like there. 

“One last kiss before the year ends” Aemond says smugly, waiting for his kiss. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in superstitions–” 

“We have gone through this, give me the kiss”

You comply with his request for a last kiss, nothing too passionate and inappropriate as he would like, but it is one full of tenderness. He grew more tender and careful with you these last months, as your belly grew more and more. You often groaned and complained about how unnecessarily careful he was, but he still did it. 

“I love you” he murmurs against your lips.

“I do too” you answer him “And next year, we’ll be a family of three”

He nods, and then he smirks “Of four, with Vhagar.”

You were always quick with your comebacks “Five if you count the baby kitten”

“You are unbelie–”

He was cut with the greetings of ‘happy new year’, and he leans to steal a kiss from you, which has you giggling between the kisses. 

He has gotten into the swing of eating grapes by each second, even if they were a bit sour to his taste. He daren’t to ask when you had bought them, because they tasted a bit weird. Still, you ate the grapes in time and smiled proudly when finished. 

“Fourth year in a row” you say proudly, and lean to kiss him on the cheek as he swallows the remains of the grape.

“And happy New Year to you too”

You greeted his family by a kiss on the cheek, and a hug. He was less enthusiastic, but followed you around as if he was forced to do so. 

“Mum, the fireworks are starting soon?” Little Viserys asked Rhaenyra, to which she nodded. “Can we go?”

Aemond made sure to bring a chair along with him, and he placed it on the yard to make sure you were comfortable. He brings a fluffy blanket and something to drink if you need so. You roll your eyes as you walk to him, your hand on your belly. 

“Don’t you think it is too much…?” You murmur to him, yet you still sit there.

“Hey, this is the bare minimum. It’s freezing cold in here” he says looking around to where his family was forming. 

He goes to help his father walk, along with Jacaerys. Aemond doesn’t talk about it, as he simply quietly helps his father to sit in one of the other seats to see the fireworks.

You see his mother talk to him, telling something that Aemond doesn’t answer. He comes back to you after a while. To your questioning face, he murmurs.

“Wanted me to be nicer to him” he murmurs in your ear. 

“Asking for the impossible” you playfully say, to which he rolls his eyes. 

The fireworks are absolutely pretty. You always liked to see them explode in the sky. You wondered how Vhagar was doing; thankfully these were soundless with the explosion, so you imagine Vhagar must be sleeping in the baby’s crib as if she was the newborn. 

Aemond drinks his orange juice as if he was swallowing whisky, and you could see his grumpiness. You held his hand, pressing little kisses as he smiled faintly.

You understood him, even if he didn’t tell you a word about his true feelings. And thankfully, he understands you too.

The fireworks were nice, yet after ten minutes it grew boring. You stood up and held a hand to your belly.

“My belly aches” you say to Aemond, which has him in a hurry. 

“What? What?” He asks, a bit stressed. “Is the—”

“No, it is just a tummy ache” you stop him. 

“It was the grapes,” he says, realizing it. “They were sour and…”

“I’ll just go to bed” you say to him, and your mother in law walks to you. 

“I could make you tea, darling; the fireworks aren’t over and…” 

“I’m fine. I’ll go lay down” you say not wanting to worry anyone “In Aemond’s old room…” you say with a smirk to him.

“Ah, yes, my sanctuary” he says, rolling his eye, but holding your arm to help you walk. He was paler and worried, but your chuckle soothed him.

As he helped you upstairs, you can still hear the sounds of fireworks, as you enter his room. It was obviously cleaned so it could be used tonight, but it still looks rather empty.

“You don’t want to throw up, do you?” He asks to help you sit.

“No.” you say calmly. “I don’t feel that bad, come on. Sit” you say instead.

“What are you–” he says, not understanding, sitting by your side. 

“Oh. Come on. Your tradition?” You ask with a smile. 

He raises his eyebrows as he blinks a bit unsure what this all means.

“Would you please lay back?” You ask sweetly, helping him to lay with a pillow on his head. 

“Unbelievable” he murmurs amused, his lips curling into a smirk. “And what will you do to me, eh?”

“I believe we promised some riding” you say moving your hair to the side as you smile, your hands going to his trousers to unzip them and pulling his cock, that was hardening with interest to your every word. 

His hand caresses your shoulder and then falls to your arm, cherishing your skin as he looks at you lying. “You are dirty” he accuses

“And you love it” you defend yourself sticking your tongue out to him. 

The way your dress clings to your body, accentuating the swell of your belly, ignites a hunger within him. He picked this one too, it was large and of colour cream. It was a simple, flexible fabric and you grew to love the clothes that could stretch. 

You lean to kiss him, and he makes sure to prove himself to be tender with you. He holds the small of your back as he kisses you softly.

“You are perfect” he murmurs, smiling. “How did you know I wanted–?”

“I know you like the palm of my hand” you say, caressing his cock up and down, as you talk gently to him “and I know when you are pissed. We can’t have you exploding with your family, can we?” You ask smiling “I need to keep my man in line”

Aemond chuckles, as you pull your dress up and kick your flat shoes away. 

“Ah, and you will do so by… riding me?” He is amused, and really, really, really interested. “Might as well spend all my days grumpy” he says smirking as you move your legs to straddle him carefully. Your huge belly was an obstacle after all. 

“Just shush. This year is my turn” 

He is painfully hard, as he lies back, enjoying the sight and he has that smirk that nothing will wipe it off. For a moment, he prays that no one in his family comes in to check on them. He doesn’t find the strength to stand up and lock the door, not when you are on his lap with your happy smile. 

Aemond moves his hand to caress your naked thighs, and he has a happy smile. 

“I told you, I like this new tradition” 

“Well, it is a tradition. It must be done” you say as if you were resigned to that fate. 

“Who are we to question that?” He asks, smiling. 

As you move slightly to pull off your panties, he sees the small reflection of the fireworks on the wall. 

“I thought that had finished” you say softly. 

“The neighbours throw their own for at least half an hour.” Aemond says with a lightened mood, since he would have rolled his eyes before.

You two kiss for some more, as he holds you still. Lately, since you weren’t exactly flexible as before, you did less exotic and risqué sexual positions and more casual ones. And Aemond spent hours and hours with his lips pressed against yours, kissing you, and murmuring sweet nothings.  

As you try your best to lower yourself onto his cock, he is patient. He is horny as hell, but he lets you take your time. 

“To be clear we are never fucking in your family’s houses anymore” you say and he has to let a little laugh out. 

“Alright” he says. 

You lower yourself in his cock, not minding a rubber since you didn’t need one, a fact that he loves. He hisses slightly in pleasure, his hands going to grip your hips as he tries his best not to moan loudly. 

“Fuck, my love, you always feel great” Aemond growls, as you move your hips forwards and back, grinding on his cock naturally. The sensation is exquisite, and he thinks he is going insane. 

You ride him at your rhythm, he could (and definitely) wants to buck his hips in synchronizing your small jumps on his cock, which feels like a delicious grip that he never tires of. The obscene sound of skin slapping against the skin is faint, but not less obscene. 

He hated to be intimate in other houses, much when other people were around. Growing around Aegon made it impossible for him to find any attractiveness to it, and much more, he finds it a lack of respect. But tonight he was indulging into something he always criticized about Aegon, and he obviously plans to put the fault on you. 

“Mhm, I love it” you murmur as you grind your hips against him, making sure to get that delicious feeling of his cock.

He grips on your thighs, wanting to pull you closer and have some hold as he tries to move his hips to the rhythm. He always loves how your hips wiggles as you take his cock, when you still adjust to his size as you take it. 

He never thought he’d love your pregnant body that much, seeing your stomach full with the baby. He doesn’t even think he wants to see your stomach empty from now on.

He hears your little moans, trying to hold yourself and your sounds. He wishes you had stayed home, in your apartment and in your bed, being as loud as you wanted. He hated to see you reprieve yourself. 

“You look so beautiful” he praises you, he couldn’t even reprieve his own thrust ups, as his hips insistently. 

“A-Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck” you mutter, the word rolling from your lips naturally. You had banned any bad words in the house, for the baby. Not even damn. Nothing. But now you were chanting a big one as you jumped on his cock.

He grunts, his hips bucking up as he leans his head back. Thankfully his bed doesn’t creak, because someone could walk in and he would be caught left handed.

“You feel exquisite, sweet thing” he mutters, biting his lip. 

He would love to sit up, kiss your clavicle and kiss your breasts. But your belly was in between them, but he won’t complain. 

Your little whimpers, as hurried as you two were, helped him in his pleasure. He needed to come so bad, and he wants you to come first as his fingers go to rub your clit, making you moan loud as he feels your walls clench around his cock. 

As you cum, he groans back, trying not to be loud as he mutters curses, his eyes rolling back as he leans back on the bed, his head falling on the mattress as he fills you up. 

You lay on his side, opening his window slightly and accommodating your clothes. You pant, looking at the ceiling with worn out stickers of stars giving dim shining in the dark from his childhood. It is quite cute.

“Pregnant or not, you are still insatiable” he mutters somewhat amused, getting himself together to go down and pretend everything is well. His mother probably would be worried and come to care for you once his father goes to bed, if she only knew there was no ache at all. 

“Next year we’ll do some casual missionary, I swear” you say playfully. 

“If the baby lets us sleep” he jokes, smirking to you, nuzzling your neck and pressing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile at the prospect of next year, having your baby in your and Aemond by your side. And hopefully, a second kitten.

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

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“Only a bit more. My house is that one, just up ahead.”  

Izuku smiled awkwardly, eventually stopping in front of the house he’d been pointing to. So, this was where he lived. And for the time being, it was also going to be where you lived.

It was certainly much smaller than you were used to, that was for sure. Then again, you’d grown up in a literal castle, which wasn’t the norm. And it wasn’t like you could afford to be picky. Izuku had already saved your life once and even offered you refuge. The debt you owed him was nothing short of massive. 

