Monster HOEtel and Homemade Food

content: gender neutral reader, fluff with some sprinkled NSFW; how the guests and staff react to Reader bringing them homemade fall dishes

You had some spare time and felt particularly cozy that evening, so you decided to prepare some of your favorite fall dishes and bring the leftovers to work. Maybe it was a pumpkin pie just the way your mom used to make it, or a sweet tart recipe you’d been meaning to try for ages. Whatever it was, you sheepishly brought your human concoction to your fellow monstrous acquaintances and awaited your judgement.

Centaur Manager is grateful and deeply moved, though in his usual anxious manner. Wait, you used ingredients from their realm? What if they’re toxic? What if you accidentally poison yourself?! He’ll demand to see the packaging for everything you used, and carefully inspect the list of ingredients while cross-referencing his handy human guidebook. You wonder if this is how pets feel during vet visits.

Orc Chef is intrigued. He’ll slowly chew each bite, trying to map out the flavors and figure out the reasoning behind each choice. What makes an ingredient specific to a certain season? What do humans consider to be of good taste? He’ll ask that you allow his attendance next time you’re in the kitchen; maybe this way he’ll have a better idea of what you like. Human food, after all, is a mysterious field for a monster like him.

Puppy Hybrid is beyond excited. To think you love him so much that you’d bring him something made with your own human hands! His tail is wagging and you have to remind him to actually chew his food as he scarfs down your blessed offerings. Not only is this delicious, but also a reminder of your bond. Ah, to be in love. You furrow your eyebrows - are you getting a boner right now, you groan in exasperation.

Zzy is initially ecstatic. His hands are trembling, and he closes his eyes each time he takes another bite. Exquisite. Intoxicating. Relax, man, it’s just a pumpkin pie, you say with mild concern. Wrong! It’s a pumpkin pie in which you put all your love. He’s grinning as he slurps the fork clean, asking you, cheekily, what’s in it. As you list the process, his perverted smile comes to a halt. Wait, you didn’t come in it? He feels betrayed. What even is the point?

Cursed Child is bouncing on her chair, eyes narrowed in glee. It’s human food! Made by you, her favorite person in the entire world. You watch as each bite vanishes into the void of her face, the little, colorful fork reappearing wiped clean. You can hear a faint crunch coming from within her head, but you see no mouth nor teeth. The child works in mysterious ways. Grab yourself a plate, you say in passing to another staff member passing by. The small ghoul suddenly halts, glaring at the intruder with boiling envy. It’s her dessert. You later discover - quite terrified - that all other slices have needles in them.