You walked up to the front door, but Izuku hastily pulled you back by the arm. “W-Wait!” he spluttered. “I just, um... I-I need a few moments. To prepare myself...”  

“For what?” you asked, giving him a quizzical look.  

“Well...” He glanced around, looking everywhere but in your eyes. “I’ve never had a g-girl over before. It’s just me and my mom, so I’m sure she might have some questions. Actually, I don’t bring anyone over, not just girls. I don’t really have any friends...”  

Your jaw dropped open. How could that possibly be? He was the sweetest person you’d ever met. There was no way someone wouldn’t want to be his friend.

“Are you joking?” you frowned.  

Izuku shrunk in on himself. “I-I really wish I was.”  

“Gosh!” you fumed, squaring your hands on your hips. “What’s the matter with this world? You deserve tens of friends—no, hundreds of them! Clearly, the people who’ve met you must be a bunch of idiots.”

“T-There’s no need to go that far,” he protested. “It’s probably because I’m so plain and boring. I don’t blame them for not wanting to talk to me. The only thing I can really work up the nerve to bring is up heroes, and then I start rambling, and everyone gets annoyed because I won’t shut up...”  

“Stupid idiots. They’re not even giving you a chance.”

Izuku let out a nervous chuckle, then cleared his throat. “Well... that’s beside the point. Anyways, I guess we can’t stall for much longer. Are you ready? D-Don't be nervous. My mom is really nice to everyone, and you’re nice too, so I’m sure you’ll get along.” 

“Okay!” you beamed. “I’m ready.”  

After a brief pause, Izuku used his key to unlock the door, then opened it up. “Come in,” he said shyly, stepping aside to give you room.  

You glanced around. It was a cute, homely place. Again, very much different from what you were used to, but it wasn’t stuffy like the castle you’d grown up in. Even though you were nothing more than a stranger here, somehow, it felt comfortable. Warm.  

“Your home is beautiful,” you smiled.  

Izuku blushed. “M-My mom does her best to keep things looking nice. Actually, I should help out with the chores more often. I feel bad that she does so much of the work herself.”  

Speaking of, you could hear some movement coming from further inside. There was also a fragrant aroma wafting through the air. It smelled like someone was cooking.  

“Izuku?” came the gentle, feminine voice. “Are you home?”  

Hardly five seconds later, a kind-looking woman turned the corner and greeted you in the hallway. She was pretty much a carbon copy of Izuku, with her big green eyes and dark green hair, which was pulled into a half-up style. Her smile was friendly too, just like Izuku’s. The only thing she was missing was the sprinkling of freckles that dusted the boy’s cheeks.  

You could tell that Izuku hadn’t been lying to you. She certainly gave off the impression of being gentle and welcoming, and this was just from looking at her. She smelled sweet as well, just like Izuku did. At first, she was smiling, probably eager to greet her son, but that smile faded a bit when her gaze fell onto you.  

And then her eyes widened.  

“W-Who is this?” she blinked repeatedly. 

Izuku parted his lips to answer, but you were quicker on the uptake. “I’m [Name], Izuku’s friend!” you grinned. “It’s very nice to meet you!”

“Oh my!” Her eyes somehow went even wider, and then her smile was back, much brighter than before. “It’s been so long since you’ve had a friend over, Izuku! The last time must have been back when you and Katsuki were still kids!”  

“Mom, please,” Izuku groaned.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m Midoriya Inko,” she introduced, even bowing a bit. “It’s lovely to have you here, [Name]. I’m just making some food right now. It should be ready soon if you’d like to have some. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?”  

“She’s fine, mom,” Izuku sighed. He was red as a beet again. You’d quickly come to the conclusion that it wasn’t very difficult to make him blush, which you found awfully endearing.  

Inko kept on smiling happily. “Okay! Then, I’ll leave you two be.”  

That was what she said, but right before she turned to head back to the kitchen, her gaze shifted slightly, and she finally seemed to take note of the injury on your shoulder.  

“[N-Name]!” she gasped, rushing towards you right away. “You’re hurt! Oh no... how long ago did this happen? Izuku! Help me get out the first aid, quick!”  

Oh. Right.  

To be honest, you’d totally forgotten about that. After drinking Izuku’s blood, all of your strength had returned. You could hardly even feel the gash you’d acquired earlier. It was probably already healing up, anyways.  

“This is no big deal,” you reassured, smiling for good measure. “I fell a little while ago and got kind of scraped up. It looks worse than it is, I promise.” 

“Still! You need to clean the wound and bandage it up so it doesn’t get infected!”  

“That’s okay. I can do it myself. But I appreciate the concern.”  

Clearly, worrying seemed to run in the family. She was just as frantic as Izuku had been when he’d first noticed you were hurt. Thankfully, Izuku stepped in before his mom could work herself up into a full-blown panic attack.  

“I’ll help [Name] treat her injury,” he insisted. “But, um... there was actually something I wanted to ask you, mom. Would it be okay... if she stayed with us for a little while?”  

“Stayed with us?” Inko blinked. “As in...”  

“Like, overnight and stuff. For a few days. Maybe? Please?”  

Inko’s initial excitement was steadily turning to horror. You supposed that as a parent, having your kid suddenly bring over a complete stranger and ask to welcome your home up to them was a lot to take in. 

She leaned closer to Izuku and lowered her voice, although you could still hear her. Your senses were a lot sharper than a human’s, after all. 

“I-Izuku. Is she... your girlfriend or something? I didn’t even know you had one...”  

“Girlfriend?!” Izuku squeaked, looking just about ready to pass out. “N-No! It’s nothing like that! She just needs a place to stay for a little while, so I’d like to do her a favor, that’s all!”  

“My parents kicked me out of the house,” you added—perhaps a bit too chipperly, at that.  

Inko looked even more horrified now. “What?! But... you’re so young! That’s so irresponsible of them! They can’t leave a child all on her own! Police... I need to call the police! This is obvious neglect!”  

Calling the police wouldn’t fix your problems. If anything, it would only cause more of them, especially once they found out that you had no background information whatsoever. Drawing that much suspicion wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.  

“Mom, please don’t do that!” Izuku pleaded. “[Name] has a complicated relationship with her parents. L-Let's just try to be understanding... okay? You’re an adult, so she’ll be fine as long as you’re here to supervise her. Right? She’ll be safe here. Please?” 

Inko was nibbling on her bottom lip. “I suppose everyone has different family dynamics... but still. I can’t help but be worried.” She glanced over at you, brows creasing. “[Name], honey, are you safe? You didn’t get that injury from your parents... did you?” 

She was suspecting abuse, which was fair enough. It was a valid concern.  

“No, this was seriously an accident,” you reassured. “My parents don’t hit me.” You remembered the way your mother had slapped you across the face, but that was done in order to prevent you from quite literally killing someone, so you figured it was an exception.  

“[Name] has a lot going on already,” Izuku said, making puppy eyes and everything. “Her family just needs a bit of time to calm down. I want to help her.”

“Well... alright,” Inko eventually sighed out.  

Hooray! 

“Izuku was right,” you beamed. “You are super nice. Thank you so much for opening up your home to me. I promise to repay you somehow. I can’t even express how appreciative I am.”  

Inko chuckled softly. “I’m more than happy to help. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. But you seem like an honest, well-spoken girl, and it’s the first time in a long while Izuku has been so close to someone. Just promise you’ll tell me if your parents are crossing the line. Your wellbeing should always come first, okay?”  

Your parents had already more than crossed the line, what with banishing you to a different world altogether, but for now, she was probably better off not knowing that. Perhaps eventually, you’d reveal your secret to her as well. You couldn’t be certain that she’d believe you the way Izuku did, but you were choosing to remain optimistic.  

“Thanks so much, mom.” Izuku smiled, then wrapped his mother in a hug. He pulled away quickly enough, looking back at you sheepishly. “Right... the first aid kit. I’m just going to go help [Name] clean out her cut, alright? We’ll come back later once the food is ready.”  

“Alright, sweetie. You two have fun.” Inko paused once last time to look you over. “But... if you’re going to be staying the night, don’t you have a bag with some belongings and pajamas? It doesn’t look like you’ve brought anything.”  

“My parents kicked me out before I could collect my things,” you replied.  

The poor thing looked she was about to cry. You’d probably stressed her out so much she was on the verge of collapsing.  

“I-I’ll find some old clothes of mine for you to wear, from back when I was younger,” she said tiredly.  

“That sounds great!”

Having officially received approval to stay here for a little while, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Izuku seemed quite giddy about the fact as well, if his broad smile was any indication. He quickly rummaged through one of the cabinets, pulled out a little box, which you assumed was the first aid kit, then pointed you down the hall.  

“My room’s that way,” he said. “Ah, but—!”  

Too late. You’d entered the room before he had a chance to finish his train of thought, and... it was certainly much more impactful than you’d been expecting. It was completely decked out, with posters and what appeared to be countless figurines as far as the eye could see. The colors were rather vibrant, you noted, and if you weren’t mistaken, almost all of the items had the same theme.  

“Who’s this guy?” you asked, picking up one of the figurines to get a closer look.  

“C-Careful!” Izuku yelped. He was practically pulling at his hair while you held the figurine, and sweating bullets, to boot.  

You carefully set the figurine down and chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have just gone around touching things without asking. It seems like this stuff is important to you. But I keep seeing this same guy everywhere I look. Who is he?”  

“Oh,” Izuku blinked. “Right. You’re not from here, so you wouldn’t know. That’s All Might. He’s the Number One hero, and I’m pretty much his biggest fan. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud... but he’s kind of my role model. I want to be just like him when I grow up.”  

“He’s one of those heroes you mentioned before?”  

“Yeah! He’s the strongest hero in the whole world!”  

Izuku’s exuberant smile was back. This topic certainly seemed to make him excited, although you supposed the concept of heroes was pretty cool. You didn’t really have anything like that back home. A bunch of different intelligent species, sure, but you’d never once come across someone with that sort of title.  

“So, heroes are people that save others, right?” you clarified.  

“Mhm!” Izuku nodded. “They put their lives on the line to fight off villains or rescue people from natural disasters. They’re just incredible! Since I was little, I always knew I wanted to become one of them, no matter what. But...”  

Suddenly, his expression dropped. 

“It’s going to be harder for me than for most people,” he begrudgingly admitted. “Because I don’t have a Quirk.”  

You frowned. “What’s a Quirk?”  

“They’re like powers,” he explained. “Humans didn’t used to have special powers before, but at some point, a mutation allowed us to change and develop over time. Now that several generations have passed, it’s rarer to not have a Quirk then it is to have one. The reason heroes are so strong and cool is because they have all sorts of different powers. But me... I’m just Quirkless. It makes me weaker than most, so I know it’ll be a challenge if I want to turn my dream into reality.”  

Interesting. The more you found out about this world, the more intrigued you were.  

“The humans here appear to be stronger than the ones in my world,” you hummed. “That explains why that criminal—er, villain I ran into was able to actually hurt me. His nails transformed into knives right in front of my eyes. That must’ve been his power. His Quirk. Right?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. There are all kinds of Quirks out there. Some of them allow you to change your body briefly, like how that guy did. Some of them allow you to create things out of nothing or even shoot lasers and stuff. And some of them permanently alter the way you look, and you can’t turn them off even if you want to.”  

Ah. That explains why so many of the people I saw didn’t look like, well...  people . 

“Put simply, they’re amazing,” Izuku chuckled, looking more dejected by the second. “I really wish I had one. It would make everything so much easier...”

“Maybe you’ll get yours one day,” you encouraged. 

“Ah... it doesn’t really work that way. By the age of four, your Quirk has to have manifested, and there are no exceptions. I know this because my mom and I even consulted a doctor back when I was a kid. He told me there was no hope.”  

His head drooped after that last comment, which had your heart clenching uncomfortably. What awful luck. He wanted to be a hero, and you could clearly tell that he was passionate about saving people after everything he’d done for you, but fate had been cruel to him.  

Back where you were from, strength varied quite significantly depending on the species. Vampires were notoriously strong—one of the very strongest, as a matter of fact. Oftentimes, this strength came in handy, since it could be used to settle disputes over land or end wars. Thankfully, you hadn’t lived through any wars in your lifetime, but you’d heard from your grandparents that things used to be quite rough a while back. Strength was a means to an end, and it made countless things easier to obtain.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be the case here as well.  

A bit hesitant, you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you need a Quirk to become a hero?”  

Izuku seemed taken aback by your question. You hoped you hadn’t come across as insensitive. It was just that he was yearning to be a hero so bad, you couldn’t help but wish there was some way that he actually could.  

“Technically... no,” Izuku breathed, a wobbly smile rising to his lips. “And even though I’m sure my case is unusual, I don’t plan on giving up. I’m going to become a hero, no matter what it takes. I’ll work as hard as I have to.”  

You clapped your hands. “Wow! That’s so admirable! You’re super cool, Izuku! That’s right. There’s no reason to give up before you’ve even tried, right?”  

“Y-Yeah. I feel the same way. Thank you for being so supportive.” He blushed a bit, then cleared his throat. “Um... anyways. W-We should clean up your wound now that we have a chance. My mom’s right. It’d be bad if it got infected.”  

“Oh, there’s really no need for that.”  

“We have to! I wouldn’t want you to start feeling unwell again,” he added, looking concerned.  

It was hard to say no to that face.  

“Well... alright,” you shrugged. You didn’t even bother being gracious about it; you grabbed onto the fabric of your dress sleeve and fully ripped it apart, exposing the bloody gash on your shoulder.  

Izuku flinched before opening up the first aid kit. “Yikes. T-That looks like it hurts a lot. How have you been coping with something like that?”  

“Honestly, I can hardly even feel it anymore,” you admitted. “After I drank your blood, I went right back to normal.”  

“But still. Hold on a second. I’m going to wipe the cut down, then maybe disinfect it a bit.”  

He used a bit of water to wet a cloth, then gave you a reassuring smile before carefully patting your injury to soak up the blood. You didn’t wince a single time, because you really didn’t feel any lingering pain. His blood had done a great job of fixing you up.

Izuku’s amazing, in more ways than one. Normally I have to consume a lot more blood to recover as quickly as I did. We might just be especially compatible.  

Clearly, running into him had been no mere stroke of luck. There must have been some higher power guiding you. Fate, or something like that.  

“Huh?”

Amidst your daydreaming, Izuku let out a confused gasp, so you turned towards him with a frown. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Sorry. It’s probably a bit gross having to clean my wound up. We’re pretty much strangers, after all.”  

“N-No, it’s not that. It’s just...” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t... see a cut. There was all that blood, but it doesn’t look like there’s a cut anywhere to be found.”

“Oh.” 

“That’s all you’re going to say?!”  

You laughed. “Like I said, there was really no need to bother with any of this. I heal quick. Vampires have much stronger constitutions than humans. We’re stronger physically, we have sharper senses, and we heal faster too. Though it looks like I healed up perfectly even faster than I was expecting. It must be because your blood is so amazing, Izuku!”  

“I-Incredible,” was all he could manage to say in return. You supposed from his standpoint, it was pretty awesome. You hated to admit it, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as you proudly stuck up your nose towards the ceiling.  

“Even for a vampire, I’m really strong,” you said boastfully. “I’m the strongest out of my entire family. My parents told me I’m even stronger than they were at my age.” 

Now, if only I could get my blood-drinking habits under control... 

“So cool,” Izuku marveled. “It’s not a Quirk... but if it was, it would definitely be one of the strongest ones out there. [Name], you’re just awesome. It kind of makes me feel even more lame by comparison... haha.” 

“Don’t say that,” you chided. “I would’ve been a goner if not for you. And like I said earlier, you were so brave, just letting me suck your blood without question. You’re awesome too, Izuku. You’re probably even more awesome than I am.”  

“You’re exaggerating,” he said sheepishly, but his awkward smile told you he was happy to be receiving your praise.  

You crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms. “Well, I’m expected to be strong. My power is the whole reason my parents were considering naming me their heir, even though I’m not the oldest of my siblings. But after how bad I screwed up, that’s definitely not going to be happening anymore...”  

“Heir?” Izuku blinked. “Were you supposed to inherit their company or something?”  

“No, their throne.” 

Izuku went dead silent for a while.  

“...their what?” he eventually gaped.  

“Oh. Didn’t I mention this already? My parents are the king and queen of our land. I’m technically a princess by blood.”  

“P-Princess?!” he practically exploded, leaping halfway across the room. His big eyes proceeded to scour his surroundings, and his palms flew up to his face in horror. “Oh my god! I brought you back to my modest house without even knowing that! This place must look like a dumpster compared to what you’re used to! W-What do I even call you? Your Highness? Princess [Name]?!” 

“Just [Name] is fine,” you mused. “Your reaction is so funny. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same person. Besides, I was kicked out by my family, so I probably shouldn’t even call myself royalty anymore. It’s just how I was raised, that’s all.”  

Izuku let out a heavy sigh. “Just when I thought I’d heard it all, you find new ways to surprise me...”  

“Haha. Sorry about that.” 

“No, I’m probably just being overdramatic. Anyways, um...” He seemed to be averting your gaze for some reason, and once again, his cheeks were flushed bright red. You noticed his eyes occasionally wandering towards your arm and shoulder, both of which were completely bare. “I-I should’ve brought you a change of clothes first before trying to clean your wound. You’ll get cold like that. Let me go talk to my mom real quick, and we’ll see what she has for you to wear. And maybe tomorrow, we can go shopping for some new clothes?”  

“Okay!” you chirped. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”  

“It’s no problem,” he smiled back, hastily exiting the room.  

Once you were left alone, you stood up and began pacing around again, just taking everything in. Then, you spotted it. One of those handheld devices that everyone had been walking around with earlier—the one that lit up and had tiny little people trapped inside of it.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” you huffed, leaning closer to get a better look. The screen was completely blank, for some reason. Was this one broken? But what use would a broken device be? You knew you shouldn’t go poking around Izuku’s things again, so for the time being, you just kept on staring at it, very much on guard.  

Out of nowhere, the device started vibrating, and you nearly crapped yourself from the fright.  

“Holy fuck!”

Needless to say, Izuku came running back into the room a second later. “[Name]!” he cried out. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”  

“Y-Your device,” you pointed, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I think it might be possessed.”  

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Um. You mean my cellphone?”  

“I’ve never heard that term before. What does it mean?”  

“Oh boy,” he sighed. “It seems like I’ve got a lot more to explain...”  

Yesterday had been a lot of fun. Well, glossing over the fact that you’d been abandoned by your family and whatnot.  

Still, you were extremely thankful to have met Izuku. You had a good feeling about him. At the risk of sounding a bit full of yourself, it felt like you belonged by his side. Last night, Inko had given you some clothes to lounge around in as a temporary measure. You’d eaten dinner together, and you didn’t miss the way Izuku had been looking at you in bewilderment from across the table. You’d later explained that just because you needed to consume blood didn’t mean that you didn’t consume other food as well. 

You’d slept in the guest room, although you’d initially been quite giddy about sharing a room with Izuku. But he nearly exploded when you suggested doing such a thing, so for the sake of his poor heart, you decided it was best to sleep apart.  

And now, it was the next day. Izuku had apparently been in his school uniform when you’d encountered him, but he was off from classes today, which gave him time to take you shopping. You were excited to see more of this world and all the novelties it had to offer.

Currently, you were heading towards what Izuku had called a ‘shopping district’.  

“There are all sorts of stores there,” he explained. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find some clothes you like. My mom’s stuff is okay, but it’s not super stylish... and I’m sure you’d like to pick out something that fits you better.”  

It was true. Inko’s old clothes were comfortable, but they certainly weren’t a perfect fit for your body.  

Besides, shopping with Izuku sounded fun. From what else he’d told you, there were places to try out different kinds of food too, and plenty of other things to do as recreation. Given the life you’d lived, nearly all of your clothing had come as a result of fittings and were tailor-made. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but you couldn’t say you had much experience picking them out for yourself, since your servants and family were usually involved in the whole process.  

All of this was so new to you. Hey, maybe being banished wasn’t such a bad thing after all. You were trying to look on the bright side.  

“Shopping mall, shopping mall,” you hummed happily, practically skipping as you made your way towards the destination.  

Regretfully, you never actually made it to the shopping mall.  

“Huh? Is that shitty Deku I see? What the... he’s got a chick with him.”  

The source of the remark was a teenage boy with spiky ash blonde hair, narrowed crimson eyes, and a husky voice. There were two other guys with him, and they were snickering for some reason.  

“Deku?” you frowned. “No, you got his name wrong. It’s actually Izuku.”  

“[N-Name]!” Izuku hissed into your ear. He was even jabbing his elbow into your ribs, having broken out into a cold sweat. “That’s his nickname for me! Don’t question it, let’s just go!”  

“Nickname? Oh, so you must be friends! Hello, Izuku’s friend,” you beamed, waving towards the blonde guy.  

It wasn’t until after you’d already said the words that you remembered what Izuku had mentioned before, about not having any friends. 

You realized this as you watched the blonde guy’s expression turn to rage.  

“Friends?” he glowered. “Did you just call me and that piece of shit friends? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  

“Oh. I guess I was wrong,” you blinked. Izuku had stopped jabbing you in the ribs, but it was only because he’d gone completely stiff. You were starting to put two and two together.

Izuku didn’t like this guy. This guy was bad news.  

“Hey, Deku,” blondie grimaced. “Who is this bitch? Don’t tell me you actually nabbed yourself a girlfriend. Nah, there’s no way. What lies did you tell her to somehow convince her into hanging out with your sorry ass?”  

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku swallowed, taking several steps back. He motioned for you to do the same, but now it was your turn to go still. And it was for a different reason entirely. 

Your gaze turned icy. “Why do you keep speaking about Izuku that way? It’s a crappy thing to do, so please stop it. He’s a really nice guy. Take it back.”

The boy—Kacchan, or whatever his name was—seemed to be getting angrier by the second.  

“Ha,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Would you look at that? This bitch actually has a backbone. Okay, then. Try me. I’ll kick your ass,” he seethed, already cracking his knuckles for good measure.  

“Not unless I kick yours first,” you answered sweetly.

“The fuck did you just—”  

Before he could even process what was happening, you had already rushed towards him and landed a punch square to his jaw. It knocked him back, most likely because he’d been unprepared, but not all the way to the ground, even though you were quite confident that you’d used enough force.  

He then swiped a hand across his lip, eyes nothing short of murderous.  

“Alright. That’s it. You’re fucking dead.”

More chapters are available on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad !

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[fanficsbysteve]

Note: You can thank @weewoo911 for this idea not leaving my brain so I had to write it before I could continue on my other WIPs. Thank you for this and I hope you enjoy. I’m ignoring the Abby thing because that was BS, and I don’t like it. This will probably be multiple chapters. All from Tommy’s POV cause its more fun to write. Not sure how many chapters though. I'll keep you posted as I write them.

***

Tommy sat at the second floor table, his phone out, mindlessly scrolling through the various apps he had downloaded. Twitter, Tumblr, those kind of apps. The ones where you created a username and maintained some level of anonymity. He loved being able to spend time just looking at things he enjoyed without people knowing what he was doing or who he was. Lately all he had been doing though is reblogging images of actor Evan Buckley. Evan Buckley in “My Heart Yearns.” Evan Buckley in “Christmas in the Poconos.” Evan Buckley in “The Things That Ate You.” Evan Buckley in “What Happens Happened.” This man was currently the king of the B-Movies and Tommy loved every single one of them, owning many of them on DVD or Blu-ray so he could watch them over and over again.

Tommy was a gay man and was coming to terms with his homosexuality. He hadn’t told anyone in his life yet. That wasn’t any of their business. But he was slowly hating himself less as the days progressed. Maybe he would tell someone when he didn’t hate himself as much as he did, maybe Hen would be the best option. She was an out and proud lesbian with a loving wife, she wouldn’t judge him like he judged himself. He felt dirty looking at the pictures he did online. He felt horrible just thinking about the things that he wanted all those men to do to him. Particularly Evan Buckley. That man could do things that weren’t in any holy book to him, and Tommy would probably thank him for it. And it still made him feel dirty inside. Not nearly as much as others. Just a little. Nothing Evan Buckley did could make him feel completely like he was a horrible person going to hell.

So, Tommy was scrolling while they sat around the 118. It was quiet *knock on wood* and Tommy was enjoying the quiet time. They had finished all their various “chores” and Bobby was already cooking some dinner. Everyone knew to leave Bobby alone while he was in the kitchen, “Seen any good movies lately?” Chimney’s voice broke the silent revery that Tommy’s mind had taken. His real name was Howie Han, however everyone called him Chimney. Nobody really knows why, and Chim likes to keep it mysterious. Tommy thinks its because Chimney’s are tall and built well. However, their Chimney is anything but that.

Tommy looked up from his phone, “Nothing really. Just the usual B-movies that nobody really watches.”

“Why do you do that to yourself?” Hen asked looking up over the newspaper she had been reading, “They are always so painfully bad.”

“I know,” Tommy smiled, “But they make me laugh. You never watched Mystery Science Theatre 3000? They basically made a career out of watching the worst movies that cinema has to offer. And they are gloriously bad. Making up commentary for them is half the fun.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” Chim replied, “I took Tatiana to see that new Marcel movie. Can’t remember what I was called but it was ok.”

“I’ll stick to my sappy RomComs and B-movies,” Tommy replied, “They never disappoint me to the point of forgetting a title.”

Tommy went back to his phone. He was on Tumblr right now, curating his queue, enjoying his timeline. It had taken him some time, but he had finally gotten it to the point where he enjoyed just spending hours scrolling, finding new posts for his own blog and queue. He admitted that he was a bit of an Evan Buckley stan account at this point. His posts were mostly either pics of Evan Buckley, gifs of Evan Buckley, videos of Evan Buckley, or stories written about Evan Buckley. He was just so handsome, and it made Tommy’s stomach turn itself over and over. From the tattoos that covered his body in special places, so that adorable little birthmark above his eye. Tommy wanted to plant a kiss on that mark so badly.

Tommy went to the kitchen to get another refill on coffee. He hadn’t slept much the night before but that was his own fault. He had gotten distracted by watching Evan Buckley movies and he just wanted to finish at least one. One lead to another and suddenly it was an hour before he had to get up and get ready for work. Tommy visibly yawned as he poured another cup, “Late night?” Bobby asked while he cooked.

“Just got distracted,” Tommy replied, “Didn’t realize what time it was and just didn’t end up sleeping much. Coffee is my best friend today.”

“I’ve had those nights,” Bobby smiled, “Usually they involved a beautiful woman.”

Tommy choked a bit on his coffee at the face that Bobby made at him, “um…uh���yeah…beautiful woman,” was all that Tommy managed to get out of his mouth before he hurried away, his face beet red.

He sat down in his chair and pulled his phone back out. He went back to his absent scrolling, smiling inside at all the new pictures of Evan Buckley that were appearing online recently. He had gotten a starring role in a TV show that hadn’t been announced yet, but Tommy was a premium member of the Evan Buckley fan club, so he got all the insider information. He admitted that it was childish to have that membership, but nobody knew who he was, and he was the only one who knew he had it, so why not. It got him all kinds of insider information, and he was a Millennial, so he was allowed to do this. Evan was supposed to be filming the pilot for this show he was cast in sometime in the next few months. Tommy would definitely be watching that show.

“Dinner’s ready,” Bobby announced as he put plates of food on the table. They always served family style, taking what you wanted from the plates and passing them along. It was a tradition that Bobby had started. It was never like this during the Gerrard Era or any of the other dozen chiefs they had since. Just Bobby wanted to make the changes that made working at the 118 better.

“So, I have an announcement to make,” Bobby said as everyone had plated up their meal and was starting to eat, “We will be having someone come and shadow us a little bit for the next few months. They will be filming a new show called HotShots soon. It’s a show about firefighters, and they want some of their actors to get some firsthand experience. To add to the realism. The higher ups have approved of this as they feel this would be really good PR for the LAFD. Several different stations have had different actors who have been cast in the show come shadow us for a bit.”

“Any idea who we got?” Chimney piped up, “Hopefully it’s Samantha Callens, I heard she was cast in something and maybe it was this. She can really learn what its like to be a female firefighter from our Hen here.”

“Shut it Chim,” Hen piped up.

“No, we have someone different,” Bobby said. He pulled out his phone to check his emails, “Give me a second here to find it. Ah yes, we have someone named Evan Buckley coming.”

Tommy did a spit take with the coffee he had just been drinking, sending it flying across the table. Nobody was sitting across from them so that was a blessing, “You know that guy?” Chim asked having dodged to the side to avoid the coffee, Chim was in the chair next to the spot opposite Tommy.

“No…not really…he’s just been in a couple movies I’ve watched,” Tommy stuttered, trying to wipe up the coffee he spat all over up.

“Well, he starts tomorrow,” Bobby said, “And I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour.”

Tommy sat down in his chair, his heart racing and threatening to burst out of his chest. Evan Buckley was going to be here, in the 118, with Tommy. Tommy silently took his phone out and looked at the top of his Tumblr page, staring at his username: kinardbuckleyxoxo was all it said. Tommy knew that it was going to be a long few months. Very pleasant. But also, very long.

***

Note: Chapter 1 complete. Chapter 2 the real fun begins. I usually try and make sure that I have at least a buffer of a few chapters going before I post but I wanted to get this out into the universe so that people can let me know if they enjoy it. So, leave me some comments and likes and give me any feedback you want. Also if anyone has a fun title idea, please let me know cause I'm at a loss. (I may have written this in an hour and a half after I woke up and saw the idea from @weewoo911)

[neonovember]

Okay hear me out, how would carmen react to someone he's dating being a "picky eater" that has a VERY limited diet due to sensory issues👀

This is totally not self-indulgent /s

Eeeee

enjoy some bear fam ribbing and carmen carmen carmen

honestly I think he’d be interested if anything! His mind is constantly on overdrive thinking of recipes and foods and the combinations of flavours, and how to change this and tweak that. He could run on fumes, just a jar of tums and his notebook and spend the night brainstorming dishes. We’ve all seen it, it might be a way for him to distract from the hellish that is his social life outside the Bear, by bringing it home too. So when he meets his girl, who’s got a palate that is entirely different to anything he’s seen before he takes it as almost a challenge to push himself to produce something amazing, creative and yours.

You’re his girl, he has this carnal need to take care of you, and can you imagine if you were nervous or worried about what he might think??? No he’d run his thumb along your thigh, while you're on either side of him wrapped in the covers that were warm from the morning sun and just raise his eyebrows and snicker in that way he does. And it hit him that your exes were dipshits and never listened to you and he’d gather you in his arms and murmur how you could watch him cook for you every day if you wanted to.

And he held true to that, he’d sit you down on the counter after hours in the Bear later that night. You’d sneak in, when you’re craving for something that the places around you can’t offer and Carmen is just fucking itching to serve you food and show off his fucking Michelin talent.

It would be a ritual, you watching and him making. He’d serve it to you all pretty and clean, leaving his serving to be eaten from the pan. And he watches every expression on your face, every quirk and flick of your eyebrow and he’d know, god he’d know what you were thinking in that moment. If you liked it or not, if it triggered one of your senses into overdrive and had you trying to hide the way your teeth scraping against a certain component left you shivering in disgust.

He’d know and he’d rush to give you water and make you spit it out despite your protests. And you shake your head in anger at the things you can’t control and Carmen will sit with you on the floor of the Bear and he’d smile in that way he does, as he’d ask about every part and force it out of you until he’d be changing the meal entirely. 

Showing you the things you can control which was making your boyfriend who cooked for a living, cook.

He’d be protective over you I feel like, after you tell him bad experiences that had ruined your relationship with food. Making sure no one gave you shit about it, always on guard, eyes in slits and voice gravelly when waiters double check your order or look anywhere but their fucking notepad.

The team is a whole other situation… I imagine it to be a whole team involved in a sit down investigation, an entire intervention by them because they are just so confused and scared (which is actually hilarious) that you were barred from eating certain foods or something.

-- -

“Okay, okay, how about pasta alla vodka” Tina muses, a grin pulling at her jaw as she leans back against the cheap plastic chairs that were reserved for the house.

“Nop, don’t like those bits of tomato they leave in the sauce” You shrug, chewing on your straw as you watch the way the rest of the team rears back in dismay.

Tina’s face drops, stubbornly pulling out a dollar bill and slapping it into Richie's grinning face.

“I thought I had it dammit” Tina groans, muttering about losing to a fake Italian divorcee who skimped her out of a chocolate bar.

You're all scattered in the back of the Bear, popcorn and peanuts are littered amongst half emptied bottles of beers on the large metal table that spans across the room. The Bear had been closed today, some sort of team building attempt at brainstorming new ideas for the menu and the Bear itself. 

Much to the annoyance of the rest of the crew, who had to make the commute in a freezing Chicago winter on a day that was supposed to be a break, somewhere along the fights that erupted at every suggestion and the stubbornness that remained in each of the team it did feel a little like family bonding.

At least it felt like it now, as they all collectively came together to study you.

That's where you found yourself, being pulled into the never calm-always-catastrophic environment of the Bear thanks to Carmen. You had protested at first, thinking you would be out of place in the sea of decorated chefs but as your phone dinged with messages from Syd and Richie, the latter earring on a very thinly veiled threat to ‘be there or i'll come and get you’ you found yourself throwing on a too thin jacket and knocking against on the Bear’s ‘closed’ sign after your shift.

You were greeted with the warmth of the Bear, breathing it in deeply before you realised that the smoky heat of the restaurant was as much fueled by the temperamental crew screaming out obscenities in the back as much as the radiator Fak had somehow fixed for the 15th time.

You didn't quite understand how you got here, you in the middle, and the team surrounding you firing out questions about your less than conventional palate. 

Carmen's disgruntled protest against the team channeling some sort of crud rip off of True Detective did little as the team went around listing dishes from escargot to cheese on bread to get your opinion. 

It was downright ironic, you know this. You are someone who couldn't stand the texture and smell of certain foods to the point of having them struck from your diet with a man whose entire life was surrounded by, and birthed from the complexities of texture and taste.

“It’s one of the stables of Italy!’ Richie barks, stuffing the dollar bill into his pocket hile shaking his head. 

The beer he had opened had gone cold in his hand since the beginning of the conversation. He couldn't stop his mouth from remaining hung open after every shake of your head and shrug of your shoulders towards the meals they loved.

You wondered if chefs have the same value systems as other..tightly knit organisations. One where disrespect leads to your swift removal…off the face of the earth. You don’t let yourself forget that they are skilled in the goddamn wielding of knives no matter their friendly chiding, you might be one shake of your head away from being prepared in all the ways you hate your food to be.

Carmen looked at you, his eyes straining across your body to check if you felt uncomfortable. He knew your tells almost as well as you know, and he'd be quick to shut it down and take you back home if need be. But as your eyes meet his, and the squint of a smile reaches them he shakes his head, mouths a “goddamn idiots”, and rolls his eyes at his families curiosity.

“Listen, I get that, I don't like bits of bone in my meat. But surely, for a dish that you know I know you know tastes like the fucking gates of heaven, you can make an exception” Syd blinks, her face filled with expectation, like she thought it was obvious.

You’re giggling at Sydney words, “Is this reassurance for me or for you”

“Me. It’s for me” Syd gulps, blinking as she registers the truth

“I just can’t eat food, no matter how good you guys tell me it is, that fucks up my sensory issues-”

“Alright, yeah, sensory issues, darling I bet if i could bring you to ONE dinner, one of our dinners at Carmen's Ma's we could easily persuade you-”

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

“No, no look Carmen. This is your woman ain't she? How can you let her walk around without letting her taste the delicate crossroads that produce Chicago- Italian cuisine? I mean you're seriously failing-”

“Fuck you”

“Goddamn fake”

The irony of it all was, you and Carmen had both met at a farmers market. Surrounded by food you wouldn't eat, at a place you didn't frequent, all for one particular food you did eat. And somehow, despite passing by 95% of vendors without even a swipe of your eye against their delicate colors and shapes, Carmen had bumped into you.

And he had apologies and you had crouched down to collect the runaway potatoes and fruits that tried to escape through his pouch, and your fingers had collided when you looked up to see the man who had interrupted your 15 minute venture.

Through the blurted out line of apologies, Carmen had stopped and looked at you and tried to reopen his hanging mouth. And you sat there half amused and half worried he was having a stroke.

“I know this is forward and you can tell me to go to hell, but could I take you out sometime?”

You had caught the last of the disobedient root vegetables when you raised your eyebrows in surprise, and let yourself be shocked again as you said yes.

Carmen had nodded and smiled when you told him you weren't exactly experimental with your diet, wanting to get it out of the way when you found out he was a chef and your sensory issues had been a problem for people who didn't make food for a living.

You expected the same ritual, the same dance of having to explain your diet to people and wait for them to actually understand that your pickiness wasn't just the usual ‘dislike’, but a very real thing that impacted how you eat everyday. You had no choice in it, that's what you told them every time and they had rolled their eyes and thrown your words in your face as they compared you to a petulant child that didn't want to eat their vegetables. You sighed and they did too, as they watched you flip every menu to the page for children and you cringed as the waiter looked around for your child and realised it was you.

Carmen was different though, of course he was. He didn't let his surprise go hidden, as he asked about every food you disliked and everyone you did. Noone before asked, they simply resolved to assume your diet was constricted in the small section of the kids meal. But Carmen asked, he did all night when you had brought it up after he asked to cook for you. Sitting on your couch, talking about you, and your diet, and your sensory issues for hours until he knew everything about them.

Until he simply nodded, and wrote something in his notebook and asked if you were still free on Thursday.

Of course the family was teasing, and of course they’d all tweak any dishes you were craving so that they weren't overloading your senses in any way. You’ve got a reserved seat at the Bear, and all your favourite dishes on standby if you ever wanted to come in to find something that didn't set you off and leave you anxious and sensitive.

It gets to an alarming rate of you coming in nearly every other day, in which Richie, Carm Syd and every other person in the Bear constructed some under the table deals with dea by restaurants to accommodate your sensitivities. They all like to feign ignorance when you walk in the next day all smiles, showing off your little takeaway box from the Portuguese spot you had so desperately to try before the stark textures and flavours of the menu you perused dashed the thought away.

Carmen hated seeing that excitement turn into defeated acknowledgement of the barriers you had around food. But also, in the same breath, Carmen knows how certain textures and tastes can trigger you into getting over-stimulated, leading to becoming frazzled and irritated. Which is exactly why he would never let you push yourself too far, supporting you if you ever wanted to try it out but immediately taking the dish away from you when he realised your heart was racing too quick and you were getting stiff..

“Baby, easy. Need you to go slow, yeah?”

“Alright, that’s enough. You did good sweetheart, I’m proud of you. Lemme make you something for tonight though yeah? Something you like?”

The truth was there were going to be some days where both Carmen's creativity, and your sensory issues outdo him. You were okay with that though, you were still catching up to reality that someone loved you enough to fit their life around yours.

And then Carmen copied your meals for a week when you told him this, until the Bear was relying on his memory of taste and you finally agreed that yes, there was no fitting needed.

[madewithonerib]

A Cup o’ Joe and a Heart Attack on a Rack, Please – The Delicious History of American Diner Lingo

Along with Uncle Sam, Civil War daguerreotypes, and hot apple pies on Thanksgiving, diners are one of those nostalgia-inducing cultural artifacts that somehow get under the skin of millennials and baby boomers alike. Diners have long been a quintessential element of Americana, but along with bottomless coffee and the time-honored tradition of dipping French fries in milkshakes (if you’re thinking I’m alone on that one, look it up – it’s real and delicious), diners have left us with an enduring linguistic legacy. A cup o’ Joe, ‘sunny side up’ or ‘over easy’ eggs, a burger ‘with the works’ or a ‘BLT’ – if you’ve ever used any of these terms, you’ve officially borrowed from the lexicon of American diner lingo.

A Brief History of the Diner

The precursor to the first diner was a horse-drawn wagon used to sell food to employees of the Providence Journal in Providence, Rhode Island. It was built in 1872 by Walter Scott & was so successful that, fifteen years later, ‘lunch wagons’ began to be commercially produced. As their popularity grew, wagons gave way to pre-fabricated buildings.

Because they were delivered onsite with only the utilities needing to be connected, they tended to be small & narrow enough to fit onto a rail car or truck, giving them their distinctive train-car style shape. And being small & narrow meant they were relatively cheap to buy and operate. This, combined with a traditionally affordable menu, meant when the Great Depression struck in 1929, the diner industry was not hit as hard as higher end sectors of the restaurant business. So, after World War II, when the economy started to boom, diners began to spread from the Northeast all over the country.

The Menu

With robust menus that often boasted more than one hundred items, as well as dozens of different ways to prepare basic items like hamburgers and eggs, the early nineteen-hundreds saw the advent of diner lingo, a colorful system used by cook and wait staff to help them remember customer orders.

Although there were certain regional variations to diner lingo, it stayed relatively similar across the board, and at the height of diner popularity, being an expert in the lexicon became a prerequisite for waiters and cooks applying for jobs. A lot of the terms were tongue-in-cheek, and occasionally even veered into racy territory – let’s take a look at a classic menu.

Can I get you started off with something to drink?

💬 Here you go, two jamokas and a cup of city juice. Are you ready for me to take your order?

💬 And what kind of condiments would you like? 🧂👛 Con Lumbre [Add Hot Sauce] Top it with White [Add Sour Cream] Top it with Red [Add Salsa] Sour it [Add Lemon] Baby sauce: Mustard on a hot dog Mickey Rooney: A hot dog with mustard and relish Cut the grass: A hot dog with mustard but no relish Paint a bow-wow red: A hot dog with ketchup Bloodhound in the hay: A hot dog with sauerkraut Hemorrhage: Ketchup

Dragged through the garden: A burger, hot dog, or sandwich with a variety of toppings and condiments, usually vegetables

Dogs and maggots: Crackers and cheese Frosty Joe: Iced coffee Hi-test: Coffee with caffeine Joe O'Malley: Irish coffee 50/50 Joe: Coffee with half-and-half In the dark: Black coffee No cow: No cream Boiled leaves: Tea Spot with a twist: Tea with lemon

At the height of diner popularity, hearing the wait staff call out your order to the cooks was as much a part of the experience as choosing your favorite song on the juke box or slurping down a malt milkshake.

And the amazing thing about diner lingo is the way it started to develop its own grammar in order to accommodate complex orders. While lettuce on its own was called ‘rabbit food’ and onions were called ‘bad breath,’ a well-done burger with lettuce, tomato, and onion, wasn’t referred to as ‘a hockey puck with rabbit food and bad breath on top.’

That would have been even more confusing than the original order. Instead, staff came up with all kinds of creative ways to make an order memorable. Let’s look at a few:

Biblical References

Now that we’ve run through the basic gauntlet of diner lingo, let’s take a closer look at one of the strange phenomena that seems to characterize the lexicon: biblical references. You may have noticed that quite a few diner idioms make references to biblical characters, such as Adam, Eve, and Noah. Though nobody knows the exact origin of these idioms, they started to be cataloged as far back as 1894, when the North Eastern Daily Gazette explained the common diner term ‘Adam and Eve on a raft,’ using the following example:

“One day he ordered poached eggs on toast. Going to the slide the waiter yelled out: ‘Adam and Eve on a raft.’ The order was changed to scrambled eggs, when the waiter rushed off, and in stentorian tones there came the alarming direction to those below: ‘Shipwreck that order!’”

Eve probably found more representation in diner lingo than any other individual character. An order for a stack of ribs would be called out as, ‘give me a First Lady,’ obviously in reference to the idea that Eve – the first lady on Earth – was made from Adam’s rib; apple pie was called ‘Eve with a lid on it’ in reference to the Biblical story in which Eve eats an apple from the garden of Eden.

Similarly, ‘Adam’s Ale’ refers to water, since Adam was not believed to have ever consumed any kind of alcohol.

And though we don’t know the exact origin of the majority of diner vocabulary, historians have worked out a few theories regarding two of the most enduring and universal terms:

Cup o’ Joe, and Eighty-Six.

Cup o’ Joe

There are three prevalent theories regarding how diners most popular beverage – coffee – earned the nickname, ‘a cup o’ Joe.’

The first suggests that the term arose in 1913, when Josephus Daniels was appointed Secretary of the Navy by President Woodrow Wilson. Secretary Joe issued an order prohibiting the consumption of alcohol aboard naval vessels.

From then on, coffee was the strongest drink allowed on board, and, in lieu of asking for ‘a cup o’ whiskey,’ or ‘a cup o’ brandy’ in the mess hall, begrudged sailors took to asking for ‘a cup o’ Joe.’

Though this theory seems convincing, the first recorded use of the term ‘cup o’ Joe’ wasn’t until 1930, sixteen years after the issuance of that order, which leads historians to believe a second theory lends itself to a more probable origin story.

The second theory actually leans on extant terminology from the diner lexicon, suggesting that ‘Joe’ is a shortened version of two other previously existing nicknames for coffee: Java and mocha, which, by the way, already existed in a third slang word for coffee listed in the menu above, Jamoka.

The third theory also borrows from antecedents in the English lexicon. As far back as 1846, the name Joe was used as a neutral signifier of the common man, much as Jane Doe and John Doe are used today. Thus, a cup o’ Joe may have just been a way of denoting the common man’s drink. [the average Joe]

Eighty-six

If you’ve ever worked in a bar or restaurant, you’ve probably heard the term eighty-six being used either to instruct kitchen staff to ‘hold’ an item that was part of an original order (‘eighty-six that side of bacon’), to explain the restaurant’s run out of an item (‘the tomatoes are eighty-sixed’), or even as a code to remove problem customers (‘eighty-six the guy at the bar, he’s too drunk’).

Like ‘a cup o’ Joe,’ there are a number of theories about the origin of this number turned verb.

The first few theories all connect the term with official codes and rules of the era. Article 86 of the New York State liquor code, for example, deals with the removal of problem customers. Similarly, Army Code 86 deals with soldiers gone AWOL or ‘Absent Without Leave,’ and, according to the American Institute of Electrical Engineers in 1926, Device Number 86 was a ‘lock out’ device, which turned off a problematic piece of electrical equipment so that it could not be turned back on until reset. The number could have also referred to capacity limits of dining halls frequently being set at eighty-five, so that the eighty-sixth customer would be denied entry.

Another theory, written about in the Merriam Webster Dictionary, suggests the term may have become popular as a code word simply because it rhymed with the word ‘nix,’ meaning ‘no’ or ‘to prohibit.’ The word ‘nix’ comes from the German word ‘nichts,’ which means ‘nothing.’

A more colorful theory suggests the term originated in Chumley’s, an old bar located at 86 Bedford Street in Manhattan’s West Village. During prohibition, the theory goes, police would call the bar before a raid and tell the bartender to ‘eighty-six’ his customers, meaning send them out the 86 Bedford Street door, while the police went in at the Barrow Street entrance.

The End of Diner Lingo?

In the 1970’s, with the growth of fast food companies like McDonald’s and KFC, diners, along with the renowned diner lexicon, began to fall into decline.

Today, diners remain popular in just a few parts of the Northeast and the Midwest. In other parts of the country, modern high-end brunch and breakfast restaurants draw inspiration from the vintage diner aesthetic and built menus filled with contemporary interpretations of classic American diner fare, like kimchi grilled cheese sandwiches and crab cake benedicts with wasabi dill sauce.

Sadly, American diner lingo has all but disappeared.

But as we develop new food-related lexicons, wherein idioms like ‘a quarter pounder with cheese’ replace their diner lingo equivalents (‘yellow blanket on a dead cow’), we’re left with a few enduring relics that don’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

And that means you can still have the pleasure of walking into a restaurant, sitting down, and making the following order: “One BLT with mayo, a burger with the works, two eggs sunny side up and two over easy, and four cups o’ Joe, please.”

Janet Barrow writes about the places where language meets history, culture, and politics. She studied Written Arts at Bard College, and her fiction has appeared in Easy Street and Adelaide Magazine. After two years in Lima, Peru, she recently moved to Chicago.

On the rail: Means fast, as in "Fries, on a rail!" Campers: Customers who take up a table for an extended period Make it cry: A waiter says this when customer wants onions added Black and blue: say this when s/o orders extremely rare meat Hockey puck: when a customer orders a well-done hamburger Drown the kids: when a customer wants their eggs boiled Wreck 'em: when a customer wants their eggs scrambled Side of Joan of Arc: when a customer wants French fries

Covers: The number of guests served or dishes prepared 87: In some kitchens, this term is used to indicate that an item is about to be unavailable

How to Talk Like a Seasoned Restaurateur

The hospitality industry has developed its own vernacular—one that is unique and efficient (and often peppered with expletives). While each restaurant will have its own unique jargon, many restaurant terms are commonly used across the industry.

We reached out to chefs, bussers, servers, hosts, line cooks, owners and managers to build out our list of restaurant terms, lingo and slang—from the most common to the most obscure. Here’s your definitive guide to restaurant terms.

2-top, 4-top, etc…

This is the number of guests you seat at a table. The host will typically use this term when informing the server their table has been sat with new guests. A 2-top has 2 people, a 4-top has 4, and so on and so forth. “I just sat you with a 4-top near the bar.”

86

Sometimes, the kitchen will run out of an ingredient in a menu item (no more cinnamon sugar rims on the fall cocktail), a drink or an entire menu item. This means it’s 86ed. Usually, the manager or the kitchen staff will alert servers so they don’t offer it or can tell guests. 

“We have to 86 the surf and turf special for the rest of the dinner service.” 

All-day

This refers to the total amount of a particular dish needed at a specific moment in time. So if you’re cooking three burgers and three more tickets come in with five more burgers between them, you’ve got eight all day. Think of it as another way of saying “total”. 

“Chef, can I get an all day?” “Eight all day—five medium rare, kill three.”

À la carte

This French term means a menu item is sold by itself. In a steakhouse, for example, it’s common for steaks to be sold with sides à la carte. This means the steaks don’t come with a side included.

“Does the steak come with mashed potatoes or is it à la carte?”

Back of house (BOH)

The back of house refers to staff who work in the back of the restaurant, out of sight of diners. These folks are the chefs, kitchen prep, and storage area staff.

[plaguedocboi]

Angel food cake is the jellyfish of cakes ok

Delicate

Beautiful

90% nothing

VERY easy to fuck up

[doodlingwren]

It's 2024 can we please stop saying it's normal to trace or copying an entire drawing and pretending it's 100% your work? Just bc you changed the character or added clothes on a base you found on pinterest it doesn't mean you created original art

[localgardenweed]

Im on a romance anime addiction rn and like just finished one and OMFG IM GONNA CRY THEY WERE SO FUCKING IN LOVE BRO THEY WERE IN LOVVVEEEE

I can’t fucking believe i almost stayed up all night on a work night to watch Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! A solid 8/10, some parts kinda wanna make me kill myself and some characters got on my nerves, at one point completely dropped till the end, but i felt the pacing was good and didn’t feel super rushed till kinda the end like we could have used another episode or two

Still looking for good wlw anime cause I ALMOST ACCIDENTALLY SUGGESTED WATCHING CITRUS BUT WHEN I READ A SYNOPSIS I LEGIT SCREAMED LIKE NOOOOOO NOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I just want girls who are in love bro and if its doomed so be it man

[itsalwaysdark]

also my dads become a spam head 👍👍

[ghostedbunnie]

thinking about how 141 men would take advantage of christmas or just a cold weather in general.

fem! reader, 18+ minors do not interact!!

johnny definitely takes some mistletoe and waits for the perfect opportunity to be like "oi look a' that bonnie, a tradition is a tradition." and he just swoops in on you to literally maul you. slobbers all over you like a dog, pants into your mouth and grabs handfuls of your ass unapologetically. honestly half of his brain shuts down as soon as he has his hands and mouth on you. also doesn't care about timing or privacy, he'd do this in front of a room full of people.

simon is a meanie. he loves coming back inside to your home, catching you unawares while you're singing some christmas songs and baking. it doesn't help that he can only be heard when he wants to so you really stand no chance. he walks up to you and shoves his cold ass hands under your sweater and holds on to you so you can't even move away. he would start by grabbing your hips and quickly moving forward to cup your boobs while you whine about the goosebumps. he definitely ends up grinding onto your ass and whispering into your ear about how he can warm you right up.

kyle lets you talk him into matching ugly sweaters mostly because he is too hot to look bad in anything. he loves seeing you happy so he will do anything. if you are celebrating with your family or friends he is literally the picture perfect boyfriend that gets everyone oohing and aahing. he helps you with the tree decorating when something is out of your reach (but he lets you try to do it yourself just to see the sweater ride up and show of your skin, he is still cheeky) and he always tastes your cooking telling you exactly what it is that you're missing and have been trying to figure out for the past 10 mins. but his mind is playing out scenarios in which he's gonna get to the lacy lingerie he saw you wearing underneath the sweater.

now john is more lowkey about christmas, if he was on his own he wouldn't even bother with a tree. he does end up getting one for you ofc (after mean mugging few part-timers that tried to flirt with you but every time you looked at him he didn't let anything show but the guys there started giving you a wide berth). he will bring you to a work christmas party that he was forced to go by laswell and when he sees people bring their kids and you interacting with them, his mind starts racing with some wild thoughts about how your christmas could look next year. when he corners you in the bathroom and locks the door the only response to your wide-eyed stare is that he is "gettin' into the christmas spirit, love. jus' like you wanted."

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[plethorawrites]

Jason Todd who hates his birthday but makes an exception for you, allowing you to spoil him. (Projecting my own hatred of my birthday)

Jason Todd: Who has despised his birthday ever since coming back to life because he watched his family skip it and never wanted to acknowledge re 'rebirth' so to speak.

Jason Todd: Who doesn't even tell you his birthday, aside from mentioning the month by accident when you started asking his zodiac while reading the paper one day.

Jason Todd: Who is confused as hell when you wake him up one morning with extra gentle kisses all over his face, neck, and shoulders, wishing him a happy birthday and asks you how you found out, which you conveniently ignore answering.

Jason Todd: Who is instantly tense, assuming you'll force him to celebrate it somehow the way his family had started trying to do ever since (Semi)reconciling with them, making him uncomfortable in some suit or pushing him to do stupid activities like blow out candles which would just remind him of the fire.

Jason Todd: Who is still on edge as you start a shower for him, but slowly lets his guard down a little bit when he sees you pull your shirt off to join him in it, washing his hair for him, scratching his scalp with your nails until he's audibly groaning in content while you kiss his shoulder blades.

Jason Todd: Who sits at the table, watching you cook while refusing to let him lift a finger as you make him waffles, the 'traditional birthday breakfast' you would have every year, throwing whipped cream and sprinkles on it for good measure.

Jason Todd: Who you let go about most of his day as usual, not wanting to push it too far, but once he's back from work, all bets are off.

Jason Todd: Who comes home to you, with a birthday cupcake instead of cake, as to not overwhelm him, lit with a single candle instead of several.

Jason Todd: Who opens his gift and thinks he falls even more in love with you when he sees a leather bound edition of Moby Dick that must have cost you a small fortune, all to see the look on his face he unwrapped it in front of you.

Jason Todd: Who thought his birthday was finally over when the two of you went to bed, but got surprised with one more box, far lighter than the last and opened it to find a set of red lingerie you'd picked out specifically for his birthday.

Jason Todd: Who spent half an hour running his hands over the lace once you had it on and another two hours letting you take the lead, being on top, kissing every inch of his skin, praising him, looking at him with such adoration he thought it could kill him.

Jason Todd: Who laid down beside you utterly exhausted, embracing you tightly, nearly suffocating himself in the crook of your neck, the warmth and softness of your skin making him sleepy after such strenuous activity.

Jason Todd: Who fell asleep next to you, one year older, thinking, for the first time in a long time, that maybe birthdays weren't so bad.

[shomatoriashi]

12/01/24; 06:41pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you steal a kiss from them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

always known to fall asleep during the daylight hours, you decided to be a good girlfriend and allow sylus to get some much needed rest.

but of course, sharing a living space with luke and kieran provided double the challenge for you. throughout the day, it seemed like your main mission involved preventing the twins from making too much noise-

or from blowing up the whole mansion in general.

their laughters and overall abundance of energy was wearing you down, and it got so bad that you decided to set them off on a scavenger hunt you had made up on a whim, just to get some peace and quiet. once they were out of the house and roaming the streets of the n109 zone, you let out a sigh of relief, heading back to your shared bedroom. now in the confines of your sanctuary, you shut the door behind you while letting out a gentle huff.

trailing your gaze towards the bed, you smile upon seeing sylus still resting comfortably in bed. the comforter covered the lower half of his body, and you could feel your heart pounding in response to the sight of his perfectly sculpted chest and how it lay bare for your eyes alone.

it didn’t matter how many years you’ve spent together with sylus. without fail, your abdomen would always erupt with butterflies at the sight of his beauty. as if caught in a trance, you step closer to the sleeping man, heart already racing with anticipation at what you were about to do.

you stand over your lover, admiring the tranquility of his sleeping face when you heed your heart’s desire and lean your face down closer to his, pressing your lips against sylus in a gentle kiss.

“hn, i was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

sylus’s rich voice catches you off guard, and you gasp in response, feeling sylus open his eyes before placing a large hand behind your head, keeping you still before crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. the tip of his tongue traces at the border of your lips, and you steadily began to lose all of your senses the moment you open up to him, allowing him to slide his tongue in and get a taste of you.

sleep had long since evaded sylus when he keeps you close to him, taking advantage of your newfound privacy as he quickly morphed your simple kisses into something much more passionate.

zayne had locked himself within his office once more-

and you felt incredibly disappointed in the fact that he was still working despite it being his day off.

however, you did your best to forgive him in such situation, since he was someone who saved lives with his profession.

you just wished there was something you could do to help with easing his stress.

as the hours went by, you look at the clock to see it was already 7pm, with no signs of zayne coming out of his office anytime soon. letting out a sigh, you figured you could help your boyfriend destress by ordering some good takeout for dinner. not in the mood to cook, you figured it was fine to treat yourself to some of your favorite takeaway while sharing it with zayne. with your orders placed and paid for, you hesitantly walk toward his office and give the door a series of knocks.

“it’s unlocked, honey.” zayne’s tired voice was heard coming from behind the door, and you could feel the heat travel up your neck at the sound of his affectionate nickname for you.

with a sheepish grin, you enter his office, your greeting for him settled at the tip of your tongue, yet something stops you. your eyes take in the sight of zayne, dressed comfortably in a grey sweater as his eyes poured over the various patient charts settled on his desk. his reading glasses remained settled against the tip of his nose, and his hair appeared messier than usual, like he had been running his hands through them throughout the day.

a compulsion was felt coursing through your veins, your heart and mind both telling you that you needed to kiss him at this very moment. for some reason, zayne looked incredibly alluring to you, and you found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

you take gentle strides toward zayne, calling out his name while in an almost trancelike state. zayne meets your gaze and acknowledges you-

only to let out a gasp when you suddenly crash your lips against his. the shock he felt lasts for a mere second before he responds, moving his lips slowly as he slots his lips against yours, kissing you back with just as much passion.

when the need for air proved to be too much, you were the first to pull away from him, feeling embarrassed when zayne gives you a knowing smile. “i apologize, had i known you had missed me so much, i would have spent more time with you.”

you could only manage a series of stutters in response to his sweet words, earning a sweet chuckle from him. grasping at your hand, he places a lingering kiss at the back of them, “forgive me?”

you shake your head, getting rid of your nervousness and smile, feeling zayne place you on his lap. being closer to him now, you allowed your hands the pleasure of running through his soft strands of hair, “of course i forgive you. i always do because you’re a good man who saves lives for a living.”

a rich chuckle escapes from zayne as he takes off his glasses, leaning into you with another smile on his face, “i suppose you do wish to be spoiled after all.”

and when zayne suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, you allowed the rest of the world to melt away-

not even caring that your dinner had already arrived, since all you could taste and feel was zayne.

your losing streak with kitty cards would be your tragic end-

you were certain of it as xavier seemed to have all the luck on his side.

from getting the optimal amount of kitty cards and their matching cups, his score kept climbing higher and higher-

leaving you sobbing in the dust as you struggled to keep up.

even with the various power ups you tried to use to help with lowering his winnings, none of them seemed to be enough.

currently, you were on your last round of kitty cards with xavier, leaving you pouting at your hunter boyfriend as he kept giggling sweetly at you, holding his cards above his lips to help with hiding his smile in hopes of easing the blow of your incoming loss.

“hehe, s-sorry, but your pouting face is so cute… you’re so adorable.” xavier tells you, clearly enjoying his winnings so far-

and admittedly, you felt the tiniest bit petty-

actively ignoring how much your heart was racing at the sight of xavier’s smiling face.

yet xavier seemed to bask in your annoyance, still chuckling lightly as he waited for you to complete your turn. letting out a grumble of his name, you cross both arms across your chest and tell him, “wipe that grin off your face, it’s not funny that you’re so lucky right now…!”

yet your words simply make xavier chuckle even more at you, no longer using his cards to hide his smile as he laughed at you. you let out a huff, wishing to wipe that cute smile off his face when you lean across the table to press an unexpected kiss against xavier’s lips.

your boyfriend lets out a surprised sound that was a mix between a gasp and a grunt, making you smile against his lips while deepening the kiss, not stopping until you were certain that xavier would be left speechless. knowing that you had successfully swallowed the rest of his laughter, you pull away from him with an almost smug expression on your face.

now, it was your turn to giggle at xavier, watching as his cheeks take on a rosier hue, actively blushing as he kept touching at his lips. finally registering the sounds of your laughter, xavier tosses aside his cards and allows the colored teacups to fall to the ground the moment he lunges at you, with his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

“no fair… you cheated.” it was xavier’s turn to pout when he presses you closer to him.

feeling playful, you stick your tongue out at him-

only for xavier to respond by leaning down to kiss you once more, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that had you seeing stars by the end of it all.

there was something achingly beautiful when it came to witnessing rafayel complete a painting he had been working on for nearly weeks on end.

and you were lucky enough to be the closest to him when these moments struck-

where you allowed yourself to bask in the beauty of rafayel’s radiant gaze, his eyes looking over the completed canvas with a sense of noticeable pride coursing through his veins.

there also seemed to be a glowing aura that surrounds him, making him appear so wonderful and oh so breathtaking that your heart would ache in response to witnessing something so ethereal.

filled with love for him, you step into his studio, calling out rafayel’s name while he was in the midst of basking in his completed work. he hums and faces you, giving you a beaming smile while welcoming you with arms wide open, “hey princess-“

you stand closer to him, cutting him off when you leaned up against him before pressing a loving kiss against his lips. he stiffens momentarily in surprise, yet still, you continued to kiss him, filled with an almost possessive desire to claim him as yours alone.

yet instead of pushing you away-

rafayel responds beautifully to you, kissing you back while wrapping both of his arms around your waist to help with bringing you closer to him. a giggle was felt bubbling within your throat when you break off the kiss first.

“hey, why’d you pull away so fast?” rafayel’s pouting face earns yet another giggle from you, making you lean up to press a kiss against his nose. “truly, i don’t know what came over me. i just wanted to show you how proud i am of you… and… let you know how beautiful you are each time you finish a project you’re so passionate about.”

rafayel’s eyes light up with unbidden joy upon hearing your words, “oh now you’re just begging to be smothered in kisses! you better prepare yourself princess.”

the sight of your grinning face makes your lemurian lover crush your body against his, allowing him to kiss at your features, practically littering your face with his playful kisses as your laughter echoes throughout the studio.

end notes: i’ve been writing too much smut and figured there needed to be some much needed fluff with my fave LADS men as a palate cleanser 😅😅😅

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

construction worker!rafe who spends his days ‘lifting heavy stuff and building shit’ (his words) and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

c/w: rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, p-in-v, unprotected sex) 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.7k

hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small drabble consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.  

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her. 

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance.  

A worn-out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything.  

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers.  

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with.  

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat.  

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains.  

“I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods.  

“I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth.  

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth.  

“You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes.  

“Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal. 

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed.  

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

“You good?” He murmurs next to her ear.  

“Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale.  

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.  

“Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy.  

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

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.  

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up.  

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization.  

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” She calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move.  

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor.  

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air.  

“Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides. 

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up. 

“It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say? 

“No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised. 

She hums.  

“Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words.  

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him? 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself.  

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.  

“Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow. 

“I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close.  

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. “Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him.  

“You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.  

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated.  

“Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.  

“Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though.  

“You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release. 

“Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.  

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now.  

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

“Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.   

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber. 

[monstersholygrail]

Dragon hybrid meets fairy reader and tries to eat her by grilling her with his fire but sees that she’s actually fire proof? Obviously dragon falls in love instantly and eats her in another way ✨

How cool!! That’s a super fascinating combination and possible power dynamic between the two monsters.

Consider, the big bad Dragon of the mountain and one of the last of his kind, comes down to the forest below in order to hunt. His large stature doesn’t allow for very sneaky attacks but what does he need for stealth when he can breathe fire??

He thinks it’s his lucky day when he sees a clueless Fairy all lost in their own world, not paying attention to their surroundings. Fruit ripe for the picking, he thinks. He unhinges his jaw, fire building up in his throat and giving him that warm spark throughout his body. Just as he’s about to cook his meal, he sees the Fairy turn around and meet his eye. But instead of fear and panic crossing her face, she merely smirks.

The confrontation startles the dragon and the fire that bursts forth from his throat is weak and flimsy. Still, for any normal creature it would’ve made them a nice medium rare. Not his first choice but he wouldn’t complain. But when he looks at the Fairy she’s left standing, her curious yet alluring body still perfectly in tact. Not even a scorch mark on her skin!

Her clothes though… the Dragon supposes whatever magic this creature possesses doesn’t include her clothing as the Fairy is left standing completely naked before him.

Of course, the mighty Dragon has to inspect and investigate how such a small creature compared to him was able to thwart his fire attack. The Fairy, feeling very smug about having outsmarted the Dragon that towers over her, agrees to be played with. She was certain he would never guess.

The Dragon inspects her body, sniffing and searching for the warmth he senses within her. That warmth most evident between her fleshy thighs. The Fairy is surprised when the Dragon brings her to the ground, his tongue dipping into her cunt in search of the heat. The Fairy moans and her heat grows, making the Dragon all the more curious.

His giant tongue laps at the Fairy’s pretty cunt. He watches it as it grows slick, puffy, and hotter by the minute. He growls, wanting answers and his pace quickens, tongue swirling through her folds, trying to get to where she runs hottest.

Realizing it’s inside her the Dragon leans back, making the Fairy whine in protest. The Dragon releases another tunnel of fire from its jaws, though this one purposefully remaining gentle as it curls and travels inside the Fairy’s cunt. The Fairy gasps, her body shaking with pleasure as the Dragon fucks her with his fire. Thrusting in and out of her pussy as it longs for the mysterious heat inside her.

With the heat licking along her walls in a way that has her head spinning and her body tingling, it doesn’t take long for the Fairy to cum all over the length of the fire inside her. The Dragon can taste it as it travels through the tunnel and he growls, breathing more fire, forcing it to burrow deeper inside her. The Fairy moans, her body limp and allowing the Dragon in even deeper.

As the flames course through her body and intertwine with her very essence, the Dragon finally understands. Her heart beating with the strength of a Dragon and a Fairy. A half-breed. His flames leave her and he moves to rest beside her weak form, his tail curling around her form protectively.

Originally having been looking for a meal, the lonely Dragon found something much more special instead.